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omgeto · 2 years ago

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☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.”

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day.

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass.

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg.

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you.

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy, “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt. “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.”

☆ TOJI

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further.

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you.

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy.

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching.

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it.

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?”

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?”

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto.

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear.

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun — down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace.

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy.

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever.

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him.

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it.

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader

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fear-is-truth · 8 months ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 part II — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. popular, rich pretty boy nicholas alexander chavez has laid claim on you / wc: 1.0k

tags — f! reader. mentions of alcohol. nic being a lil tipsy n cute. teensy moment between cooper & reader but platonic

read part I here

The pool party had spilled well into the evening, and the once-golden sunlight had been replaced by the soft glow of string lights scattered around the patio. The music still played, and the air was warm, thick with the scent of chlorine, alcohol and the buzz of laughter.

Nicholas, a little tipsy by now, had dragged you onto one of the lounge chairs near the pool, insisting that you sit with him. You were perched sideways on his lap, head resting against his chest, his arm slung protectively around your waist. He was laughing loudly, completely unbothered as he took in the scene around him. From where you sat, you could see a couple of girls near the edge of the pool, throwing side glances your way—obviously irritated. One of them flipped her hair and whispered something to her friend, both of them glaring as if they could will you out of Nic’s lap and into the pool. But he didn’t seem to notice nor care, as his attention was solely fixated on you. He just chuckled, thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

“You’re the best part of this whole party, you know?” he murmured against your skin, voice low and a bit slurred from the drinks he’d had. You tilted your head to look at him, brushing his curls from his forehead.

“That the booze talking?”

“Nope,” he replied, a lopsided grin spreading across his face, before pointing to the place where his heart was. Then, as if making some grand announcement, Nicholas straightened up slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth to form a megaphone. “Hey people! See this hot babe right here? That’s my girl!” he hollered to no one in particular, pointing at you. People turned to look, some laughing, some raising their glasses in response. A loud wolf whistle from the crowd. You groaned, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh my God, Nic.”

He laughed, tipping his head back, and it was impossible to stay mad at him when he was like this. “Just telling it like it is,” he said, squeezing your waist affectionately.

“You’re mine, and I’m all yours.”

“Sappy.”

As much as you were enjoying it, you could tell Nicholas was a little too far gone with the alcohol, and he could probably use some water. You extricated yourself from his embrace, standing up as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m gonna grab you some water,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Be right back.”

You slipped inside the kitchen, the muffled sounds of the pool party fading as you sought a break from the noise. As you rounded the corner, you didn’t notice Cooper standing near the fridge, and before you knew it, you bumped straight into his chest.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” his hands gently landing on your shoulders to steady you. You blinked up at him, bewildered, then laughed in embarrassment.

“Sorry… didn’t see you.”

“Always in a hurry, huh?” He teased, his grip light but steady before he let go and stepped back.

“Just grabbing some water for Nic,” you replied, moving toward the fridge. “He’s getting a little too enthusiastic out there.” Cooper chuckled, nodding toward the lounge area visible through the glass doors. “Yeah, I heard him. So did the whole neighbourhood, probably.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling. “Yeah, well, you know him. Subtlety isn’t his forte.”

“Nope,” Cooper agreed, pushing off the counter and opening the fridge for you. “But hey, put any other guy were in his shoes, they’d wanna let the world know too.”

“Well, how ‘bout you?” you teased, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge before closing the door. “Sure I would.” He replied matter-of-factly, his expression softening before adding thoughtfully, “If I was bisexual, though. But I’d probably make less of a scene.”

There was another pause, but this one felt different. You both just stood there, sharing the space, and it was… comfortable. Cooper, for all his teasing, had always been the steady one in your life— a permanent fixture. It wasn’t something either of you ever really acknowledged out loud, but in moments like this, the quiet between you said more than enough. You both burst into simultaneous laughter, you doubling over in stitches. Chortling, he reached out, giving your shoulder a light pat.

“You better get back out there before your man does something stupid, I don’t wanna be the one to haul his ass out of the pool again.”

As you turned to leave, Cooper’s voice called out one last time. “But hey, if he ever fucks up—” his voice took on a playful edge, though there was a hint of seriousness in it, “—I’ll kick his ass. No questions asked.”

“Thanks, Coop.”

“Anytime.”

His words stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind, but as soon as you stepped onto the patio, your focus shifted completely. Nic’s eyes immediately found yours from across the pool, his whole face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “There she is,” he crowed, reaching out with grabby hands as soon as you got close. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as you handed him the bottle of water. He didn’t take it, though—instead, he tugged you back onto his lap, pulling you into his arms like he’d never intended to let you go.

“Missed you so much, baby,” Nicholas mumbled into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I was gone for like five minutes,” you laughed, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the way his hands lazily trailed up your sides. He grinned down at you, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Five minutes too long.”

You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and raised it to his lips, but Nic turned his head to the side, pouting.

“Nah, where’s my kiss first?”

You rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, pressing your lips to his. As soon as you did, you tasted the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. When you pulled back to catch your breath, you giggled, wiping the edge of his mouth with your thumb. You raised the bottle again, and this time, he took a long sip, still watching you with that tipsy, adoring look in his eyes. “Better?” you asked, brushing your fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“Much better,”

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #Nicholas Chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #jackie writes ⟢

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scriptseekstories · 3 months ago

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Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 2- Bee in a Wasp Nest

A/N: Okay, so things will pick up next chapter, just have to set up relationships and personality for Bee!Reader and other characters. And more fort as to what your mother’s research actually does and what she did.

Kinda made yall like Mirabel from Encanto and Laios from Delicious in Dungeon ngl

~Years Later~

Bees were your friend. They work with each other and protect their home. When you had another rough day of school and a torment from Damien, you could always count on the hive planted on your window to keep you company. They had always been your friend.

Sure you had human friends at school who are weird as you, but they just don’t know you like bees. They comforted you at low times, watched over you when you slept, and gave you so. Much. Honey.

The days were somewhat better after years since you were first taken in by the Waynes, but you wouldn’t never say your life got better. You were still pushed aside but your so called siblings, ignored by your father unless you were in trouble, and tormented by your demon brother Damien.

The harsh words, the aggressive shoves, the brutal chases away from his dog Titus, you didn’t know if being mugged was better than living with him. You even considered the other’s snarky comments about you whenever you bumped into them were more bearable.

“Don’t they have anything else better to do than bother us?” You once heard Tim scoffed when you wanted a seat from the kitchen while they had dinner, Stephanie humming in agreement as Dick laughed it off while others didn’t even answer him. Yeah… they all had dinner together while you were in your room eating alone.

Buzzzzz

My mistake, you never ate alone.

“Hey, my beauties,” You slid your window up carefully to avoid crushing any bees that were too slow. You clutched the flower pot in your hands as you stared at at their strong hive, seeing that honey is almost ready.

“I got you some flowers,” You spoke as if the bees understood you, but maybe they do understand you. They never stung you, they always perched on your nose or hand, and they always seem to make your day a little brighter.

“Today we have Lotus flowers on the menu,” You sighed while resting your cheek on your hand, watching the bees snuggle into the petals and collect the pollen. You adored your grown hive, tending to your little creatures for years as you seen generations after generations of bees live past.

Each Queen bee you’ve seen are as beautiful as the last, and you adored how hard she keeps her drones and workers happy. ‘Wish I was your worker bee,’ You hummed deeply before checking your phone to see that it was only 3.

You had time, so you quickly shut the window, apologizing to the bees who were startled before grabbing your travel bag and wallet, stumbling out of your room and racing down the long stairs, where your favorite butler was cleaning the couches.

“I’ll be back Alfred!” You called out to the butler as you attempted to fight your coat into staying on you. Alfred smiled before wincing when you accidentally slid on the carpet and crashed into the umbrella stand.

You had always been a klutz, crashing into objects, tripping over air, even one time accidentally taking out half Gotham’s power. (GCPD and Batman assumed it was an attack by a villain, and Alfred had the love for you to not narc)

“I’m okay!” You called out while stumbling to stand up and attempting to fix the umbrella stand, finally having your coat on before shutting the door behind you. Alfred merely shook his head and smiled softly while truly fixing up the stand as you left all the hats and umbrellas on the floor.

“May Master (Name) always have that bright smile,” He mumbled, before going back to cleaning the couches, just as he quietly check on the carefully written list full of your birthday wishes he had in his pocket, smiling.

You inhaled a deep breath of the Gotham air, which may sound disgusting but since you lived in the rich part of the city, the air was cleaner than most. That thought made you sad for reasons involving people and insects, not much are capable of fixing the air in order to thrive in.

Which is why you must do what you need to do.

Looking around, you concluded none of the family were outside, so you took that chance and crouch around the bushes in the front, and pulled out your skates. Why would you hide them outside instead of your room? Simple, there’s just not enough space in your room.

You replaced your bed frame with a hammock so you could fit your desk for school, you had a small closet boxed with childhood accomplishments and awards, and walls completely covered in posters and research papers.

Yet it didn’t bother you one bit, for it was your safe space, your haven in a house that wasn’t your home. You shoved your foot into your skates, wobbly standing up and securing your ground before rolling down the driveway.

You pushed yourself down into the big city of Gotham, avoiding walking pedestrians and taking turns left and right. Each person you passed by, you always greeted with a bright smile and waved at them, to which they couldn’t help but smile back.

In a place like Gotham, it’s rare to have genuine smiles and kindness that you apparently had. You decided it was best to still show a smile to all even though your life wasn’t that great either.

Why let the darkness and grim life consume you when you could still bring a light to others? That’s what your mother taught you. Sure, it was hard to keep on showing that sweet smile of yours day after day being neglected and tormented by the Waynes, yet you had to.

For your mother.

Each street you rolled into, the less citizens were present. That was due to the fact you were skating right into the heavy crime side of Gotham City. Yet you didn’t stop, in fact, your smile grew as you now saw the figures of the neighbors who all were familiar on the news.

“Good evening, child,” “Though you bit the dust already, kid!” “Avoid that pothole, (Name),” The various voices you heard as you skated pass them, where you stumbled upon the banged on concrete and avoided the destroyed roads that even the toughest tires would get deflated.

“Hi, Dr. Crane!” “Still kicking, Mr. Dent!” “Sharp as always, Miss Kyle!” Each calls towards a villain may have civilians run for the hills, however you on the other hand was either not afraid of these top baddies, or stupid to know your life could be in danger.

It might’ve been the latter, as your anxious personality prevented you from reacting like a normal person. So instead when you first stumbled upon the villain side of Gotham, you didn’t run away. Instead, you used all the fake confidence you had and strutted inside, greeting each criminal, thug, villain, or henchman with a smile.

Needless to say, some were baffled, others were amused, they wanted to see if you would still smile after witnessing them take your teeth out. But alas, there was one particular criminal that had them all to back off, dare they try to harm you they would have to answer to-

Ding

You pushed the door to a shady rundown flower shop, the tiny bell ringing to indicate your presence. Digging into your bag, you pulled out a wad of cash Alfred provided you ever since middle school since you needed permission from jobs to work, and you didn’t dare ask Bruce, so Alfred provided.

“My sweet little Bumblebee~” You looked up with a smile at the sight of the woman who provided you with flowers. Her rose red hair always stood out amongst the plants and flowers, her pale skin kissed with hues of green, and her dark green outfit flowed and tangled with the vines lowering her down from the shadows of the flower shop.

“Hi Miss Ivy!” You held out the bills for her as she lowered herself down and gracefully grabbed them. She placed her feet on the floorboards and leaned against the counter, counting the money with a grin.

“Glad to hear that my flowers are being praised by your little creatures,” She sighed, sensing all the plants you bought being tended to by the bees and other insects who craved the sweet aroma of her plants.

“Miss Ivy, you think you could pre-stock some marigolds for me around a week in advance? I think I actually might have gotten a breakthrough! Just on time for my birthday!” You excited rambled off, jumping in one place like a child as Ivy handed you a bag of seeds just as you paid for.

“Really now?” She grinned, “Well, here I give you a special treat for an early birthday gift~” Using her vines, it reached deep into the hall behind the counter that was suspiciously covered in shadows before it emerged with a box.

“Thank you, Miss Ivy,” It was a nice steal box, knowing Ivy would never use wood for anything. It had carved bees on it and honeycomb patterns. You were about to open it when Ivy placed her green hands over yours, giving you a wink. Right, open it on your birthday.

“Like I said, anything for my little Bumblebee,” She cooed while booping your nose, “It’s only fair to assist the bee’s savior, which also extends you being the flower’s savior too~” Her vines curled at her words, sliding up to you in an attempt to pet you, to which you backed away quickly.

“Ha ha ha…” You let out a nervous laugh, voice cracking midway which made you wanna internally die when you heard Ivy cackle as you walked out of the door, skating down and almost hitting Bane.

Being so deep into the crime filled side of Gotham, Ivy believed you to be stupid and had a death wish when you first came into her cover store. She decided to spare your life when all she saw in you was a clumsy and pathetic ridden teenager who just wanted to actually buy flowers from her.

You amuse her so much. The moment you ate shit in front of her little shop had her hooked immediately, and she fell in love with you the moment you rambled on about the relationship between bees and flowers.

You skated along the roughed up sidewalk, waving goodbye to the residents of this crime filled area. Never actually saw crime here, as you guess Batman had them on a leash.

‘Batman… why couldn’t you have saved her,’ You held to resentment towards the Dark Knight, yet you weren’t a fan of him either. He was just… someone who couldn’t save your mother.

You finally made it to your location, just as the sun shined perfectly down into the building you worked so hard inside.

An abandoned warehouse just right at the edge of Crime Alley. The warehouse that your mother worked in with her team before it was attacked by a crime boss. You moved all her papers and results inside to avoid questions from Alfred or the others.

You grunted while pushing the collapsed door to crawl under, before grasping a power generator and jerked it around. With a simple puff of smoke, the whole place lit up with dim lighting and additional fairy lights you added for personal touch.

“Right, time to get started,” The closer you walked through the warehouse, the louder a buzzing can be heard. Sunlight peering through a skylight, in the middle of the building lay a garden, with flowers planted by Poison Ivy herself and a garden gate built in by Scarecrow.

Inside the garden? Your mother’s bees. The ones that she nurtured for her researched, the genetically modified creatures that made it through everything. You smiled with pride at the fact you kept them alive for this long, generations of bees lived in your care.

Digging through your bag, you pulled out your laptop and an empty jar, where you set them down on a lab table. On the table sat an old tv with a VHS player. Grabbing a tape from the top, you inserted it in and opened your laptop as the video began to play.

“Project: Honey. This research study may very will be the next step in animal kingdom history. We are here to investigate the potential for genetic modification to enhance the physical capabilities of the honeybees, rendering them more resilient to climate challenges and better suited for urban environments to grow our managed earth,” the static voice of your mother rung out in the warehouse, causing the bees to buzz in an almost harmonious way.

“For years, we have concluded that our genetically modified bees are able to gain more muscle mass that not only increase their flight, but their defenses, speed, and strength. Our results have tested our bees to collect 35% more nectar than the average bee, and provide more pollen over a whole continent!” The excitement in her voice made you smile. You really do miss her.

You turned on bunsen burners, tubes filled with essences of the hive and honey made from the bees, listening to each VHS tapes that your mother recorded. Just like what you’ve been doing since you turned 10, you realized you had to do more than tend to the genetic bees.

You had to continue her work.

“However, the side effects to potentially playing god among the bees are a serious risk to take for the better of world. We just need to-,” Yet a harsh SSSSHHHHH sound popped up as the final tape wasn’t fully finished, and it cut off while only playing static.

You turned it off after hours of work, stretching your limps with a satisfied feeling. You rested your arms on the table and turned a picture frame that held a photo of you on your fifth birthday, with your mother in her lab coat holding you in her arms, both of you happy.

“Just one more week, and I’ll finally complete your dream Mama,” You smiled softly at the photo, gently kissing your fingertips and placed them over her face. Everything you’re doing, all the hard work, it was all for her.

She may be gone, but you’re still here. You’ll complete Project: Honey and help humanity your own way. You’ll be a hero, just like what your mother would’ve wanted, be more of a hero to the world like Batman is to Gotham.

It was currently 10, and you had to hurry home before Alfred came up stairs to check on you. You decided to take a cab home and after a solid 20 minutes, you made it home than you usually do when on skates.

You slid your skates under the bush, made sure your jar of honey made by the genetic bees were sealed in your bag, and opened the door. You saw Alfred serving your plate, yet you knew it wasn’t going to be set on the table with the others.

You walked closer to the dining area, seeing that all of the family were together, eating and talking amongst themselves while smiles on their faces.

“Hey… don’t mind me…” You awkwardly shuffled to the side, slowly reaching for a honeydew, then your plate Alfred gave with a sad smile, before mumbling a “sorry” and running back your room, cringing at the interaction. It was as if they forgot you lived here and are uncomfortable with the thought of seeing you.

Just as well, you were just as uncomfortable making small talk to them as they are even looking at you. You didn’t care, right? Yet you still felt your heart ache with hurt. They never seem happy to have you talking to them.

You opened your door, setting the box Ivy gave you on your desk and the jar of honey down as well. You sliced the honeydew into slices and took one to the window, sliding it open to see the bees perching on the sill, almost like they were waiting for you.

“Hello my loyal royal subjects!” You joked with a proud look on your face, though the way the bees didn’t buzz at you, they weren’t impress with your humor. You gave an awkward laugh before placing a slice of honeydew on the windowsill, where the bees practically burrowed into the fresh sweet fruit.

You smiled with joy. Today wasn’t that bad, yet it still wasn’t enough to have you reassured yourself that you belonged here.

The next day you needed another ripe honeydew that Alfred bought you. You peaked from the stairs and nodded when no one was present in the kitchen. Taking long strides from the stairs to the kitchen so you could get back upstairs faster, you grasped onto the fruit when a tsk was heard.

“You don’t belong here, you know that, right?” Dropping the honeydew due to the familiar voice, you dreaded turning around to see Damien, arms crossed and leaning back against the kitchen island. It seemed he was eager to mock me and waited for me to come down like a weird predator.

“Yeah… don’t need to mention it every single day…” You nervously nodded, crouching down to grab the dropped fruit, hoping it would still be fresh enough for your beloved bees.

“I should, because it doesn’t seem that you got it through your inferior mind,” He scoffed, grabbing the honeydew before you could retreat, “You’re not special. You’re nothing but mundane and simple, not worthy to be on the same stone as us,” That damn smug look on his face made you wanna shove that honeydew up his-

“Right, and you supposedly are with your cool sword skills and emo energy,” You muttered, snickering to yourself as if you said something cool. Which you did, of course! However Damien didn’t find it funny as he scowled you suddenly felt pain on your stomach. You hissed in pain when he threw the honeydew at you.

“Watch your mouth, inferior! I am the perfect offspring of the Al Ghul and a Wayne! You don’t belong in the Wayne title!” He snapped, hands twitching as if he was ready to call Titus on you. Fear shot up your spine, making him smirk at the look in your eyes. But what he said, about being a Wayne, anger took over your fear of his damn dog.

“Well, good news, brat! I don’t want a title that makes me as egotistical and stuck up as you guys!” Your voice might’ve been shaky, but this was the most confrontational you’ve ever been towards anyone, it caught Damien off guard with how offended and angry you actually sounded.

“I’m not a Wayne! I’m a Raine, and I don’t need a brat like you destroying what I have left!” Grabbing the now bruised honeydew, you pushed Damien hard. It may not have actually made him fall down, but he didn’t fully expect you to physically touch him, so he stumbled back a little.

He looked at you like you had the audacity to put your hands as valuable as him. His eyes darkened as he didn’t bother to call for Titus, he let out a shout before lunging at you.

You both fell, you pushing his face away with one hand as you held onto the honeydew so Damien wouldn’t use it to slam it against your stomach again. Alfred heard the stumbling of chairs being pushed and shouts in the kitchen, causing him to race in just in time to see Damien scratched your eyes.

“Master Damien!!” He was appalled at the sight, quickly pulling you out of his reach. In a flash, Dick, who was right behind Alfred, held onto Damien and pulled him away as he cursed at you and struggled like an angry cat. A mangy, ugly looking cat.

Dick managed to calm Damien down, but then gave a disappointed sigh before looking at you, giving you a look as if you were the one causing problems and he was tired with you. As if he even had the time to know you and get tired with you.

“You shouldn’t have talk to Damien like that, he doesn’t know better, (M/N)!” He scolded you with a tsk, where you didn’t even bother to mention that he completely butchered your name, “You have be apologize,” You stared at Dick in utter disbelief.

You? Apologize to Damien?! You let out a scoff as you stumbled to stand up, seeing the now ruined honeydew crushed by Jason who gave you an unimpressed look, crossing his arms which added more humiliation.

“L-Like hell would ever apologize to a stuck up baby! He started it!” You stammered, voice cracking in a way that didn’t help your situation as you saw a grin on Steph’s face, about to mock you. Cass merely gave you a look like silently saying that you were to blame.

“Stuck up baby? Look in the mirror,” Tim remarked, nudging Duke, who looked uncomfortable and was about to speak up, but deep footsteps made everyone freeze. Bruce stared at Damien, who was being held back by Dick, and then you, who quickly avoided eye contact and clutched onto Alfred’s hand tighter.

It might have been foolish, stupid even, to think that Bruce would come to your aid, to comfort you and scold Damien for attacking you. But you knew the truth. You never mattered to him.

“Go to your room,” He demanded with his sharp eyes staring at you. “Now,” You felt awful, sick. Every time you get in a tussle with one of them, Bruce will always come in defense to them. Every time you get blamed, you would be sent to your room alone. And every time you see his eyes, they’re always filled with nothing but annoyance and disappointment.

As if you were the one causing a nuisance in their perfect family, as if you were the intruder insect that invaded their hive, as if you were nothing but an obligation. Slipping your fingers out of Alfred’s hands, you tried not to cry.

“Fine,” You whispered, legs pulling my body up the stairs, not daring to look back to see Damien’s stupid smug smirk and the disappointing head shakes from Dick or the snickering from the others.

Your room felt smaller, more closed off than the other rooms. Why did you choose it again? Right, it was because you weren’t wanted by the family, hence you didn’t deserve being in the family hall.

You heart your heart twist with hurt and anger, as if you could open your mouth and vomit all the hate and rage building up inside you. Sliding up your window, you watched the sunset from over the garden, where the bees began to settle down and perch over your hand.

Alfred will be coming up to give you your dinner and stay with you. But even with the company of Alfred, he wasn’t strong enough to get through the family, he wasn’t enough to bring the love you craved for years. Despite it all, he was still a bee that works for Bruce.

You concluded a long time ago that this wasn’t a beehive, and you weren’t an invasive insect. No…

This was a wasp’s nest, and you were the bee they taken for consumption.

Buzzzzz

At least your hive will free you one day.

A/N: Yep, you in fact do have villain friends. Yet they don’t know your current situation since you referred to yourself as Raine, never Wayne.

Hopefully they would help you when things get low. They may be evil, but they’re not monsters (just ignore the comic accurate villains lol. And joker)

Taglist: @jellystar-star @moom0goddess @pix-stuff @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @bad4amficideas @degenerates-posts @deathbynarcisstick

#yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #yandere dc #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown #yandere batfam

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thesecondhandwoman · 7 months ago

Text

HEXED HEART

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Recently, Piltover has fallen weak ever since the hexcore stopped working, and the scientists who may have been able to fix it (Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor) had disappeared, leaving Ambessa frustrated. However, when she heard news of you, an intelligent scientist, possibly having the skills to fix it, she immediately took action. Even if it meant using a hint of sweet manipulation.

The remnants of Piltover smoldered under the weight of its own hubris. The once-bustling City of Progress was a shadow of itself, its streets quieter, its golden spires tarnished. The Hexcore had faltered, leaving the city vulnerable, its famed defenses useless.

In her laboratory perched high above the city, you worked tirelessly. The other brilliant minds—Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor—had all disappeared, leaving you to hold the fort. You were the last hope of Piltover, though the burden had grown suffocating. Every attempt to stabilize the Hexcore had failed. You stared at the latest iteration of your work, frustration and exhaustion gnawing at your edges.

The heavy thud of boots startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see soldiers, clad in Noxian red and black, entering your lab. At their helm was her. Ambessa Medarda, the warlord who cast a shadow wherever she walked. She was as commanding as the stories claimed—tall, statuesque, and radiating an aura of power that seemed to fill every inch of your lab.

She appraised you with sharp, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Piltover’s lone genius. Working herself into the ground to save this broken city.”

You squared your shoulders, attempting to summon the confidence that exhaustion had stripped away. “If you’ve come to ridicule me, I assure you, I don’t have the time.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to mock you,” she said, stepping closer. Her soldiers fanned out, blocking any potential escape routes. “I came because Piltover’s failures can serve Noxus. You can serve Noxus.”

Your blood chilled. “I don’t serve anyone.”

Ambessa chuckled, low and amused. “Not yet.” She closed the distance between you in a few strides, her imposing figure towering over yours. “But you will.”

Before you could retort, she reached out, her gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was startlingly gentle, disarming. You stiffened, but Ambessa merely tilted her head, her gaze softening, her smile turning warmer.

“You’re exhausted,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something softer, almost tender. “This city doesn’t deserve you. They’ve wrung you dry, haven’t they? And still, no thanks. No progress.”

Her words hit a nerve, and she saw it in the flicker of your expression.

“I—” you began, but her fingers against your jaw silenced you.

“You deserve better,” she said, her voice a near whisper now. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight. “A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on people who only know how to take. I can offer you more, darling. Resources. Freedom. Respect.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at you—not with disdain or pity, but with something that felt dangerously like admiration.

“You just want to use me,” you said, though the words came out weaker than intended.

Ambessa smiled, a sly curve of her lips. “Of course, I do. But I’ll give you what Piltover never could. I’ll make you feel like the treasure you are.”

Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, her thumb brushing over your pulse. You were hyper-aware of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her as she leaned in. Her lips grazed the corner of your mouth, a ghost of a kiss, before trailing along your cheek to your ear.

“Do you feel it?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “The power we could wield together?”

You shivered despite yourself, torn between resistance and the allure of her promises. She was weaving a net around you, each touch, each word drawing you tighter.

Her hand slid down to your shoulder, her fingers kneading gently, soothing the tension that had built from days—no, weeks—of relentless pressure. You hated how easily she read you, how her touch seemed to draw out the ache you’d buried beneath sheer determination.

“I don’t… I can’t just abandon Piltover,” you stammered, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

Ambessa chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression equal parts understanding and predatory.

“Who said anything about abandoning them?” she cooed, tracing her fingers along the edge of your collarbone. “Think of it as… redirecting your efforts. Piltover has taken everything from you. Why not take something back?”

Her lips ghosted over your temple, and you felt a strange, heady mix of indignation and desire. Every instinct screamed to resist, to fight back against her intoxicating manipulation. But her words had rooted themselves in your mind, growing like thorns around your resolve.

She pressed closer, her presence overwhelming as her other hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw power she emanated.

“I see the brilliance in you,” she murmured. “The kind of brilliance that could reshape the world. But brilliance needs the right soil to grow, and Piltover has done nothing but starve you.”

Her lips found your jawline, a soft, lingering kiss that left your heart pounding. You hated how your breath hitched, how her words sank deeper, wrapping themselves around your doubts and frustrations like a vice.

“I could give you everything,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Imagine a lab equipped with anything you could dream of. Resources, soldiers to protect you, and the freedom to create without petty councils and politics dragging you down.”

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind. “And what would you demand in return?”

Ambessa leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, her smirk sharp but her eyes still softened with that feigned tenderness. “Only your cooperation. Your brilliance, dedicated to something greater than this dying city.” Her hand slid down your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “And, of course, you—with all your fire and passion. A partner. An ally.”

Her lips found your wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there. It was such an intimate gesture that it left you reeling.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa smiled again, her confidence unshaken. “I never lie, darling. I may manipulate, I may seduce, but I always tell the truth.” She lifted your hand to her lips, brushing another kiss over your knuckles. “You’ll see. The only chains you’ll wear with me are the ones you choose.”

You trembled, torn between the iron will you’d cultivated in solitude and the dangerous allure of her promises. Her every touch, every word, was carefully calculated, but there was a kernel of sincerity in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.

And then, her tone shifted, low and husky, her lips brushing against your ear. “Or you can stay here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a mockery so subtle it felt like silk slipping over a blade. “Alone. Frustrated. Watching this city crumble around you while you waste away in obscurity.”

The weight of her words settled over you like a storm cloud. The enormity of your failure, the futility of your work, pressed down harder than ever.

Ambessa saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes and leaned in, her lips brushing over your cheek again, her hands sliding to your waist. “Don’t think of it as surrender,” she whispered. “Think of it as liberation.”

Her lips finally found yours, soft and coaxing, her hands firm yet tender as they held you in place. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her touch, the relentless pull of her presence.

When she finally pulled back, her smirk returned, triumphant but still laced with that maddening, feigned care.

“Take your time,” she said, stepping away as if to give you the illusion of choice. “But know this—I won’t wait forever. And neither will Piltover.”

She turned, her soldiers falling into step behind her, and the door shut with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the silence of your lab.

Your knees buckled as you leaned against the nearest table, your mind spinning. You hated her, hated how easily she unraveled you. But you couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

And deep down, you wondered if the world Ambessa promised might be worth the price of your pride.

The silence of your lab was suffocating in the wake of her departure. You stood there, still trembling, your hand resting against the edge of your desk as if it might hold you together. You could still feel her touch, lingering like a brand on your skin, a reminder of the impossible decision she had presented.

Stay… or go?

You hadn’t realized how much you had needed an escape, how desperately you had longed for someone to see you beyond your failures. Ambessa had touched that part of you with ruthless precision. She had peeled away your pride, exposed the vulnerability that you’d spent so long burying beneath equations and inventions.

And now, you stood at the precipice of something you had once sworn to avoid.

The thought of continuing alone in Piltover, watching everything you had worked for crumble—your research, your hopes—seemed unbearable. The weight of it all crashed down on you like a ton of stone. Ambessa’s words, laced with promises of power, resources, and recognition, were beginning to sound like the only way out.

You closed your eyes, feeling your resolve slip through your fingers like sand.

Her touch had been gentle. Too gentle, and that had terrified you. She was a master at breaking down walls, and the way she had looked at you, with a mixture of admiration and something darker, had set your pulse racing. You had wanted her to touch you.

No, you needed her to touch you.

No more endless days in solitude. No more futile attempts at saving a city that didn’t care.

With a shaky breath, you made your decision.

Later that night, you stood before the door to Ambessa’s private quarters, your hands clammy, heart hammering. You’d walked here with purpose, though the journey had felt like an eternity. Every step had only brought you closer to the inevitable—an alliance forged in the heat of desperation. You knocked once, and the door opened before you could even pull your hand back.

Ambessa stood there, her expression unreadable as her eyes traveled over you.

“You’ve come.” Her voice was steady, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hinted at the satisfaction of a predator about to claim its prize.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show. “I’m here,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt, “because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Ambessa stepped aside, her lips curling into a smile. “I knew you would come around.”

As you entered, the lavish, dimly lit room seemed almost too luxurious for someone like you, but there was something intoxicating about it. The rich silks, the scent of something sweet and foreign in the air—everything spoke of power and control, the very things you had been so desperate to grasp.

Ambessa closed the door behind you with a soft click, and then she turned to face you, her eyes now intense with anticipation. “Tell me, darling… what is it you truly desire?” she asked, her voice low and coaxing.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then the truth spilled from your lips. “I want to be… seen.”

Ambessa stepped toward you, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I see you,” she purred. “I see you more clearly than anyone ever has.” She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek with deliberate slowness, as though savoring the moment. “And now, I’ll make sure you’re never unseen again.”

She cupped your face gently, tilting your chin upward, and her gaze softened, as though she were savoring the power of the moment. “You were always meant for something greater than this city. But you needed a catalyst… someone to help you realize your true potential.”

Her touch was almost tender, but the undercurrent of control never left. She leaned in, her lips brushing your forehead with a softness that contrasted the fire in her eyes.

“I can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice filled with honeyed persuasion.

A heat bloomed in your chest, rising to your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the burning spark of surrender. Every part of you that had been torn between resistance and the seductive pull of her power now bent toward the inevitable.

You nodded, the words tumbling out in a quiet confession, “I’ll help...”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a triumphant, almost possessive smile. “Good.” She leaned in, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and consuming. It was gentle at first, a slow burn that deepened with every press of her lips, every brush of her tongue. She held you with an intensity that made your knees weak, her hands roaming with practiced care, tracing your sides, your back, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of her body against yours.

When she pulled back, breathless but satisfied, her fingers trailed down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation through you. “You belong to me now,” she said softly, her voice wrapped in a possessive sweetness. “And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

You trembled, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long while, you realized you didn’t mind. You were hers. Completely.

In her arms, under her gaze, you were no longer the scientist who had failed. You were a tool—her tool—ready to be shaped and molded into something greater, something powerful. You had agreed, out of weakness, yes—but in that weakness, you had found something that felt like freedom.

And as Ambessa’s lips met your skin once more, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, you wondered if this, this was what it meant to truly be seen.

#ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa fanfic #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa #arcane #arance season two #lesbian fanfic #fanfic #fanfic writing #lesbian

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modrntravlr · 7 days ago

Text

say honestly you won't give up on me - robert 'bob' reynolds

gn!thunderbolts!reader

Summary: When Bob is trying to recover the memories he lost during his time as the Sentry/Void, you open up to him about your own struggles with addiction and memory loss.

Warnings: Mentions of memory loss and mentions of nondescript past drug abuse.

Title From: I Shall Believe - Sheryl Crow

WC: 1.1k

It wasn’t an uncommon place to find Bob at the Watchtower. When he wasn’t tucked into the coziest chair he could find with his nose buried in a book, or trying to handle the chores as a thanks to the rest of the team for doing all the heavy lifting (quite literally), chances were that he would be in the meditation room. Warm lights dimmed low and clouds of essential oils filling the space with scents of soothing eucalyptus and lavender.

The room itself had initially come at the request of Bucky when everyone had moved into the tower. With a handful of veterans and former assassins for roommates, each with their own share of traumas, he thought that everyone might benefit from having a designated room to decompress and destress. In the end however, it was actually Bob who got the most use out of the room.

Nobody had heard from him in quite a few hours and with dinner time approaching, everyone was eager to know whether Bob would be joining the team for the meal or eating alone. So there you were, stalking into the meditation room in hopes of finding him.

Sure enough, he was sat in the middle of the room, cross legged and perched atop a plush cushion in absolute silence with his eyes relaxingly shut. He looked uncharacteristically still, but light in a way that nobody else on the team could manage quite like he could. At least from where you stood.

“Bob,” you quietly approached, clearing your throat to alert him of your presence.

His eyes fluttered open, softening at the sight of you and the sound of your voice.

“Hi,” he simply replied, voice slightly hoarse, but with no trace of frustration at the interruption. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been in here for a few hours. It’s getting close to dinner time and everyone wants to know if you’ll be joining us today or not.”

“Is it really that late already?” he frowned slightly.

“Afraid so,” you replied as sympathetically as you could muster. “What’s always got you so tied up here in the meditation room?” you tried as nonchalantly as possible. Trying your best to convey that he wasn’t under any obligation to answer. He did anyways.

“I’ve been trying to recover my memories,” he said shyly, eyes dropping to his lap. “I read that mediation can help, but I don’t think I’ve made much progress.”

“By memories you mean the time you lose when you’re Sentry, or the Void?” you asked, stepping further into the room.

You settled on the ground directly across from him, mirroring his exact position, knees just shy of touching. He looked up suddenly, seeming surprised that you’d sat so close to him, but not put off by it.

“Yeah,” he sheepishly smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I figure that if I can remember those moments I might find something useful. Something that’ll tell me how I can be the Sentry without completely spiraling. I’m just tired of feeling like I’m useless to the team.”

It was honest, you could tell. The way he sighed and his shoulders sagged as he finished confirmed as much, but there was something else. Something deeper that he wasn’t sharing. Maybe you should have just left it at that, but the part of you that yearned to get to know him couldn’t help but press.

Opening up had never been your forte. In your line of business, opening up meant leaving yourself vulnerable, exposing each and every one of your weaknesses for anyone and everyone to take full advantage of. It was a stance that everyone on the team had, but it was something you were all decidedly working on. Together.

That’s the only reason you offered up the information so easily. Certainly not because you wanted to know him, and in turn you wanted him to know you just as deeply.

“I used to forget things too,” you confessed. “When I was on a lot of drugs, and I’d have these sort of manic like episodes. When I’d finally get sober I’d have trouble remembering all the things that had happened before.”

“You — you were an addict too?” he asked timidly, head tilted with a frown of confusion on his face. Maybe it hadn’t been the right time to make such a confession. Regardless it was too late to take it back.

“Yeah, I was,” you sighed. “Well maybe I still am. I don’t know, that feeling never really goes away, right?”

It was rhetorical. You didn’t really expect an answer from him, but he gave one anyway.

“No, it really doesn’t,” he nearly whispered, a shy and sad smile creeping across his face. “I think it just gets easier to ignore. Having all of you makes it easier to ignore.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” you answered returning the smile.

“Did you ever figure out how to get those memories back?”

His voice sounded full of hope. As though the next words out of your mouth could hold the secrets of the universe and the power to tilt his world off its axis.

“No, not really,” you answered, voice thick with the type of dissatisfaction that could only come with the truthful reality of a situation. “But I did have mission reports. And journals, and photos, and people who were around me during that time.

“None of it could ever really be the same as the real memories, but real memories are fragile, fickle things anyways. Those records that are these snapshots of those very moments, and the people who were there have given me plenty of information to be able to piece together my own probably very flawed, but just as real and valid version of events.”

He hummed a sad sound of resigned acknowledgment at that.

“Bob,” you pleaded gently.

He met your eyes.

“You have mission reports. And CCTV and news footage. And most importantly, you have us. You don’t need to lock yourself away in here for hours every single day searching for memories that may never come back to you.

“It’s okay not to remember what happened. We’ll all remember for you, okay? And you can remember for us too.”

He smiled more brightly than you think you’d ever seen him smile before. It was a beautifully contagious thing that made you want to reach out and trace the lines of his face to be sure you never forgot what it looked like. What he looked like.

He stood up suddenly, towering over you as he reached his hand out to you.

“Well in that case, aren’t you coming to dinner?”

You took his hand, allowing him to help you up. And if anybody happened to notice that when the two of you walked into the common room together neither of you had let go, they didn’t have anything to say about it.

#—︎ my posts ☕️#robert reynolds #bob reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #the sentry #the void #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfic #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #fanfic

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primepaginequotidiani · 2 months ago

Photo

PRIMA PAGINA Eco Di Bergamo di Oggi mercoledì, 26 marzo 2025

0 notes

wipkinz · 1 month ago

Text

Eddie vs. skort

I’ve had this idea rattling around in my head and so here’s a smutty lil blurb about Eddie getting flustered and frazzled by a skort

Warnings: smut adjacency, mdni, fingering

His van had been parked the better part of an hour ago along a side road leading to Lover’s Lake. Seatbelt buckles had been unclimbed shortly after. What had started as a cheeky peck across the console had quickly turned to a scramble to get you seated on his lap, thighs splayed and squished along either side of his where he sat in the drivers seat. Your hands gripped in his hair as your hips rolled easily against his.

You could feel where his lips at your neck were parted and panting, the heat of his laboured breath no doubt adding to the fog on the windows.

“Jesus Eds” you gasped out as he nipped and sucked at the skin you offered up. “I-ahh- need more.”

“I know baby” Eddie groaned as he brought his ringed hand that was gripping your thigh to your center, “I’ve gotcha.” He rubbed and palmed with fervour, your lips finding his in another heady kiss.

“Mmm” Eddie grunted, as you moved your hips up to meet his thick, searching fingers. “Honey I-“

“So good to me,” you bit as his lip, distracting the man from the task at hand.

“Hmm” Eddie probed again beneath the fabric, trying to make good on his promise. “What the fuck is going on down here?”

Eddie pulled away with an amused frustration, bewildered that he hadn’t managed to get his hands on your pussy after working at it with his best efforts. “You’ve got a chastity belt I don’t know about sweetheart?”

It took a beat for your mind to process his words, after staring at his lips, hot and huffy that they weren’t still on you.

“What do you mean?” You breathed with a heaving chest that seemed to momentarily distract Eddie.

“This” Eddie fingered the material of your denim bottoms, one hand massaging where he could reach your bare thigh. “It’s Fort Knox.”

You laughed, forehead hitting his shoulder. “It’s a skort Eds!”

“The fuck is a skort” he huffed, his head hitting the back of his seat and his tongue poking in his cheek.

“It’s like a skirt in front,” you reached down to lift up the offending garment. “N’ shorts underneath.”

“I’d prefer nothing underneath.”

“I’m sure you would hotshot.”

“How do I even get in there?!”

“Want some help baby?” you smirked at him, giving him a peck before leaning back to get to the buttons. “Been working so hard.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smirked back, over his fashion faux-pas with the promise of finally getting to touch you how you both have wanted. “Gonna give me my reward.”

“Mhm” Eddie helped perch you up so you could shimmy out of your bottoms, balling up your skort and tossing it into the abyss that was the back of his van. You squirmed with all his attention back on you, giving him a glimpse of pink panties in the process.

“There she is” Eddie groaned, settling you down hard against his bulge, quick to get back to slipping past the lacy waistband. His tongue spilled into your mouth, invading and chasing every bit of you he could to make up for any lost time.

“Remind me to burn that skort when we’re done here” Eddie sighed as you palmed him through his jeans before reaching for his own button.

“I don’t know,” you teased with light words and a hand searching beneath his waistband. “I think you liked having to earn it.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie smut #eddie x fem!reader #smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson

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itzsyds · 1 month ago

Note

Hector x reader playing football in the beach while her family and friends sit in a little beach bar and have a few drinks gossiping about the young couple while her friend also have their input and reader and Hector are just messing about while playing football and Hector keeps teasing her with the ball while they are both giggling with each other

Hector Fort x Reader

Kicks and Kisses by the Sea☺️

—

I have no shame guys every year I say football ain’t for me but I continue to tweak over this club & show up😭 what they give me back. All this stress man. I can’t.

—

FLUFF- Reader and her boyfriend Hector steal the spotlight without even trying. As her family and friends lounge at a nearby beach bar, sipping drinks and gossiping with fond smiles, the young couple chase a football across the sand—giggling, teasing, and utterly wrapped up in each other.

—

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a honey-gold glow over the shore.

The gentle hum of the waves set a rhythm for the afternoon, blending perfectly with the soft buzz of laughter and conversation drifting from a small beach bar nestled beneath a canopy of palm fronds.

At one of the outdoor tables, shaded by a brightly colored umbrella, Reader’s family and friends were gathered.

Cold drinks clinked against frosty glasses, the scent of grilled seafood and citrus cocktails perfuming the warm air. Everyone was relaxed— tan lines starting to form, sun hats tipped back, and cheeks flushed from a mix of sun and sangria.

From their cozy perch, the group had a perfect view of the beach— and more importantly, a perfect view of the couple.

“There they are again,” her cousin said with a teasing grin, tilting her head toward the young couple playing in the sand.

“Oh, to be that in love,” her aunt sighed dramatically, sipping her wine.

Her best friend leaned in, squinting at the couple with a playful smirk. “Look at Hector— he’s doing that thing where he pretends not to let her get the ball, just to wind her up.”

—

Out on the sand, it was exactly that.

Hector had the football tucked under one foot, balancing it like a pro, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Reader, had her arms crossed and brow raised, stood a few paces away, watching him with mock annoyance.

“Hector,” she warned, trying not to laugh. “Give me the ball.”

“What ball?” he said innocently, nudging it slightly behind him with his heel.

“The one you’ve been guarding like it’s the World Cup.”

He winked. “You want it? Come get it.”

With a gasp of playful outrage, Reader lunged forward, trying to steal the ball. Hector darted away with a laugh, sand kicking up around him.

What followed was an adorable, chaotic game of chase— Hector zigzagging across the beach, expertly keeping the ball just out of reach while

Reader chased after him, breathless from laughter.

“She’s gonna catch him,” one of her uncles said confidently, taking a sip of his beer.

“Not a chance,” her friend countered. “He’s too fast.”

“Oh please,” someone else chimed in. “They’ll both end up face-first in the sand from laughing too hard.”

And sure enough with that remark, moments later, that prediction came true.

Reader finally got close enough to make a tackle, and instead of dodging, Hector let himself fall backward with an exaggerated “oof!”— dragging her down with him in a burst of giggles.

They lay there for a moment, tangled in limbs and sand, eyes crinkled with laughter and hearts so visibly full that even passersby couldn’t help but smile.

Hector brushed a strand of hair from Reader’s face, his fingers slow and affectionate, and whispered something that made her giggle again.

Back at the bar, the gossip was in full swing.

“They are just… ridiculous together,” her friend said, watching with a soft expression. “But in the best way.”

“I think this is it for her,” her mom added quietly, almost like she was afraid to jinx it. “The way he looks at her... like she hung the stars.”

The table nodded, murmuring in agreement as they watched Hector help Reader to her feet, dusting sand from her shoulders with tender hands before sneaking a kiss to her temple.

She smacked his arm playfully, blushing, then tackled him again— sending them both into another fit of laughter.

—

Later, Reader kicked the ball toward him with surprising force, catching him off guard and earning an impressed cheer from the bar.

Hector exaggerated his “defeat,” flopping to the ground and proclaiming her the undisputed champion.

“Oh come on, you let me win,” she teased, standing over him with hands on her hips.

“I would never,” he said, grinning up at her. “You’re just that good.”

Their banter never ceased, and neither did the affection— whether it was a shared water bottle, a quick kiss between playful jabs, or the way they couldn’t stop smiling at each other.

By the time the sun began to dip fully behind the horizon, painting the sky in hues of lavender and peach, Reader and Hector had collapsed onto a shared beach towel.

He lay on his back, arm curled around her shoulders, while she rested against his chest, eyes closed and heart full.

The beach bar buzzed softly in the background, music playing low, and the family’s conversation had softened into nostalgic, content tones.

“I hope they always stay like this,” someone murmured.

No one replied, but they didn’t have to. They were all thinking the same thing— some kinds of love are loud and passionate, others quiet and enduring.

But the kind between Reader and Hector was both. It was in their laughter, their teasing, their touch, and the way they seemed to exist in their own sunlit world.

And that day, on a warm Spanish beach, surrounded by salty air, football kicks, and stolen kisses, everyone saw it— they were meant to be.

—

Anon! I hope that you loved the request☺️❤️

I would write more notes but I have to watch the game tonight so I will respond to any asks or request later down the line. Happy reading guys😭 x

#hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort fluff #spain #football imagine #fc barcelona

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yumelatte · 1 month ago

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where the sun shines, snow will fall

You and Phainon have been together since childhood, being inseparable ever since. People come and go throughout your lives, but you will always have each other.

A telling of your relationship with him through the eyes of your friends.

Snowy & Sunny Series, Modern AU

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Reader's nickname is Sunny, pure tooth-rotting fluff ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Part I | Part II

Cyrene: fries.jpeg

Castorice: Is that Phainon and…

Tribbie: It’s Snowy and Sunny!

Cipher: they’re feeding each other fries

Cipher: i’m going to be sick (affectionate)

Aglaea: How did you obtain this?

Cyrene: I have my ways~

Anaxagoras: Do we have to have a group chat for this?

Aglaea: Yes we do, Anaxa.

Anaxagoras: For the last time, it’s Anaxagoras. Don’t call me Anaxa again.

Aglaea: aglaeanosticker.png

Aglaea: Alright, Anaxa.

Anaxagoras: …

Anaxagoras: Whoever made fantasy stickers of us needs to stop right now. Those times are way behind us now.

Aglaea: anaxadromaspjs.png

Anaxagoras: Like I said, they need to be stopped.

Tribbie: Agy was the one who made them!

Aglaea: aglaeadesignsticker.png

Anaxagoras: …

Anaxagoras: anaxagunsticker.png

Cipher: anyway, how are Phainon and Sunny not dating already? they have to be

Castorice: Why don’t we ask Cyrene? If anyone would know, it would be her and she’s here already.

Castorice: @Cyrene

Cyrene: Me?

Cyrene: I wouldn’t know! My brother tells me everything, but when it comes to Sunny, it’s like prying a locked door open…

As she sent that, Cyrene looked up from her phone to see you and Phainon sitting close beside each other on swiveling seats, giggling and smiling at each other with the finished fries box forgotten on the table.

Looking at you two, she helplessly agreed with Cipher. If anyone else saw this scene, they would have assumed both you and Phainon were a couple too.

You had invited her out for lunch, and if she knew this was how it was going to be, she would have said no.

Sike.

She may have felt like a third wheel; however, she was invested in your and her brother’s relationship. It wasn’t just her who was fascinated either—the group chat was made for people who, in simpler terms, were eager to see you and Phainon getting together. Anaxa may have played it off, but he was just as interested in the development.

“My mom’s been asking about you. Do you think you could come over today after class?” Cyrene overheard you asking Phainon.

“Sure, but I saw her the other day?”

“True, but aside from me, you’re her favorite person. Think about it this way, you get free dinner!”

Honestly, your mom’s cooking was unrivaled—even their grandma’s couldn’t compare. Cyrene remembered going over to your place as a teenager and never had she eaten so fast before.

She missed those days…

It had been the perfect day to enjoy the refreshing breeze of the season. Phainon had practically begged Grandma and Grandpa to take him to the nearby park. Occupied with some business, they couldn’t, but they hadn’t wanted to let him waste his summer break, so Cyrene was the answer. As his older sister, she was put in charge of watching over him by them, and she hadn’t minded.

Having a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt.

Her eyes followed the white-haired boy around the playground, giggling because he was using the fort-like structure as a base.

Smiling at her brother’s antics, she was glad there weren’t any other kids because Phainon was aggressively swinging a wooden sword around.

Well… no other kids but you.

From your perch on the swing, you had been watching the park newcomer fight an invisible enemy for a while now. He looked like he was having fun.

After moving from your old place, you lost contact with all your friends. It was sad, but you were sure you could make new ones. This could be your chance.

Standing up from your seat, you approached the boy, wondering if he would let you join.

“Hey, Hero!” you loudly shouted from below the tower.

The sword-wielding boy was about to slay the villain when he heard your voice, pausing and leaning over the railing to see you, a slight frown on his face. “Huh? I was about to beat up the bad guy.”

Wait, you called him a hero? So, you did recognize what he was! Even though you interrupted him before one of his greatest moments, he decided you weren’t the worst.

With hopeful eyes, you asked, “Can I join? I can be the villain to your hero.”

“Really? You mean I’ll defeat you?”

“Who said you would beat me? Villains can win too.”

“What? But heroes always win!”

“No, they don’t, and I’ll prove it. Take this!” Raising your hand, you pretended to shoot a ray of light at him before hurriedly running towards the ladder to reach him.

Narrowly ducking to avoid your attack, he complained, “Ack! That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t ready.”

Now at the top of the ladder, you were about to seize the opportunity to ambush him, but you couldn’t because he had taken an escape route—the slide.

Seeing as you had switched places with him, you looked down at him and playfully threatened, “You can’t run from me!”

Sticking out his tongue, he directed his sword at you. “I just did!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

His eyes widened as he saw your hands on the bar above the slide, ready to come down. “If you come down, I’m going to stab you.”

“I’d like to see you do it. I have magic, so I can attack from far away.”

“Magic?! Aw, man. That’s no fair too!”

“I’m going to win!”

“When you run out of magic, I’ll go close and beat you!”

“We’ll see about that.”

And you and him continued to play a game of cat and mouse around the battlefield—or playground.

Watching you and Phainon play, Cyrene couldn’t help but laugh at how cute you two were being.

However, her amusement was cut short because an unfamiliar woman took a seat beside her.

Cyrene turned to look at her, seeing her also looking at the children with a fond smile.

“My daughter might not be lonely after all.”

Daughter?

Returning her gaze towards the play area, and on a closer look, Cyrene could see the similarities between you and the woman next to her.

“That’s my little brother with her.”

A puff of laughter left the woman. “I could tell.”

Cyrene guessed as much because she, you, the woman, and Phainon were the only ones here at this moment.

“My daughter and I recently moved here, so I was worried about how she was going to adjust without her old friends. I’m glad I was worried for nothing.”

Phainon didn’t have many playmates, always by himself when not with her.

Cyrene smiled back at the woman. “I’m also happy that my brother found a new friend.”

“Would you and your brother like to come over for dinner? I’ll make a special feast to celebrate their first meeting.”

Hm, a very tempting offer, but she needed to get permission from Grandma and Grandpa first.

“I need to ask my grandparents.”

The woman didn’t look surprised, and with crinkled kind eyes, replied, “Of course.”

It wasn’t smart to talk to strangers, but Cyrene didn’t want Phainon to be alone anymore. She knew when they had to go home, he would whine about leaving you.

Making her way over to the tan barked enclosure, Cyrene said, “Phainon.”

Said boy was lying on the ground with you crouching over him, curiosity in your expression, poking him with his own wooden sword.

Phainon slowly opened his eyes at the sound of his name, wondering why his sister was here. “...Cyrene?”

Looking up, you were also wondering why she was here—in addition to who she was.

“Your new friend—”

Abruptly, Phainon said your name with his head in your direction, “Her name.”

Blinking while repeating your name, Cyrene continued, “Her mom invited us over to eat at their place.”

Quickly sitting up, the boy almost smacked his head against yours, but you backed up before it could happen. “Really?!”

“Really. But I need to ask Grandma and Grandpa before if we can go.”

“Please, please, please! Convince them to let us. I don’t want to leave her yet…”

Flattered by his words, you giggled, “You still want to play with me even after I beat you?”

“It was only one fight! I’ll win next time…”

“We should head home to ask. Your friend can wait here.”

“Aw, okay.” Taking Cyrene’s hand, Phainon got up and held his sister’s hand, facing you. “Wait for me. I’ll be back.”

With your head in your palms, you grinned, “Okay! I’ll be waiting for you. I need my hero to be a villain.”

And Cyrene already regretted taking Phainon away from you…

Surprisingly, their grandparents were okay with them going over for dinner. Cyrene had never seen Phainon so happy in his life. You were also ecstatic at being able to see him again.

It turned out; you and your mother were their next-door neighbor, so running into them would be a common occurrence.

Quietly laughing at the distant memory, Cyrene shook her head before refocusing on you and Phainon.

Phainon was showing you something on his phone, getting closer so that your shoulder was touching his. You didn’t mind and leaned in to see his screen, even overlapping your fingers with his as you held the device with him.

All Cyrene could think was there was no way you guys weren’t dating.

Tribbie: tribbiesurprisedsticker.png

Tribbie: sunset.jpeg

Castorice: How beautiful.

Cipher: it is

Cipher: but we’re not gonna talk about how they’re holding hands?

Mydei: They do that all the time.

Hyacine: Now that you mentioned it, they’ve been close like that since we were all kids

Tribbie: I remember when we would all meet on the play yard!

Tribbie: Snowy and Sunny were the hero and the princess and Snowy would escort her everywhere

Cyrene: I thought Sunny was the villain?

Tribbie: She was but when Ciphy joined she wanted to play the cat thief…

Cipher: hey! you can’t deny i was a damn good villain…

Cipher: also Sunny had light magic

Cipher: what kind of villain has light magic???

Tribbie: That’s why I call her Sunny! She described her power being from the sun

Hyacine: You and your nicknames, Tribbie…

Tribbie: You guys gave me one too! I’m Tribios remember?

Castorice: Cipher was Cifera and Hyacine was Hyacinthia as well.

Cipher: Cipher sounds better so just keep calling me that

Cipher: i’m sharp and swift like the wind hehe

Hyacine: I don’t mind being called Hyacinthia but Hyacine is probably easier to say

Hyacine: Don’t forget about Mydei being Mydeimos

Mydei: Either works for me.

Mydei: @Tribbie Are you with them right now?

Tribbie: Yeah! Agy and Naxy are also here…

Removing her eyes from the screen, Tribbie saw Aglaea and Anaxa bickering about a topic she wasn’t paying any attention to.

Tribbie: They’re arguing again…

Mydei: Where are you guys? Let me know. I need to return something.

Tribbie: To Snowy?

Mydei: Yeah, him.

After typing the location to the group chat, Tribbie placed her phone into her school bag, hearing you say her name.

“Tribbie!” Waving her over with your free hand before pointing out a cloud in the sky, you remarked with laughter, “Doesn’t it look like a rocket? You used to love imagining yourself riding a spaceship. The spring riders were your favorite. You would keep rocking on it while telling us our prophecies!”

Stepping towards you, the young red-haired woman sheepishly smiled, lowering her head in embarrassment. “Ah, that was a long time ago…”

Chuckling, Phainon released your hand to lean back against the railing. “A long time ago, and a fun time ago.”

“Yeah, don’t be embarrassed, Tribbie. We were all pretty much doing what kids do: acting out our fantasies,” you said, smiling for reassurance.

Acting out fantasies, huh…?

For a moment, Tribbie’s eyes flickered between you and Phainon before opening her mouth. “Then you both wanted to be together even back then?”

Surprised by her implication, you dumbly let out, “What?”

Phainon also straightened up with wide eyes, wondering what Tribbie meant by that.

“The hero and the princess you know… The perfect match for one another…”

Flustered, you stuttered, “W-well, I didn’t even really want to play that part! Cipher wanted to be the villain, so I had no choice…” Glancing at Phainon with a pout, you lightly hit his arm. “You’d prefer me being the villain, right?”

“Err…” Phainon hesitated, avoiding your look.

Tribbie realized she might’ve unintentionally opened Pandora's box by her comment.

And as she watched you and Phainon becoming awkward around each other, she felt like she had just set a series in motion.

Cipher: when are you guys heading over?

Cipher: Mydei’s almost done making food for us

Cipher: mydeichefsticker.png

Cipher: don’t let all his efforts go to waste

Cipher: but check out this cute pic i just snapped

Cipher: nap.jpeg

Hyacine: Cassie is driving right now, so she can’t text but we’re all in the car and coming over now

Tribbie: Sunny looks so peaceful with her head on Snowy.

Cyrene: Can you believe they weren’t talking a few days ago?

Hyacine: They weren’t?

Cyrene: Weird, right? Phainon used to stay at Sunny’s house until nighttime, but he started coming home right after he’s done with classes.

Cyrene: Although… he did disappear last night to who knows where…

Tribbie: castoricespeechlesssticker.png

Tribbie: I think I may have something to do with it…

Cyrene: ?

Tribbie: The other day when I sent the sunset photo, Sunny made me remember about our playground days

Tribbie: And I got embarrassed but she said it was okay because we were just kids playing out our fantasies

Tribbie: And then I said that they wanted to be together even back then cause… you know…

Cipher: lol

Hyacine: I guess this proves they aren’t dating

Cyrene: I wouldn’t be so sure…

Hyacine: Do you know something we don’t?

Cyrene: C’mon… the stuff they do together… Do normal friends do that?

Tribbie: Maybe if they’re really close!

Cipher: they’ve always been together, yeah?

Cyrene: Since the day they’ve met.

Hyacine: Oh we’re almost there! Tell Mydei we appreciate his work

Reacting with a thumbs-up emoji, Cipher returned to the pair on the couch. With closed eyes, your head was on Phainon's shoulder while his head was on top of yours.

To her amusement, her two cats had joined in on the impromptu nap session as well.

With the presence of her pets, she was reminded of her villain persona from her childhood.

It had been true; Cipher had stolen the role from you when she was brought into the group.

Upon her first introduction, it had been you, Phainon, Tribbie, and Cyrene.

Cyrene was always on supervising duty, never minding watching her brother and his friends. It had brought her peace of mind to know they were enjoying their summer.

“This is Cifera, but I call her Ciphy.” Tribbie presented the girl beside her to you and Phainon. “She wants to join our game. Is that okay?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you addressed Cifera, “Sure! What do you want to play as?”

Putting on a hood with a pair of cat ears, she shouted, “The villain!”

“What? But I’m the villain…”

“I can play a better one! Tribbie said your powers were from the sun. Bad guys don’t do well in the day.”

With your hands clenching into little fists, you stared at the newcomer.

Noticing your discomfort, Tribbie offered a solution, “How about you play the princess that gets saved?”

“Do I have to get saved? Can’t I defend myself with my magic?”

“Then Snowy wouldn’t have a job…”

Shaking your head, you grabbed Phainon’s hand, holding it in the air. “I’ll play the princess, but me and Phainon are gonna work together to beat you, Cifera!”

“It’s Cipher now!” The cat thief quickly ran off to escape her enemies.

Phainon had frozen when you touched his hand, and he couldn’t do anything, letting you drag him off to catch the villain. Realizing he had a job to do, he raised his wooden sword while chasing down Cipher. As he ran alongside with you, he was glad Cipher made you not the villain anymore. As much as he liked first playing with you, he had been wanting to work with you and not against you.

Pfft, Tribbie didn’t even remember she was the one who gave you your new role, solidifying the dynamic between you and Phainon.

“Hey, can you help me set up the table?” Mydei’s head poked out from the dining room entrance, eyes briefly landing on the two on the couch before looking at Cipher. “And leave those lovebirds alone.”

“Lovebirds?” With an eyebrow raised, Cipher walked towards the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, ready to set the table in the dining room. “They’re really together?”

Mydei grabbed a pair of mitts, opening the oven to remove the freshly baked rolls. “You didn’t hear anything from me.”

Castorice: ornaments.jpeg

Castorice: These came in today. Do you want to come over?

You: ooo yee

You: the butterflies and flowers are so pretty!! yaa im coming

You: is it okay if i make two bracelets this time?

Castorice: I think so too… Make however many you want.

Castorice: castoricebutterfliessticker.png

You: yay im on the way!

Your last text to her had been a while ago.

Hearing the familiar chime ring throughout her house, Castorice double checked the table for everything she needed before opening the door.

“Hi, Cas!” you happily greeted, a canvas tote bag hanging off your shoulder.

Saying your name, Castorice warmly returned your acknowledgement, “Hello.”

Moving out the way for you to walk in, the purple-haired woman closed the door.

A quick glimpse of the bag revealed multiple books overlaid.

“...Books?”

“Yeah, I remembered how you wanted to borrow some the other day.”

Taken aback by your thoughtfulness, Castorice was speechless. Even she didn’t remember saying that.

“These are from my personal collection, but I’m probably going to the library soon to find more stuff to read. Should I put them here?”

“Yes, there is fine.”

“Okay, I recommend the one about the princess that becomes a dragon! I’m pretty sure you would like that one. You used to pretend you had a cool dragon when we were younger.”

“Thank you… I did…”

Seating yourself before her cozy table, you exclaimed, “Let’s start our sewing!”

Castorice sat across from you, picking out the ornaments she wanted for her piece.

In the quiet and comfortable setting, both you and Castorice carefully used thin threads to fix the various materials onto bracelets and canvas respectfully.

As Castorice sewed one butterfly and a few flowers onto the special silk fabric, she couldn’t help but wonder: Why were you making two bracelets this time? Usually, you would make a single piece for yourself. Could the second be for someone else? Who would that be?

Setting her decorated canvas into a frame, Castorice curiously questioned, “...You are making two bracelets? Who is the other one for?”

You winced, not losing focus on your project. “I was secretly hoping you wouldn’t ask…”

“Ah, my apologies. You usually take home a single item.”

Pausing your sewing, you nervously laughed before admitting, “Don’t tell the others but it’s for Phainon.”

“Phainon?”

It made complete sense; you were rather close to him.

“...Yes. We, um… just started… seeing each other.”

Resting your hand on the table with your palm upright, Castorice clocked the subtle mark on your inner wrist, not thinking much of it.

“But you see each other all the time…? You’re both constantly together.”

“Cas… I mean we’re… dating…”

Oh.

The group chat would be thrilled to hear about this, but Castorice refrained from imposing on your privacy.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks…” Ignoring the heat on your cheeks and picking up one of the bracelets, you dangled it before Castorice. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Delicate dried blue and white flowers adorned the full length of the silk strap, and the craftsmanship was remarkable—even Aglaea would praise you for your work.

“Yes. He would love it.” And Castorice meant it. There was no universe in which Phainon wouldn’t because she saw how he looked at you when you weren’t.

All soft and lovingly as if you were his whole reason to live.

Recalling a specific memory, Castorice smiled.

At the usual park, Castorice was the newest addition to the crew. You had approached her one day while she was sitting on the bench, asking her if she wanted to join your game because you had noticed her coming here everyday.

She did, and that was why she visited the area daily. Her inexperience with communication made it difficult to come up to you and request herself so she was very glad that you seeked her out.

Her role was the reaper, death incarnate. She was to collect the souls of the ones who passed.

During her first play session, Cipher managed to “injure” you, and you dramatically fell onto your back, coughing and pretending to bleed out with a hand outstretched towards your companion.

“...Phainon…go on without me… I won’t make it…”

Dropping his toy sword, he kneeled before your body, taking your hand in his. “No! I won’t let anyone take you away from me! Not even Death herself…”

On cue, Castorice appeared with a plastic scythe to take you to the afterlife.

Seeing the reaper, Phainon shielded your body with his, manifesting puppy eyes. “Don’t do this, Death. Please, let her be.”

Castorice froze, unsure of what she should do. She was supposed to complete her job and “take” you but Phainon was preventing her from doing so.

Swinging her legs back and forth above them, Tribbie’s amused voice interrupted the moment. “Cas, you need to take Sunny’s soul!”

“...But Phainon is…”

Shaking her head, Cipher argued, “Doesn’t matter! Sunny’s down and out.”

Castorice knew what she had to do, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it.

Phainon bowed before Castorice, feigning tears. “...If you’re going to take her, take me too. I can’t live without her…”

“Hey, Snowy, you can’t die too! We still need someone to fight the villain!”

“Actually, I’m okay with Castorice taking both of them.”

“Ciphy, you just wanna be the winner.”

“...Yeah…”

“...Um.” Stuck with a hard decision, Castorice’s eyes moved between you and Phainon before she stated, “I’ll let you both go for now, but next time, I’ll take your souls.”

“Oh, you hear that Phainon? Yay, I’m alive! I’m still bleeding though… We need a healer in our group.”

Snapping out of her daze, Castorice returned her attention to you, eyes drawn to the other bracelet on the table. “Is that for you?”

“Yep, I want to match with him. It’s not weird, is it?”

“..No, it’s cute…”

“Haha…”

Hyacine: I just got out of class

Hyacine: What did you want?

Phainon: You’re gonna be a doctor, right?

Hyacine: I’m working hard to be one!

Phainon: Can you do a check up on me? I think I’m dying

Phainon: phainonsorrysticker.png

Hyacine: What?!

Phainon: Yeah, my heart’s been speeding up lately, and I don’t know what’s causing it

Hyacine: Tachycardia could be caused by a lot of things

Hyacine: What have you been doing?

Phainon: Tachycardia? Is that what I have?

Phainon: Anyway, I’ve been with Sunny

Putting down her phone for a second, Hyacine giggled because it was obvious why his heart was beating fast.

You, huh…

She should’ve known…

Phainon: Hello?

Hyacine: Sorry, I was just trying to rule out the possibilities

Hyacine: If you want, we can meet up at the university café, and we can talk about your symptoms

Phainon: I’ll be there in a bit!

In the café while waiting for her friend to show up, Hyacine reminisced about the time she got roped into “healing” Phainon.

It was Phainon’s turn to take a hit from Cipher, crumpling to the ground while clutching his side.

Immediately running to his side, you supported him, letting him lean against you. “No, Phainon! You’re injured…”

“I’m hurt, but not that bad,” Phainon smiled, trying to comfort you. “I’ll live.”

You still haven't gotten a healer for situations like these…

Dragging Phainon around the playground, your eyes roamed the place for the perfect someone when you saw a girl with a pegasus plushie in her hands.

Quickly making your way over to her with Phainon’s extra weight, you asked, “Hi! Sorry to bother you, but can you heal my partner real quick? Please, it’s a matter of life or death!”

“...I just said I’ll live.”

Hyacine blinked, confused on why the two of you were talking to her when she was busy playing with her toy. “I’m not a healer…”

Hugging the boy beside you, you wailed, “He’s gonna die if you don’t do something!”

You looked deathly serious, and because of your pitiful behavior, Hyacine played along.

Sighing, the pink-haired girl held her pegasus before Phainon. “This is Ika. I can’t heal yet, but Ika can!”

Moving Ika from side to side, the pegasus “healed” Phainon’s injury.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, voice filled with concern.

Giving a thumbs-up, Phainon grinned, “Great.”

Turning towards your new healer, you gave her your gratitude, fishing for her name. “Thank you…”

“Hyacinthia, but you can call me Hyacine.”

“Thank you, Hyacine!”

And somehow, Hyacine learned healing magic from Ika, eventually supporting and becoming the medic of the group.

Honestly, she didn’t regret helping you and Phainon. It helped with finding her passion, and she wouldn’t be lying if she said having you all as friends was the best experience ever. Nothing was ever dull with you all.

Spotting Phainon at the entrance, Hyacine waved him down.

Noticing her, Phainon briskly marched over, determined to find out what was wrong with him.

“Hyacine… What’s wrong with me?”

With the tip of her chin resting on her palm, Hyacine smirked, “Sunny.”

“What about her?”

Before Hyacine could answer, something blue and white caught her attention.

Eying the new accessory on Phainon’s arm, her smirk grew wider, pointing below. “First, what is that?”

Phainon registered that she was talking about the flower bracelet you gave him. “Oh, this is from Sunny.”

From you, huh? No wonder he was flaunting it.

“Sunny is the root of all your problems.”

“Problems? You mean my… uh… tacardia?”

“Tachycardia.”

“Yeah, that.”

Nodding, Hyacine gave her diagnosis, “You’re in love.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Phainon echoed, “...In love…?”

“It’s a serious condition. There’s no cure. You’re going to have to live with it. We call that a chronic condition.”

“Ooh…”

“Well, I lied. There’s a cure. It’s to confess your love to her!”

“I did that already, so why aren’t I better?”

Wait, what? He already did?!

“Um.” Shocked, Hyacine’s lips turned into a fine line as she stared blankly at him. “You and Sunny are dating now?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since the party.”

“...Congrats.”

“Thank you?”

He was hopeless.

Mydei: Why are you interrupting my class with your message?

Phainon: Look what Sunny got me!

Phainon: bracelet.jpeg

This idiot… He has the worst photography skills…

The blurry picture was hard to make out, so Mydei squinted his eyes, realizing he was looking at a piece of accessory.

Mydei: It’s a bracelet.

Phainon: From Sunny!

Mydei: I’m in the middle of class. You really thought this was important?

Wait.

Thinking back on it, you had been wearing a similar bracelet, but that wasn’t what Mydei wanted to focus on.

There had been a small mark on your wrist that wasn’t there before, but he wouldn’t have known because you always had a bandaid over it.

Stepping into the quaint building, Hyacine noted, “Wow, we’re really in a tattoo shop!”

“Woah, look at all the cool designs we could get.” Cipher stood before the wooden countertop, examining the various pictures.

Castorice also looked at the book on the table, hoping she could maybe include the two delicate things she liked the most into her tattoo.

Glancing at Anaxa, Tribbie asked, “Did you decide what you wanted your mark to be?”

With his hand on his forehead, Anaxa shook his head, “I can’t believe I agreed to doing this…”

“Lighten up, Anaxa. As Chrysos Heirs, we were destined for greatness!” Phainon proudly proclaimed.

“...That was when we were younger…”

Aglaea studied the decorations on the walls, holding a paper with intricate, golden branches for you to see. “I already have my design selected.”

“It looks good, Aglaea!” Instead of being fascinated by the store, you were more interested in her idea. “Did you design this yourself?”

“Of course. I am the only one who knows what’s befitting of me.”

Mydei had to agree with Anaxa’s sentiment. Why was he here…?

“Mydei, are you regretting your decision?”

At the sound of your voice, he looked in your direction. “Yes…”

“Haha, but you’re still moving forward with it?”

Shifting his gaze behind you, he saw everyone crowding around the waiting area, engaging in different activities while waiting for their turns.

Cipher was flipping through the gallery, showing Hyacine what she potentially wanted.

With each flip of the page, Hyacine either shook or nodded her head.

Phainon—trying to convince Anaxa to get an ear piercing with the tattoo.

And Anaxa was actually considering it…

Tribbie’s eyes sparkled as Aglaea was sketching possible designs for her on a sticky note.

Castorice was sitting on the couch with Tribbie and Aglaea, captivated by the technique Aglaea incorporated in her pen strokes.

Mydei’s expression softened, watching his close-knit friends.

He decided he didn’t mind much when they were all in this together. “What is a bond if not forged with blood and tears… and a little ink…”

You followed his line of sight to see a similar view, equally amused. “Isn’t it funny this was because of our silly little game?”

“You’re right.”

“I still think about how Phainon was against you joining at first, but now you two are the best of buds.”

“Hmph, you’re pushing it a little… and he was only against me joining because Tribbie wanted me to play the crown prince.”

Laughing at the memory, you teased, “We coulda been together!”

“...I don’t even want to think about it… Fortunately, she made me your long lost brother. Besides, don’t you and Phainon like each other?”

“...What?”

Oh, Mydei guessed wrong, and to remedy his mistake, he dismissed his previous statement. “Nevermind.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you stopped talking, wondering if you should get the tattoo you had been meaning to get.

“Do you know what tattoo Phainon’s getting?”

“You speak as if he told me.”

“Well, did he?”

“...He did.”

“Can you tell me?”

Mydei clearly remembered Phainon telling him not to tell anyone about his design until he got it, especially you.

But maybe you both needed a slight push.

“A sun.”

Lowering your gaze, you hoped he couldn’t see your face.

This was bad.

Because you were going to get a snowflake as your tattoo.

“He told me not to tell anyone, but I just told you… So, what are you getting?”

“...I don’t think I’m going to get anything, to be honest…”

Realizing you had been lying and thinking you were hopeless, Mydei lightly chuckled, coming back to his phone and seeing Phainon texting him a bunch of question marks due to no response.

Mydei: Have you checked Sunny’s wrist?

Phainon: What?

Mydei: Check her wrist next time you see her.

Mydei: You might find a pleasant surprise.

Phainon: Uh… okay… so we still gyming after though, right?

Mydei: mydeiworkingoutsticker.png

Aglaea: I have picked out some clothing that would suit your nature. Would you like to take a gander? In addition, I am ready to forward some portraits as well.

You: sorry aglaea! im kind of in a hurry right now

Aglaea: What is the matter? Maybe I can provide assistance.

You: you can actually! can you tell me which one i look better in?

You: dress1.jpeg

You: dress2.jpeg

You: dress3.jpeg

Aglaea: What is the occasion?

You: secret

Aglaea: It is only fair you would not divulge when even I do not answer your questions.

Aglaea: Anyway, the second one.

You: thank you!! i gotta go but ill tell you later

Smiling at her screen, Aglaea couldn’t wait because she had a feeling it was about you know who .

Honestly, she was tired of seeing the two of you mutually pining since childhood.

She had been reluctant to play the game; however, you were quite persuasive when you wanted to be.

After joining the group as the destiny weaver, she had made it her goal to have you and Phainon getting together.

And now finally it was happening.

Her phone lit up with a notification from Anaxa, immediately disturbing her good mood.

What did he want?

Anaxagoras: Sunny and Phainon are at the library.

Aglaea: What are they doing there?

Anaxagoras: They just met up.

Aglaea: Sunny had just asked me for advice on what garments to wear.

Anaxagoras: They’re on a date.

Aglaea: Yes.

Anaxagoras: Phainon has her against the bookshelf.

Aglaea: And you are still watching?

Anaxagoras: No.

Aglaea: You owe me some money.

Anaxagoras: Like you need any more…

Flipping his phone so the screen was on the table’s surface, Anaxa couldn’t believe his eyes.

…He didn’t want to pay up to Aglaea.

He had been expecting you and Phainon to date much later because you both were dense as hell.

But he was proven wrong.

Maybe it was for the better.

Maybe he should also look away.

Yeah, he should do that.

One more picture was sent to the group chat before Anaxa minded his own business, ignoring the vibrations from his phone in favor of scribbling notes.

In the corner of the library, you and Phainon were in your own bubble, uncaring of the surroundings.

As far as you were both aware, it was just the two of you.

Not wanting to be caught in such a compromising position, you whined, “Phainon…” Your hand was on his chest, but barely exerting any effort into pushing him away. “Anyone could see us…”

On second thought, you didn’t mind it much… and you didn’t resist when he gently laid his hand on you, encompassing the width of your arm to bring it to him.

The matching bracelet fell lower as Phainon lifted it.

Upon closer inspection, there was a mark—like Mydei had implied.

What’s more was that it was in the shape of a snowflake.

Unconsciously, Phainon touched the left side of his neck, and you wanted to pull away your limb; however, his grip tightened.

How could he have not seen it before?

That was right; you had been covering it with bandaids.

To think this was hidden underneath the adhesives all this time…

When Phainon dropped his hand from his neck, your hand replaced it.

Lightly tracing the ink, Phainon softly gazed at your tattoo. “...I thought you didn’t get one… ”

Returning the gesture on his own ink, you confessed, “...I didn’t…but then it felt wrong to not have it so I went back to get it the very next day. The artist was laughing at me the whole time because she had heard Tribbie call you Snowy and me Sunny.”

“...I was disappointed when we walked out of the store, and I didn’t see one on you.”

“I know…”

“Ha…” He couldn’t stop staring, fixated on a mark that represented him—engraved on you like you were on him forever .

Meeting your half-lidded eyes and grazing his lips against your inner wrist, Phainon whispered your real name against your skin, “Wherever you are, I’ll be there.”

And his bright azure eyes held so much love for you.

Making you want to do one thing at this moment.

Murmuring his name back, you stood on your toes, brushing your lips against his neck before moving towards his own.

As you both melted into the kiss, Phainon knew you were his Sunny, and you knew he was your Snowy.

#phainon x reader #female reader #reader insert #hsr x reader #x reader #hsr phainon x reader #phainon x you #hsr phainon #honkai star rail #yumelatte writes

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joelsrose · 6 months ago

Text

Good Neighbours: Chapter 2

previous chapter

no warnings - slow burn, joel is a major tease and flirt

The kitchen was warm, the smell of melted chocolate lingering in the air as you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, glancing down at the recipe in front of you. It was one you’d made a hundred times before—a rich, decadent chocolate cake that had won over countless friends back in Chicago. Even your ex had loved it.

You grimaced at the memory, shaking it off with a shudder before dipping a finger into the bowl for a taste. The sweet, velvety flavor spread across your tongue, momentarily satisfying.

Uncle Ray had mentioned earlier that he’d invited Sarah and Joel over to watch the game. Your heart gave a nervous thud at the thought of Joel being in your house. He had this way of commanding a room with his quiet confidence, and you weren’t sure you were ready to be in such close proximity to him for an entire evening.

Ray had promised to take care of dinner, leaving you in charge of dessert. A fair trade, you supposed, since cooking wasn’t exactly his forte. You focused on the cake, pouring the batter into the pan, when the doorbell rang.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked to the door, smoothing your hair nervously before opening it.

There he was—Joel. His hair was damp and slicked back, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His patchy beard was trimmed just enough to keep that rugged edge, and his brown eyes held a quiet warmth, deep and rich like coffee.

The scent of him hit you next—clean and woodsy, mixed with a faint trace of something spiced that made your knees feel a little weaker.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar, that unmistakable Southern drawl curling around the word and sending a shiver straight through you.

"Hi, Joel," you managed, your voice softer than you intended as you stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

He stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the hardwood floor, the sound grounding you as you tried not to stare too long.

His eyes roamed the hallway, pausing on a framed photo perched on the console table. Reaching out, he picked it up with a curious smile.

"Who's this cutie?" he asked, holding the picture up slightly.

You moved closer, your shoulder nearly brushing his as you glanced at the image. It was an old photo of you as a kid, sandwiched between your dad and Ray.

The memory bubbled up faintly—how you’d been wearing an oversized life jacket, grinning despite being terrified of the fish your dad had caught.

"Oh," you said, a small laugh escaping as you brushed your hair back nervously. "That’s me. My dad and Uncle Ray took me fishing that day. I remember being scared out of my mind when Dad reeled in this huge fish—it was flopping around everywhere."

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back at the photo, his thumb brushing over the glass as if committing it to memory.

"Damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. Then he glanced at you, his smile softening into something deeper, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. "Still are," he added, his eyes holding yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Your cheeks burned, the compliment settling into your chest like a warm glow. "Thanks," you said, barely above a whisper, unsure of what else to say under the weight of his gaze.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand being alone with Joel.

His presence was magnetic, and every look, every word he said, felt charged—but was it? Was he flirting, or was this just how he was with everyone?

Maybe it was just some Texas charm you weren’t used to. You needed to steady yourself, needed to change the subject.

"So, uh," you said, forcing a casual tone as you cleared your throat. "Where’s Sarah?"

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk, like he knew exactly what you were doing, but he let you have the out. "She’s runnin’ late," he said, placing the photo back down on the table with care. "Still finishing up work, but she’ll be here soon."

You nodded, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation hit you—you were alone with Joel. The thought made your pulse quicken, a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. "Uh, well," you said, gesturing toward the living room. "Ray’s out grabbing dinner. You can, um, make yourself comfortable until he gets back."

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. It made your breath hitch, the intensity in his eyes somehow grounding and overwhelming all at once. Then he gave you that crooked smile, the one that made your stomach flip.

"Alright," he said simply, moving toward the couch with an easy confidence that only made the room feel smaller. You watched him settle in, his broad shoulders stretching out as he leaned back, completely at ease while you stood there, feeling anything but.

Joel sat down with a sigh, his broad shoulders sinking into the couch as he leaned back and ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion pulling your attention to the way his shirt clung to him just right.

"It’s damn hot today," he said, his voice low and rough, like the heat had taken the edge off his usual drawl. His legs were spread comfortably, his presence filling the space with an effortless ease that only made you feel more out of place.

"You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to it."

You hovered near the doorway, arms folding across your chest as you tried to decide whether to sit or stay standing. The indecision made you feel awkward, and you cursed yourself for being so flustered around him.

"It’s even worse upstairs," you finally said, forcing a light tone. "The fan in my room stopped working a few days ago—it’s like a sauna in there."

Joel straightened a little, his brows knitting together in concern. "Really? You poor thing." His gaze softened as he looked at you, and the way he said it made something twist low in your stomach. "I could take a look at it for you, if you want."

The offer caught you off guard, your mind scrambling as you processed his words.

Oh, right—Ray had mentioned Joel was in construction. Maybe he knew how to fix a fan.

It made sense—the truck, the boots, the rough calloused hands that had clearly seen their share of hard work. The thought made your throat tighten.

Your mind stumbled at the thought of Joel in your room, his presence alone enough to make your pulse race. "Oh, you don’t have to—" you started, your voice higher than usual, betraying your nerves.

Joel stood, cutting you off with that low, smooth drawl. "Don’t want you spendin’ all night awake, hot and bothered," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The insinuation in his words wasn’t lost on you, and it hit you like a jolt of electricity, your breath catching in your chest. "Not when I could help ya out," he added casually, his tone as warm and rich as molasses.

You felt the heat bloom across your cheeks, spreading down your neck as you stammered, "Uh, sure. It’s upstairs."

You turned, leading him toward the staircase, but the sound of his boots following close behind only made your heart hammer harder. You tried to focus on anything but him—your hand brushing against the banister, the quiet creak of the steps beneath your weight—but you could feel him, warm and solid at your back, his quiet presence filling the space.

Joel’s eyes, however, weren’t on the stairs or the hallway ahead. His gaze drifted lower, lingering on the way your hips swayed naturally with each step, the curve of your ass accentuated by the snug fit of your jeans. He swallowed hard, biting back a low curse.

Lord help me, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair to distract himself.

You reached the top and glanced back over your shoulder, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that made the air feel heavier between you. "Here we are," you said softly, pushing open the door to your room and stepping aside to let him in.

Joel brushed past you as he stepped into your room, his presence warm and grounding, sending a faint shiver down your spine. His gaze wandered, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail—the photos of friends and family pinned lovingly to a corkboard, the necklaces and rings strewn across your dresser in a charming, haphazard way.

You were sweet, Joel thought, and that sweetness radiated from the room itself, from the cozy blankets draped over your bed to the faint, familiar scent that was uniquely you.

But then, his eyes caught on the bed—more specifically, on the pile of clothes you’d tossed there earlier. A flimsy thong rested on top of the heap, the delicate lace catching the soft light from the window.

Joel’s throat went dry, and he dragged a hand over his jaw, his mind racing with thoughts he had no right entertaining. He forced himself to look away, jaw tightening as he focused on the fan across the room, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

"Shit," you murmured, suddenly noticing his brief hesitation. Your cheeks flared with heat as you rushed to the bed, scooping up the pile and clutching it against your chest. "Sorry for the mess," you said, your voice tight with embarrassment.

Joel shook his head quickly, schooling his features into something easy and reassuring. "No problem," he said, his voice steady but a little rough around the edges. He let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease your nerves. "You should see Sarah’s room sometimes. I swear that girl keeps it a mess just to piss me off."

You forced a laugh, still mortified, as you hurried to stuff the clothes into your closet. Joel kept his gaze fixed on the fan now, determined to act normal, but his mind was spinning. The image of the lace had seared itself into his thoughts, and he had to fight to push it away, to remind himself to focus.

Clearing his throat, Joel gestured toward the fan. "Alright," he said, rolling his sleeves up further, exposing his strong forearms. "Let’s see if we can get this thing workin’ for ya." His voice was calm, even gentle, but his thoughts were anything but.

Joel crouched by the fan, examining it with a thoughtful furrow in his brow. His calloused fingers brushed over the edges as he fiddled with a few screws, testing the rotation. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans and glancing over at you.

"Looks like it’s somethin’ electrical," he said, his voice calm but reassuring. "I got a buddy who’s an electrician. I’ll have him come by and take care of it for ya—free of charge."

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness behind his words, but it was hard to focus with the way the sweat on his brow glistened in the afternoon light, his shirt clinging just a little to his chest and back. "Oh," you managed, nodding dumbly. "That’d be great. Thanks, Joel."

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before the sound of the front door opening downstairs broke the spell.

"Hey!" Ray called, his voice booming through the house. "You up there?"

You cleared your throat, straightening slightly. "We should head down," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

"Yeah," Joel said, his tone low as he turned back to you. His gaze lingered for just a moment, his eyes flicking to your bed before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was filing the scene away for later, a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken.

As you led the way downstairs, Joel followed closely, his presence a warm and steady weight just behind you. The quiet tension from upstairs hadn’t dissipated—it still hummed faintly between you, palpable in the air. Every step down felt slower, more deliberate, like the atmosphere itself was thick with the unsaid, pressing you closer to something neither of you was ready to name.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The game was in full swing—football, of course, a local rivalry that had Joel and Ray glued to the screen. Every so often, one of them would groan or cheer, depending on how their team fared, their voices loud enough to rattle the windows.

You and Sarah exchanged amused looks from your spot on the couch, shaking your heads as the two grown men acted like teenagers.

"Do they always get this intense?" you whispered to Sarah, biting back a laugh.

"Every. Single. Time," she replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "It’s like watching kids at a theme park—if theme parks had beer and yelling."

You giggled, leaning back against the couch as Sarah launched into stories about her dad and Ray’s past football antics, complete with dramatized impressions. But even as you laughed with her, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel’s gaze on you.

Every so often, when the others were too distracted by the game, you caught him sneaking glances your way—subtle, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He’d quickly turn back to the TV each time, but the ghost of his gaze lingered, making it impossible to ignore.

When the game finally ended, Ray threw up his hands in frustration. "Ridiculous," he grumbled, leaning back on the couch. "They should’ve benched that quarterback weeks ago."

Joel nodded in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If they’d just gone for the run in the third, it could’ve turned things around."

"Right?!" Ray added, shaking his head. "Some people just don’t know how to coach."

"Oh, darling," Ray started, his tone fond as he suddenly perked up, pointing a finger in your direction. "You made a cake or somethin’, hey? Just remembered. Don’t tell me you’re hiding it from us!"

You blinked, suddenly remembering the cake you’d carefully baked and iced that morning. "Oh, right! It’s in the fridge," you said, standing up.

"You guys wanna try it?" Ray asked, grinning. "She’s a hell of a baker."

"Um, yes," Sarah replied enthusiastically, already sitting up straighter.

Joel leaned back, his eyes still on you. "Would love to," he said, but the way he said it, low and tender, made your breath hitch. His gaze didn’t leave yours, and the warmth in it sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You nodded quickly, escaping to the kitchen to grab the cake. Balancing it on a stand with a few plates and forks, you returned to the living room, feeling all too aware of Joel’s eyes following you. Placing the cake on the coffee table, you carefully cut everyone a piece, the rich chocolate scent filling the room.

"Hope it’s alright," you said nervously, watching as everyone took a bite.

Sarah’s eyes widened dramatically as she chewed, muffling an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, this is the best cake I’ve ever had!" through a mouthful of chocolate.

Ray nodded in approval, already going in for another bite. "You’ve outdone yourself, kid. This is damn good."

Your eyes flicked to Joel, waiting anxiously for his reaction. He had already finished his piece, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up, sucking the remnants of chocolate off two fingers in a deliberate motion that felt… intimate.

"Well done, angel," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That was amazing."

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively and you felt your panties growing wet under the watch of his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing, the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a telltale sign of his awareness.

That bastard.

"Th-thanks," you managed, tearing your gaze away and focusing on cutting yourself a piece of cake to distract from the wildfire spreading through you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

As the evening wound down, you walked with Ray to see Sarah and Joel to the door. The air outside was cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as Sarah looped her arm through her dad’s, yawning dramatically.

"Thanks for having us," she said brightly, giving Ray a quick hug. "Dinner was great—and the cake was unreal."

Ray chuckled, patting her back. "Always good to have you two over. Don’t be strangers, now."

Joel lingered a step behind, his eyes on you as you stood quietly to the side. "You’re welcome anytime," Ray said, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. Joel nodded, murmuring his thanks, but his gaze flicked back to you almost immediately, softer now in the dim porch light.

Sarah yawned again, tugging her dad toward the footpath. "C’mon, old man, I’m beat. Let’s go."

"Alright, alright," Joel said, chuckling. But before he followed her, he turned back, his hand brushing lightly against yours in a way so subtle it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingers lingered for the briefest moment, his touch warm and deliberate.

Joel took one step closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Save me another piece of that cake next time," he said, his eyes holding yours. "I’m already thinkin’ about it."

The way he said it made your breath hitch, the words laced with something unspoken. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he turned and headed to his house, leaving you standing on the porch with your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Ray didn’t notice anything, but you did—and so did Joel.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You and Sarah were halfway through The Longest Ride, laughter bubbling up as you playfully tossed popcorn at each other during one of the slower scenes. She had texted you a few days after the game, asking if you wanted to hang out, and you’d eagerly agreed.

The warm, golden glow of the living room lamps mixed with the soft flicker of the TV, wrapping the room in a cocoon of cozy chaos that muffled the storm’s furious howls outside. The rain lashed against the windows, but you hardly noticed, caught up in the moment. You were so absorbed in the film, neither of you heard the door creak open or the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the floor.

"Fucking hell," a deep voice growled from the hallway as the door slammed shut, caught by the gusting wind.

Both of you turned instinctively, startled, to find Joel standing in the entryway, drenched from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stray raindrops tracing along the sharp line of his jaw.

Water trickled in rivulets down his neck, soaking into a shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in a way that made your breath catch. His boots, caked with mud, squelched audibly as he yanked them off with a sharp, frustrated tug.

"Dad, are you okay?" Sarah asked, sitting up straighter. "I thought you were going to Uncle Tommy’s."

"I was," Joel grumbled, shaking out his jacket and tossing it over a nearby chair. "Got halfway there and had to turn back. It’s like a goddamn monsoon out there."

Joel hadn’t even glanced toward the living room, too preoccupied with muttering under his breath about the weather and hastily mopping up the puddle beneath him with a towel. His broad shoulders tensed as he wrung out the fabric, each motion deliberate and rough.

But when he finally looked up, his movements stilled. His expression shifted, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. His gaze softened as it landed on you, curled up on the couch beside Sarah, a blanket tucked over your lap.

"Hey, darlin’," he said, his voice low and smoother now, the rough edge from moments ago replaced with something calmer. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back from his face as droplets fell to the floor. "Didn’t know you were comin’ over," he added.

You managed a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, we’re just watching a movie."

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer before he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked briefly to the blanket draped over your legs—the same couch he’d no doubt spent countless nights on.

Something about the thought made your stomach flutter.

Sarah broke the moment, turning to you with a wide grin. "You should just stay over tonight. Ray wouldn’t mind, right?"

You blinked, startled by the sudden suggestion. "Well, I don’t think so, but—"

"Yeah, stay," Joel said before you could finish, his tone leaving little room for argument. "Don’t want you headin’ out in this storm."

You thought again about how your house was literally right next door. But the way Joel said it, his voice firm but edged with quiet concern, left you nodding before you could think better of it.

"You girls eaten?" Joel asked, heading toward the kitchen. The fridge door swung open, giving you a view of his back. His soaked shirt clung to him, highlighting the broad line of his shoulders and the muscles shifting beneath the fabric.

You caught yourself staring, heat rising to your cheeks as you quickly redirected your gaze to Sarah, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

"Yeah, pizza," Sarah said through a mouthful of popcorn, her attention already back on the TV.

Joel glanced back over his shoulder, his damp hair falling into his eyes as he gave you a brief nod. "Good," he said, his voice rumbling softly. "Storm’s supposed to last a while. Y’all need anything, just let me know."

You managed a quiet "thanks" as he closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his wet hair. The domesticity of it all—the three of you here, Joel casually moving around his kitchen—felt oddly intimate.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed the way your eyes kept flicking toward him, if he felt the same quiet pull that had been buzzing between you since the moment you’d met.

As Joel left the kitchen, heading upstairs toward what you assumed was his room to dry off, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the windows with a steady rhythm that made the night feel darker, heavier. You lay in Sarah’s bed, her soft snores filling the room, a gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the storm.

You’d texted Uncle Ray during the movie to let him know you were staying over, and his quick response—No worries, kid. I’ll see you in the morning—had put you at ease, but sleep still evaded you.

You turned onto your side again, then your back, cringing at how much noise you were making on the mattress. The last thing you wanted was to wake Sarah, but restlessness clawed at you. The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on her bedside table mocked you: 12:43 a.m.

With a soft sigh, you pushed the blanket aside and stood, the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet clinging to your skin in the stifling warmth of the room. The storm outside raged on, yet the living room felt almost oppressively hot, the flicker of the TV adding to the heavy air.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way down the hall, the muffled sound of the storm your only company. You hesitated for a moment when you passed a door—the one you assumed was Joel’s.

It was shut, the faint light spilling out from beneath it casting a soft glow on the hardwood floor. You stared at it for a beat longer than necessary, your breath catching at the thought of him just on the other side.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and continued down the stairs, the old wood creaking softly beneath your steps. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single light above the stove, and you found yourself drawn to the soft hum of the refrigerator. Opening it, you grabbed the carton of milk and poured yourself a glass, the cold liquid a small comfort against the heaviness of the storm.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped slowly, letting the chill settle in your chest as you stared out at the rain streaking the darkened windows. The quiet of the house wrapped around you, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the stillness, the way the chaos outside felt so far away.

You turned to put the milk back in the fridge when a shadow moved in the corner of your vision, a figure emerging into the dimly lit kitchen. You squealed, nearly dropping the carton, your heart lurching into your throat.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your chest.

Joel lingered in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway. His hair was still slightly damp from the earlier rain, tousled in a way that made your heart flutter. He’d changed into a plain t-shirt and sweatpants that clung to him in a way that felt almost unfair, the casual simplicity doing little to downplay his presence.

"You scared me, Joel!"

He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his gaze warm and just a little apologetic.

"Sorry ’bout that," he said, his voice rough from the late hour. "Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. Thought i heard someone down here, you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you," you said, still a little breathless. "I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe some milk would help." You gestured toward the glass on the counter, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. There was a sweetness in the way he said it, unhurried and deliberate. As you leaned against the counter, sipping your milk, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen casting an almost imperceptible veil over his gaze, but you didn’t miss it—the deliberate way he looked at you, slow and assessing.

Your pulse quickened as you suddenly became aware of yourself—the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet you were wearing, the way the hem of the shorts brushed against your thighs, and how the fabric of the singlet clung just a little too snugly in the humid air. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel exposed under the quiet intensity of his eyes.

You shifted awkwardly, the cool countertop pressing against your palms as goosebumps prickled along your arms. "Couldn’t sleep either?" you asked, breaking the tense quiet. Your eyes followed Joel as he poured himself a glass of water, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

"Nah," he replied, his voice low, almost distant as he leaned against the counter opposite you, crossing his arms. "Storm’s loud as hell. Plus… hard to turn your brain off sometimes, y’know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you. "Yeah. I know." And you did—too well, in fact. Your curiosity flickered: what kept him up tonight? What thoughts chased him through the storm?

Joel broke the stillness first, his voice softer now, almost careful. "Glad you stayed over tonight. Safer that way," he said with a small nod, as though reassuring himself as much as you.

There was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper—that made your chest feel impossibly tight.

"Thanks for having me," you murmured, your voice quieter than you’d intended, unsure why the words felt so necessary to say.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Anytime," he replied, the simplicity of his tone somehow making it feel more sincere.

His gaze flicked toward the empty glass in your hand, and he nodded toward it. "You think that did the trick?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "Nope. Not even close."

Joel’s smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. But then he glanced toward the dimly lit living room, the faint glow of the TV still visible from where you stood.

"Wanna watch a bit of TV?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "See if that helps?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet laced with something else—that made your stomach flip.

"Sure," you said softly, setting your glass in the sink before following him into the living room.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, the faint creak of the cushions breaking the quiet. He stretched out, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other resting on his thigh.

When he motioned for you to sit, you hesitated only for a moment before sinking down beside him, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep it comfortable—or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence impossible to ignore. His arm rested along the back of the couch, strong and relaxed, the effortless way he stretched out only drawing more attention to the empty space at his side. The thought crept in unbidden—how easy it would be to slip into that spot, to feel the solid warmth of him against you.

Your gaze drifted downward, almost of its own accord, settling on his thighs. They were spread apart in that effortless way he always seemed to sit, relaxed and confident, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched over them.

You swallowed hard, the sheer size of him suddenly overwhelming, the way his presence filled the space making you acutely aware of how small you felt by comparison. The thought sent a rush of heat to your face, your cheeks burning as your mind betrayed you with images you quickly tried to push away.

You shifted slightly, pressing your palms into your lap as if to ground yourself, but it didn’t help—his casual ease, the way he seemed completely unaware of the effect he had, only made it worse. Your heart thudded unevenly, and you forced your gaze back to the screen, praying he hadn’t noticed your flustered state.

He flipped through the channels before settling on an old movie. The name escaped you, but the grainy black-and-white film felt fitting for the quiet hum of the storm outside.

Joel started explaining something about the movie—how it was one of his favorites growing up, or maybe something about the actor. You nodded along, murmuring the occasional "oh" or "yeah," though your attention was split between his voice and the way his presence seemed to fill the space beside you.

Somehow, over the course of the movie, the space between you and Joel had disappeared. Your knees brushed at first—a light, fleeting touch that neither of you acknowledged. But as the minutes ticked by, your thighs pressed together, the warmth of him seeping into your skin in a way that made it impossible to focus on the screen.

You tried, though—eyes fixed on the TV, even as your heart raced. When you let out a small yawn, Joel’s attention shifted to you. He smirked, tapping your thigh lightly, his touch lingering just a second too long.

"Careful there, sweetheart," he teased, his voice low and warm. "You’re gonna miss the best part."

You blinked your eyes open wider, determined to shake off the haze of sleep. "I’m watching," you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

His knee pressed against yours a little more firmly, the gesture subtle but deliberate. The proximity, the teasing, the quiet intimacy of it all—it was enough to make you forget the movie entirely.

Eventually, the warmth of his voice, low and steady, became a gentle lullaby, weaving its way through the room. The steady patter of rain against the windows only added to the softness of the moment, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the deep timbre of Joel’s voice.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, despite your best efforts to fight it. You blinked hard, forcing yourself to stay present, but it was no use.

Joel didn’t even notice at first when your responses faded, replaced by the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing. It wasn’t until he felt the faint pressure of your head against his side that he froze.

His arm, which had been draped lazily along the back of the couch, went rigid, his fingers curling instinctively as his gaze dropped to you. There you were, nestled against him, your head resting lightly on his side, your face softened in sleep. The sight pulled something taut in him, a mix of tenderness and hesitation that he didn’t quite know how to navigate.

Joel swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he grappled with what to do. The warmth of you against him was inescapable, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the slow cadence of your breathing. It made him acutely aware of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

He flicked his eyes back to the TV, but the movie had long since blurred into the background. His thoughts were consumed by the quiet intimacy of the moment, by the way you’d drifted so trustingly against him, unguarded and close in a way that made his chest ache.

Slowly, carefully, he let his arm relax, resting it just behind you, close enough to shield but not too close to wake you, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

What the hell are you doin’, Joel? he thought, his heartbeat louder than it should’ve been. He could’ve moved you, gently eased you back into your spot—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he let himself sit there, unmoving, his body tense with the awareness of you. He told himself it was nothing—that it didn’t mean anything—but the way his gaze lingered on the curve of your face, the way his breath hitched when you shifted slightly against him, betrayed him.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, golden and warm, casting a serene glow over the room. The storm from the night before felt like a distant memory now, the quiet chirping of birds outside replacing the relentless drum of rain. Joel stirred, his body reluctant to wake, comforted by a rare warmth that made him hesitate to open his eyes.

For a moment, he stayed still, his mind caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.

Something felt… different.

His arm was draped across something soft, and the faintest scent of something sweet—was it your shampoo?—lingered in the air. His brow furrowed slightly, his body stiffening as he became aware of the gentle weight pressed against him.

When Joel finally opened his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light, the realization hit him.

There you were, curled into him, your head tucked against his chest, one arm draped across his stomach like it belonged there. His arm, despite his best efforts to keep his distance the night before, had somehow found its way around your back, holding you close. Your legs were tangled with his, the blanket half draped over the both of you.

Joel froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as he tried to process the situation. How the hell had this happened?

Christ, he thought, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at you. The sight of you like this—so unguarded, so peaceful—did something to him he couldn’t quite name, something that gnawed at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.

His chest tightened with a mix of emotions he wasn’t ready to face, a part of him feeling uncomfortably exposed in the stillness of the moment.

Guilt crept in, sharp and biting. What the hell are you doing, Joel? he thought bitterly. Here he was, a man two decades older than you, sitting frozen while you rested so trustingly against him. He felt like a damn pervert.

This wasn’t just friendly. He knew that. And it wasn’t about the warmth of your body against his or the way your head fit so perfectly in the curve of his side. It was something deeper, more dangerous, something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Joel’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer than it should have, his throat tightening as he took in the way the morning light danced across your features. He swallowed hard, his hand twitching as if to pull away, but instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your back, a touch so soft it barely registered.

The sound of birds chirping outside pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally forced himself to shift. The movement was small, careful, but enough to jostle you slightly.

Your brows furrowed, and for a moment, Joel thought he’d woken you. But then you murmured something unintelligible, snuggling closer into him, your hand tightening its hold on his shirt.

Joel let out a quiet breath, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling. He was in trouble—he knew that much. Whatever mental line he thought he’d drawn had been obliterated in the span of a single night.

But as the morning light filled the room and your soft breaths continued to lull him, Joel couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet. Not when the weight of you against him felt like the one thing he didn’t want to let go of.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You woke on the couch alone, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains and warming the room. Rubbing your face, you reached for your phone on the coffee table and checked the time—8:30 a.m.

You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. Stretching your legs out, you glanced around.

Joel was nowhere to be seen, and you figured he must’ve gone upstairs sometime during the night. Hell, you thought, I must’ve been a heavier sleeper than I realized.

Footsteps thudded softly on the stairs, and Sarah appeared, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She yawned as she shuffled into the living room. "Where’d you go last night?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Couldn’t sleep," you replied with a shrug, stretching your arms above your head. "Ended up watching some TV for a bit."

She nodded, yawning again as she glanced out the window. "Oh, look at that—storm’s gone, and it’s gorgeous out. Feels like it never even happened."

Her gaze shifted toward the stairs. "Where’s Dad? He’s usually run a marathon or something by now. "

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Haven't see him this morning. Maybe he decided to sleep in."

Sarah snorted, making her way toward the kitchen. "Yeah, right. That man doesn’t know how to sleep in. I bet he’s already up and out doing something."

She walked over to you, balancing a bagel in her mouth while rifling through a cabinet with one hand. "I’m gonna head upstairs to shower," Sarah said, her words muffled around the bite she’d taken. With her free hand, she pulled out a neatly folded set of towels and handed them to you. "Here—so you can use the downstairs one."

"Sounds good," you replied, taking the towels from her with a small smile. She flashed you a quick grin before heading upstairs, the sound of her footsteps disappearing as she retreated to her room.

You lingered for a moment, glancing at the towels in your hands, before stepping into the bathroom. The soft click of the door shutting behind you felt strangely loud, the space quiet except for the faint hum of the water pipes as you turned on the shower.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The hot water cascaded over your body, soothing the restless ache left from the night before. The heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Steam curled around you, fogging up the glass as you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the water drown out everything else. For a moment, it was just you, the warmth, and the faint sound of droplets hitting the tiles.

But your thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. They wandered back to last night, to Joel, to the way you’d both sat on the couch, your legs pressed against each other in a way that felt so natural, so easy.

The memory of his warmth beside you, the slight weight of his presence, made your chest tighten. You wondered when he’d gone upstairs, and a pang of regret settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished you hadn’t fallen asleep, that you’d stayed awake just a little longer—stolen a few more moments with him.

Those moments with Joel always felt fleeting, precious, as though the world conspired to keep them rare. The thought lingered in your mind until a faint sound jolted you back to reality—the distant buzz of your phone ringing.

"Shit," you muttered, realizing you’d left it on the kitchen counter. The water continued to run over you as you hesitated, your hands hovering mid-air, water dripping from your fingertips as you debated.

Leave it? The logical side of you argued it’d probably stop ringing by the time you turned off the shower, got out, and threw something on. But then again… what if it’s important?

You groaned softly, torn. The steam curled around you, the bathroom growing warmer as your mind raced. Finally, you turned off the water with a decisive twist, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself hurriedly. Better safe than sorry, you reasoned, stepping out of the shower and heading toward the kitchen, water trailing in your wake.

If Joel’s still asleep and Sarah’s upstairs, it’s fine, you told yourself as you cracked the door open, peeking out.

You stepped into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tiles, and immediately froze.

Joel stood at the stove, his broad frame dominating the small space, one hand gripping a spatula as he expertly flipped something golden and round in the pan. Pancakes. The rich scent of butter and batter filled the air, making your stomach tighten despite the whirlwind of emotions lingering from the night before.

His t-shirt stretched snugly across his shoulders, every shift of his muscles evident beneath the soft fabric. The hem lifted just slightly as he moved, revealing the faintest glimpse of tan skin and the subtle indent of his back dimples. It was such a small, fleeting detail, but it struck you like a lightning bolt, your breath catching as you took in the sight.

Your stomach dropped. Fuck. The phone had already stopped ringing, making your rush utterly pointless. You froze in place, gripping the towel tighter around yourself as your heart hammered in your chest. Just turn around, you told yourself, get back to the bathroom before—

But before you could move, Joel turned.

“Good mornin’—” he started, his voice low and easy, before his words died on his lips as his eyes landed on you.

His eyebrows shot up, his expression faltering for a split second. His gaze dropped, flicking over your body in a way that wasn’t intentional, but you caught it anyway. The towel was just a little too short, revealing more than you would’ve liked, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, the roughness of the word sent a shiver through you anyway. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the spatula like he was trying to steady himself.

You tightened your hold on the towel, your cheeks burning as you felt his eyes dart back to your face.

Say something, you thought desperately, your voice coming out uneven and breathless.

"I—I thought you were asleep," you stammered, shifting on your feet. "My phone was ringing, and I thought I’d just…" You gestured vaguely toward the counter, the words falling flat under the weight of the moment.

Joel turned back slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he was trying not to startle you—or himself. His gaze stayed polite now, carefully fixed on your face, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something dark and unspoken that made the air between you feel heavier, charged.

“Oh, no worries,” he said finally, clearing his throat and reaching to rub the nape of his neck. His fingers lingered there, the movement almost nervous—a rare sight for someone usually so steady. His voice was lower than usual, gravelly, like it took effort to keep it even. "Hope you slept alright last night."

"Yeah," you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I did. Thanks."

The silence stretched for a beat too long, the tension thrumming between you like a current you couldn’t escape.

You stepped forward, snatching your phone off the counter as quickly as you could, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ll just… grab this and get out of your way," you murmured, your voice thick with embarrassment.

Joel didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his eyes on your back as you turned to leave. "Alright," he said softly, almost too softly, his voice carrying something you couldn’t quite place.

You bolted back toward the bathroom, your heart pounding as you shut the door behind you. The steam from your shower still clung to the air, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest.

Pressing your phone to your chest, you let out a shaky breath, your mind replaying every detail of the encounter. The way his eyes had lingered, the rough edge to his voice, the tension that had filled the room like a tangible thing. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was nothing—but the way your pulse refused to settle betrayed you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel stood in the kitchen, one palm pressed flat against the counter, the other rubbing at his eyes as he let out a slow, measured breath. The room was quiet now, save for the faint sizzle of the pancake batter still cooking in the pan, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

You’re gonna be the death of me, he thought, his jaw tightening as he leaned into the counter.

Joel could still see you, the image burned into his mind no matter how much he tried to focus on the task at hand. Fresh from the shower, the towel clinging to your damp skin, outlining every curve in a way that left very little to the imagination.

The dip of your breast where the fabric didn’t quite meet your skin, the faint sheen of water droplets catching the light as they slid from your shoulders down to your thighs—it was impossible to look away, even as he forced himself to.

And then there was the way you’d stammered, your voice breathless and soft, tinged with embarrassment. It made his cock throb - a mix of guilt and desire that he couldn’t quite shake.

He shouldn’t have looked as long as he had, shouldn’t still be thinking about the way your hair dripped onto your shoulders or how your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze. But damn, it was all he could think about.

Joel had always prided himself on his self-control, on his ability to keep things steady and measured, but you were shaking the foundation he’d built so carefully.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, his jaw tight with frustration. He should’ve known better—should’ve stopped his thoughts from spiraling the moment they started.

But here he was, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he strode upstairs to his room, his hand already working at the button of his jeans before the door even clicked shut.

The strain in his pants was unbearable, every ounce of tension caused by you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

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