#from ��. wanting them to be moved to just wanting them to be engaged?

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Prologue: Two Rings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: To celebrate taking a step forward in your relationship and moving in together, Joel charters a yacht for the night. He couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive, right?

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has a strained relationship with her parents, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, unprotected piv sex, oral sex f! and m!receiving, multiple orgasms, reader has at least shoulder length hair, food and alcohol consumption

WC: 7.7K

Series Masterlist

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

Seven days never flew by so fast.

Joel had been pacing around his house like a caged animal all morning. It was Saturday, but he still took a few work calls just as a distraction. It didn't help much. He found his hand drifting to his pocket every two minutes where a flawless diamond ring in an expensive box was kept.

A couple months prior he had woke up early with you curled up against his side. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about that day. It was a workday, he remembered that much. It was raining, which was unusual for Los Angeles. But on that day he woke up and looked at you sleeping so peacefully in his bed and it hit him out of nowhere: he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life. He had never felt more certain about anything.

He quickly ran into a problem, however. You technically already had an engagement ring. One that was used as a prop, although a very fucking real and very fucking expensive prop, back when you first met and accompanied him to Fiji. He had hired you through a dating agency that specialized in catering to higher end clients like himself. His needs were slightly unusual, however. He had wanted you to pose as his fiancée with the stipulation you weren't to breathe a word about your fake arrangement to anybody in order to win over a real estate tycoon and bid for the last parcel of land on the island.

Behind closed doors, you had your separate rooms.

It was temporary. It was only supposed to be one month and he would never see you again.

It made him laugh now to think about it. He didn't stand a chance. You had him hooked from the moment you stepped into his office with your quick wit and no-bullshit attitude. It took him a while to accept it, but once he did, he never looked back.

When you returned from the island, Joel insisted you keep the ring, which you'd worn on your right hand ever since. He went back and forth over it for weeks. Should he get you a new ring, or should he use the old one and propose to you properly?

He was going to let you decide. Either way, they were both yours, which he anticipated fielding an argument over as you still struggled to adjust to your new, lavish lifestyle with him.

As he looked out the window at the moving truck and two cars puttering up the long driveway, he wondered if he should have spaced things out a little for your benefit. Asking you to marry him on the same day you were moving into his home might be a lot for you to handle all at once. But then he saw you step out of your beat up car, one he planned to replace as soon as possible, and smiled at the excitement written on your face.

He was about to step away and go downstairs to greet you when he saw your mother and father step out of the second car. He froze for a moment, an unexpected jolt of nerves rocking through his chest. He hadn't met your parents before and when you told them you would be moving in together, they suddenly decided to drop everything and travel all the way from Tennessee to help you pack your things.

You thought it was a nice gesture given your delicate relationship with them, but he knew better. They were worried about you and they wanted to make sure he wasn't some psycho coming along to take advantage of their only daughter.

He didn't blame them one bit and he suspected he would behave similarly when Sarah met somebody one day. But he knew how he came off to people. He had a tendency to be gruff and a little cold. It was the by-product of a few horribly failed relationships, as well as years and years of cutthroat business deals. Anyone would have to be hardened to get to where he was in his career.

Still, he intended on making a good impression. These were your parents and, hopefully, his future in-laws. He wouldn't let anything screw this up.

"Honey?"

"In here, Mom!" you called from Joel's master bathroom. Your master bathroom now.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, eyes bugging out of her head when she took in the sizable room. A crystal clear glass shower that could easily fit two people, something you and Joel had already proven more than once, sat in one corner with a built in granite bench and custom tile walls imported from Italy. In the opposite corner was a massive claw foot tub that sat in front of a huge window overlooking the breathtaking ocean view from Joel's backyard. Currently, you sat on the floor in front of the double sinks built into the white marble countertop going through your boxes of toiletries.

"My goodness," your mom breathed with a hand pressed gently against her chest. "Why on earth would he have a tub right in front of a window? Anybody could see you bathing!"

"It's one sided," you giggled. "You can see out but no one can see in."

Her face relaxed and she took a step into the room, making a surprised little noise when she felt the warmth emanating from the tile floor.

"It's heated," you explained before she could ask. She nodded slowly and continued to look around in awe.

"I see."

You could hear her tone, a tone you had grown too familiar with your whole life. She wasn't pleased.

"What's wrong?" you asked, setting down your bags of makeup so you could give her your full attention. She bit her lip nervously before quickly shutting the bathroom door and joining you on the ground.

"Don't you think all this is a little... much?"

You frowned. "Much?"

"This lifestyle is what I mean. This isn't you, honey," your mom said with a soothing squeeze of your arm.

"No, but I'm getting used to it," you said defensively. "This is what Joel is used to and I love him. It doesn't bother me so much, it's just an adjustment."

"He's got a whole staff to tend to this place," she continued with a low voice. "I saw a gardener and a pool boy. Don't tell me he has a maid, too."

"Well, yeah, he does-"

Your mother's jaw dropped with a disbelieving snort.

"He can't pick up after himself?"

"He doesn't have to! He's paying someone to do it for him! Besides, he's very busy. He works long hours every day to afford all this. Why should he-"

"It humbles a person to be able to cook and clean for themselves," your mother said firmly. "It builds character."

"Mom," you whined, "it's different out here and you know it. This isn't Tennessee. Most homes have some hired help, it's just how it is."

"Well, I was just envisioning a different life for my only child, don't come for my head about it," she huffed while straightening her skirt.

"No one's coming for your head, I'm just trying to explain how people live out here. It's different but I really like it. And most of all, I'm happy. I love Joel, Mom, more than anything. And he loves me, too. He treats me well, he cares for me... he's a good man," you finished softly. Your parents never liked the idea of you moving to the west coast with your best friend, Celine, for college. It unknowingly deepened the rift between you and them that you had been trying to mend for years.

"Well, I suppose he does seem rather charming. He has nice manners, at least," she sighed. You thought back to the lunch the four of you had shared not an hour earlier, finding it surprising that your mother found something nice to say about Joel at all given the uncomfortable atmosphere. To his credit, Joel really tried. He asked your parents about their jobs and their church. He even shared some stories about himself, trying to find some common ground, but your parents hardly offered anything in return and it irked you.

"Then why were you and Dad so stand-offish during lunch?" you asked pointedly.

"We were not-"

"Yes, you were," you argued back before she could lie. "I was sitting right there. Why don't you like Joel, Mom?"

She sighed and looked around the ornate bathroom again before floating her hands in the air.

"We just aren't used to all this, sweetie. It's a lot for us. Your father feels uncomfortable around all of this... grandeur."

"Well, do you think you can try a little harder? For me?" you asked, sounding exasperated. "All of this stuff shouldn't matter as long as I'm happy, right?"

After a beat, she slowly nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to your father."

"Thank you," you breathed with a small smile. "Now, can you please help me with the last of these boxes?"

She grinned and pulled the last one over to open it up. "Of course," she said, then made a face at the way everything inside was tossed about. "You're lucky none of these things are broken. You pack like a maniac, honey."

You laughed and pushed yourself onto your knees to get a better look inside the box.

"Well, guess it's a good thing you and Dad helped out with the important stuff."

"That reminds me, the boxes for your office are still in the foyer. Dad packed all of that for you," she said while taking out a few bottles of shampoo. "You know him, properly organizing everything. He's retired but he's still labeling and sorting everything in the house like he's working a case." Your father, a recently retired police detective, always had an attention to detail. "He said your important looking work documents were all in one box he marked fragile."

"Oh, great, thank you. I think Joel's still having one of the bedrooms converted into an office space for me so I'll have to ask him where to store it for now," you said, pausing when your mother gave you a look.

"One of the bedrooms?" she repeated. "How many does he need?"

"Mom! You said you'd try!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," she said with a light laugh. Then she stood with an armful of items. "Where should I put all this?"

"That door right there is a walk-in linen closet."

You noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the spacious linen closet, but you let it go. Your relationship with them was still a little rocky and you didn't want to press the matter. She said she and your father would try to get used to Joel's lifestyle, so you had to give her time to follow through on her promise.

Your parents left for the airport in the late afternoon. After your tense conversation with your mother, you were ashamed to admit you were a little relieved that their visit had come to an end. But when you saw both your mom and dad give Joel a hug before they left, you softened up a bit, even if their hugs were a little stiff. They promised they would try and that was all you could ask for, even though Joel didn't deserve to be treated unfairly in the slightest. As their car disappeared down the winding driveway, you had visions of all the ways you could make it up to him, but then he surprised you with some unexpected plans.

"You chartered a yacht?" you exclaimed. "Why? To mark the occasion?"

Joel thought about it for half a second.

"Yeah. I wanted to celebrate," he said smoothly while sliding his hands around your waist. "We got it overnight so pack a small bag."

You squealed with delight and grabbed his face to pull him down for a quick kiss. When you turned to hurry back inside, he swatted you lightly on the ass, making you yelp and then giggle your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom.

The marina was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The last golden rays from the sun reflected off the water as you approached, spreading flashes of deep purples, pinks and greens across the horizon. Joel had insisted on driving you both himself, something that surprised you but you shrugged off, assuming he wanted to allow his driver, Richie, to enjoy the weekend.

"We have this entire yacht?" you asked, mouth agape as you approached a huge two story charter.

"Yep," he had replied, pleased with your reaction. Two crew members had met you at the car and grabbed your bags, leaving your hands free to walk carefully across the bridge to board the yacht. You smiled bashfully when the crew of eight introduced themselves, then tucked yourself into Joel's side as the captain gave you a quick tour. When he paused in the doorway of the master suite to point out all the amenities, you shot Joel a playful look and waggled your eyebrows. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes before kissing the top of your head and following the captain through the lounge and to the deck, where there had to have been what looked like a hundred candles lit on every available surface. The sight took your breath away, it was so stunning. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood and glassware that sat atop the table, already prepped and ready for you to be served once you got out onto the open water.

"Pink roses?" you said when you spotted the centerpiece as well as the decorative adornments that were peppered throughout the deck. You leaned in to sniff them and closed your eyes.

"I know you like the pink ones the best," Joel replied as he watched you look around in wonder. Then your eyes found his again and you smiled.

"When did you become such a romantic, Joel Miller?"

His heart skipped a beat in his chest when he replied, "When I met you."

While the yacht made its way a few miles off shore, the two of you found the bar inside the lounge and shared some drinks in front of the small fireplace while soft, classical music filtered through the speakers hidden strategically throughout the room. In the left corner of the room sat a white baby grand piano, sparkling but untouched. To the right was the bar, tended by a discreet looking gentleman with greying hair.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Your leg was draped across his lap and he was drawing slow circles over your calf, but his movements paused when you asked your question.

Joel grinned and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the flames to look at you.

"Glenn's yacht?"

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Yep," you said, lowering your voice so the bartender couldn't overhear. "Remember the last night we were there?"

Joel bit back a groan at the memory of you on top of him, practically begging him to fuck you, but he had refused. That didn't stop you from finding another way to drive him completely insane. Instead, you had gotten yourself off by riding his thigh. It was the first time the two of you had blurred that line from a business relationship to something more.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," he murmured. Your eyes looked heavy as you gazed up at him and it took every ounce of strength he had not to toss you over his shoulder and take you back to the master suite right then and there. Instead, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the sweetness of champagne on your tongue.

His hand drifted back to get lost in your hair when you both heard someone nearby softly clearing their throat. You pulled away and let your gaze sheepishly fall while Joel handled the crew member who had come to let you know that dinner was about to be served.

"Oops," you whispered once the they were out of sight. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest and once you stood, he tugged you against him and cupped your face.

"Don't worry. Place'll be all ours after dinner," Joel told you. He gave you a quick kiss before curving his arm around your shoulders so he could lead you out towards the deck.

"Wha - Joel! We - we can't drive this thing!"

He chuckled at the panic in your voice. "Just for the evening. They'll drop anchor and be back in the morning. I ain't gonna get us killed, baby."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh in relief. He pulled your chair out and you sat down primly, glancing down at the complicated looking appetizer that waited for you. A small smile played at your lips when you asked, "And why are they leaving overnight, Joel?"

He sat down across from you and flicked out his cloth napkin with a wink.

"You'll see."

Dinner was elaborate and rich, but you had grown used to that with Joel. You had lost count of how many courses they brought out but when a cheese plate was placed between you after the main dish, you gave him a pained look.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?" he hummed while taking a sip of red wine. Your fingers inched across the white linen tablecloth, seeking out his hand. When his own fingers linked with yours and curled around your knuckles, you smiled at him tiredly.

"This is lovely," you began, "but I'm wondering when I'll get my dessert."

"Dessert's after the limoncello," he assured you. He shifted a little nervously in his chair and adjusted his tie. His mind was elsewhere but you had no idea.

"That's not the kind of dessert I meant," you whispered. You saw the realization dawn on him and you stifled a giggle. He leaned forward, hands still intertwined, and picked up a piece of cheese. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger and as seductively as you could, slowly stretched your neck forward to wrap your lips around his fingers and the small cube, all while maintaining eye contact with Joel.

"Good?"

You nodded and swallowed. "But I know something that tastes better."

"Christ," he groaned, eyes darkening as heat began to spread under his collar. Subconsciously, his finger began to slide your ring back and forth, fiddling with it. He wanted to just ask you right then and there. Just take the thing off and put it on your other hand and say the fucking words. But he had to wait. He had a plan.

Mercifully, dessert finally arrived. Actual dessert. Tiramisu, to be exact. But you were growing restless. He could tell by the way you sighed and tugged at the straps of your dress or flicked your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck with a soft moan. You were trying to get him to break and it was working magnificently. It had him checking his watch and mentally doing the math, trying to figure out if he had enough time to fuck you before his plan was set into motion.

The crew was packing up somewhere in the depths of the yacht. The captain had just left your table after confirming with Joel whether or not he needed anything else, and the anticipation of having the boat all to yourselves was killing you. But when he stood and extended a hand, asking you to join him on the deck instead of dragging you back to the bedroom, you hesitated. He grinned and wiggled his fingers.

"C'mon. Trust me."

You did. Of course, you did. So you stood and let him take your hand, leading you out onto the deck which was alight with flameleas candles and string lights wrapped around all the railings. A small seating area sprinkled with rose petals awaited you, the sight causing your suspicions to stir.

"All this to celebrate moving in together?" you asked. Joel didn't respond. He just smiled and sat down on the plush couch, which was facing the vast, empty ocean, and patted the seat next to him. Slowly, you sat down and leaned into his side before scanning the water. The moon was full that night and blazed a bright beam of light across the sea. It was quiet and serene and had you melting into his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

"It's peaceful," you murmured. In the distance, you could hear the soft hum of a motor from the boat taking the crew back to shore. Joel glanced nervously at his watch and you frowned. Tilting your chin up a bit, you caught his eye.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin'," he said immediately in response, only furthering your suspicions. You shifted so you could get a better look at his face.

"Why are you checking the time? What's-"

"You want somethin' to drink? I can get it for you," he interrupted. Okay, now you knew something was up. His fingers were tapping rhythmically against his leg, which was bouncing so fast the deck was creaking.

"No," you said, "Joel, why are you acting-"

A loud boom muffled the rest of your sentence, which ended up being a scream, anyway. Then a flash of color appeared in the sky above your heads and you looked up in surprise. Fireworks. There were fireworks going on above you, being set off from a barge somewhere you couldn't see on the water.

"Joel," you breathed in between booms. You looked at him and he grinned. "You did this?"

He nodded and said, "Wanted to do somethin' special."

"This is too much!" But you laughed and jumped when another firework popped in the sky, undermining any scolding on your part.

Your curiosity vanished, successfully distracted by the fireworks display. Joel curled an arm around your shoulders and you sunk against him once again with your back pressed against his front. You tipped your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could watch the fireworks, completely missing the way his heart began to beat faster against your back when he reached for your hands, which were resting in your lap.

Thinking he was just holding your hand, you shot him a quick smile before refocusing your attention on the sky. Maybe it was the drinks you had with dinner, but you hadn't even realized he slid your ring off your right hand until he held it up. Your gaze dropped down to look at it pinched between his fingers and your eyebrows knit together. The huge diamond sparkled with the reflection from the fireworks, all the reds, blues, and yellows shining within every flawless carat.

"Joel?" you said quietly. So quietly that it was impossible to hear over the loud booms.

Then you saw the tremble in his hand that held your ring and your eyes widened with a slow realization: the private yacht, the fancy dinner, the fireworks... this wasn't an evening designed to celebrate moving in together. This was something else.

Joel lifted your left hand from your lap and adrenaline began to course through your whole body. Your ability to blink and breathe just... vanished. Time might have even stood still as you stared down at your hands, watching in disbelief as he carefully slid your ring onto your left finger. Then you felt his beard brush against the shell of your ear from behind.

"Looks better on this hand. What do you think?"

Tears welled up in your eyes almost immediately. You splayed your fingers out in front of you both to look at the ring on your hand, but your vision blurred and your hand shook worse than his. Then two fingers found your chin, tilting your face to the side so he could look you in the eye.

"I wanna spend my life with you," he murmured softly. Your lower lip began to tremble and your heart stuttered in your chest, but you did your best to focus on his words. "You changed everythin', sweetheart. Changed my entire life. Brought me back together with my brother, with my daughter... reminded me what it's like to enjoy life again." His own eyes grew misty when he gave you a small smile and added, "Made me believe in love."

You laughed a little and two fat tears trickled down your cheeks.

"I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you," he whispered. He was talking softly but even with the fireworks still going off above your heads, you could hear every word, almost as if the entire world melted away in that moment and all that remained was just the two of you.

His eyes looked so warm as he stared at you. They were so adoring and vulnerable. It made you want to crawl into his lap, wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. But you wanted to hear the words. You were desperate to hear the question you longed to hear, so you bit harshly into your bottom lip and fought back the desire.

Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath and asked, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, and it was like the floodgates opened. You flipped around and tossed one leg over his lap to straddle him, missing the way his face beamed with excitement when you grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. Your tongue slid easily between his parted lips, catching his groan between your teeth. When your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, you felt dampness there. Tears. Shortly after, your own streaked down your face, but you couldn't stop smiling.

The fireworks were probably coming to an end, you couldn't really be sure. You were too lost in your little bubble, perched on Joel's lap with his hands fiercely gripping your waist. You couldn't remember if it was you who started to grind your hips into him or if his hands had urged you to move. Regardless, within just a few short minutes, you found yourself dragging your pussy up and down his thigh while your kisses grew more and more urgent.

"C'mon, let's go inside," he panted while you sprinkled kisses down his jaw. When he tried to pull you off him, you shook your head and pushed your knees deeper into the cushion, keeping you both planted in place.

"No - here," you murmured before hiking up the skirt of your dress so it pooled loosely around your waist, freeing your legs to spread even wider. Joel groaned when his chin dropped to his chest, watching as you pulled your panties to the side with two fingers. You bit your lip and swiped your fingers through your folds while he nearly ripped his belt open with shaky hands. He had just unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking, when you pressed your glistening fingers against his lips. His blood was pumping so fast, he was growing lightheaded, and when he parted his lips to taste your arousal on your fingertips, his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to the back of the couch in a daze.

"Dirty girl," he rasped after he licked your fingers clean. You smirked and reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and opened his eyes so he could watch you stroke him up and down.

His hands squeezed your hips and encouraged you forward, unable to wait any longer. Fortunately, you couldn't, either. You lined him up against your entrance and removed your hand, the only sounds that filled the air now that the fireworks were over was your shared heavy breaths and the water lightly lapping at the side of the yacht.

"It's why you sent the crew away, right?" you breathed as you slowly sunk down on his cock. "So you could fuck me wherever you wanted?"

A strangled groan slipped past his lips when you began to shift ever so slightly, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him taking his breath away.

"Didn't want them to hear," he replied through clenched teeth. "Didn't think you'd - fuck - didn't think you'd be so fuckin' needy so fast."

The fact he really thought you wouldn't want to jump him as fast as possible after he proposed was laughable, and you told him so as you began to bounce quicker in his lap, gasping when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Joel just chuckled breathlessly and clutched your hips harder, helping you glide up and down his shaft.

"Ain't got nothin' to do with it. You wanted me to fuck you halfway through dinner."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you moaned, arching your back when his hips began to buck up into you. You grappled frantically at his shoulders and tipped your head back with a sharp gasp, leaving you with a beautiful view of twinkling stars above you.

With your throat exposed, Joel lunged forward to suck a red mark just below your jaw. You smelled so good and your skin was so soft that it had him sitting up straighter so he could gain better access.

"God, Joel!" you cried out into the night sky. His hands grabbed at your ass, fingers digging roughly into each cheek, forcing your body up and down on his cock while he slammed into you, knocking all the oxygen from your lungs and every thought from your brain.

"Gonna make the perfect little wife, baby," he growled, teeth scraping lightly down your jaw. Wife. The word sent a thrill through you.

"Yeah?" you gasped, eyelids fluttering as you felt yourself nearing your peak. "You think so?"

"Mhm," Joel murmured into your neck. "Love you so much, love you so fuckin' much, y'make me so happy. Just wanna spend my life takin' care of you, give you everythin' you need."

He was rambling now and a lazy smile stretched across your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered before tilting your head down to capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss.

Your hips stuttered and your moans grew more high pitched each time you dropped yourself back down on his cock. And because he knew you so well, he grinned against your mouth and murmured, "You gonna come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined in between heated kisses. Your hands clawed at his face and hair and you gasped shakily every time your clit rubbed against the curls at the base of his shaft. "Yeah, yeah I'm - I'm gonna come," you breathed, too lost in your own pleasure to say much else except repeat him, so fucking close that all it took was one or two more deep thrusts and it sent you reeling into your climax.

You tightened around him with a silent scream. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth hung open against his as your orgasm rocked through your entire body. Boneless, you drooped against him, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled you in tight against his chest while fucking up into you recklessly until he let out a deep groan and his body stilled.

"Look." Joel tapped your shoulder, stirring you back to life. You forced your eyes open and followed his gaze down where you were connected. A second later you watched as a small amount of his thick, milky white release dribbled out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

Unable to put into words how hot it was to watch yourself overflow with him, your mouth greedily found his, tongue probing past his lips with a moan.

You sat there for as long as he would allow, limp and spent while sharing wet, lazy kisses until his cock softened and he slipped out of you with a grunt. The palm of his hand was soothingly rubbing your back and you had never felt more content in your life, but when a sharp breeze drifted over the ocean and made you shiver, Joel broke the kiss and cupped your face.

"Let's go to bed."

You nodded sleepily and allowed him to lead you back into the yacht, through the abandoned lounge that still played classical music faintly through the hidden speakers, down the well lit hallway, and finally to the master suite. The bed had been turned down by one of the crew members before they left. A bottle of champagne with two glasses with a note that read congratulations! was left next to the bed, but you were too exhausted. It was a miracle you were able to wash up and change out of your clothes before slipping into the plush bedding, but you stayed awake until Joel had turned out all the lights and joined you. With a sigh, you curled up next to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder and slotting your leg between his, then finally drifted off to sleep.

The clock read a little after three in the morning when you awoke. You were in the same position you found yourself before falling asleep hours earlier: fitted snugly into Joel's side with your palm placed gently over his heart. You used the bathroom and drank some much needed water but you had trouble falling back asleep, so you perched on the bench by the window and watched the way your ring shone in the moonlight.

It took you back in time when you saw the ring on your left hand again. Memories of confusing feelings, devastating rejection, fake love stories and intense pain flickered through your mind when you thought back to the whirlwind month you spent with Joel in Fiji, masquerading as his fiancée.

But now, it was real.

Now, that lie, that story, was going to become reality.

You couldn't have been happier. After everything you had been through, all the ups and downs your relationship faced from the very beginning, you were finally going to get your much deserved happy ending.

You just wished your parents and their opinions would stop plaguing your mind.

"What're you doin'?" Joel's groggy voice called from the bed. You snapped your head up in surprise, just to find him sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Too excited," you grinned when holding up your left hand. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so he reached over to flick on one small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a dim, yellow glow, but he saw you holding up your hand and he smiled.

Joel stood and took two steps forward when he froze. Something passed over his face that had you frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I - shit!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rummaging through his suit coat, which he abandoned across a chair on the other side of the room when you came to bed. You cocked your head to the side and allowed yourself a moment to appreciate how fucking handsome your fiancé was, bending over in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered back up when he swiveled around, holding a small, black box in his hand.

"I got you a new ring," he said as he crossed the room, "I'm so sorry. Forgot to give it to you earlier 'cause, well -" he shrugged and shot you a playful grin. "Y'know."

"A new ring?" you repeated as you stood. "W-why? I have this one!"

He opened the box and you gasped when you saw the flawless cushion cut, crystal clear diamond engagement ring, which was bracketed by two smaller diamonds.

"Joel," you breathed, eyes flitting back and forth between the one in the box and the one already on your hand. "I-I can't! I can't have two!"

Joel chuckled and plucked it from the box.

"Why not? You got ten fingers."

You scoffed and shook your head, but he continued.

"I wanted you to have the option and I wanted to get you somethin' new," he explained while holding it out towards you. You stared at it, still in shock, but stopped yourself from reaching for it.

"You know..." you began slyly. Joel arched an eyebrow at your tone. "You never actually did get on one knee."

His hand dropped to his side and he narrowed his eyes.

"You want me on my knees?"

You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, and when he held your gaze and began to sink down to the ground, still clad in just his underwear, your heart began to do flips in your chest.

On one knee, he murmured your name lowly and reached for your hand. You gave him your right one and grinned when he slipped it onto your finger and asked, "Will you marry me?" for the second time.

"Yes," you whispered. You took a step forward and carded your fingers through his hair. Joel leaned into your touch and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the way your nails scraped gently over his scalp.

"I see the appeal, now," you said softly, "having a man fall to his knee like this."

"Yeah?" he rasped, opening his eyes to give you a heated look. Then his fingers drifted up your legs to push up the satin nightgown you had slipped on earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

"Get used to it, baby, 'cause I'm ready to spend the rest of my life right fuckin' here." He leaned forward, pressing his face right between your legs and taking a deep breath before mouthing hungrily at your waiting cunt through your panties. You gasped, skin tingling, and fell forward almost instantly, hands sliding helplessly over his bare back while he held you up with his hands wrapped around your thighs.

With one swift turn to the left, he pushed you up against the wall and tugged your underwear down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, spreading your pussy underneath your hiked up nightie.

His fingers dug into your skin when his mouth came in contact with your center, groaning in delight to find you already so wet and eager for him.

Joel's jaw dropped open wide, sealing his lips over your slit and running the tip of his tongue up the middle. Your vision immediately blurred and you threw your head back against the wall in ecstasy. The scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin, the feel of his fingertips dimpling your thighs, the way his hot tongue laved over your cunt all had you reduced to a trembling mess in a matter of minutes.

You wailed out his name into the room, your voice echoing off the walls and suddenly Joel's plan to send away the crew was making a lot of sense.

"More," you whined while rolling your hips as much as you could without losing your balance. The one foot that remained on the ground was stretched, perching on your tiptoes, while the other was curled tightly over his shoulder, holding him in place.

His mouth released you with a gasp and you whimpered pathetically at the loss while your fingers clawed uselessly at his hair.

"C'mon, let's move to the bed. Want you to sit on my face."

His voice was deep and gravelly and it send a shudder through your limbs.

"No, please, Joel, I-I... I'm so close," you begged, looking down at him with watery eyes. He looked like a mess: disheveled hair, wet mouth, flushed neck. He scanned your face and relented, giving you want you wanted and diving back in between your thighs.

You immediately resumed rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high while his tongue slid messily between your lips over and over, collecting the arousal leaking from your hole and flicking over your clit teasingly each time he dragged his tongue back up.

"I'm- I'm gonna come," you gasped, unable to look away from how enthusiastically he ate at you. It was such a turn on to see such a wealthy and powerful man on his knees for you, a man people not only in his office but throughout the country cowered before. But not you. No, you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

Well, two fingers now that he had gifted you a second ring.

It was the way Joel's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with a deep groan that had you tumbling over the edge. Your body bent forward with the force of your release, curving over his back with your hands buried in his hair for leverage.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered into your pussy before swiping his tongue through your slit again. Tears stung the backs of your eyes from the stimulation but you let him continue, trusting him implicitly.

There was no doubt in your mind you would find little circular bruises on your thighs later from the way he clutched at you. The thought of seeing those marks, of seeing the way he claimed you, had your stomach muscles tightening unexpectedly once again. You cried out weakly as another gush of fluid flooded his tongue, then shivered when you heard his surprised groan vibrate throughout your entire body.

"Jesus," you rasped, chest heaving, when he finally pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black in the dim lighting as he gazed up at you from his spot on the floor.

"So beautiful," he murmured breathlessly, dragging his wet lips over your thighs, kissing your bare skin and working his way up your stomach. His mouth brushed along the silky fabric of your pajamas until he reached the tops of your breasts. Once he found your warm skin again, he peppered kisses all across your chest and neck until he was finally standing upright and plunging his tongue greedily into your mouth.

His cock pressed hard and pulsating against your stomach while his tongue leisurely mapped your mouth, and your legs trembled from the idea of taking him inside your cunt again. You knew yourself. It would be way too much. You were exhausted and your muscles felt so weak, but you would be damned if you went to bed without taking care of him. So you broke the kiss, gave him a playful wink, then sunk to your knees between his body and the wall.

If he had any qualms about the change of plans, he didn't show it. He braced one hand against the wall and the other got lost in your hair when you peeled down the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. You dragged your fist up and down a few times, humming softly under your breath at how hard he was for you.

You locked eyes with him. He looked absolutely wrecked, leaning against the wall and looking down at you, jaw slack and eyes glazed over.

While still maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth wide and slid your lips carefully around his girth, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before taking him deeper. His hips shifted forward, gently pushing more of himself inside your mouth until he kissed the back of your throat. You gagged a little and pulled back, earning a chuckle from up above.

"Too much?"

All you were able to do was shake your head. Your mouth was full of him, sucking him deeper once again while taking steady breaths through your nose. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair when you began to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks with one hand still fisting his base and the other gripping his thigh for support.

"Fuck yeah, that - that's good," he moaned. Your chest swelled from the praise so you kept going, keeping a steady rhythm, sliding your tongue up and down the length of him until your lips felt numb and your jaw ached, and even then, you kept going.

"Oh shit, baby, don't stop," he growled. His fist tugged at your hair a little harder than you expected and you gasped around him. Somewhere above you, his other arm collapsed against the wall, now relying on his forearm to keep him upright while you sucked his cock with the kind of enthusiasm that had his knees going weak and his stomach pulling tight.

His hips rocked forward, meeting you thrust for thrust, groaning your name as he watched himself disappear inside your mouth over and over. Your tongue was flat along the underside of his cock when you felt it pulse and a moment later he spilled down your throat, swallowing every drop of his hot, sticky release.

He was cursing breathlessly above you while you cleaned him up with your tongue, and it wasn't until his hips stuttered and he yanked you off him by the hair that you stopped.

"Christ," Joel whispered, sagging tiredly against the wall with his forehead pressing against his wrist after you kindly fixed his boxers for him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, sucking in air fast as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oughta propose to you more often," he panted with his eyes still closed. You giggled and stood, taking his hand. His eyelids fluttered open, allowing you to lead him back to bed.

"Please don't tell me you have a third ring somewhere," you said tiredly after you burrowed under the covers and he curled himself around you from behind. He chuckled and kissed the back of your neck.

"Nah, just two."

You smiled when he nuzzled your ear, his deep breathing already lulling you back to sleep.

"Where do you think we should get married?" you yawned, yearning to just hear his voice. His fingers searched for your hand resting across your stomach and he gave it a squeeze.

"Thought we already decided a year ago," he mumbled. His lips grazed the shell of your ear when he said:

"Fiji, baby."

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[scriptedinkbyxim]

Past the Finish Line: Beyond the Checkered Flag [MV1]

As the final race of the 2024 season approaches, [Y/N] strives to reclaim her peace amidst chaos, love confessions and bittersweet encounters. Closure comes with the roar of engines and the glow of the podium — but just when the dust seems to settle, new– and old sparks ignite, all of them promising a bright future yet unwritten.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader, Sainz! Female Reader x Brother! Carlos Sainz, a little Charles Leclerc x Sainz! Female Reader and a little Lando Norris x Sainz! Female Reader.

Warnings: Charlos divorce. Panic Attack. Carlos last race with Ferrari. Open Ending. Is Kelly Piquet a Warning?

A/N: Hi, Xim here. Here is the last part of "Past the Finish Line" short series, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writting it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. Are Max and (Y/N) Done for Good? What Happend with Charles? Lando enters the picture as well?

Part 1. | Part 2. | Lando's Ending | Charles' Ending

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

The weeks following Monza passed in relative quiet. (Y/N) retreated into her writing, pouring her emotions into her work. She disconnected from social media, avoiding the curated perfection of others' lives, especially the constant updates about Max and Kelly.

Her family had returned to Madrid after the Italian race, but she went back to Mallorca, finding solace in the island's tranquil beauty. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt and wildflowers, and the gentle rhythm of the waves became a balm for her restless soul.

One morning, as she sat on the terrace overlooking the sparkling sea, her visiting mother, Mercedes, joined her with two cups of tea.

"You've been quiet," her mother observed gently, placing one cup in front of her.

(Y/N) wrapped her hands around the warm mug, the steam curling into the air. "Just... thinking."

Mercedes gave her a knowing look. "About him?"

She hesitated before nodding. "I thought I was getting better, but then Monza happened. Seeing him, hearing his voice... it just brought everything back."

Her mother's hand covered hers. "Healing isn't a straight line, hija. But you're stronger than you think."

(Y/N)'s throat tightened. "Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe I should've fought harder."

Mercedes's eyes softened. "You fought enough mi amor. Love shouldn't be a battlefield where you have to prove your worth."

The truth of her mother's words settled heavily on her chest.

Spending peaceful days in Mallorca allowed life to beckon her back. Her agent had been persistent, urging her to attend an upcoming literary event in New York. It was time, (Y/N) decided, to re-engage with the world.

She packed her bags, leaving the island with a sense of quiet determination. Max might have moved on, but so could she.

As the plane soared over the Mediterranean, she watched the clouds drift by, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

φ

A few months after her return to Madrid, (Y/N)'s phone buzzed with an unexpected call from her father.

"Hola, papá," she greeted warmly.

"Cariño," his voice was gentle but firm. "We need you in Abu Dhabi for Carlos's final race with Ferrari. The whole family will be there."

Her stomach twisted. The paddock again. The last place she wanted to be.

"I don't think I can..." she murmured grimmley.

"Your brother deserves your support," her father reminded her. "You’re strong enough for this, hija. And we'll all be there with you."

Her heart warred with her mind, but in the end, love for her brother won out. "Okay. I'll be there."

The decision was made, but anxiety clawed at her chest. The idea of facing Max again, seeing him with Kelly, was almost unbearable.

Still, she owed it to Carlos.

φ

Abu Dhabi was a city shimmering with golden light and restless energy. The final race of the 2024 Formula 1 season had drawn an electric crowd, eager to witness the spectacle unfold. This was meant to be a celebration—Carlos’ last race with Ferrari. She was there for him, for the team, for everything but herself. The journey to this place felt less like a celebration and more like a reckoning. 

She arrived early, blending into the sea of red-clad Ferrari fans who hoped for one last victory for Carlos in the iconic scarlet car. The weight of nostalgia and pride hung thick in the air. (Y/N) tried to focus on that, on the fact that she was here for her brother, not for unresolved heartache or awkward confrontations.

The paddock was a blur of activity as mechanics prepped cars and journalists buzzed around the drivers like bees to honey. She kept her head down, walking alongside her family until a sudden burst of laughter caught her attention.

She spotted a little girl running off in the paddock, too quick for her mother to catch. Instinctively, she reached out, stopping her in her tracks before she could get lost in the crowd. "Where do you think you’re going, pequeñita?" she teased, crouching to her level and catching the kid by the hand.

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, momentarily surprised before breaking into a shy smile. "There is Maxie," she murmured, pointing toward the Red-Bull garage.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. Kelly Piquet stood just a few steps away, radiating elegance. Her long dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, this kid must be Penelope, the little girl twirled gleefully in a dress that sparkled under the sun.

Kelly hurried over, her expression grateful. "Thank you so much," she said breathlessly. "She’s always running off." 

Now that Kelly was closer she could see it clearly—the subtle swell of her stomach, the unmistakable glow.

(Y/N) knelt down to Penelope’s level, smoothing the girl's dress. "You have to stay close to your mamá, okay?"

Penelope nodded solemnly before scurrying back to Kelly’s side.

Kelly's smile faltered for a brief second, replaced by an awkward but sincere expression. "It’s good to meet you, (Y/N)." She had seen countless pictures of Max ex girlfriend on his socials.

There was no malice in her tone, only genuine warmth. (Y/N)´s chest tightened, but there was no hatred, no resentment. Kelly had done nothing wrong. If anything, she had been the one Max had chosen

She forced a smile. "Congratulations," she said, gesturing subtly to Kelly’s visibly pregnant belly. "I hope everything goes well."

Kelly's hand rested protectively on her bump. "Thank you. That means a lot."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken complexities. Kelly opened her mouth as if to say something more but seemed to think better of it.

Moving on was supposed to be the goal. (Y/N) just hadn’t expected how much it would hurt. She excused herself quickly with a subtle nod as she felt the edges of her anxiety creeping in.

φ

The paddock hummed with electric energy as preparations for the final race intensified. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cling to the humid desert air. (Y/N) stood on the fringes of the chaos, stumbling toward the back of a garage, away from the bustling crowds, her breath shallow and erratic. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a relentless drumbeat fueled by the weight of what she'd seen—Kelly's pregnant silhouette and Penelope's innocent laughter still echoing in her mind.

Her vision blurred, the sounds around her distorting as panic clawed at her throat.

She stumbled backward, Her chest heaved as she gripped the railing behind her, desperately fighting to ground herself. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, shallow and frantic.

"Hey."

The familiar British accent almost pulled her from the brink. Lando Norris stood a few feet away, concern etched across his face.

"You need to breathe, Darling." The voice was calm but insistent, cutting through the fog threatening to consume her.

He was now next to her, his blue eyes steady as they locked onto hers. He reached for her hand, not touching her yet but holding it within reach, offering reassurance without pressure.

"Look at me," he instructed gently. "We're going to do this together, okay?"

She gave a faint nod, her chest still tight.

"Tell me five things you can see right now," he urged.

(Y/N) blinked, trying to focus. "The... railing. The tires. Your papaya shoes. The garage entrance. And... the sky."

"Good," he praised softly. "Four things you can feel."

"My heart racing," she admitted shakily. "The metal of the railing... the heat... and your hand close to mine."

His lips quirked into a soft smile. "Three things you can hear."

"The engines. People talking. Your voice."

"Two things you can smell."

"Gasoline and... something clean, maybe soap?"

"That's me," he teased lightly. "One thing you can taste?"

"My own panic," she admitted bitterly, but a hint of humor broke through.

"How about hope?" he suggested, squeezing her hand lightly. "That tastes better."

A reluctant laugh escaped her, easing some of the tension coiled in her chest. Her breathing steadied, the weight lifting bit by bit.

"Better?" he asked, concern still lacing his tone.

"Yeah," she breathed, straightening up. "Thank you."

"Always," he assured her.

Silence hung between them for a moment before Lando leaned casually against the railing beside her, his playful demeanor returning.

"Y'know," he began, "I'm trying not to freak out about this race, but if Ferrari wins, they'll take the constructors’ title. If we win, it's ours. So no pressure or anything."

She arched her brow, grateful for the distraction. "Is that your way of saying you're nervous?"

"Terrified," he admitted with a grin. "But don't tell anyone. Gotta keep up appearances."

They shared a laugh again before the atmosphere shifted, turning serious once more.

"You okay?" he asked gently, stepping closer.

She nodded, though it was a lie. "Just needed air."

Lando's brow furrowed. "You're a terrible liar."

She let out a shaky laugh. "I know."

He didn't press further, simply stood beside her in comfortable silence. The weight of his presence was strangely comforting, steadying her frayed nerves.

"You wanna talk about it?" he offered after a moment.

She sighed. "It's just... everything. Seeing Kelly, knowing she's pregnant. It just brought back all the stuff I thought I'd moved past."

Lando's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice soft. "You're allowed to feel that way. Doesn't make you weak."

"I hate that it still hurts," she admitted quietly.

He tilted his head, his blue eyes earnest. "That's 'cause you loved him. Real love doesn't just vanish, even when it should."

(Y/N) met his gaze, surprised by the raw understanding in his tone. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"Been hanging around a lot of emotionally stunted people," he teased, lightening the mood. "Had to learn something."

She smiled softly. "You're an excellent driver, Lando. If anyone can do it, it's you."

"High praise coming from a Sainz," he quipped, giving in to her change of topics.

She laughed. "Don't tell Carlos, but I'll be rooting for you. Either way, one of my brothers will win."

Lando's playful grin faltered, replaced by something more serious. His gaze darkened with an intensity that made her heart skip.

"I'm not your brother, (Y/N)" he said quietly, his voice low but resolute. "I've never been able to see you that way. Not since the moment I met you."

Her breath caught, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. His confession was unspoken yet undeniable, etched into the very fabric of the moment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering with vulnerability. "You've always been more to me. The woman I look for in every room, even when I know I shouldn't. And yeah, maybe that's selfish or stupid, but it's the truth."

(Y/)'s heart raced, caught off guard by the confession.

"Lando..." she whispered, unsure of what to say.

He held up a hand. "I’m not saying this to make things harder for you. Just... I needed you to know."

Ocean blue eyes met her deep ones, clashing and melding with unspoken emotions and for a moment, the world faded around them.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted honestly.

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her. "Just know I'm here. Always."

The sincerity in his voice warmed something inside her that had long been cold

He smiled faintly, a mix of vulnerability and confidence. "We'll talk after the race."

"Thank you," she whispered. Though she didn´t know what she was thanking him for. The support? His help with the panic attack? The sincerity in his confession?

Lando smiled softly. "Anytime, Darling."

With that, he turned and walked away toward the Mclaren garage, leaving her standing there, stunned and breathless.

The race was a blur of adrenaline and tension. Carlos drove with everything he had, determined to leave Ferrari on a high note. (Y/N) watched from the garage, her heart in her throat as the laps dwindled down.

When the checkered flag waved, it was Lando who took the victory, with Carlos following closely in second, earning a podium finish in his final race with Ferrari. Charles managed third completing the last step at the podium.

The celebration was wild, but and as she made her way to the podium, (Y/N) found herself wandering, lost in thought.

She almost didn’t see him until it was too late.

Max stood under the dim glow of the paddock lights, his expression unreadable.

"(Y/N)."

Her heart clenched painfully at the sound of his voice. No Schatje. Just her name.

She steeled herself, meeting his gaze head-on. "Max."

There was a beat of silence, heavy with everything unsaid.

"I need to talk to you," he began, his voice rough. "I messed up. I should've stopped you that night in Hungary. I should've fought for you."

(Y/N)'s throat tightened. "But you didn't," The anger she had been suppressing for months finally boiled over. "Did those eight years mean nothing to you?" Her voice trembled, but she held her ground. "Or was it just that you were finally ready for commitment—just not with me?"

Max’s jaw tightened. "They meant everything, (Y/N). I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" she scoffed. "You had sex with Kelly, and now she’s pregnant. That’s not a mistake, Max. That’s a consequence."

He nodded, guilt etched into his features. "I know I made it worse. I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

"You have a baby on the way," she said quietly, the weight of that reality sinking in.

Max's voice cracked. "I wanted that with you. Always with you."

Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. "It doesn't matter anymore.” 

His shoulders tensed, pain and panic flickering across his face. "I know, I have to take responsibility now."

"Then do that. Be better for them than you ever were for me. But don’t stand here and act like this conversation changes anything between us. It doesn’t." Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “You can't call your child a mistake, Max. And you can't make the same mistakes with Kelly and your new family.”

His expression shattered. "Schatje—"

"No," she cut him off, her voice firm. "I loved you. And maybe I always will. But we are done. For good. And that's okay. I need to move on, and so do you."

The finality in her words hung between them, bittersweet and liberating.

She didn’t wait for a response. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart lighter despite the ache that lingered, leaving him with nothing but the words that should have been said long before now. 

φ

The podium ceremony was a chaotic blur. The noise was deafening as the celebrations reached their peak. Confetti rained down in shimmering bursts of red, green, and gold, swirling through the night air under the harsh lights. The drivers stood triumphant, champagne bottles in hand, grins stretched wide across their faces.

(Y/N) stood at the edge of the chaos with her family, watching Carlos bask in his well-earned final moment with Ferrari and cheering loudly for him. Her heart swelled with pride, the weight she'd carried for weeks finally dissipating into the night air. The conversation with Max had hurt, but it had given her what she needed—closure.

She breathed in deeply, savoring the freedom that came with letting go. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Laughter echoed from the podium as the drivers sprayed each other with champagne, their suits drenched and sticky with victory. 

Just as she let out a slow breath, a movement from the podium caught her eye. One of the drivers that shared the Podium with Carlos glanced down at her from the elevated platform, bright eyes catching hers amidst the chaos.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his handsome face. He winked, then pointed at the gleaming trophy in his hand and back at her, a playful challenge written in his expression.

(Y/N)'s lips parted in surprise before a laugh escaped her, light and genuine. "Oh, God," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. 

A familiar face. A new complication.

Well, that was a problem for another day.

For now, she let herself revel in the joy of the moment, the weight of the past finally behind her.

For now, she was free.

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

A/N 2: We reached the end of this Series. Who was the Driver winking at (Y/N) at the end, Lando or Charles?. Anyway that is a story for another day. Thank you if you stayed until this part, this is my first story that I post so it's very special for me. I hope you enjoyed it. What do you think?

Lando's Ending | Charles' Ending

Love you. -Xim

[laora-ryn]

Just in case anyone was wondering, I am in fact a federal employee and I am in fact having A Fucking Time Of It

In roughly chronological order, here's all the things that have fucked us over the last two weeks:

Hiring freeze effective immediately, which involved rescinding final offers to people who were about to start their job. A final offer is something you can get a mortgage with btw. It's what you get after months of paperwork. It's something you move cross country for. Eighteen people just at our hospital had a final offer rescinded

A demand for a return to in person work, with no explanation given for why they want this so badly. No explanation on people who have teleworking written into their contracts, or people who have teleworking as a reasonable accommodation

Related to the hiring freeze: no creation of any new jobs in even a preliminary way, even to prep to fill existing vacancies after the 90 days are over

Closing of all DEIA teams groups, webinar series, webpages, department gatherings... Anything you can think of. This included the queer teams based communities that were just a place for people to chat

Related to this: our acting secretary sending out an email that sounds straight out of the fucking Gestapo, where "we are aware of efforts by some in government to deliberately redefine DEIA positions in an attempt to keep their jobs. If you know of this happening, here's an email line we've set up for tips. There won't be adverse consequences for reporting, however, failure to report may have adverse consequences"

What appears to have been trying to be a total freeze on federal spending, which threw literally everything into chaos, I was not able to follow it at all, but the hospital is still running so I'm assuming money is happening somewhere

Two strange emails from OPM.gov, marked EXTERNAL, saying they're testing a new distribution list and to please reply yes. These were considered so universally sus by employees that they had to come down from central office and confirm that yes, these are legit, please reply

A day later, an email from that same external address offering voluntary resignation, which I'm pretty sure is the bit that's been all over the news for (checks notes) being word for word the same email musk sent to Twitter before proceeding to Not Pay Them

A restriction on communication and travel. "No speaking engagements or attendance at public facing events, seminars, or conferences (unless approved by chief of staff) for 6 months. VA only events are excluded." Which was later clarified to mean "well if you're going for continuing Ed, as long as you aren't presenting, it's ok" but then backtracked to "it's probably ok but you still need approval which can take upwards of a month." Why are they restricting speaking at conferences? It's not a money thing because traveling for VA events still costs money. It's like they're looking to prevent staff from interacting with anyone external, for some reason

And today, an email this morning that "leadership has received guidance from the office of personnel management [regarding the EO about "gender ideology extremism and restoring biological truth"] and is working to execute the EO fully, faithfully, and thoughtfully."

This afternoon at 4:30, this began with an all employee email saying that all personal pronouns are being removed from Outlook display names by IT, which was a system implemented several years ago and broadly popular! But nope, we'll need to go back to guessing what genders new coworkers named Quinn, Alex, Morgan, and Taylor are.

(oh I forgot! I can't use the word gender at work anymore. Using Proper Terminology (as interpreted by our ~~~Illustrious President~~~) in all communications at work is now required)

It's been a fucking week and a half and I am so goddamn tired guys. Sorry I haven't been on again but I'm spending most of my energy on Not McFucking Losing It rn

[pursued-by-the-squid]

v. dance with the devil

pairing: gi-hun x gn!reader x in-ho

word count: 7.9k

content warning: things get a little intense in this chapter, so please be careful when reading. there will never be any rape/non-con/assault tropes in this story, but there is a home invasion scene at the very end that i want y'all to be mindful of. take care of yourselves!

ao3 | masterlist

Gi-hun drops you home later than he usually does. It’s a Tuesday night; you have class tomorrow, plus a few assignments due by the end of the week that you’ve been putting off, so you really shouldn’t be out so late. You shouldn’t be lying to Gi-hun about your workload either, but if he knew how much homework you have, then he never would have agreed to a mid-week shooting lesson.

I miss you, you had wanted to say, but you didn’t have the courage to vocalize it. What had seemed at first to be a serotonin withdrawal triggered by switching from your carefree summer life to a more regulated academic life had become suspicion of a vitamin deficiency. Just an odd mix of chemicals messing with your head to make you crave things you shouldn’t.

And then you’d seen him for the first time in two weeks and been so overwhelmed with delight that your chest started to hurt.

Gi-hun had smiled at you – actually smiled! – and handed you a pistol, the very one you’ve been eyeing for the past month but had been too hesitant to ask for. The semiautomatic just fits so nicely in your hands and you hadn’t wanted to ruin your streak by trying something new, but he knew. He knew and he gave it to you without any prelude or pause. He’d shown you how to hold it with both of his hands over yours, his thumbs pressing into your knuckles and your pulse thundering at your wrists, and you had wondered for a moment if he could hear the way your breath caught.

And then the moment had passed and you settled into the usual routine.

The light flickers on as you come inside, buzzing softly overhead. Your keys drop onto the counter, then your backpack is deposited into your chair and your shoes are toed off.

The very thought of sitting down to read through fifteen pages of dry, unengaging instruction makes you want to cry. You’d rather watch paint dry. Or watch Gi-hun.

Aim. Shoot. Reload.

Don’t look at him.

Aim. Shoot. Reload.

Don’t notice the way his shoulders move under his jacket, how his hips flex when he takes his stance.

Aim.

Don’t notice how heavily he breathes before he squeezes the trigger.

Shoot.

Don’t think about the sharpness of his aim, or his eye, or his canines when he smiles and how the light catches them.

Reload.

Don’t notice. Don’t look.

He’d tilted his head just so when he passed you. His shoulder brushed yours, his breath fanned across the nape of your neck when he reached behind for another magazine.

You aimed. Gi-hun’s shoe nudged against yours. You squeezed the trigger. He’d huffed, so lightly that you might have imagined it, and you missed. You fucking missed and you’d immediately felt the hot rush of embarrassment settle in your chest. But then he’d caught your eyes, so soft and encouraging, and whatever irritation or embarrassment you had felt before suddenly dissipated, as suddenly as mist evaporating in the sunlight.

You go about your nightly routine, settling into your comfiest pajamas and falling into bed with a contented sigh. The lights are dim enough to lull you into a relaxed state while you scroll through your phone, checking whatever messages you had missed and replying to the most important ones. Young-il has been distant of late, your coffee meetings less frequent as his work schedule begins ramping up, his messages brief and less engaging than usual, so you send him a couple of texts.

You miss him too, though you would certainly never say it. Not to Gi-hun, who has unofficially become the closest friend you have, and not to Young-il either, whose status as your friend and confidant is trumped only by Gi-hun’s. He’s been good to you this past year. If not for Young-il, you’re not sure you would have passed your last final – he’d been there to calm your nerves when Gi-hun was busy searching the subway. And he’d made you laugh when you’d had a nightmare – 455 bodies and the haunting sound of children laughing – even if his jokes were some of the stupidest ones you’d heard in years.

But as has been the case for the past few weeks, Young-il does not respond. It stings. You try not to take it to heart because he always comes back in the end, no matter the distance or time, but still.

Gi-hun responds, though. He’s gotten better at it. ‘Get some rest, you’ve earned it. And be careful tomorrow.’ He doesn’t worry so much these days, but it still is a constant request, a little piece of him that nestles inside you and warms you to the bones.

‘I always am.’

The lights turn off with a click, your phone buzzes with one final message bearing Gi-hun’s name, and you drift off with a smile on your face.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

…

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

…

Bzzz–

You nearly fall out of bed trying to shut your phone off. It clatters to the ground, wedged between the wall and the mattress, vibrating so loudly that it sounds like a jackhammer is going off in your room. You have to crawl halfway under the bed to grab it and by then, you’ve already missed two calls and several texts from Gi-hun.

“What is it?” you slur sleepily, your free hand rubbing at your eyes. “Are y–”

“Listen to me. Don’t leave your apartment today.”

“Mm, I have class later today,” you groan. The realization that this is extremely abnormal takes a second to hit you in your freshly awakened state. “What’re you talking about?”

“It’s too dangerous for you,” he snaps, and that, at last, is enough to jolt your brain into gear. “Lock your door. Keep your phone close. Promise me.”

A white-hot rush of dread sweeps over your body, singing every nerve-ending and twitching muscle. “I promise.” You can feel the knot of your own fear bobbing where it’s lodged in your throat. “Gi-hun, what’s going on?”

You can just make out the sound of his car revving on the other end of the line. “There’s no time for that. I’m sending you a name, he’s an old friend of mine. If I don’t come back–”

“What do you mean, if you don’t come back?”

“[___],” he sighs, the way he always does when he’s being serious. The way he did an eternity ago when he finally told you who he was. “If I don’t come back, I want you to find him. We grew up together. He’ll take care of you.”

Tears prick at the edge of your waterline. You feel like you’ve just been slapped in the face. He’s talking like he’s dying. But that’s ridiculous, right? He’s not dying. He’s not going to die.

“Why are you saying this?”

He doesn’t respond. “How much money do you have?”

“Gi-hun.”

“How much?”

A sob breaks through your voice box. Your body slumps uselessly on the bed. This is wrong, it’s all wrong. He’s talking like a dead man and he’s not a dead man.

“Enough,” you hiccup through the veil of your tears. “Gi-hun, please. You’re scaring me.”

“I’ll send you what you need,” he says. “Take care of yourself, [___].”

The line drops and so does your heart. “Gi-hun,” you whimper into the receiver, but there’s no one left to hear you.

A few notifications pop up on your phone several minutes later:

[ Park Jung-bae, Dragon Bar, Ssanmung-dong. Give him my name. ] [ incoming transaction from Seong Gi-hun – ₩2,000,000,000 ]

You very nearly dry heave on the floor.

“Are you alright?” In-ho is sure to soften the edges of his voice, lowering it a notch or two to match the soothing pitch you seem to like from him. His eyes flicker across the tablet propped against his computer – he’s more than aware that you are not alright, but Young-il isn’t supposed to know that. So he asks.

“No,” you croak, your voice cracking under the weight of your tears. Your shoulders are hunched over, your body withdrawing into itself as you curl into a sad, pathetic mass of limbs on the sofa.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

The line of your bottom lip trembles enough to be noticeable on camera. “It’s… It’s my friend.” You’re struggling to get through even a single sentence, all glassy eyes and shuddering breaths, and for a moment In-ho feels caught between irritation and genuine pity. He supposes that, were he in your position, the terror of knowing that his dearest friend is endangering himself would be enough to send him into a panic as well.

It seems that 456 and his recruiter have finally reunited, or are about to. He’s been tracking the recruiter all day and as a result, has also been tracking the movement of the two fools Gi-hun has sent in his stead. It’s a mistake. In-ho doesn’t employ those with a tendency for mercy, but that’s a lesson that will have to be learned through experience.

“What can I do?” he asks once the words have manifested themselves and your bleeding heart is left quivering in his palm.

Your head bobs on the screen. “I don’t know, I… I’m scared. I-I think he’s in trouble. He said… he said he might not come back and I don’t know what to do.”

Something inside his chest twists – curiosity, he thinks. Did he now? Did Seong Gi-hun finally take up gambling again? Finally betting on his own life instead of yours? Three years of trying to get the bastard off his tail and all it took was a meeting with a recruiter. How ironic.

In-ho swirls the glass in his free hand once, twice, before taking a quiet sip. Not once do his eyes leave the screen. Not once does he look away from the miserable shape you make as you fall apart.

“Can you come over?”

His heart lurches, pushing the words past his lips before he can doubt himself. “Are you sure?” Because he is curious to know. Are you sure enough of him? Do you really trust him? Has all his hard work finally come to fruition?

The answer is later given in the wide arc of your door when it opens to him, in the curve of your arms as they wrap around his torso. The name he has given you falls from your lips without the customary honorific – there is no room for social niceties in the wake of your grief, though it isn’t something he can fault you for. Neither can he fault you, he discovers, for the salty, snotty mess you leave on his chest.

It's a weakness. A reminder of days long since past and forever lost, but a weakness all the same. Hwang In-ho does not tolerate weaknesses. He does not grant mercy in a world that once chose to overlook him when he asked for it. But today, just this once, he allows himself to break his greatest rule. Perhaps it’s because he still remembers the weight of his wife’s head upon his shoulder. Or perhaps it’s because he knows that René Magritte’s book still sits on your bedside table.

A weakness, yes, but one he knows how to eliminate and it won’t be long now until the opportunity presents itself.

“He’ll be alright,” he murmurs into your hair, running his hand over the swell of your scalp as you cry.

A distressed groan sounds from the center of his chest where you’ve pressed your cheek. “But what if he isn’t? Wh-What if he doesn’t come back?”

In truth, he has no inkling whether Gi-hun will live or die tonight. The man is reckless and less intelligent than he assumes himself to be, but he’s also irritatingly tenacious, always turning up in the unlikeliest of places like a pebble permanently wedged in In-ho’s shoe. If he were a betting man – if he were 456 – he would place his money on the recruiter whose eyes have never once shone with a glimmer of true humanity in the past nine years.

But then again, Seong Gi-hun has won the races once before. There’s always the chance he’ll do it again.

In-ho’s teeth grind together for a moment, sending pain up and down his jawbone until he has the clarity of mind to unlock the joint and regather his thoughts. “He will,” he assures you. One of his hands finds your cheek and gently guides your face until it’s tilted up towards his. Old habits, he tells himself, and he smiles the way that only Young-il does. “It’ll be alright, [___]. I promise.”

Only time will tell if he’s bet on the right horse. In the meantime, however, he is content to continue playing the curious little game you have unknowingly entered into with him.

“Your friend. You said he hasn’t answered his phone since he contacted you?” The slight press of your head against his palm – a brief nod of dissent – encourages him to continue, to prod at the bruise of Gi-hun’s disappearance until you do something interesting. “Had you thought of calling the police?” Though what you might say to them is beyond him, he wants to know if it had occurred to you.

How delicious it is to see the way your expression darkens and your eyes shift, as if he’s stumbled by chance upon a secret you dare not repeat to another soul. So 456 has told you, then, and more than what little he has managed to hear from the camera in your wall.

“I don’t think they’d be able to help,” you respond, several long seconds of deliberation later.

“Why do you say that?” Aren’t you confident in the skills of the unnumbered dedicated and mindless drones wasting away behind the walls of police academies and city halls? Surely the friend who regularly supplies you with obscene amounts of money and black market shooting lessons is someone whose fate you can trust to the unblemished record of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency?

You shrug lightly, your eyes flickering away when he tries to catch them. “Just a feeling.” And he smiles to himself, however briefly, because you are a truly terrible liar.

He presses further, digging his thumb deeper into the bruise upon your heart. “Is there… any way you can find him yourself, perhaps?” How far, he wonders, will you go for a piece of gutter trash that should have died in his arena? How much risk are you willing to shoulder for the reward of Gi-hun’s life?

Oh, you protest, of course, you squirm uncomfortably at the thought of putting yourself in any real danger, but he sees the momentary consideration when it first sparks. He nurtures that spark with every softly murmured question, fans in into a flame. Surely you know him better than anyone – who else would be able to help him? To save him? He grants you the notion of becoming Gi-hun’s hero. This friend of yours, whoever he is, he must care about you a great deal to say goodbye. Maybe he needs you. Let you think yourself capable of such a thing. Let you create your own destruction. Because if you are this clueless to his manipulations, then you deserve to fall as much as Gi-hun does.

It’s the final night in August when Seong Gi-hun comes face to face with the recruiter. He knows even before stepping inside the four walls he’s sequestered himself behind for the past two years that this may be the last thing he ever does, the last face he ever sees. Two years of baited breath and sleepless nights, two years of fighting a fight he’s not even sure he can ever win. Two whole years and it comes to this – a man, a gun, and the rules of the game.

“I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive.”

It was luck, plain and simple, he thinks. Or fate playing tricks with a corpse who doesn’t even know he’s already dead.

“For one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji.”

Ddakji. His eomma. The little street cat. Jung-bae. You.

The pistol clicks and Gi-hun feels the barrel shake where it digs into his skull. He’s… still alive?

He has only a moment to process the fact before the recruiter snatches the gun off the table and squeezes the trigger, his face contorted with… he doesn’t even know what. He’s not even sure the man is human. All he’s sure of is that the chamber has fired twice and neither of them is dead.

The odds are 3 in 1. He used to bet on horses with worse chances than that.

You’re our horses.

Sang-woo. Sae-byok. Ali.

Click.

Three rounds left and his face is still intact. His brains haven’t splattered across the ceiling. He’s alive.

I didn’t expect you to finish your race.

He’s still fucking alive. So why does he feel so dead inside?

The recruiter is far too smug for his liking. The fucker gets off on being a predator the same way Gi-hun used to get off on betting.

“You’re a piece of trash, just like everyone else. A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster.”

Well, if that’s true, then they’re kindred spirits. Gi-hun knew he was damned a long time ago. He knew he was worthless the night Ga-yeong was born and rather than her sweet eyes and tiny toes, he could only see the battered skull of a man who used to be alive. He knew he was worthless the millionth time he let her down. I’ll make it up to you next year. What complete and utter bullshit.

Click.

He’ll never forget the way the recruiter’s head snaps back when the pistol finally fires, not even on his deathbed. He took a bet and he won, the first win he’s had since he woke up to find 45.6 billion won shoved down his throat. All that death, all that regret, and it’s only now that he feels the stirrings of life in the pit of his stomach.

Neither will he forget the immediate wash of panic that overcomes all that bright and bursting life when the police officer slams him against the bathroom glass, gun to his head, and he thinks it’s all over. Nearly three years of fighting and searching, only to get himself arrested before he can do anything about it.

He’ll never forget the realization that Kim Jeong-rae is dead, that the stripped and bound man crying before him is yet another victim of the path that Gi-hun has chosen to take. He left the Games behind so long ago, yet death keeps chasing after him and everyone around him. Was Sang-woo’s death not enough? Ali and Sae-byok and every other tortured soul who died, were they not enough to satisfy the demand for blood? What about every innocent person left behind – the mothers, brothers, and children? Is their sacrifice not enough?

He lowers his gun as the regret starts to sink in. Blood and brain matter have stained the entire stretch of wall above the recruiter’s chair, drenching Gi-hun’s subway maps and scribbled notes. He looks down at the pistol in his hands and wonders how it ever came to this, how he managed to lose his way so thoroughly.

That’s why he can never forget the moments after, when the young officer is finally dragged into the bathroom and cuffed to the tub, when Jeong-rae’s partner is scrubbing the bits of flesh and blood from the walls, and you come running into the room. He doesn’t know it’s you at first. Paranoia comes before logic, so he’s already whirling around with his weapon in the air, determined to gun down whatever monster the game runner has sent to kill him this time. Only it isn’t some cruel, faceless beast in a pink suit. It’s the farthest possible thing.

His stomach drops down to his boots, along with his gun.

“[___],” he starts, raising his hands in supplication to show he means you no harm, but you’ve already backed yourself against the wall.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes are watery and bloodshot when you look past him – at the body, the blood, the carnage he’s left behind – and he suddenly wishes he was the one with a bullet in his brain instead. This is everything he didn’t want. You weren’t supposed to know about any of this, you weren’t supposed to ever see behind the curtain he has so carefully pulled around the brutalized parts of his life.

He takes a step forward. “I can explain–”

One of your palms slams against the wall to brace yourself while the other flashes before his eyes, wrapped around the handle of the taser he’d gifted you. “He’s dead.”

“I know,” he nods. He places one foot in front of the other, as slowly and deliberately as he can manage, his hands still raised, and he prays that you can understand somehow. “Just let me explain.”

But the taser is brandished before him like a blade. No matter how much your fingers are shaking, Gi-hun knows you’re capable of hurting him. He doesn’t even need to see the terror in your eyes to confirm it, he only needs to think of the hours you’ve spent at his side, squeezing the trigger of every firearm he has given to you and shattering his expectations at every turn.

Well, you’ve shattered them once again. Didn’t he tell you to stay home, to not leave or allow anyone inside? What could possibly have driven you to disobey him when you know the risks, when he’s made it perfectly clear the amount of danger you’re in and how important it is that you protect yourself? Why? Why would you come here? Why would you ruin everything by being so reckless?

“Why… the fuck… do you have a dead body in your room?”

Gi-hun takes a deep breath. God, he needs a fucking cigarette. “I told you I was looking for the recruiters,” he says, as if that explains everything.

Disbelief contorts the shape of your eyes until they’re practically bulging from your skull. “You didn’t say you were gonna kill them!”

“And you told me you would stay inside,” he snaps. He can’t take it back, not even when your mouth drops open, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. Because he’s angry and scared out of his mind, and you, for the first time since he’s known you, are a remarkably easy target to pin his frustrations upon. “He would have killed you if he’d gotten his hands on you!”

Your body surges forward, then, all blazing eyes and furrowed brows as you jab the end of the taser into his chest. The shock never comes, but he braces himself for it anyway. “What about you?” He’s too busy watching the light in your pupils to notice that you’ve shifted your finger off the trigger. “I thought you were dead! I thought you ran off and got yourself killed!”

“I was trying to protect you,” he grits through clenched teeth.

“By scaring me? By not even having the decency to say goodbye to my fucking face?” The taser presses harder against his chest until it hits bone and Gi-hun leans his weight into the ache, desperate to feel your agony as deeply as you do, to punish himself for ever daring to drag you into this mess. “I don’t give a shit about your money, Gi-hun, I just want you alive.”

It’s enough to punch the air from his lungs. And then he sees the tears threatening to spill over your lower lashes. He notices how your lips are shaking, not just because you are so horrifically angry, but because you’re trying desperately not to cry.

When he reaches for you this time, you don’t pull away and Gi-hun counts it as a victory. He closes his hand around the curve of your shoulder and sighs. “I’m alive.” Somehow. He’s done everything wrong every step of the way, yet somehow he keeps breathing.

Your face is contorted with every possible emotion, each one breaking against you like the tide, each one breaking your resistance further and further until finally, you allow yourself to fall into his arms. For a minute, he’s not sure what to do. He knows what he wants to do, but it feels wrong to touch you with the very hands that offered the weapon that ended the recruiter’s life. But then you rest your cheek on his collarbone, then you sniff and your shoulders ripple, and he’s drawing you into his chest before he can doubt himself any further.

“Don’t do that to me again,” you whisper. Your voice cracks somewhere in the middle and it may as well be a dagger to his heart because he knows that this is the one promise he cannot keep, let alone make. “Please.”

There’s an apology forming on his lips, his mouth already opening to beg you for penance, when he hears the initial shriek of handcuffs on metal. The pair of you start and turn to look inside the bathroom where the young officer is waking up, rubbing at the back of his head and yanking hard on the cuffs keeping him in place. Shit.

“Seong Gi-hun-ssi!” He yanks hard against the faucet and Gi-hun almost expects him to yank the thing right out of the wall; as if he doesn’t have enough to worry about already.

You can’t stay for this. He doesn’t want you sitting in the same room as a dead body, a half-naked stranger, and Gi-hun’s attempt interrogation of an officer of the law. He might not have to shoot the boy, and he sincerely hopes it won’t come to that, but if it does? You can’t see him like that. But where else can he send you that you’ll be safe? It’s dark and the game runner knows he’s caught on to their scent, so he can’t send you back home alone.

He turns and blocks the bathroom with the breadth of his shoulders, guiding you to look up at him. “Go to the range. Wait for me there.” At least there you’ll be able to defend yourself.

Your focus darts past his shoulder when the officer is struggling and shouting. “… Gi-hun–”

“Please.” Just this once, he needs you to listen. Just this once, he needs you to do as he says and not ask any further questions. “I’ll come find you. Just… wait for me. Please.”

It isn’t until he’s heard the door to the range open and close that he picks up his gun again. He sits himself on the toilet, lid down, and glares. “Who are you?”

You’ve been dancing around each other for the past twelve minutes, awkwardly sipping your drinks, eyes lowered, never daring to speak except to remark on the coffee or the weather or the piece of fuzz on Young-il’s jacket. It’s agonizing.

You know he wants to ensure that you’re alright, that your disappearing friend is also alright, and you want nothing more than to tell him that everything is fine, back to normal, and there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just that you’d be lying if you did.

Gi-hun has been distant. Still present, yes, but farther than he’s been in months, maybe even years by now. He’s brushed you off the last two times you’ve texted him about meeting for lunch. You’ve only asked a couple times since that night, but it’s unlike him to be so abrasive. After the discussion you’d had, after everything you’d seen, you thought things would be different. Now they’re different in a bad way and you hate it.

There’s also the fact that you can’t unsee the image of blood and brains sprayed across his bedroom wall. Every time you close your eyes, it’s there. Someone will smile at you and the wind will catch their hair just right, and they’ll look just like the corpse in the suit. You haven’t been able to pick up a gun since then either. It’s one thing to shoot an unmoving, non-sentient target; it’s something else entirely to shoot another person and watch their life ooze out of them.

You push your drink aside, your appetite suddenly spoiled. Young-il notices, as he ever does, and his expression sharpens. He shifts forward in his seat and braces his elbows on the table. “What is it?”

The smile you offer him is forced at best and unbelievable at worst. “Nothing. It’s just not as good as usual.”

His chin drops. “[___].”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him. “Please, just… it’s okay.”

Only it’s not nothing. It’s everything. Your grades are slipping again, like they had been in the months before Gi-hun found you. You aren’t sleeping well, you’re not eating as much as usual, you’re constantly tired, constantly irritated, and you wake up feeling scared and alone more often than not. You’re in over your head. Lectures are almost impossible to sit through. Everything reminds you of the dead recruiter, or of Gi-hun, or of the space his absence has left behind in your life. Every morning you think it might be the day where Gi-hun has sent you a final farewell via text and you’ll find his face on the news – local man gunned down in abandoned motel, more at noon.

Young-il reaches across the table to curl his fingers under yours. It isn’t the first time he’s initiated contact with you, but it strikes you as different somehow, in a way you can’t articulate. “Your friend,” he starts somewhat hesitantly. “Is he…?”

You swallow tightly. “He’s alright.” He’s alive. Sometimes you still can’t believe it.

He nods then as a contemplative expression drifts across his face. He looks like he understands, though you can’t imagine how that’s possible. He’s a businessman. What would he know about befriending an obscenely wealthy middle-aged man with a potential inclination for suicidal ideation?

“Are you on speaking terms?”

It’s easier to wrap your fingers tighter around his hand than it is to look him in the eye. “Somewhat.”

“That doesn’t sound very hopeful,” he says, but it’s light, almost a joke. Maybe he’s trying to make you smile.

A half-hearted shrug is the most effort you can muster. “He’s preoccupied, I think.”

Still determined to track down the people running the games, still working himself to the bone doing God knows what and with God knows who. You know the police officer – Jun-ho, you think his name was; he was very respectful when you were introduced and had insisted on giving you his contact details in case of emergencies. You still don’t know why, but it feels nice to be cared for, even by a stranger. You should probably blame yourself for that, but half the blame goes to Gi-hun anyways. He’s the one who got you into this mess.

“He works a lot.” That’s one way to put it. “And I think something big is coming up, some kind of… work project. So, he’s been busy.” And you’ve been left alone. You know you shouldn’t blame him for it, shouldn’t feel bitter when he’s trying to save innocent lives, but he’s still your friend, isn’t he? Is it so wrong of you to miss him?

“I’m sorry,” he hums after a moment. “Do you want to–?” But you’re already shaking your head ‘no’. If you talk about it (which you can’t), you’re afraid you’ll burst into tears and never stop. Or maybe you’ll scream until your head bursts. “Then what can I do?”

Looking into Young-il’s eyes is like gazing into the mouth of the universe. They’re dark like the night, all shadows and coffee grounds and sleek, cold metal, but they sparkle too when the light hits them just right. And the light hits them right. His hand rests lightly over yours, his thumb rubbing at the joint of your last knuckle. It suddenly strikes you just how pretty he is when he’s being kind.

“Just this,” you assure him with wet, red-rimmed eyes and an itchy nose. “Just this is enough.”

‘You up for dinner? I finished all my homework for the week, so I don’t have anything to do.’

The message glows brightly in the shadows of his room, the cursor in the message bar blinking patiently in anticipation of a response. Jun-ho is at the table, chin in his hand as he studies his own mobile. It’s getting late. There are still so many things he needs to get done, plans to be made, contingencies to be strategized.

His stomach twists with regret. ‘Not tonight.’

He tells himself he can’t afford any more distractions and you’ve been distraction enough, though it’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.

The little green ‘active’ dot by your name blinks out and Gi-hun feels his stomach twist tighter. He knows without asking that he’s hurt your feelings and he’s sure that when he sees you again – if he sees you again – you’ll give him hell for it. He sincerely hopes you do, if only to prove to himself that he’s doing the right thing.

As the days tick by and the calendar drifts closer and closer to late September, then early October, Gi-hun finalizes his plans. He trades a tooth for a tracker and lighthearted afternoons with you for late night training sessions with his assembled band of soldiers, each of them sacrifices for the greater good. He sharpens his aim with the blade he’s impaled himself upon – the bastards who built the Games, the people who tracked you down and preyed upon you like a helpless calf in the wild, the VIPs who watched his friends slaughter each other or die in the process are all going to pay. If it kills him, they’re all going to pay for what they’ve done.

Arrangements are made in the event of his death. Half of his money will transfer to Ga-yeong, the other half will transfer to you. Someone will get you in contact with Jung-bae and with Jun-ho’s mother, hopefully Jun-ho himself but he can’t guarantee the boy’s safety as much as he can’t guarantee his own. At least you won’t need to be alone anymore. You’ll be safe. Ga-yeong will be safe. That’s all that matters.

All that’s left is to say goodbye.

It should be easy, shouldn’t it? At least, that’s what he thought. He calls his daughter. He can’t bring himself to say a single fucking word because he’s a coward, he can’t bring himself to say any of the things he’s been wanting to tell her. How much he misses her. How proud he is of her. But he gets to hear her voice one last time and it’s enough, it’s enough to keep on fighting, to keep living for however long he has left.

He calls you – or rather, he tries to. His thumb hovers over the call button until the screen goes dark and then he has to unlock it, pull your name back up and talk himself into doing it. Except he can’t. He doesn’t understand why. You’re not Ga-yeong, you are not more important to him than his own daughter and he didn’t even have the stomach to speak a goddamn word to her, so why is this so much harder? Why can’t he do it?

He stares at his phone for what feels like hours, days. Memory after memory filters through his head. Your laughter, your voice, the scent of you that he thinks he can almost detect when he wakes every morning, like you’ve soaked into the mattress too and left your mark there. The way you’d beamed at him the first time you shot a bullseye and Gi-hun had been caught between smiling and wanting to embrace you, to crush you until you collapsed against him and he could finally – no. He can’t let himself go there. He can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

That’s what he tells himself when he grabs his car keys. That’s what he tells himself when he pulls the belt across his chest. It wouldn’t be fair to take from you in the hours before what he can only assume will be his death. That’s what he tells himself when he pulls into the parking lot outside your apartment, when he presses the button that will lift him to your floor.

You’re so young. You have so much to live for. You’re meant for great things, things that a man like Gi-hun could never give you, and he knows that. He’s known that for months now. But if he’s going to lead himself to the slaughter, then he may as well be selfish one last time, right?

It won’t be fair to you, but it might just be enough to give him peace.

Your eyes are tired when you open the door for him. Now that he thinks about it, it’s a school night. You probably have class tomorrow. “Gi-hun?” But you opened the door for him.

He’s never allowed himself to dwell on how pleasant he finds your features. He allows it tonight.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

He stands there in the hallway like an idiot and he memorizes the way the light bends across your nose. He watches the way your eyes flicker with uncertainty, then concern, then confusion. He glances down to your shoulders where the neck of your shirt has been pulled aside – were you sleeping? – and he can just make out the edge of your collarbone.

“Gi-hun. Can you talk to me? What’s wrong?”

I’m dying, he thinks, that’s what’s wrong. His pulse is thundering so heavy and hard against his skin that he almost wonders if he’s having a heart attack. I’m dying and I’ve never wanted anything the way that I want you.

If it’s his last chance to do something about it, then Gi-hun will take that gamble. What’s a little death without a little reward?

His body moves almost without conscious thought. He’s watching his body from outside himself, watching his hand rub palm first against your cheek, watching your mouth drop open and your face go still. Watching your eyes go wide and your lashes flutter. And then he’s slamming back inside his body so he can kiss you.

He’s out of practice. His teeth knock against yours and he presses his lips a little too firmly, but it’s a kiss all the same. He never thought he’d want to kiss someone again. Hell, he never thought he’d want to kiss you, but it feels right somehow. Or maybe he’s delusional and desperate like all men are in their final hours.

It’s not right, he knows it’s not, but even as Gi-hun withdraws and prepares himself for the disgust and repulsion he’s sure to find on your face, he cannot bring himself to regret a single thing that’s led him here.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and he really, truly is.

His thumb drifts across the meat of your cheek, pressing into your flesh until it dimples, and he thinks he’s never seen anything more breathtaking than you in your pajamas and flushed from the second worst kiss he’s ever given.

Your eyes are so comically large that he feels like he might fall right into them and drown. That would be a nicer way to go than whatever the game runner – the Captain – has in store for him, of that he has no doubt.

He kisses you again, something softer and sweeter like you actually deserve, and he asks you not to follow him. Stay here where it’s safe. He takes one last look before he goes. Stay alive for me. And when the elevator doors close in on him, he doesn’t lift his head. He lets the memory of your lips tingle on his and he hopes, oh he hopes, that when he dies, he’ll die with his mouth still remembering the taste of the sweetest gamble he’s ever played.

You stand in the kitchen for an eternity, one hand pressed against the ticking pulse in your throat and the other braced against the counter to keep you from falling over.

I’m sorry, he’d said.

Sorry that he kissed you? Sorry enough that he’d gone and kissed you again?

Squeezing your eyes shut doesn’t release the tension in your chest, nor does it recover your ability to fucking breathe, but it allows you the chance to recall his face when he’d leaned in, how his mouth had dropped open when he pulled away. It allows you the chance to press your fingers to your lips and feel where he’s touched you.

He’s going to get himself killed. You’re almost certain of it now. Why else would he come here after ditching you for the millionth weekend in a row? Why else would he tell you to stay here, to take care of yourself? Why else would he kiss you?

You don’t even realize you’re sobbing until you’re doubled over and gasping for air. It feels like someone’s just punched a hole in your chest and is squeezing your heart until it bursts. Because Gi-hun kissed you. Because all this time you thought you were imagining things or overthinking things, seeing chemistry where there was none. Because one of you finally had the guts to take what they wanted and the only reason it happened is because Gi-hun’s probably in the middle of being shot to death right now.

Your hands go scrambling for your phone. ‘Don’t you dare get yourself killed.’ The message goes unread.

You call him. He doesn’t answer.

‘Talk to me.’

Nothing.

‘GI-HUN. TALK TO ME!!’

The phone goes flying across the room until it smacks screen-first into the leg of the sofa and you collapse on the floor, a mess of snot, tears, and too little air in a body that feels too full of grief to properly exist.

Three years. Three fucking years of making himself essential to you and your daily life. Three years of caring for you in the only ways he knows how. Three years of corner store ramyeon and half-formed smiles and fleeting glances, and this is how he wants to end it? By killing himself?

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You don’t know how it was supposed to end, but it shouldn’t have been like this. Maybe with you going back home and missing him for the rest of your life, but at least then he would have been alive.

You find yourself crawling on your hands and knees like a miserable sack of bones. It’s pathetic. This is what Gi-hun has reduced you to and you hate him for it. You hate him so much it makes you sick.

‘Jun-ho, what the hell is going on?? Where’s Gi-hun?’

But for a cop so concerned about your apparent safety, he’s not very good at replying to his fucking texts.

You have half a mind to snag a taxi and drag yourself down to the motel, really give that moron a piece of your mind. Because how dare he try to get himself killed after finally kissing you? How dare he do this to you again, as if the first time with the recruiter wasn’t enough? You’re just about to grab your keys and go when there’s a sound at the door.

It’s faint, like the scratching of a key in the lock. Your landlord, maybe? Then you remember it’s Halloween night and there’s bound to be at least a few kids running up and down the halls in search of candy. You’d stick a bowl outside, but you’ve already eaten everything.

“Sorry,” you call, “I’m out of candy! Try next door!” The words kind of stick in your throat like cotton. It feels strange to talk about something so mundane when someone you care about is off risking his life like an idiot.

The sound continues, though, and you really do not have the patience. You don’t care if it’s the cutest little five year old on the planet begging for sweets, you frankly have more important things to worry about than elementary mischief on a school night! Keys still in hand, you unlock the top latch and swing the door open, totally prepared to give a stern scolding to a very naughty child, only to find yourself face-to-face with a… very large adult.

Apprehension prickles at the base of your skull. You figure it’s a man under there, judging by the height and the broad shoulders, but the round face mask and black onesie/hoodie combo makes it a little difficult to tell. The figure stares at you for a moment, probably surprised that they got caught, and you tighten your grip on the door handle.

“Can I help you?”

The large white square on the figure’s mask stands out against the black like a lighthouse in the fog, and you’re sure the warning is one you should heed. Why the hell didn’t you look before you opened the door?

It’s fine. It’s fine, probably, just be polite and firm and everything will be fine. “I think you have the wrong apartment, sir.”

“[___ ___]?” the figure asks. The sound of your full name is heavily distorted when he speaks.

“I–.” You’d almost said yes. Like an idiot. What the hell are you thinking?! “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person. Try downst–”

The figure catches the door as you start to slam it, his gloved hand wrapped around the wood and pushing until you’re stumbling further into the apartment. Shit, shit. Where’s your phone? No, there’s no time for your phone, where’s your fucking taser?

The door slams shut behind him and then the figure advances, faster and more determined than you’re prepared for. Your limbs pinwheel frantically as you rush backwards, entirely blind. You throw the first thing your hands land on, but the remote goes sailing harmlessly over his shoulder.

“Help!”

Only there’s no one to help you. Or they just don’t care. You scramble over furniture and try barricading yourself in the bedroom, but this man is fast, strong, and has absolutely no trouble catching you, no matter how hard you fight him. And you fight hard. Elbows and feet are thrown without prejudice. Your teeth lock around the flesh of his thumb when he slaps a hand over your mouth. If he’d had any skin showing, you’re sure you would have already clawed his face raw.

He slams you bodily into the ground, pinning your arms behind you with a knee pressed into your spine. You don’t even have the chance to scream again because by the time you’ve recovered the breath he knocked out of you, he has a cloth pressed into your mouth and nose. You get one whiff of the intense chemical smell before your brain starts to get foggy, but still you fight. You will not let this man take advantage of you, kill you, not… not now that…

Your vision goes hazy, then fully blurs, and the last thing you see is the illumination of your phone as the screen lights up somewhere in the maelstrom of your sitting room.

[juniperskye]

I’m Sorry…What?

Based on the following ask: Established relationship but it’s secret from the team. The team think they don’t like each other but in truth they are deeply in love with each other but the team don’t let them always be alone together out of worry so there have been a few close calls where they almost get caught until reader and Aaron room together and finally talk about maybe telling the team only the way they tell them is threw wedding invites and that’s shocks the team and they all have questions to which reader and Aaron only smile thinking how funny it is that a team of profilers never found them out. Love this idea! In this, Derek kind of looks out for the reader – very “big brother” behavior from him in this.

Aaron Hotchner x Fiance BAU! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1617

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, meddling profilers, canon typical violence, mention of stabbing and hospitals, mention of wedding related activities, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You stood from your desk, just about to head up to Hotch’s office with a file when Emily stopped you. Her hand resting on your forearm gently, her eyes meeting your own.

“I have to go drop this file off, let me take yours.”

“Oh, Emily it’s okay. I can take them.” You moved to grab her file.

“Girl, it’s okay…I know how hard he is on you.” Emily stood, patted your shoulder and took the files to Hotch’s office.

--

Things had been like this pretty much since the moment you’d joined the BAU. For whatever reason, everyone on the team had just assumed that you and Hotch hated each other…that you two couldn’t even be in the same room as one another without fighting. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

See, what the team didn’t know was that Aaron and you were engaged. The two of you were dating even before you had joined the BAU. You had been working with a different team within the FBI, having a background in behavior analysis…moving to the BAU when a spot opened up, that just made sense.

Aaron and you had agreed to keep things strictly professional at work to avoid any discomfort within the workplace. Apparently that choice was now biting you in the ass.

Working with profilers, you’d think the secret of your relationship would have come out a long time ago, that being said, doesn’t mean there haven’t been some close calls.

--

This had started early on in you career with the BAU. Aaron had avoided pairing the two of you together, simply to avoid any suspicion of your relationship. The team, however, took this as him not warming up to your presence on the team.

Then it was him “benching” you. Aaron for a period of time had kept you in the local precincts on cases, you knew this was because he was worried about you getting hurt, but the team saw this as him questioning your abilities. They all reassured you that you were an asset to the team, more than capable in the field. Morgan had gone as far as confronting Aaron about the way he was mistreating you.

What really sealed this theory in your teammate’s heads was the way Aaron and you sparred. During debriefings the two of you would go back and forth through numerous theories, jabbing at one another for how “ridiculous” the other one was being. While to the team this looked argumentative…it really was how the two of you were, always pushing one another, wanting them to be the best they can be. Unafraid to challenge one another.

Everything was different after that. The team worked overtime to keep things light when the two of you were around one another. They would step into conversations, inserting themselves when it wasn’t necessary. They would jump in and offer to pair with one of you, so you’d never be stuck one-on-one.

At first you found it kind of funny, laughing internally at their crazy antics, but now that you were engaged, it was getting increasingly annoying. You’d just wanted some alone time with your fiancé and they were making it impossible.

--

You had gone to get a fresh cup of coffee to help you get through the remainder of your paperwork. Upon entering the kitchenette, you came face to face with your fiancé.

“Hey sweetheart.” He quietly greeted.

“Hi hon.” You smiled.

Aaron passed you a cup of coffee before moving to fill a second one for himself. He’d been this way since the beginning, always putting you first no matter what. You offered him thanks and stood with him for a moment, enjoying the proximity.

“I got a call earlier from the florist, she sent over the invoice. I also sent the deposit to the caterer this morning.” You informed.

“For the flowers, peonies right? Did you decide on pink or whi-”

“Everything okay in here?” Morgan bounded into the kitchenette. “You guys look tense…please tell me you weren’t fighting again.”

“Nope, everything is good! I was just heading back to my desk.” You said before making your exit.

--

The next slip up was while away on a case. You had been with Derek interviewing someone that happened to be the unsub, only you hadn’t been aware of that going in.

He had pulled a knife and moved quickly, leaving you with a nasty stab to the gut. You were lucky that it hadn’t hit anything major. You’d waved Derek off, telling him to go after the unsub.

After apprehending the guy, Derek made his way back to you to check in and make sure you were okay. He had called the team and for a medic, not leaving your side.

When Aaron showed up he was livid. The team took that as anger for your “mistake”, not realizing that his anger was directed toward himself – he was beating himself up for having sent you in there, putting you in this situation.

He rode with you in the ambulance to the hospital…giving the rest of the team time to talk about how he was probably reprimanding you. But once again, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had held you hand and reassured you the whole way to the hospital.

The team met him there and waited by his side as you were tended to. And when the doctor came out and called your name, asking for family, Aaron didn’t hesitate to rise to his feet, barely catching himself and mentally correcting fiancé to boss.

--

After that, the team did everything they could to keep the two of you separated or at least had someone with you to act as a buffer. It was becoming exhausting – you’d been trying to give Aaron an update about some stuff for the wedding and you just couldn’t get the chance.

The two of you would end up rapidly firing through topics once you arrived home for the evening, trying to catch one another up on wedding tasks, work tasks, and just everyday things.

 “Aaron…have you thought about how much easier things would be if we just told the team about us?”

“Yes I have. Why do you ask?” He admitted.

“Just, well…they’ve been annoying lately.” You huffed. “I don’t mean to sound rude, you know I love them. But they just won’t quit, I can’t get even a second alone with you at work and it is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re right. When you were in the hospital last month, I almost let it slip in front of them. If it’s what you want, let’s tell them.” Aaron agreed.

And thus began your planning of how you’d tell the most oblivious group of profilers that the two of you didn’t hate each other but were actually engaged to be married.

--

It took about a week and a half before you could officially tell the team your little secret. You had been waiting for your invitations to come in so you could hand deliver a few to your team…it would be the perfect announcement.

“Round table in five.” Aaron called out into the bullpen.

“Shit…he seems pissed.” Emily hissed.

You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing full well he was anything but pissed. Emily and you went and collected everyone, bringing them to the round table. There were hushed whispers about what this could be about, and when Penelope mentioned there wasn’t a new case, you could feel the anxiety filling the room.

--

Aaron made his way in, his hands holding a neat stack of pale pink envelopes. You couldn’t help but notice the way he commanded a room, his mere presence demanding the attention of those around him. This is what had initially drawn you to him all those years ago.

“I have something for each of you. I’d like you to wait to open them until everyone has one.” Aaron announced.

He passed them out one by one, the room remaining silent the entire time. It didn’t take long for everyone to notice that you were the only one who didn’t receive an envelope.

“Hotch man, if this is some kind of sick power move then I swear I will-” Derek began.

“Please, open them.” You spoke before standing up and making your way to Aaron’s side.

Confusion painted its way across everyone’s faces. Hands working quickly to open the envelopes they’d been handed. You were shaking with anticipation, and you couldn’t help the little smirk that made its way to your lips when the confusion was quickly replaced with shock.

“I’m sorry…what?” Penelope asked.

“What the hell is this?” Derek questioned.

Everyone began talking at once, talking about whether or not this was a joke. Asking if one another knew, and how long this had been going on.

“Guys!” You called. “Aaron and I have been together for a few years, well before I started with the BAU. We got engaged about seven months ago…and well, we’d love it if you all would be there for us.” You smiled.

“I KNEW IT!” Rossi laughed. “I told you all from the beginning that they didn’t hate one another, they love each other, and you all swore that they hated each other.”

--

Four months later, the BAU team stood by your sides as you said your vows and committed yourselves to one another.

And while the team dynamic shifted slightly with them knowing the two of you are together, and with there being two Agent Hotchners now, the one thing that didn’t change was that this team was family and you all were there for one another no matter what.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[pomefioredove]

hi bub! your christmas event is so cute! i'd like to order #10, a sugar cookie with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle <3

this prompt turned out to be pretty similar to another, so I decided to make it a two-parter! second part will be out tomorrow. will link here

order #10, sugar with whipped cream, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ opening old wounds I

summary: ruggie's first love is leona's new fiance(e) tropes: royalty au, exes to lovers characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, really leaning into the royal au here

It was never going to last.

Ruggie had told himself that before it was even over.

It wasn't going to last, and he knew it. He knew it well.

You were too good for him. And you didn't know it then, but you would. Royals don't marry penniless servants- they just don't.

They marry dukes and duchesses, counts, nobles, princesses and-

"Prince Leona," Ruggie sticks his hands in the pockets of the worn, thin, moth-bitten thing he calls a uniform.

The prince looks down at him, something in his eye akin to fondness, and then: "I told you to quit 'callin me that. Leona is fine,"

"Shishishi. I'll get in trouble with the head of staff if she hears me 'disrespectin you like that, your highness,"

Leona rolls his eyes, though he knows Ruggie is right, and he starts walking. Ruggie trails behind him, like a stray puppy looking for scraps.

"I'll tell Neji to lay off you. Is that what you want?"

Ruggie smiles. "Shishi. Maybe. You're in an awful generous mood today, Prince,"

Leona raises an eyebrow as they walk under the portrait of his father, regal and imperturbable and everything Leona wasn't. Everything that he was supposed to be.

"Don't get used to it. I've still gotta deal with the current royal pain everyone's convinced is gonna set me straight..."

Ruggie snorts. "Don't worry. You'll drive 'em away, like the last dozen suitors,"

Leona stops at an imposing pair of doors, to one of the palace's many lounges, his smiley servant right behind him. "Ready?"

The prince rolls his eyes and pushes them open, no interest in a quiet introduction. The finely-dressed, politely seated party at the other end of the lounge, look to the doors as they slam against the walls. Neji sighs. Leona's sister-in-law mumbles something into her cup of tea.

"Well? I'm here," he says, hands on his hips.

Falena stands, greeting his younger brother with a pointed glare. "Here you are, indeed. Half an hour late,"

"I was speaking with the ambassadors," Leona shrugs him off, walking into the room. Ruggie gets a few looks as he follows, but, thankfully, no one says anything. He'll sneak a few tasty hors d'oeuvres, eavesdrop on the drama, and be out of here in-

You.

You.

What are you doing here???

Though you wouldn't have known, the serving staff at the palace had just as many rules as the royals, and Ruggie was currently in violation of the two most important ones: he stops moving, and he stares.

At you.

Not that he can help it!

It takes a pointed glare from Leona (thank Sevens for him, honestly) for Ruggie to remember where, and who he is, and he finally moves, standing in the corner behind the royal ensemble, sweating like a sinner in church.

"Now, we can skip the formalities, and discuss the engagement," Neji says, clearing his throat and unfurling a comically long scroll. "Once the prince's engagement to Their Grace is announced to the peoples, a dowry will be expected. The dowry is traditional, more symbolic for our image than..."

Neji's lecture fades into silence as Ruggie stares at you. You're dressed in some frilly thing he can't imagine you like, sitting stiffly in your seat, trying very, very hard not to stare back.

He knows that you can see him, invisible as he is as a servant.

"...And that's not even accounting for the press. It will be quite the affair, we want to look cordial," Neji says, giving Leona a look.

The prince scoffs. "Come on. I'll play nice for the press until this is over,"

"Until the wedding," Falena corrects him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Are we done here? I was actually speaking with the ambassadors before I was dragged over for tea time,"

The King Regent sighs, but dismisses Leona and Ruggie with a wave of his hand. He doesn't need to be told twice; he leaves, his servant not far behind.

As soon as the doors are closed again, Leona turns to Ruggie with a frown. "What's the problem?"

"There's no problem,"

"I hope you don't plan on an acting career," he scoffs. "So, what's the problem? You know something."

"Know something?" Ruggie laughs, almost nervously. He's usually much more convincing than this, damn it.

Leona crosses his arms. He doesn't speak, nor budge until Ruggie starts talking again.

"I... ah... have a history with the future in-laws. B-but it was a long time ago! Way before I worked at the palace, let alone knew you, and-"

He holds up a hand. "Stop talking. You and... them. Had a thing?"

"...Yes,"

Leona pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, as if that was the longest fifteen seconds of his life.

Ruggie opens his mouth. Leona holds up a finger, and he shuts it again.

"...Quiet. I'm thinking. I can work with this... Don't tell anyone what you just told me, firstly,"

"Done,"

"Secondly..." he rubs his chin, looking at the floor, a bit to the left. "...You're annoying as all hell. But you're charming. If you can get on my good side you can... yeah, that'll work."

Ruggie watches Leona as he thinks aloud. "What'll work?"

The prince looks back at him, and in a completely serious, unbothered tone: "You'll seduce 'em,"

"HUH?"

"Don't act like you weren't thinking the same damn thing in there," Leona scoffs. "Seduce their royal ass, convince 'em to elope with you, convince my family you're in love or whatever. You get the fiance, I get less headaches. No one'll ever know."

Ruggie stares at the prince as if he had just grown a second tail. "You can't be serious. No way that'll work!"

"It will if you're not such a baby about it!"

"This has nothing to do with me! It's a crazy idea, no way they're going to-"

The creak of the heavy doors opening makes both Leona and Ruggie go stiff and silent. The royal family- yours, that is, not Leona's- comes out, close together and quiet.

When you look over your shoulder, a pout on your perfect lips, you look at Ruggie. Not Leona.

And then you're gone, your family and you, the sound of ruffles and frills dragging across the floor getting further and further from the imposing doors and the two boys beneath them.

Leona turns to Ruggie with a smirk. "Well, well,"

"Come on, that didn't mean anything,"

The prince begins walking, and Ruggie is forced to follow. "But it could. Now, let's get talking. We've got a lot of planning to do if we're going to make this work,"

[nvmsoph]

fratboy!chris meets shy!reader for the first time.ᐟ✮.˚

there’s already a little frown settling on your lips the second you step into the frat house. it stinks — the smell of weed, booze, and sweaty bodies making your nose scrunch up in disgust. the music is so loud, the people are somehow louder, and your anxiety is at an all time high.

you don’t do frat parties. or, well, you don’t do parties at all, really. nothing about them appeals to you in the slightest, but nick managed to wear down for once. whined and practically pleaded with you about coming to his brothers’ frat party tonight, until you were saying ‘yes’ just to get him to shut up about it.

except, now you were actually here, and you were regretting your answer immediately.

your eyes almost frantically scan the main section of the frat house, desperate to spot nick, but they land on a different familiar face first — matt — and it’s like an immediate wave of calm washes over you. he’s already looking at you, a friendly smile on his face as he waves you over.

“hey, kid.” matt greets you once you manage to make your way over to him — squeezing through the little crowds of people, mumbling soft apologies and thank you’s when people move out of the way for you. he offers you a small side hug which you accept. “didn’t think nick was serious when he said you were comin’.”

“well, nick can be very… nick, y’know?” you smile softly, and the amused look on matt’s face makes it clear he does know.

your eyes flick to chris who’s standing just a few feet behind matt, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the two of you. you know chris, obviously, but you’ve never actually talked to him. never really had a reason to, and any interaction you have had with him has merely been in passing when hanging out with nick or matt. he’s like… the frat guy of all frat guys — and that’s besides the fact that he’s frat president.

you give him a little wave that he returns, and you swear you can feel his gaze slowly dragging over the length of you, and you nervously shift on your feet under the scrutiny of it. his attention gets pulled away when some girl slings her arms around his neck, pouting all pretty at him and whining to him about something.

your eyes flick back to matt, “um, so d’you know where nick is?” you thank him when he points you in the direction of nick, stopping to chat with nate briefly when he comes up to you, pulling you in for a hug and giving you almost the same, “hey, kid,” that matt had given you.

for the record, you really do try your best to ignore your anxiety. but it’s hard when it’s making you feel like you want to cry or throw up — maybe both? — and following nick around like some sad little lost puppy the whole time, desperately trying to engage in the conversations, isn’t necessarily helping. and nick can tell.

you lamely try to assure him that you’re fine when he, very bluntly, points out the fact that you’re anxious, and not apparently not doing a good job at all at hiding it.

“maybe you need a drink?” nick suggests, cocking his head at you. “don’t gotta get crazy, or anything. just somethin’ to help you relax a little.”

you agree with a heavy sigh, though it’s reluctant. you do assure nick you’ll be fine walking the ten feet to the kitchen on your own.

walking past a group of frat brothers taking up one of the couches, one of them reaches out, managing to hook a finger around one of your belt loops. your eyes flick from his hand to his face as he gives the loop a tug, wanting you closer. “want a hit, baby? look tense as hell.” the guy points out, eyes dragging over you. he tugs a little more incessantly when you don’t immediately budge. he holds the joint out in your direction, practically trying to shove it into your fingers as you pull your hand away from his. “c’mon, s’good shit — make you feel real good.”

you open your mouth to stutter out some sort of nervous response, anything to get this guy to let up, but there’s an arm wrapping around your waist and a fruity flavored seltzer being placed in your hand. your eyes snap to chris beside you, watching as he takes the joint from the guys outstretched hand and places it between his lips. he doesn’t say anything — simply jerks his head at the guy, a shit-eating smirk settling on his lips as he watches him and his friends immediately scurry off the couch and disappear into the kitchen.

chris’ arm slips from around your waist as he plops down on the couch. he leans back, legs spreading wide as he takes a short puff of the joint. he takes the joint from between his lips, letting it sit between his fingers as he crooks a finger at you, beckoning you closer.

and for whatever reason, for him, you do move — stepping towards him on unsure feet until you’re standing between his spread legs. when you’re close enough, he’s reaching up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you eye level with him.

“you don’t go wanderin’ around here without one of us again, got it?” chris says, his voice serious. you can’t tell if he’s just messing with you — trying to scare you cause he knows it’d be easy — or if he’s genuinely worried about you.

when you don’t respond quick enough he’s squeezing your jaw a little tighter. “got it?” he asks again, firmer this time.

you’re immediately nodding your head, lips tugging into a small pout. “yes!” you assure him, cheeks growing warm under his gaze. “i got it…”

“good girl.” chris mockingly praises, giving your cheek a soft, condescending pat. he puts the joint back between his lips, releasing your jaw with a gentle shove. “now go find nick and drink your fruity little seltzer,” he tells you, nodding towards the seltzer in your hand. that shit-eating smirk is back on his lips, “and relax, yeah? have some fun. you’re at a party, after all.”

©️nvmsoph

[allthingsfangirl101]

*Little Bit of Help – Glen Powell

Warnings: sneaking around, rough sex, shower sex, unprotected, language

Glen and I first started hooking up after he got back from working with his ex-girlfriend and I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. I was drinking away my pain at home and called him up. He was also drunk and I told him that I needed a guy who knew how to take care of a woman. I needed him.

He came over and we hooked up. The next morning, we woke up and he rushed off. Later that night, our friends all went to a bar. Glen and I awkwardly avoided each other. Until I walked out of the bathroom and he was waiting right there for me. The second I walked out, he pulled me into his chest and kissed me again.

After spending another night in bed together, we woke up the next morning and forced ourselves to talk about it. We both admitted to enjoying sleeping together, but we also both knew that our friends wouldn't like the idea of us hooking up. We then decided to keep our hook-ups a secret.

We've been hooking up for almost a year. Two of our friends, Luke and Taylor, were engaged when we first met and were getting married this weekend. We rented an Airbnb on the beach, down the street from the wedding venue. The night before the wedding, we decided to go to a beachfront bar.

I walked downstairs, careful not to trip over my dress. I was aware of the eyes watching me but pretended I didn't. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I leaned over and "fixed" my shoe.

"Fuck," I heard Glen groan.

I looked up and smirked. "Oh, hey, Glen. The rest of the guys ready to go to the bar?"

"You're going in that dress?" He practically growled.

"Something wrong with my dress?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and purposefully poking out my chest.

"No," he said, his voice deep. "It's just. . . Some guy is going to take one look and. . . Fuck, I want to tear that off you."

I gasped when he pulled me into his chest and pressed his lips to mine. I moaned as I threw my arms around his neck and we started roughly moving our lips in sync. Without breaking the kiss, Glen pulled us down the hallway and tucked us into the library.

Glen moaned as he picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Our lips were still moving in sync as he carried us to the couch. He sat down, putting me on his lap. We let out matching moanes as he grabbed my hips and started grinding them against his.

I tore my lips away from his and moved them to his neck. He leaned his head back and moaned as I started slightly nibbling on his neck.

"Shit, Y/N," he moaned. I bit his neck before pulling away.

"What's wrong?" I pouted as I continued grinding my hips against his. "Isn't this what you're worried some random guy at the bar will do to me?"

I gasped when he roughly pulled me into his chest and rolled us over so he was hovering over me. I smirked as he grabbed my dress and yanked it up.

"Fuck," he said through his teeth when he realized I wasn't wearing anything under my dress. As Glen undid his pants, I slowly pulled the straps of my dress off my shoulders.

"Now," he grunted as he scanned me. "Where were we?"

I grabbed his face and brought his lips roughly to mine. Our lips moved in sync as Glen lined himself up. I bit his bottom lip when he pushed himself into me.

We took turns biting each other's lips as our hips rocked together. I pulled him closer, moaning when he pushed further into me. We could hear our friends talking and getting ready around us, but that just turned us on more.

"Glen," I said, as he turned his focus on my neck. "We're supposed. . . We're going. . ."

"What's wrong, baby girl?" He growled into my ear.

"Nothing," I stuttered between moans. "Except our friends are going to be looking for us."

"Hang on," he said, his voice low. "We're almost there."

I arched my back to help him along. It worked because he swore under his breath. We looked into each other's eyes as we pushed the other over the edge. We let out matching sighs as we reached orgasm. I gasped when Glen gently pulled out of me.

He stayed hovering over me, looking into my eyes. Behind lots of hesitation, I could tell there was something on Glen's mind. I was about to ask him what was wrong but Luke's voice echoed throughout the house.

"You guys ready to go?"

Glen and I smirked at each other. He kissed me again before pulling the both of us to our feet. Without breaking eye contact, Glen redid his pants and I fixed my dress.

"You go out first," he said. "I'll leave in a second and make it seem like I was down the hall in the bathroom."

I fixed my hair and walked past him. I gasped when Glen slapped my ass. I turned toward him and pointed my finger at him.

"Careful, Powell," I playfully warned him.

"Or what?" He challenged, taking a step toward me and lowering his voice. I stood on my toes, getting my face inches from his.

"Or I'll have to punish you."

* * * * *

We spent the night drinking and dancing at the bar. Eventually, we took our party to the beach between the bar and our Airbnb. We laughed as a couple of our friends danced around the bonfire, singing very loudly and off-key.

I stood up to get another beer when I bumped into someone. I gasped when their red wine went right down the front of my dress. I looked up to see Glen in front of me. The look on his face told me he did this on purpose.

"What happened?!" My friend Claire gasped.

"Glen can't be trusted with a wine glass," I said not looking away from Glen.

"You spilled your drink down her dress?" Claire asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I didn't mean to," Glen smirked.

I sent him a knowing look before heading into the house. I jogged upstairs and headed to the bathroom. I grabbed a cloth and started dabbing at the stain. I looked up and could see Glen walking into the bathroom through the mirror.

"You're never going to get it out like that."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, not turning around as I continued to dab at my chest.

"At least let me help," he said, his voice darkening as he slammed the bathroom door behind him and locked it.

I gasped when he roughly grabbed my arms and spun me around. He took the rag out of my hand and pressed it to the stain. "Is this helping?" He asked, not moving his hand from my chest. I closed my eyes, slightly leaning back, as Glen started slowly massaging my chest.

"Fuck, baby," I moaned as I started moving my chest against his hand.

"You know what might help," he said slowly, "is if you rinsed out your dress in the shower."

"I might need help," I said, choking back my moans. Glen chuckled as he dropped the rag. He grabbed my hand and walked me over to the shower. He turned it on and pulled me into his chest.

He leaned down and crashed his lips to mine. As I kissed him back, I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt. Before I could completely take off his shirt, he pulled me into the shower. The second the water hit us, we let out half-giggles, half-moans. Glen grabbed my hips and broke the kiss. Still holding my hips, he slowly turned me around. I leaned my head back against his shoulder as the warm water hit my chest.

Using his finger, Glen turned my chin and pressed his lips to mine. I reached around and ran my fingers through his hair as my lips moved messily in sync. Goosebumps popped up all over me as Glen slowly reached up and slid one of my straps off my shoulder.

I disconnected my lips from his long enough for me to turn around. The second I was facing him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

Things sped up. I tore off his shirt. He pulled down my other strap. I undid his pants. He unzipped my dress. We broke apart long enough for him to take off his pants and for me to take off my dress. With our clothes in the separate corners of the shower, we continued to satisfy each other.

I moaned when Glen pushed me up against the tile and slowly grinded his body against mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on it to make him moan. He grabbed one of my legs and wrapped it around him. I arched my back when he pushed into me.

"Glen," I gasped. He hummed but didn't stop what he was doing. "We should probably. . . Our friends will be back soon. We should. . ."

"We should go to my room," he said as he nibbled on my earlobe. I grabbed onto his shoulders for stability when he pulled out of me. He turned off the shower and we quickly threw on towels.

I laughed when Glen slowly opened the door, making a show of waiting for any sign that our friends were back from the beach.

"I think we're clear," he whispered extremely loudly.

I giggled when he grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me down the hall and toward his room. The second we slipped through the door, Glen locked it and pulled me into his chest. We laughed as we looked into each other's eyes.

He reached up and slowly tucked a piece of hair out of my face. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Instead of saying what was on his mind, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my waist as our lips moved messily in sync.

Without breaking the kiss, Glen picked me up and carried me to his bed. The second we fell onto his bed, we discarded each other's towels.

I smiled into the kiss as Glen pulled the comforter over our bare bodies. We didn't bother stopping when we heard our friends come home. They were laughing and joking all the way up the stairs. The only thing we stopped was moaning out loud and screaming each other's names.

Long after everyone else had gone to bed, we finished. I moaned as Glen rolled off of me. We lay on the bed, both of us struggling to catch our breaths.

"You think that got the wine stain out?" He asked with a small chuckle.

"Not at all," I giggled. "My dress is crumbled in the shower."

I rolled over, draping my arm across his bare chest. He reached up and started dragging his fingers up and down my arm.

"I'll buy you a new dress."

"Considering the fact that you purposefully dumped your wine down my chest?" I teased. I made him moan when I quickly rolled over, straddling his stomach. "You definitely owe me a new dress."

* * * * *

"I'm getting married today!" Luke yelled as he ran into Glen's room. We jumped awake. I quickly grabbed the blanket, covering my chest.

"Oh," Luke said, slowly laughing, "sorry, you two. Carry on."

The room was silent as he left. I looked over my shoulder to see Glen smirking at me.

"Oops," he chuckled.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "We should have. . . I mean. . ."

I ran my fingers through my hair, overthinking our friends' finding out about us.

"You know," he said, reaching over and grabbing my hand, "we don't have to keep sneaking around. My friends already know I'm into you. They'll be relieved that I finally did something about it."

"They know that you're. . ."

Glen turned more toward me and pulled me so I was facing him. "I'm crazy about you," he whispered. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first night we slept together. I want this to be official, Y/N. Be my girlfriend. Please. I love sneaking around and having our way with each other without our friends knowing, but I want this to be real. I want to be able to hold your hand in public, take you on dates, kiss you in front of our friends, and call you mine."

"Do our friends already know we've been sleeping together?"

"No," he said gently. "But the guys do know that I've changed."

"Changed?"

"I've always had a crush on you, Y/N," he smiled. "But my crush changed when we first hooked up. I became more aware of you and what you were saying and doing. I smiled when you smiled. I laughed when you laughed. I blushed when you wore a gorgeous dress. The guys noticed it. They just didn't know what caused the crush to get crazier."

He cupped my face in his hand and gently pressed his lips to mine. I threw my arms around him as I deepened the kiss.

"To be fair," I whispered, breaking the kiss, "the girls know I've had a crush on you for a while."

"They do?" He asked, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"After we hooked up, I started focusing a lot more on what you were saying and doing. I smiled when you smiled. I laughed when you laughed. I blushed when you looked incredibly handsome. The girls noticed it. They just didn't know what caused the crush to get crazier."

Glen smiled as he pulled me into him and kissed me. This kiss was slow and gentle.

"Glen," I stopped the kiss. "Let's not tell anyone about us."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to take away from Taylor and Luke's wedding."

Glen laughed before he said, "Luke walked in on us in bed together, Y/N. Something tells me the second we leave this room, all of our friends will already know about us."

[starberry-cupcake]

So, I had some chapters ready to recap but I decided to wait because the last bunch didn't get around as they normally do notes-wise and I thought maybe you guys needed a breather from these, I know there's more important things to engage your time with right now, so I thought I'd stop for a bit because maybe I was just posting them too frequently, BUT if I don't keep them up, I can't keep reading, so I'm gonna move on and let it land where it lands ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at this point, I have to go on even if I'm talking to the void. So, it is what it is.

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag

CHAPTER 10 (shattered second house skull...yikes)

nona finally tells camilla about the surveillance situation at school

she wants to go back in the evening to help out sriracha girlie with it

camilla, because she's smart, cautious and all around perfect, tells her no

especially not after the whole shooting mess that happened that very afternoon

nona says she feels responsible for the kids and that perhaps the two other people she maybe is would also feel responsible for them

camilla says one definitely would, the other one maybe

I'm assuming the hard yes is gideon

last time gideon was sort of in charge of kids, things didn't go very well, though

rip the fourth

then they go eat and I don't quite get why nona is so picky with food

is it that the food is bad? or is her body rejecting it? or is she just a fussy child?

just putting this out there, if I ask things here, you don't need to tell me, I just ask to the void, it's fine

anyway, in comes pyrrha looking like crap but acting like it's all fine

she asks palmolive to help her get a permanent shave but palmolive says "I had the joy of working on a...body like yours, the once, and I don't want to repeat the process for anything smaller than a brain hemorrhage"

he was about to say 'lyctor', I imagine

not sure I know what this is referring to but please don't tell me

he asks pyrrha if it's "finally kicking off" and she says "not yet"

(wish this was just fiction and we weren't experiencing the imminent brewing of intense social and political tension every single day in so many places of the world)

nona goes to prepare a bath for her while palmolive and pyrrha fight about the people she saw being taken during the altercation she was caught in

she says she saw three adults taken in, no consensus on whether they were from the barracks or found in the wild

palmolive wants to go fuck shit up to save them but pyrrha says they (aka camilla) won't be able to fight against "two hundred motherfuckers with machine guns"

and points out that camolive aren't a lyctor

palmolive wants to upset pyrrha on account of her not wanting to do more to save people, especially since his house followed them there

and apparently camilla's older sister kiki was one of them

kiki is allegedly from the oversight body

which I have learned has nothing to do with the oversight of potentially having lost gideon's body

different oversight and different body

but pyrrha only cares about keeping all of them safe and can't be swayed into letting camolive fight

I get where pyrrha is coming from but, at the same time, I don't think it's realistic to believe she can do that

keep them safe, I mean

camolive are ready to spring into attack if someone looks at them wrong and nona is a child with a knife

but, in any case, you can't ask a lyctor for compassionate thought

not because they're lyctors but because some of them, including pyrrha, where there when this all started and were complicit in the fuckery

we'll go back to that in a bit

so, turns out nona can hear the blue light in the sky and she calls it "varun"

nona also tells camilla that she'd willingly go to the middle of the mess to help out the people they care about because she isn't afraid of dying

which smells like trouble to me, a kid with no self preservation

and camilla asks her why she isn't, to which nona responds that she likes the "letting go"

camilla responds that she doesn't let go, that is her thing

nona goes to have a bath before going to sleep and pyrrha has to remind her to stop flashing her boobs to the unsuspecting crowd

I have a parallel tally going on in my mind of who would be the most mortified about all this and harrow keeps winning every time

which would be extra funny if this is gideon's mind in harrow's body

JOHN 5:18 (ugh this guy again)

"For this reason they tried all the more to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God."

when I named him doctor reverend instead of just doctor I didn't know how accurate that would be in the long run

dr reverend emperor john buttface says he doesn't like change

we kind of guessed that by the fact that he does inhumane things to extend his and other people's lives

he continues on his story of how he started necromancy by playing with two corpses he named ulysses and tatiana and how now he can make them do things with their whole bodies

none of this sounds great

gotta say, it's a good way of re-contextualizing the whole thing, though

because book 1 you are thrown right in the middle of the ninth and harrow is doing nasty stuff with bones and you have to just accept it and keep going

and then in canaan house other necros do other stuff that also seems wild but it's normalized, so you go on and you're like "ok, this is how things are here"

but seeing this at a time closer to us than to canaan house really brings it back to a "this is insane" territory

which I think is very effective narratively, especially to do it now

you're not here for literary criticism from me, though, so let's continue

he goes through who of his lyctors was religious to begin with, who took it as some sort of spiritual experience, and who didn't

mercygirl wasn't and was weirded out but moved on from it really fast

if you ask me, everyone moved on from it really fast, but I'm not a lyctor so I have no say in the matter

according to dr reverend emperor john assface, this was because they wanted to believe

because "everyone wants to believe that God's randomly made them on of the X-Men"

and, not to stop in a minuscule quote for too long and give more unsolicited literary analysis instead of memes but, this sentence shows a lot about this man

idk if this was picked specifically or if I'm reading too much into it BUT

out of every other superhero or superhero group or comic book character with powers he could have chosen, it's so interesting that he chose the x-men

because the x-men are notably different from many of them, especially from their time, because they were oppressed due to their powers

it wasn't just that their powers or their saving the world gig made things complicated for their lives, literally a big part of their narrative is that their powers make them a target of oppression to the point of persecution and violence

some of them famously don't want to have powers

and mutants who do have a good relationship with their powers rarely have a good relationship with society

but he overlooks that and only focuses on having superhuman abilities

and I think that says a lot about this man in just one nerdy sentence

because he's either a) overlooking the entire social context in which the x-men operated to only laser focus on their powers without caring about the rest

or b) he believes himself a victim and a target of society as a justification of being "chosen" to do what he did

since we're at it, because I think it fits the current book narrative and worldwide narrative

this is from 1993

ANYWAY

dr reverend emperor john says he knew, by this body moving thing he was doing now, that he could use this power "for good. Could be used to fix everything, used for you"

we still have this thing where he talks to harrow but as if harrow was around back then, so I think he's talking to ice cube barbie?? but I'm not yet sure what's happening

he also says the corpses were his batteries, which doesn't sound to me like doing good in general, just doing good for him, but anyway

they didn't want the people funding them (who had pulled the plug on them literally and metaphorically) to find out because they could be "used for evil"

so they decided to communicate with the people to spread the word themselves without anyone doing it for them

they decided to stream

cue to agustine and mercygirl as mods in the youtube chat prompting the command !sponsor to promote hello fresh ads while dr john shows the corpses

DAY THREE (CORONABEER MENTION)

CHAPTER 11 (fifth house skull, WE'LL TALK ABOUT THAT)

nona keeps talking about the pool situation, which she says is from her dreams

which doesn't line up with alleged harrow talking to dr reverend emperor john each time in between, but we'll continue

she says she's holding the "girl with the painted face" underwater and she is lying there but not drowning

but there are still hands around her, holding her

nona believes she must be mixing moments

I wonder if underwater girl with painted face allegedly harrow is where ice cube barbie used to be?

because a) it'd explain why she's not drowning but still underwater

and b) we ended up at the tomb last time in the end of harrow's book

and harrow went inside the empty tomb

WAIT A MINUTE

when harrow got into the tomb, it was empty

chains were broken and there was a sword and

fifth house erotica courtesy of gideon

IS THAT WHY THERE'S A FIFTH HOUSE SKULL IN HERE?

BECAUSE OF THE MAGAZINE?

pelase don't answer that, don't tell me anything at all, just let me fail

nona reproduces the way in which she's being held in the dream with camilla and says that in there it doesn't feel "sexy"

to which camilla asks wtf do you know about what sexy is

not in those exact words

apparently, she learned it from honesty

and says she thinks a painting of two flowers is sexy and asks camilla what she thinks is sexy

camilla says "eating breakfast"

camilla is sponsoring my apparel, this is the second ace tshirt with a quote from her I make from this book

nona tells her to ask palmolive what he thinks is sexy

my guess would be dying girls he never met personally

camilla says "strong work ethics and high test scores"

I'm getting a wardrobe out of this conversation

pyrrha is making breakfast and upon nona entering the room

or house section divided in a small space they call a room

she asks what they had been talking about because it "sounded fruity"

nona is onto pyrrha's bs though and can tell she hasn't slept, so pyrrha confesses that she went to the park

the park where she asked palmolive not to let camilla go

she says she didn't save anyone in a way that camolive would understand, so she doesn't want nona to tell them she went

nona isn't good with lies and I totally get that

pyrrha also tells nona to be careful about sriracha girlie because she was at the burn cages and keeping some sus company there

nona gets all mad about pyrrha saying that and calling her name "stupid"

I got mad at nona for getting mad in behalf of people she doesn't know anything about instead of trusting the advice of people she lives with

pyrrha doesn't insist much and nona says she isn't going to stop being friends with sriracha girlie because she has 0 self preservation and a death wish

as established in this same recap

pyrrha is then asked what she thinks is sexy and she pretty much describes commander wake

"love a redhead" she says

wonder if she knows what gideon looks like or if she's just still referencing commander wake

because she met her in harrow's body and I don't know if the oversight with gideon's body being misplaced happened after or before pyrrha saw her

DON'T TELL ME

nona says she doesn't think redheads are sexy, which palmolive thinks is important to note down

I also think it's important to note it down because it's more points for the "this is gideon" side of the scale

when asked what he thinks is sexy, palmolive gives the most boring answer yet

"those little outfits nurses wear"

does he have a thing for yami kawaii stuff? nurses outfits, sickly seventh girls? is this a thing for him?

or is this like the regular sexy nurse fantasy type stuff? the spirit halloween type stuff?

or is this silent hill nurse type stuff? the ones that can kill you?

I don't know, I'm gonna leave it at that, whatever works for you, my dude

we don't have time to ask palmolive specific on his fantasies, though

because the door opens suddenly and there's a GUN and a THREAT

love starting the morning with chill stuff

AND WE'RE DONE!! I'll see how I work through the chapters, they end up getting long if I wait too much but I don't want to oversaturate, which I was probably doing. Anyway, sending hugs and love your way ♥

[stxrsniolo]

┈̸̷┅ ̤ beyond the limit ━̸̷︭

╁ ⠀aegan is typing . . . ⠀⠀ࡆ⠀⠀listen up, because this one's for the grown-ups. if you're here for some steamy, pulse-racing action, you've hit the jackpot. this isn't your grandma's bedtime story; it's spicy, it's hot, and it's gonna keep you up at night for all the right reasons. keep the lights low and the inhibitions lower. enjoy, you naughty thing.

pairings: harsh leader!matt x fresh meat!reader

the training facility was a concrete labyrinth of intensity, the air sharp with the scent of sweat and determination; this wasn't your average gym; it was more akin to a military base, where every breath, every movement was about survival, about pushing beyond human limits.

matt, with his hard-set jaw and eyes that could cut through steel, was the leader here, his reputation for being ruthless as much a part of his persona as his accent.

y/n was the latest recruit, her presence in this high-stakes environment almost an anomaly. she was under matt's direct supervision, which was less of an honor and more of a trial by fire. he didn't like her; he made that clear with every barked order, every scornful look.

"move, rookie, or do you just like the taste of dirt?" matt's voice was a whip crack in the cold, echoing space as she pushed through another set of burpees, her muscles screaming for mercy.

she complied, her movements mechanical, driven by the knowledge that hesitation here could mean failure, and failure was not an option. her body was pushed to its limits, sweat soaking through her gear, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"too slow, too weak. is this all you've got?" matt taunted, circling her like a predator, his eyes never missing a moment of her struggle. "you think you're cut out for this? you think you can save anyone when you can't even save yourself from exhaustion?"

y/n didn't retort, her focus on maintaining form, on not collapsing under the weight of his words and the physical strain.

she was here to prove she belonged, that she could endure, even under his cruel tutelage.

the session was relentless, a series of high-impact exercises designed to break the body and rebuild it stronger: y/n was running obstacle courses, doing tactical shooting drills, engaged in hand-to-hand combat, all under matt's critical eye.

"you're pathetic, you know that? a liability," he sneered as she stumbled over an obstacle, her body nearly giving out.

but something inside y/n snapped as she felt her muscles on the brink of total failure, so with the last of her strength, she faced him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "what do you want from me, matt? for me to collapse? to fail?"

he was on her in an instant, his movements fluid and predatory, slamming her against the nearest wall, his body caging hers.

the impact was harsh, the concrete cold against her back, his breath hot and angry against her face. "i want you to be better, but maybe you're just not capable," he growled, his voice low, a mix of disdain and something darker, something electric

their faces were inches apart, the air between them charged with tension, the previous hate morphing into something else, something primal. his grip on her was firm, not just holding her in place but pinning her with intention.

"you think i enjoy this?" she shot back, her voice a whisper of frustration and challenge, her chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline.

"maybe you should," matt retorted, his tone changing, the sarcasm slipping into something more dangerous, more intimate. his eyes roamed over her, not with cruelty but with a hunger he hadn't acknowledged until this moment.

the training room, with its harsh lights and echoes of past drills, faded into the background, and what remained was the raw, pulsing tension between them, the air thick with the scent of their sweat, the proximity forcing an acknowledgment of the attraction that had been simmering beneath their antagonism.

"or maybe you enjoy pushing me to my limits," y/n countered, her voice low, her gaze locked with his, a challenge and an invitation.

matt's response was to press closer, his body flush against hers, his lips dangerously close to hers. "you have no idea what i enjoy," he murmured, his voice a velvet threat, his hand moving from the wall to her waist, his touch firm but no longer just about dominance.

⨥⠀ ⠀⠀aegan is typing ᅟᅟ:ᅟ⠀heads up, copycats and wannabe adaptors: my work is mine, period. no copies, no mashups, and definitely no translations getting thrown up here or anywhere else without my say-so.

keep your hands off unless i give you the green light, got it?

tags: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns

[claimedcrossbows]

Weyler IS BACK in S2 Of Wednesday (Teaser Analysis)

Alright ladies and gentleman, I really don't even know where to begin. We got a 5 second teaser of the upcoming season.

And for our first real teaser who do we have?

Wednesday and Tyler Galpin!!

Look, I've said for the longest that the Wednesday filmmakers went out of there way to hide Hunter Doohan's role as Tyler in the Behind The Scenes and I felt the only possible reason was because they wanted his role to be a mystery.

The fact that we actually got a teaser centered around Wednesday and Tyler is absolutely huge for a lot of reasons.

For one, Usually a teaser is to give an audience a general concept of what to expect this season without really spoiling too much. That's why often I feel movie/tv show trailers give away too much of the overall plot because it really wants to give your every huge moment to keep the audience engaged. Which is why in this particular case I would argue that this teaser might be more important to the weyler fanbase than whatever trailer is eventually released.

Why do I say that?

Well I doubt too much of anything Weyler related is going to be in the trailer because they do want to keep his role secret to some degree for shock value. BUT they didn't want to leave us completely in the dark, so they gave us just enough to answer some questions as well as provoke some.

So what did this 5 second teaser tell us?

Well for one...

Tyler DID NOT escape out of the truck.

So it was pretty heavily debated on rather or not Tyler escaped custody and would be on the run, I think it's safe to say that this is not the case and that's he's actually been locked up for at least a little while considering how his hair has grown longer.

His scar from Enid is still visible so unless it's permanent I really don't think it's been too long, I don't think a 2 year time jump sounds logical but maybe I'm wrong, it still feels like from what I'm seeing he's only been locked up at Willow Hill for maybe a couple months?

Anyway I'll theorize more about that later..

Moving on

The scene has no dialogue present but a lot can be told with music and facial expressions alone. (Trust me I know, I minored in Film Studies In College 😉) And what this music is saying too me is that it is building up to something.

And from the looks of Wednesday that something could only be a question right?

From the way the music builds, to cutting to Wednesday she looks confident, calm, collected, so we can assume whatever reason she's visiting Tyler isn't too yell at him for betraying her or torture him or anything like that.

I think she's there to ask him a question and maybe even a favor.

(I do however think at some point he's breaking out of Willow Hill either by his own accord or with help from Wednesday but again I'll cover that later)

Now looking at Tyler in this clip...

*Sighs*

Tyler overall looks sick.

Like sick and tired.

And I honestly couldn't tell you if it's the conditions of Willow Hill OR the effects of his master being gone wearing down on him..but he doesn't look good at all. Notice how sweaty he looks? Also paler, eyes darker, and his hair looks greasier..he overall doesn't look like he's well.

Side Note: Where is his shirt?? I mean unless it's an absolutely sauna in there I don't know why he wouldn't have a shirt? This makes me think this is specifically not only for the audience to have eye candy, but for Wednesday's as well..I know even through betrayal she's probably still got some attraction to him, So I'm sure at some point during this scene, she'll be glancing at him shirtless, otherwise why not put a shirt on him? It's to show the attraction is still there between them I would guess...

Anyway back to the main point.

I know we don't get Tyler looking at Wednesday for long really just a second actually, but he doesn't seem to have any type of immediate reaction to seeing her.

Which makes me wonder if he's starting to lose his own consciousness and by that losing his mind/memories?

Again I know it's kind of a stretch to claim this from a split second look he gives Wednesday but I don't know.. it just seems like Tyler isn't really all there..

Which again makes me think that for whatever reason Wednesday is visiting Tyler is probably for another Quid Pro Quo on her part.

Tyler helps her and She helps him, not only break out of Willow Hill..but also probably save him from himself. 🤷🏽‍♀️🤔

Anyway to conclude.

I think this 5 second teaser is probably going to be the most we get out of this Weyler situation before the season starts, but I do think this teaser says a lot about Weyler in Season 2.

Tyler WILL play a big role in S2, and this is just a little taste of something bigger to come!

Anyway what are YOUR thoughts?

[sanjoongie]

𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒~ 𝒞𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝑒

The Menu

🩶Pairing: Bunny! Hybrid! Park Seonghwa x Space Transport Pilot! Reader (f)

🩶Au: scifi au, space au, hybrid au

🩶Trope: s2l

🩶Genre: smut

🩶Rating: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

🩶Warnings: creampie, unprotected sex, power bottom! reader, pleasure top! seonghwa, degradation kink, begging, dacryphilia, begging, dumbification, nipple play(m), verbal teasing, praise

🩶Word Count: 1,212

🩶Summary: when you agree to take on a stray bunny hybrid as a passenger on your transport, you had no idea you'd hit your fertile cycle and lure Seonghwa into a rut

🩶 Masterlist | Day Two: Hongjoong🤍

The lewd noise of squelching fills the cockpit of the ship, Limitless. You aren’t entirely sure anymore where Seonghwa ends, and you begin. All you know is that his cock is the source of your neverending pleasure and you aren’t keen on giving that up anytime soon. You have been riding him in the pilot's chair for who knows how long now, clothes only partially pulled aside or barely discarded in a rush to fuck, fuck, fuck.

You spoke between gasps and pants, unable to halt the movement of your hips. “When you said…you were…a bunny hybrid…you really weren’t…joking.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa whines, even as his hips cant upwards. “I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

Seongwha’s floppy ears bounce with every thrust into you. You push a hand through his hair, brushing his ears as well, and find them just as soft as you hoped.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “The days are long in a transport vessel. This will make them interesting.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. He tips his head back and pushes his lips out. “Please.”

The bunny hybrid is addicted to kisses, just as much as his cockhead is addicted to kissing your uterus. His length is literally meant to put babies into you. In fact, he has already come so much that the noises echoing in the cockpit are literally him fucking his cum back into your already full and swollen cunt.

As you slant your lips across his rather plush ones, Seonghwa’s fingers dig into your hips, curving into your ass. “More,” he moans into the kiss.

You plunge your tongue into the cavern of his mouth, tongue lazily engaging with his and your cunt pumps him for more cum. You aren’t sure if crossbreeding is even a thing, but you are past the point of caring, honestly. You just want to hear the desperate mewls of the bunny hybrid under you.

“I’m gonna--” Seonghwa’s pained expression indicates that he is truly close to coming again. “I’m gonna come!”

“Fill me up, handsome,” you purr, and then he unloads inside of you.

You ride him through his high, stopping only after a few pumps to raise yourself above his cock. You both moan in unison as his still-hard cock slips out of your sopping wet cunt. Still, you remain above him, his cum pouring out of your gaping hole.

Seonghwa’s Adam’s apple bobs as he watches. “Don’t do that,” he whines.

“You’re doing such a lousy job of keeping me full, Seonghwa,” you coo mockingly. “Look at it all coming out again! Guess you have no choice but to fuck me some more, hmm?”

The bunny hybrid whimpers tragically. “I’m doing my best.”

You carefully step off your pilot’s seat, legs barely able to handle your own weight. You move over to the navigation console and lean over it tantalizingly. You can feel Seonghwa’s cum dripping down your thighs and you know he has a perfect view of what you’re feeling.

“Are you?” You prompt him, throwing a challenging look over your shoulder.

Seonghwa makes a pitiful noise in the back of his throat and gets up from the cum-soaked seat that he has been glued to. His long fingers skim over your ass and he ruts his wet cock up against your ass cheeks. “I keep filling you up but you keep letting it all come out,” he murmurs in a sulky tone.

“Oh, it’s my fault that you aren’t keeping me plugged up and full of your sweet cum?” you raise an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps I should take my pussy elsewhere and you can try to keep my seat full of your cum instead.”

The hands that have been meandering over your ass tighten in possessiveness, and you feel a triumphant grin pull at your lips. “No. I need to be inside of you. Don’t leave me.”

You turn around and wrap your arms around Seonghwa’s neck. He’s in near-tears from the threat of you taking your hole away from him. “You gonna do a better job then?”

Seonghwa’s nose twitches, and his foot begins to tap impatiently. “I can do it. Give me one more chance. Please?”

You can’t help but fondly bop his nose. The stars reflect in his eyes, and you can not deny him anything in this moment. “I’ll give you one more chance but--”

You gasp as Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist and hefts you up onto the console. With a hand pressed into each of your thighs, Seonghwa spears into you without any guidance. His eyes roll into the back of his head with the pleasure of being sheathed inside of you once again.

With tiny thrusts, he’s already dumb again. “So good, so good, so good,” he chants.

Your hands are free, and that gives you the opportunity to play with Seonghwa’s pebbled nipples. His shirt has a cheeky slit that makes it easy to reach in and do so. As a result, Seonghwa thrusts into you sharper than he had been.

“Oh god Seonghwa, fuck, just like that, handsome,” You groan.

Seonghwa bites down on his bottom lip and leans in to jack-hammer into you. “I like it when you squeeze me when you come,” he whispers shyly.

You run the back of your finger over Seonghwa’s cheek. “There’s a good bun.”

Seonghwa whines again, collapsing on top of you fully. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. The only space between the two of you is where he lifts his hips to fuck into you. “Wanna make you come,” He murmurs into your neck.

“Oh, it's not just all about you, hmmm?” You can't help but tease.

Seonghwa gently brings his teeth down on your shoulder. It's not a threat; it's more of a way for him to focus. “You're so warm and good to me. Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Your hands get tangled up in Seonghwa’s hair as you feel your climax soon approaching. The rate that he's thrusting into you guarantees that you'll be coming soon. “Hnnnnn, Seonghwa,” You moan.

“Come, pretty, come for me. Make your pretty moans, please. All I want to feel is you clench around me. Please, you're so warm and tight and--”

“Fuck!” You cry out and do just that. Your toes curl as you run through your umpteenth climax, each one better than the next.

Seonghwa whines, and you feel him spurt inside of you, coming little after you squeeze him with your climax. “Gonna fill you up, and it's gonna stay there,” he says into your neck.

You trail the tips of your fingers listlessly along the nape of Seonghwa's neck. “Good job, Bun.”

The bunny hybrid lifts his head so that he can meet your gaze. “Truly?” He wonders, lips pushed out and eyes looking for more praise.

You push some hair out of his eyes, and he blinks cutely at the gesture. “Truly.”

He rests for a moment, having completed his purpose. If not for the faint twitch of his cock calling him back to battle.

“One more time,” Seonghwa whispers against your skin. His hips push against yours, pelvis grinding into your clit.

“I've got time,” You can't help but grin.

🩶 Masterlist | Day Two: Hongjoong🤍

[concretejunglefm]

Any poly bad omens thots?

Oh anon you know do!!

Where should I start?

Matt x you x Folio: where it all began for me. From Folio just wanting to listen in, to watching and eventually joining you and Matt. At first, it might have only been about sex, but there was something more than that between you all. You had always seen the way Matt was with Folio, even when he’d treat him a little mean behind closed hotel room doors. You and Folio had always shared something playful, almost flirty, and while most guys would probably be uncomfortable with the closeness between their best friend and girlfriend, Matt always encouraged it. He was never worried, and maybe there was a part of him that always knew you’d fall for each other, that you’d find the same reasons in each other that made him fall for you both, even if he was a little hesitant. Is there ever jealousy? Not necessarily, more a little insecurity from Matt when he feels like he’s not as fun and playful as Folio. Watching you both together can sometimes make him feel like a third wheel, when the bad thoughts are a bit too loud, but in reality, he’s the glue that holds you both together. Without him, you’d be nothing.

Matt x you x Noah: started a little unconventionally. Matt, being a supportive boyfriend because you wanted to introduce a partner into your cam work, introduced you to Noah as there was no one outside of his friends that you trusted more. It was only supposed to be one time or two, nothing more and Matt would be there the entire time to make you feel safe. But with the physical came the emotional you had long been pushing down, and all it took was Matt to look in your eyes and see that you love Noah too. You all seem to be in love with each other, and if only it were that simple. You could be together without any issues. But unfortunately, it’s not, and you’re too afraid to admit your own feelings for fear of losing Matt and the love you share. It's them who suggest a weekend away, somewhere that allows you to all set aside the physical aspects of your potential relationship and discuss what it is you want, without casting judgement and as well as your boundaries, figuring out the next step in this something new you all wish to explore.

Noah x Nicholas x you: you were brought into an existing relationship between them, two soft boyfriends who both had crushes on you. Why should you be forced to choose? Even if they initially acted as though you had to. You now spend your evenings watching them stream and play video games, keeping yourself off camera while Nick idly strokes any part of you he can reach, while his other hand is always on Noah in some way. The best part is when you can come together and tangle yourselves in a cuddle or a soft make-out session. While away from this arrangement, you find yourselves growing more enamored with one another, especially when you spend days engaged in each other’s hobbies or simply have a date night.

Jolly x you x Noah: you never could've anticipated anything coming from moving in with your boyfriend Jolly, aside from it being the next step in your relationship. You had already been friends with Jolly's roommates, especially Noah, but now that you were living there, you came to discover the extent of Noah’s insomnia. Your own fractured sleep pattern allowed you to keep him company and over months of nights spent hanging out, something began to shift, not only between you but also in Noah. He found himself actually falling asleep on numerous occasions when you were around, mostly on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder. Noah knew then what had happened; he'd fallen for you, but didn’t pursue it further. It was Jolly who brought it to the surface because he recognized the look on his best friend’s eyes—the same look he had in his own when he looked at you. Noah was in love with you, but it was Jolly who suggested taking the next step into something new together.

Nick squared x you: these thots are pending but they're hot. Folio has a more dominant side of the primal kind when he's paired with Nicholas, one which they both like to use and exploit when it comes to you. Their favorite thing is to chase you, before Nicholas takes his time tying you up for their own fun and your pleasure. Outside of this, they’re incredibly playful together and with you. Their personalities and hobbies complement each other perfectly, making them the ideal set of boyfriends for you and for each other.

Matt x you x Noah x Nicholas: this is purely for fun. Matt is your boyfriend but he has an enjoyment in sharing you with his friends, at least those who he trusts and is closest too. Nick x Noah have a habit of sharing you together, one because they love to make everything a two person job, and two they love worshiping you and pulling you apart together and in different ways which make you completely incoherent by the end

Matt x you x Davis: a soft and caring Davis paired with a mean!matt, who loses all of that when this man is around. Could you really ask for anything better?

Nicholas x you x Davis: what started as a lesson out of curiosity blossomed into something more, especially when Davis came back around for a follow up which involved him being the one to show Nicholas what he had learned, before they used it on you together. You didn't anticipate it going further, that soft look Davis gave you wasn’t just him becoming infatuated with the new dynamics of your relationship. It was more than that, and it became harder for him to deny it as he spent more time with you until one night, he blurted it out. There was no jealousy or irrational outbursts. It was Nicholas who brought the conversation to light and allowed everything to be shared, not clouded by the high of an orgasm or your lust for one another. Instead, it allowed for genuine clarity on the situation.

sub!Noah x you x sub!Folio: who'd have ever imagined that Noah would want to share you? Certainly not you and certainly not with one of his best friends. It happened purely because Folio wouldn't leave Noah alone, aware of what happens behind closed hotel room doors because the walls are thin, and curious to find out more, he would always work to get Noah into more trouble with you, or simply tease him for the sounds he could hear coming from his room the night before. While Noah is your good boy, Folio wants to be, he wants to prove that he can be a good sub, he's just a little overly eager and impatient, but you eventually teach him the basics and the benefits of having patience, especially when it results in him coming apart at the seams in a whole way beyond anything he could've anticipated. Outside of their contrasting personalities, Folio and Noah make for an interesting dynamic in your relationship. However, there’s a perfect middle ground where you come together in harmony, especially when all three of you are tucked in bed together, squished between the two most obedient pups you could ask for. Maybe now is the time for Folio to have his own version of a collar, just like Noah’s?

All omens x you: you’ve been friends for longer than you’ve officially been together with any of them. However, that doesn’t mean there weren’t underlying circumstances and shared moments that ranged from sexual to romantic with each of them. It could have almost felt like cheating or playing them, until you discovered that they were all aware of it and had planned it all along. They were just unsure of how to approach you about it. When you’re together, you take your time to spoil them all by buying them flowers, cooking their favorite meals, and taking your time to have dates with each of them, making them feel special just like they make you feel special. There’s definitely playful jealousy and rivalry, but never anything malicious because they all share the same thing in common: their love for you (and each other).

[black-wolf066]

You Tease

This is a gift for @shes-an-odd-bird because we all seem to be in a feral mood this week and I’m hoping it’ll help tame our hormones.

((This is my first ever Character/reader piece… and it’s been a very long time since I’ve written any smut, now that I think about it… so keep that in mind as you read. 😅 Also note, this is an established relationship between Billy and Reader with both being mid-twenties)).

All smut/no plot (because I can’t brain enough to think of a plot right now) so, minors do not engage.

Warnings: Unprotected sex. Language

"Have I ever told you how hot you look in my clothes?" Billy practically purred in your ear; keeping you caged between himself and the bedroom wall.

The clothing in question was his old gym shorts. You had found them laying behind the dryer when you’d moved it to clean the vent earlier that day—must have fallen back there unbeknownst to either of you. You had cleaned them, but rather than storing them away for him to find as a surprise later, you wore them instead—knowing what wearing his clothes would do to him and being utterly ecstatic that he was proving your hopes correct for how this night was going to go.

“You’ve mentioned it, yes.” You quipped back, pressing your forehead hard against the drywall as shivers of anticipation shot down your spine.

You felt the fingers of his left-hand toying with the waistband, while his other glided purposefully up your side—taking the fabric of your tank with it until he had it bunched up under your chin. You had decidedly forgone wearing a bra that morning, which meant your breasts and stomach were exposed to the chilled surface and the AC in the room; though, it did very little to counteract the heated flush of your growing excitement.

“Was wondering where these disappeared too.” He muttered as he pulled against the band and released; the elastic snapping at your hip making you jump a little. “Thought maybe they’d been tossed.”

You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying; squirming at the feeling of his hot breath against the shell of your ear. The pleasant Goosebumps rising where the pads of his fingers continued to toy and trail feather-light against your newly exposed skin.

“I—” whatever you were going to say was lost, voice breaking off on a lengthy whine as his hips suddenly bucked roughly against you.

“What was that babe? I don’t think I caught that.” he teased playfully, knowing exactly the effect he was having on you and your sudden inability to articulate.

You would have huffed something snarky at him if you weren’t so distracted. The stimulation of his light touch, the scratchy feel of the dry wall rubbing at your sensitive nipples, the heat radiating into your back from his naked torso, and the rough grinding of his clothed stirring erection against your ass; had you dazed and breathless.

And hungry for more.

“Billy.” You managed to moan out; wiggling backward—as best you could with the little space he was giving you—to meet his grinding with a thrust of your own.

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Billy.”

“What do you want?” he breathily chuckled as he finally moved away from your ear to bite and suckle at the pulse point thrumming wildly beneath it. “Use your words, babe.”

Shit, this man was going to be the death of you.

“F—” you swallowed thickly, writhing under his ministrations and the over-stimulation; feeling close to cumming then and there as you forced out, “Fuck me.”

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

He moved away just enough to unzip and drop his jeans, but not enough for you to lose your balance. Not like it stopped you from reaching up to grasp the wall for support anyways, breath hitching as you felt his fingers breach the waistband and slide the shorts down until they fell at your ankles. You kicked them away quickly before a surprised squeak escaped as you felt yourself being lifted and turned, your back now pressed against the wall as you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips.

Your tank top was the last to go before his mouth found your lips seconds later in a messy tangle of tongue and teeth; grinding his thick girth against your wet folds while your hands found their way up into his curls.

“You’re already soaked, bet I could just slide right in.” he taunted, nudging the head of his fat cock teasingly at your opening but not dipping beyond that.

If he didn’t move right now; you were going to lose your goddamn mind.

“Fuck me.” You repeated forcibly against his lips.

You tightened your ankles at his back and bounced yourself a little; impatiently hoping it would get you what you wanted faster; only for stars to dance across your vision when the head slipped and nudged up against your clit.

“And you say I’m the brat?”

“Billy.”

His huff of aroused amusement was your only warning before he shifted and thrusted shallowly into you; stretching you deliciously—and maddeningly slowly the absolute jerk.

“This what you wanted?” he questioned huskily, continuing the shallow rolling that had your toes curling. “Did you wear my shorts hoping I’d fuck you tonight?”

“Y--es!” you yelped as he nipped lightly at your earlobe.

“Oh, baby, you know all you gotta do is ask.” He chuckled. “Though, can’t say I’m opposed to the method. Did get us here—” he punctuated his point by finally—blissfully—sliding himself home inside you. “—a bit quicker.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, muffling the guttural whine that squeezed out of your lungs by biting down at the sinew there. The feeling of being speared open by Billy always dazed you, something you hoped you’d never get used too.

“Fuck,” Billy grunted out his own throaty moan at feeling your teeth.

His hips bucked involuntarily, causing your eyes to nearly roll to the back of your head as the movement pushed him just that little bit deeper. The pleasure-pain of him hitting your cervix and his pubic bone grinding just so on your clit, sent a violent spark of fireworks to burst cross your vision as you climaxed.

“Shit, shit.” He keened gruffly, probably not expecting you to orgasm as quickly as you had—for you certainly didn’t expect it either, not that you had any mind to care at the moment—as you felt your walls fluttering and squeezing all around him.

“Sh--shit.” You echoed him; feeling as though you were floating on cloud 9, body loosening and relaxing with Billy’s powerful biceps and the wall being the only thing keeping you from falling flat on your ass.

“You good?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and pressed your heels into the small of his back to urge him to continue. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Billy didn’t need much more prompting, his teasing long forgotten as he began to roll and thrust his hips in earnest to chase his own climax.

All you could do was try and hold on for dear life, as he pounded into you; your muscles still not quite cooperating enough to help him along.

“Damn baby, you feel so good.” The obscene wet squelching of skin on skin and the heady scent of sex filled the air as he continued his bruising pace—though you could tell he was getting close. “Think you got another one in you?”

You could feel your pleasure climbing again, your limbs finally following your silent command as you clumsily met him thrust for thrust. You didn’t trust your voice though, so you nodded and sent the next breathy moan directly into his ear, causing him to curse as his hips stuttered.

“Shit.” He moaned. “That’s my girl.”

The praise paired with the intentional grinding of his pubic bone against your clit sent you over the edge again, very nearly screaming at the intensity of the second wave that crashed into you.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it. That’s a good girl.” He panted into your neck, snapping his hips several more times before your tight, fluttering, walls were milking him of his own orgasm.

Neither of you moved for a while, both of you fighting to catch your breath and come down from the high. The tingling sensation was beginning to subside as you buried your face in his neck; breathing in the sweaty musk of him as your limbs began to go boneless. Billy was muttering something into the skin of your own neck, but you couldn’t hear it, ears still ringing a little—though you had a feeling you knew exactly what was being muttered.

It was only when you felt Billy’s muscles beginning to strain, that you tried to get him to drop you back on your feet, but he didn’t budge. He only held on a bit tighter as he shifted your weight; your back leaving the support of the wall as he finally moved you both toward the bed.

He fell into the mattress with you still secured in his arms, but the movement caused him to finally slip out. You released an involuntary whimper at the loss of feeling full that had him chuckling at your expense.

“Hush,” you snarked and nuzzled your nose against his collarbone; feeling his fingers trail up and down your spine and relishing in the warmth and smell of the post coital bliss for as long as you could.

You were on the verge of sleep when his quiet voice pulled you back.

“Where did you find them anyway?”

“Hmm?”

“My shorts. Where did you find them?”

“Behind the dryer.” You muttered drowsily; grumbling when his chuckle jostled you.

“Did I wear you out that much?” he asked in amusement; fingers still gently following the path of your spine. You hummed in response, the call of sleep too much to ignore. “And here I thought we’d have time to go another round.”

“Hmm… wake me in an hour.”

His answering laugh followed you into your dreams.

[greenleaf4stuff]

As a fellow “Celebrimbor is secretly buff/has a sleeper build” truther I’m Screaming at that one pic you reblogged lmfaoo. Poor Adar won’t know what hit him. Adar can pick up whole elves one handed he’s probably used to being the strongest person in the room meanwhile Brimbs got enough muscle to give Adar princess treatment and is just too polite to use it. Or waiting for the right day to surprise Adar with it lmao

Yaaay and hello, fellow "Celebrimbor is buff, actually" truther, thank you so much for your ask, I fully agree! :D <3 (It's this pic, isn't it?)

I actually love that idea so much and it's been stuck in my head as well; I have a WIP that makes use of such a scenario because it has *so* much potential, but I am sadly nowhere near posting it. I really like the idea of a surprised/flustered but ultimately very intrigued Adar reacting to Celebrimbor's muscles.

But you know what, it's not like I have multiple WIPs to finish and several things to edit, have a little snippet of how that concept could go that I just cooked up. I love the concept too much not to use it. Enjoy!

Hidden Assets

Celebrimbor made to side-step the uruk in front of him, only for Adar to take a step as well, landing him right in front of the smith again.

The elf paused. "Would you kindly step aside so I can continue to work?"

Adar only narrowed his eyes in response and remained as he was. "No. You haven't taken a break all day and are clearly exhausted. If you want me to move, you will have to move me yourself."

The smith heaved a sigh. The other's concern was certainly touching, but he did wish to get that last piece done before he retired for the day.

Also, well. Adar clearly thought this was a challenge that Celebrimbor would - could - not take up. The chance to surprise the other a little was just too good to pass up on.

A smirk spread over the smith's lips. Judging by the uruk's resulting expression, he had not expected that kind of response. Before the uruk could even open his mouth again, the smith had stepped up to him, reached down-

and grabbed Adar by the back of his legs. Only to then hoist him up in one smooth motion. The uruk was too stunned to even make an attempt at stopping the elf.

Which was how Celebrimbor ended up standing in the middle of his forge, grinning rather smugly, with a very bewildered looking Adar in his arms, legs dangling alongside the smith's hips.

The uruk's eyes had widened comically as the elf picked the other up, and he'd had to extend his hands and wrap them over Celebrimbor's upper arms to make sure he didn't lose his balance.

There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then the elf began to walk over to a table he wasn't currently using, onto which he deposited the uruk in his hold - albeit gently.

Perhaps he should have known the other would use the positon to cross his ankles behind Celebrimbor's knees and keep his hold on the smith's arms. The uruk had no inhibitions about fighting dirty after all.

"Don't tell me you have been hiding all that strength from me until now?" The other sounded almost incredulous.

Celebrimbor batted his eyelashes in a show of innocence. "Well. Just because I do not carry a big sword and scary armor doesn't mean I am only a politician. First and foremost, I have always been a smith, who tends to engage in rather physical work. As you know."

He leant forward, and now his grin turned almost sly. "I might not have your rather powerful physique, but I can still handle myself just fine."

"Indeed," the uruk breathed, and squeezed Celebrimbor's muscles as he looked at the other appreciatively.

[definitionsfading]

in an extremely weird and detached place with every single one of my family members right now. polar opposite politics is a big driving point of it, or basically racism/prejudice/homophobia/transphobia if I need to be more frank. I think I've talked about how my mother has done a total 180 in the past year and went from voting for Obama and Biden (sat out 2016) to vote for Trump this past election, and is now spewing conservative ideology talking points along the lines of such BANGERS as "white men are under attack in this country" lmfao. she was bullying me and seeking me out for conflict a lot around October/November and finally calmed down in December, but our relationship is fractured and I simply cannot trust her with the whole and uncensored version of who I am as a person anymore. she gets volatile if I even suggest having friends who use they/them pronouns. it's an entire situation that I don't really know what to do about, because I live paycheck to paycheck and have nowhere else to go.

my dad is a whole different can of worms. I haven't spoken to him since New Year's Eve and haven't SEEN him since the day after Thanksgiving in 2023, wherein he went on a loud and vocal anti-trans rant in the middle of a public restaurant to my utmost horror. like I never wanted to alienate myself from these people, I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want to be ashamed of my family members and incapable of being my authentic self around them without fear of ridicule and scorn. I didn't want my mother to call me a Marxist like it's an insult. but I'm here. it's real. I have nobody who thinks like me, nobody left in my family who shares the same societal views. I am alone now. and I rely on people in the computer, thousands of miles away, for community and understanding. it's been like this for a long time, but I just can't fathom how it has only gotten worse as I've aged. I was supposed to leave Tumblr behind and grow into a better version of myself. but here I sit.

right now is not a good or easy time to get a new job in the USA, much less move between states, so there's not much I can do but hunker down and try to stay sane. it's just been the most difficult and lonely time. I try to forge connections and small pockets of escapism with creativity but it only does so much anymore, especially because so many people are too stunned and broken to want to engage with anything I make. it's like we're all trapped in this lose-lose bell jar right now. anyway. if there was a point to this post I can't remember what I was trying to convey, but I feel numb and weird in a particular way I haven't felt in a while. I can only hope the next four years go as quickly as the last four. and that the nameless leader dies before we get there.