#he's very good at putting just enough emotion into his voice to hit where it hurts tbh

[rolanpilled]

Rolan's VA cameo, asking him to read Rolan's journal entries, found in his room in Act 3/Sorcerous Sundries...

I'm so emotional right now, I requested Mr. Taylor to read some of Rolan's Journal entries, specifically the one where Cal and Lia survive, and then the ones where they die.. I can't see from behind my tears... Thank you so much again to Mr. George Taylor for 1. being kind enough to respond to my email/open up a cameo for fans of his character and 2. for always being open to such requests and imagines!! You are truly the best!

But without further ado, here is the video and its transcript! This took me out, he recited the lines with so much emotion that I felt as if I could really hear Rolan coming to life, thank you again💖💖💖💖

“All has happened according to my plan. The way was rough - too rough - but we’ve arrived exactly where we’re meant to be - where I am meant to be. Master Lorroakan is a braggart and a hypocrite, but he has what I need: resources. Knowledge. The ability to become who I truly am. Cal and Lia roll their eyes, but they, least of anyone, can deny my potential. They know what I could become - if only I endure a little longer."

"…I can endure it. I don’t care. Let Lorroakan bluster and boast. Even a braggart has his uses. If I were to leave, it will have been for nothing - the loss, the death. The grief. Impossible. That sort of loss doesn’t happen without some purpose. I am that purpose. Is that hubris? Of course. But I’ve nothing left if not my belief in myself - in what I can learn, what I can do. Some day. Soon."

[ilovethanosdick]

Park Min-su x gn! reader

coming out as Min-su defender (≧ڡ≦*)

• HE’S SUCH A CUTIE WHEN HE’S IN LOVE!!!

• Very quiet and insecure, especially when it comes to emotional matters.

• In a romantic relationship, he’s a bit clumsy at first.

• He often worries about whether he’s expressing his feelings properly.

• Finds it hard to talk about his emotions,

• BUT!!! He shows them through subtle acts of love.

• He remembers little details about you—your favorite color, how you act in certain situations, what makes you happy.

• Holds an umbrella for you when you walk in the rain, his heartbeat quickening with every brush of your shoulder against his.

• The slightest physical touch leaves him flustered.

• It would take him a long time to muster the courage to make physical gestures like holding hands or hugging.

• His low self-esteem sometimes makes him anxious...

• He often doubts whether he’s good enough for you.

• He needs reassurance that you truly love him.

• If you’re sad or tired, he’d do anything to cheer you up—even something that’s hard for him, like opening up about his own feelings.

• He’s such a good listener!

• When something’s troubling you, he knows how to listen and support you without putting pressure on you, even if it takes time.

• He especially treasures simple moments spent together, like walking in the park or quietly reading in the same room.

• Even after being in a relationship with you for a long time, he still blushes when you say something romantic or praise him.

• If he’s the one asking you out, he meticulously plans the date to make sure you’ll enjoy it.

This was your fifth date with Min-su. You weren’t official, but every time you met, your feelings for him grew stronger. His smile made your heart flutter with love. The way he cared about you, always putting your comfort and happiness first. The small, thoughtful gifts—your favorite snacks or trinkets that reminded him of you. How could you not love him?

Now, the two of you were sitting on a park bench, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows across the ground. The world felt quieter here, like it was just the two of you, sharing a moment stolen from time. A single pair of earbuds connected you as First Love/Late Spring by Mitski played softly, filling the silence with its tender melody. Min-su’s shoulder brushed against yours, a light touch that sent warmth spiraling through your chest. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and lingering, like he was memorizing every detail of this moment. It made your heart skip, a soft heat spreading across your cheeks as you pretended not to notice.

You turned back your attention to the sunset. It was one of the prettiest ones you saw in a while. The sky was almost clear letting the warm colors set in. The cool breeze hit your face, the warmth of your cheeks a contrast to the chill. It was comforting. A moment where you could step away from everything, just breathe, and let the world fade away for a while.

A gentle warmth spread over the back of your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts, like a soft thread tugging at your heart. It was gentle, almost hesitant, but unmistakably real. You glanced down and saw Min-su hand resting over yours, his fingers curling slightly, as if afraid you might pull away. Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The quiet boldness of the gesture left you frozen in the best way. "Y/N?" he broke the silence. His voice was quiet, hesitant, as if unsure whether to disturb the peace you shared. "Hm?" You turn your head to the side to face him. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked with his, a shared understanding passing between you before either of you could break it. He glanced down at your intertwined fingers. Soft smile spreading on his face at the sight, as if the simple act was enough to calm his racing heart. He took a deep breath, then looked back at you, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "I...I think that I love you".

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[luveline]

Feeling a bit emotional and would really appreciate something short but sweet with Steve telling reader he's proud of them.

You’ve been through a lot. It’s not nice to hear about all the bad things that have happened to you, how people have been cruel, or how you’ve been alone, but Steve is grateful to get to know these things about you. He feels entrusted with something very important whenever you retell a bad memory; he can keep it, help carry it, take some of the weight from your burdened levy. 

He’s happy to do it, even in the moments where you forget all that stuff. 

“You did,” you insist, face pressed into the couch, a tired hand to his cheek as you stroke your smooth nail up and down his skin. It tickles badly. He never wants you to stop. “Steve, you knocked him on his ass. He had bruises.” 

“I don’t remember,” he lies. He smashed into Dustin so hard during a game of baseball the poor younger boy didn’t wanna play, and Steve was very sorry for the bruise he got to the coccyx afterward. 

“No, you wouldn’t remember. That’s convenient.” You’re just teasing, caressing his face, in a world of your own that Steve gets to be in too when he’s lucky. 

He thinks everything of you —you’re so sweet, so kind. Even now you’re lamenting that Dustin got bad bruises and tapping up to the corner of his eye with your fingertip, gentle, loving. He wonders how someone who’s experienced the hardship that you have would be able to just walk it off, but then he remembers you don’t walk it off. You carry it. You’re carrying it as you speak, and you're smiling at him. 

You’re Steve’s best friend, his great love, all the heartfelt junk. 

“I felt bad,” he says with a little laugh. “Does that make it better? I did feel bad. He hit the floor so hard.”

“Your laugh makes me feel like you don’t have enough remorse.” 

“I’m super remorseful.” 

Your fingertips slide into the hair just atop his ear, and you start the motions of a small scalp massage. 

“You’re–” Steve searches for the right word. Skirts around sincerity, and doubles back when nothing else conveys what he means. “You’re pretty amazing.” 

“And amazingly pretty,” you murmur, tucking hair behind his ear and pulling it out again as you scratch his scalp, a repetitive motion. 

“I don’t tell you enough.” He slips down in his seat to be the same height as you, catching an eyeful of your soft jaw, your lips, every inch of you kissable.  

“That’s not the sort of thing you have to tell me,” you say. 

There’s some awkwardness there. He really should tell you more. “I’m serious. You’re amazing, you’re so kind. Everything that’s happened to you, and you’re unstoppable.” 

He’s aggrandising, a little, to get through it without sounding like a too sincere idiot, but then he notices your expression shift at his tone and decides he can’t do that to you, because he’s not joking. He clears his throat. 

“I didn’t have much to do with it, but I’m proud of you for everything. You’re a good person, and you didn’t have to be.” He holds your elbow to pause your ministrations against his scalp, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, though he stays there, and his nose draws a line down to your lips.

You breathe in without saying anything. 

“…You’re proud of me?” you ask under your breath. 

Maybe it’s weird, but he is. “I just think you could’ve turned into, like, a huge dick. But you’re you.” He puts all the weight on it. “You’re amazing.” 

Your hand falls to his arm. “You think so?” 

“Of course I do.” He steals a soft kiss before he puts his cheek beside yours, expecting your hug before you give it. 

You wrap him up like a pretzel. “Why are you saying this to me?” you ask worriedly. 

“I just want you to know. I’m always proud of you, and I don’t know if I ever said it out loud. I think it’s– it’s hard to get hurt so much and get up again, but you do.” 

“I guess you’d know about that,” you say, curling into him. Your hug is without stress nor worry, just a want to be close to him, your voice laden with warmth. “We keep getting beat up. Maybe that’s why we’re good together.” 

“And another hundred different reasons,” he says pointedly. 

“Thousand reasons,” you correct yourself. “Thanks for thinking about me, baby.” 

With the way you say baby, Steve will be thinking of you for the rest of his life. “Can I rub your back?” he asks. It’s your turn for some affection. 

“Oh, no, please don’t rub my back, you know I hate that,” you say, sarcastic mumbling as you stretch against his chest. 

Steve hooks you against him. “I know. I’m the worst.” 

[glossykissies]

hi princess! this is my first time sending an ask so i apologize if i mess up but ive been reading all your scott fics and ive been thinking about how scott and kitty would interact. i feel like after a bit of banter he’d get fed up and put her in her place, thank you for feeding us!!

without realising, scott can be rather nonchalant — and that often causes you to act out, skulking around poking and prodding at him until he gives you something, not satisfied until he does.

you’d waited for him all day to get back from work, and once he was back — instead of dropping everything to spend time lounging around with you like you’d hoped, he’s opening up his laptop with that permanent frown of his, not even close to giving you the attention that you need.

you really did try to be patient at first, knowing there was a chance you’d be rewarded for being such a good girl — but it was hard, you were feeling extra needy and emotional, and the whole thing was making you feel neglected.

after an hour, the attitude starts to seep in, continually disturbing him from his work to annoy him, pressing at him with your clawed manicure and whining, kicking your feet into his leg before he’d swat your foot away distractedly, continuing to type.

“god, if you love work so much why don’t you just date your laptop instead of me.” you huff, storming off to the kitchen of scott’s apartment aimlessly where you’d sulk for another ten minutes before finally hearing his slow unbothered footsteps.

you keep your back to him, hoping to feel him wrap his arms around you or even just stroke your lower back as he passes like he does when he’s in a good mood, but instead you hear him busy himself with opening the cupboards to retrieve the ingredients for his coffee. you quietly huff out your nose, pout deepening as you pretend to have great interest in the marbling on the counter top.

“tantrums wont get very far with me, just saying.” scott speaks, and your eyes fill with irritated tears. you just wanted his attention.

“not having a tantrum.” you grit your teeth, refusing to look at him and you just know he shakes his head with an amused smile.

“alright. so that wasn’t you that just cussed me out and stormed off. got it.” he sarks, and you spin around.

“y— you’re being an asshole. did you come in here just to — just —”

“i’m making coffee.” he shrugs, interrupting you and his nonchalance causes you to lose your temper, striding over and lightly hitting his arm. it was pathetic, and you weren’t quite sure why you did it. he pours his drink, unwounded.

“ouch.”

“i hate you.” you clench your fists by your sides. scott’s jaw ticks, losing his patience now as he places his mug down and grapples you by the arm, turning your body so your back was to his chest, wrapping a thick arm over your neck and applying a light pressure.

“you hate me?” he asks firmly and you suck in a shaky breath, body instantly calming at the feeling of his warmth all whilst beginning to release your pent up emotion, a tear streaking the makeup beneath your eye.

“no.” your answer is fast and breathy and you feel him nod.

“say what you really mean.” he commands blankly, voice holding authority with such little effort.

“f—feel neglected.” you whisper, sharp nails lightly scratching at his forearm. he holds the headlock a little longer, letting you feel his chest moving up and down with his slow breathing against your back for a moment — maybe he knew you needed the contact despite his strictness.

“i am doing my work.” he lowers his tone and you whine, so he tightens his grip which tells you to shut up and listen. “you are going to go to the bedroom, and calm down. i don’t want to hear anymore fussing. alright?” you nod, and it’s enough for him to let go and pat you on the ass to scurry off.

you take a few steps before you turn to him, and his cold heart thaws at the sight of you — all upset, snotty, mouth turned down because you’re crying now. “how long?” you wail, and it’s so desperate, scott feels guilty for being so strict. he sighs out his nose, mouth in a straight line and he steps up to you to cup your jaw, making you let out a pathetic little hiccup-sob.

“look at me.” his deep voice rumbles and you force your sticky eyes upwards to him, where he brushes a firm thumb over your cheek. “i’m not gonna be long. go to the room, take some breaths. like i taught you.” he’s sincere, eyes boring into yours and you find yourself nodding, feeling a little more comforted by his demand being directed toward your wellbeing. “you’re okay. go.” he nods to the bedroom and you slide off, with only the urge to be his good girl for the rest of the day.

[helluvapoison]

hey! saw your blog n thought u were like super fuckin cool- so yk can I request a vox x wife!teader and vox accidentally forget their anniversary? it's fine if jot, have a good day/night!!

Vox x Reader

Sitting in Hell’s Kitchen, the finest restaurant of Pride Ring, staring at an empty chair across from you, you decide to find out for yourself just where the fuck your husband is today of all days

• Vox was zipping through cables and wires all over the house to look for you. He checked your favorite spots first but, to his chagrin, you weren’t there

• The money making, signature smile he always wore began slipping on one side when his phone buzzed to life, your icon taking over his screen

• “Darling! I just got home,” Irritation had his voice glitching, “Where are you?”

• “Hm. Late night?” You asked, pettily avoiding the question

• “I-? Yeah, yes,” He sighed, slipping back into work mode for a minute, “Back to back meetings and I had to reshoot yesterday's episode because—“ Minute over, “Wait, that doesn’t matter! What matters is I wanted to come home to my darling partner and you’re nowhere to be found! Where are you!?”

• “Oh me? I went out for a bite to eat. An hour ago. There should be a notification somewhere in your planner, why don’t you check it.”

• Vox huffs and rolls his eyes. He pulls the phone away from his face and quickly swipes through today’s agenda. Anything regarding you is always his top priority—

• x/xx/xxxx: congratulations! today is your anniversary! you have a reservation at 8pm!

• “Fuck.”

• “Mhm.”

• Your phone goes silent. Only half of a second passes before your husband materializes from the wires at the front desk. The panicked expression on his screen is almost enough to satisfy the tornado of emotions inside you. Of course he recognizes there’s people around and there’s an image to project so he gathers himself all too quickly

• His steps over are hurried and clumsy. He presses a kiss to your cheek that buzzes softly on your skin as he sits down, taking your hands into his own in case you decide to leave. Or throw your wine at him. Or both. “Happy Anniversary, darling!”

• Your brow quirks, unimpressed and irate

• “I know it seems like I did, but I didn’t forget. Look I planned this dinner—“

• “That you were late to.”

• “And I have your present right here! Look! I made it months ago just for this.”

• A part of you expects a new phone or watch that hasn’t hit the market yet. Instead Vox pulls out a thin screen from behind his back (Somehow. You’ve learned not to question how he does that) and forces it into your hands

• It scanned your fingerprints the minute you touched it and bloomed to life. For a few seconds it showed you and Vox closer to when you first met, slowly and silently moving as you both laughed. Then it faded and brought a new image of when Vox poured coffee in Val’s lap because he was staring at you. You couldn’t help but snort at that one despite trying very hard not

• “It’s an electronic picture frame,” Vox explained excitedly, “Only this one scans and recognizes your favorite memories. I, uh, already put mine in there for you.” His eyes dart away for a moment, a light blush making his screen glow slightly, “Don’t let anyone else see this.”

• You’re really torn now and he can clearly see it. As a businessman he wants to go in for the final kill, but as your husband he wants to reassure you

• “I didn’t forget, not really. I knew I was missing something all day. I’ll clear my calendar next year— or tomorrow! We can redo the whole day just you and me!”

• You purse your lips together and tilt your head at him with narrowed eyes. Something you did right before you forgave him. “No work at all? No taking calls from Val or Vel? Not even watching yourself on tv?”

• “Let me take care of everything! No one will bother us for an entire 24 hours. Just me and you, my dear. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

• You give him a final skeptical look before your gaze drops to the picture frame with significantly more fondness. You inevitably give in with a sigh, “Fine.”

• Vox is standing up and bringing you with him, his claw on your lower back to guide you out of the restaurant, “Excellent! You won’t regret it baby, I’ll make it our best anniversary yet.”

• To the host at the front his smile doesn’t waver but his voice drops to an octave that leaves no room for arguments, “We’ll be back here tomorrow, same time but we’ll take the table by the window instead. You can put that under Vox. Thanks.”

• “Vox, what are you doing!?“ You whisper loudly in disbelief

• He doesn’t stop, continuing to push you out and onto the sidewalk where a VoxTech limo already awaits. Suddenly his hands are on your shoulders. His eyes meet yours and they’re devoid of the facade he puts on for everyone else

• “When something goes wrong at VoxTech, I have to scrap the plans and start all over to get it right. And I want to do this right for you. I’m going to fix everything, my dear. One hour and I’ll meet you back home with all your favorites.” Despite the tv-ready tone, Vox’s words are coated in sincerity that has you inclined to believe him

• You allow him to help you into the limo, “I don’t need it perfect, y’know. I just need you there.”

• “And I will be! You’ll get both; myself and perfection. Don’t I always say you deserve it all?” Vox kisses the back of your hand before closing the door. He stands there with a smile and waves until you’re out of sight

• He keeps his word, he’s at home with you 45 minutes later. He brings dinner, dessert and wine, all your favorites, and a few extra presents

• The 24 workless hours begin as soon as he walks through the door. He turns off his phone and puts himself on “do not disturb”

• All he needs is you and you’re right here. Happily sitting in his lap while he feeds you cake, your favorite movie in the background. The sound of your laughter or wine glasses clinking together is a far better sound than his ringtone

• (He’ll need a new assistant when he returns to work… and someone to repair that window on the 13th floor. That’s probably why he has 237 notifications from Velvette and Valentino when he turns his phone on after your anniversary do-over)

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ OMG YOU’RE SO SWEET!!!! please enjoy!

[killerlookz]

50/ 46/ 62 <3

thank you for the ask <33 | if you'd like to participate in the heartbeat! au OTP ask game, the full prompt is here

46. what is their favorite intimately sexual thing to do to their partner? 50. what is their favorite position with their partner? 62. who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to put some clothes on?

pairing: heartbeat! reader x heartbeat! joost content: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (f! receiving), penetrative sex, angst mentions, not proofread

explicit RPF below! please do not interact if that makes you uncomfortable !!! 18+ MDNI

46. what is their favorite intimately sexual thing to do to their partner?

Joost's favorite thing to do is eat you out, hands down. You're stressed? He'll eat you out so you can relax. You're mad at him? Let him eat you out to show how sorry he is. You can't sleep? He'll eat you out to put you in that perfect blissful state so you can just fall right to sleep. He's just got back from tour? He's eating you out because he missed how you taste.

Truthfully, you hadn't expected him to be so into giving you head, and you much more expected for him to prefer it the other way around. When you first met- with his fluffy hair, ill fitted skinny jeans, and Supreme shirt you thought you had figured out his type, hype beast, fuck boy, who idolized american soundcloud rappers, thinking he was hot shit in his fake designer belts and unnecessarily expensive sneakers. The type of guy who fucked for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone.

How completely and utterly wrong you were. Joost had charmed you enough to let him take you out on a first date, so charming in fact, you'd end up "giving it up" on that first date. You hadn't expected to, but you couldn't resist him. You'd gone back to his place for some after dinner drinks, one thing led to another and you found yourself in his lap, lips pressed together, hungry. Until that point you had never had a make out session so intense, hands roaming each other wildly, unable to get enough of one another. Without a doubt, Joost had noticed the way you pressed your hips into his, with your skirt bunched up around your thighs, all that separated you from Joost were your panties, which had been, embarrassingly soaked for having only been making out. You were barely cognizant of the way you begged for friction against the seam of Joost's jeans, the fabric growing stiff under Joost's own rising arousal. Both of you were desperate for more, and Joost was ready to make the first move.

Joost pulled back from the kiss, lips shiny and swollen, lightly ghosting over yours as he speaks,

"Will you let me eat your pussy, schatje?" So forward. His voice is just barely above a whisper, but it's enough to hear the pure yearning he speaks with.

"Huh?" You hadn't dated around too much before Joost, but never had a man asked to eat you out on the first date, needless to say you were a little taken back.

"You can say no but-"

"Please." You cut him off ready to fully give into him.

Very soon after that Joost had been on his knees on the hardwood in front of you, head between your thighs, with your legs wrapped around his shoulders as you sit half off the couch. One hand is at your waist and with the other he uses his fingers to spread apart your folds as he laps at your cunt.

Joost was beside himself, musing with gentle mumbles about how good you tasted, about how he'd never be able to get enough of this-enough of you, his low voice sending vibrations right through your sensitive nerves.

And Joost was right, he would never get enough of you.

Post breakup, Joost doesn't eat you out as much as he'd like to, he worries its to intimate and it is.

But there are always those nights between you where it hits you just how profound your emotions towards each other are, how deeply and utterly in love you still are- and those nights Joost will find himself with his head between your thighs again.

50. what is their favorite position with their partner?

Without a DOUBT it's missionary. Call it boring, call it vanilla whatever. You two love fucking in missionary.

At first it's loving, neither of you wanting to take your eyes off each other. Joost will carry you to the bedroom, carefully placing you on the bed, hovering over you as the two of you make every soft and love felt move towards getting it on. The position allows for you to be so close to each other, Joost usually opting to fold over as much as he can, so his chest is nearly pressed against yours, his breath hot on your face and neck. Occasionally he'll pull back, watching you under him, the way your face writhes with pleasure, and you desperately grip the sheets below you. And - well, he loves watching the way your tits bounce while he fucks into you.

As your relationship progresses and tensions rise, and eventually you two break up- missionary becomes a way for you to get in one another's face while you inevitably end up "hate fucking" during an argument. Angry sex includes a lot of mocking and taunting, looking each other in the eyes, face to face as jaws clench between harsh words spat at one another. Neither of you relenting or willing to admit you're wrong. You try to remember whatever it is you're arguing about while Joost slams into you at a near brutal pace, your fingers ripping into his shoulders, sure to leave some marks for the next few days.

One of you will end up shutting the other one up with a fierce kiss, unable to stand the sound of their voice nagging and bickering any longer, wanting nothing more than to just reach your orgasm. And you will. Joost collapsing on top of you, a thick tension still lingering in the air. Aftercare is non-existent on some of those nights, the persistent anger having been unresolved by sex, leading to you wanting nothing to do with each other.

Other times, Joost will gently pull out of you, wordlessly making his way to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth before coming back to clean you up. You'll only share a few words for the rest of the night, maybe a quiet "I'm sorry" if you're lucky- but nobody needs to say it, you can feel it, the regret that fills the room, its almost suffocating. After he cleans you up Joost will join you back on the bed, pulling you to his chest, your naked bodies intertwine. He'll press a few kisses to your forehead, and you'll mumble your "I love you's" before falling asleep, hoping for a better day tomorrow.

62. who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to put some clothes on?

Reader. But truthfully neither of you wear much clothes while you're together. It's not uncommon for the two of you to spend the entire day together at home only in your underwear, being skin to skin just feels better anyways.

But in terms of actual nudity, yes, reader. Joost prefers to not be completely naked, sometimes even during sex, occasionally opting to just pull his underwear down to his thighs instead of taking them off entirely.

If you've fallen asleep after having sex, and find yourself still naked in the morning, you won't bother to find something to put on before getting up to go run and grab a cup of water in the kitchen.

Or after a shower when you don't feel like getting ready right away you'll lounge around on your phone in bed, sometimes only in your towel, sometimes in nothing at all.

Joost will jokingly chastise you for constantly being naked or minimally clothed while the two of you are together, but he never actually means it. Obviously. He's obsessed with the way you look, clothed, or unclothed, and I mean- completely enamored. And he won't ever try to hide in, shamelessly staring at you, wherever and whenever he pleases, unable to fathom you're his.

Or post break up... deeply deeply regretting you're no longer his. Sometimes he'll remember that Michael has seen you like this too, filling his body with a hot pang of jealousy. He wishes he could be the only one to witness you in such a state, but he know's he's fucked that chance up.

[dilfl0v3rss]

https://twitter.com/bestpornclipsx/status/1660915013479964674?s=46

what would have had to happen for y/n to be in this situation with ony

hmmmm idk

sikeeee!! i always know😛 link

“got some nerve…coming up in there like you ain’t got no sense” his voice deeply touched your ears as he spoke. your ass was hot from the many times he’s struck it. pussy being pounded into oblivion from the back. it was almost certain you were going to be sore and bedridden in the morning. all because you let jealousy cloud your judgment.

“ma i just told you, been telling you the whole ride home, i don’t know that girl” you rolled your eyes at him, not caring about the irritated look your boyfriend was giving you. “you mean to tell me this bitch knows your name, mom’s name, and has your number in her contacts, and you never fucked wit her? boy get the fuck outta here wit that!” you pointed your long acrylic nail in his face as you spoke. getting up close and personal to show him that you weren’t playing.

ony took a deep breath before replying. crossing his big arms across his chest to keep himself from just snatching you up right there. “first of all…watch your mouth. second, i need you to put that big girl brain to good use and think.” you rolled your eyes as he continued to to break down your assumptions. “no cocky shit, but i’m probably the most known nigga on this campus and you know that. so of course people gon know my name. as for my number, i can’t stop girls from asking around for it. she prolly got it from someone on the team and i’ll check em for that. and you can check my phone to clarify ‘cause ain’t no female in there but my momma and you.”

your face began to soften as his excuses were starting to make sense, an apology already on the tip of your tongue as he continued. “as far as knowing momma’s name, you gotta be smarter than that princess. after every game what i say to the camera?” your eyes revert to the floor, guilt clouding your mind as you start to feel bad for how you were acting. ony softly cooed at you, inked fingers tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “tell me ma” you sighed deeply, taking a long pause before answering his question. “y’say ‘first i wanna give a shout-out to my very first supporters, my parents Abena and Todd Jackson.’ m’sorr-”

“sh sh sh. what else baby?” your eyes instantly began to water as you recited the second part of his speech. “a-and y’said ‘a-also wanna give a big shoutout t-to my beautiful g-girlfriend y/n.’ m’sorry papa i was just so mad and i–” he cut you off again, this time by snatching you up by your throat and bringing your face closer to his. “this is why we communicate ain’t it? to prevent shit like this, but you ain’t do that did you? nahh….you came into the team house yelling and screaming, embarrassing the both of us ‘cause you let your emotions get the best f’you. so now…. ima let mine get the best of me. go in the room and strip.”

it was a matter of minutes before ony had you stripped and screaming in the middle of the bed. dick punishing your insides so good , but you held that need for release with a death grip. “daddyyyy i said m’sorry alreadyyy. p-please let me cumm” you whined, drool dripping from your lips as ony replied with a hard slap on your ass. “no. you ain’t learn yet” he grumbled, angling his hips downward so he can be felt in your stomach. your mouth opened in a silent scream, the feeling too much for you as you tried to inch up the bed.

ony watched you closely, letting you move up just enough so you can take a sigh of relief before yanking you back onto him. “don’t run from me mama. you gettin what you deserve” you let out a loud whine as you felt him begin to hit you deeper than he did before, heavy hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. your ass was definitely going to be sore in the morning. “you love me?” ony asked, stroking you just right to the point where holding your orgasm was almost unbearable. “y-you know i love you daddy”

the next thing you knew, your back was too his chest and ony has his hand tightly around your neck. the brutal pace of his hips slowing to deep strokes. his dick repeatedly hitting the sweetest spots inside of you. there was no way you could hold it in anymore, a quiet whine escaping your lips as your release slowly trickled down your thighs. ony wasn’t far behind, his ropes of cum shot deep into you as he slowed his hips to a stop.

“if you love me then communicate wit me cause now you gon be here all night. turn over.”

[vaguely-concerned]

do you ever think about how, when we get lucanis' ossuary mind note on what he was thinking during the fireplace scene at the end of his recruitment mission... what's implied to be his instinctive internal reaction as he's saying "you'd have to kill me" out loud sure isn't 'and I don't want to die'. it's '(and spite would die)'. do you think spite's gremlin-y candle-hungering give-me-FIRE! >:D presence has maybe saved that guy's life even more times and in more ways than are immediately obvious at a glance. do you ever. cry.

it's also very. him that the thing that would stay his hand on killing himself partially might be that he just isn't willing to visit the same cruelty or harm on spite as zara, even when accepting his passenger spirit as collateral damage would at least offer a chance to put an end to his own pain, which at that point he seems unable to see any other way of truly escaping or find real relief from than to die. there's so much resentment and fear and other understandable fraught emotions in spite and lucanis' relationship early on, but it's just as clear that deep down lucanis conceptualizes spite as fundamentally innocent in what's happened here -- perhaps, indeed, more innocent than he manages to conceptualize himself until someone else can help him get in there and start to untangle it with him. he's protective of spite in some subtle ways right from the start, taking pains to point out several times on the jog through the ossuary that the spirits here were just as much victims in what was done to them as anyone else. when spite acts out during the fireplace scene... how much of lucanis brushing it off the way he does is about the '*actively bleeding from the eyes* don't worry about me' avoidant side of it all, and how much is him trying to shelter spite from the eyes of people he does not know well enough yet to predict how they’ll react in response — towards himself or spite. (additional idea to really bring on the heartache: do you think he has maybe intervened in pretty much the same way between illario and caterina over the years and that’s how he does it so smoothly and automatically; it’s basically psychological muscle memory. Haha. ow.) 

Between that and the pretty consistent language he uses that frames spite as child-like, even when he means that in frustration/enfant terrible flavoured terms lol, you get the sense that regardless of how much Lucanis is aware of this on the surface, there is a deep instinctive protectiveness in him for spite. I think that even comes across in the scene where lucanis tells you he’ll continue to pursue a way to separate him and spite on the minrathous route. So I was kind of picking up on/working with that already subconsciously, but when I found that note it hit me like a sledgehammer that clearly in some part at least, the reason lucanis is still here is that he knows now that spite would die with him and doesn’t find that price acceptable. Spite thinks that lucanis mentally locking himself in his (torture :() room and refusing to speak to him is an act of rejection or trickery, but to my eyes taken with everything else we know about how lucanis’ brain tends to work… as much as it’s an expression of avoidance and fear and overwhelm and trying to get away from the voice pushing him towards action when the mere prospect of action fills you with despair to even contemplate (“There’s nowhere to go”), I think it’s also a mark of lucanis’ affection and protectiveness of spite. The guards along the way make it very clear that more so than to keep the outside world from coming in, this place is for protecting people from what might break out. 

And that’s why I think this is also such a good case study to look at lucanis' internal freeze logic and why it has been so adaptive for him up until now when faced with completely impossible emotional situations to which there are no good answers or causes of actions available, even though it's inherently and unavoidably one of those 'what's worse, the medicine or the disease' solutions a brain cooks up. lucanis by the point of inner demons is facing this conundrum: 1) I can't live like this, it hurts too much. I've been in pain so long I’ve got screams where my blood should be and it just keeps getting louder, and nothing really touches or helps that. 2) I can't die to escape this, because that would also kill spite (and also I've got a job to do I guess *working 9-5 slowed with reverb and with underwater sound distortion effects is playing in the background*). those are of course not actually his only options, but in the state he's in they are the only options he can conceive of. (that's not infrequently how it works, when the suffering is that intense and unrelenting. Nothing gives you tunnel sight quite like ‘I just need this to stop’ agony that has gone on long enough to add sheer soul exhaustion to the mix)

so what happens in the end? his freeze brain -- honed, I'm sure, through many long years of attachment trauma and abuse and loss for exactly this kind of 'uh-oh. Incoming FUBAR situation alert let’s go' -- kicks into action and makes him do nothing except what's externally required of him, so he can stay just functional and momentarily distracted by a plethora of avoidance behaviours enough to get through his daily life, if like not particularly happily so... and otherwise, as it were, locking himself in his room deep inside where nothing can touch him, where nothing gets in and nothing gets out, no harm allowed to either escape from within nor allowed to pierce through and get inside. numbness isn't actually a cure for that kind of suffering, but it's the closest thing you're likely to get with any immediacy and if you’re desperate enough by god you take those. It’s how he survived his upbringing, and it’s how he survived the ossuary — as he tells Davrin straight out, the trick to just shut down every part of his soul he can to get through intolerable pain, loss or helplessness. I don’t think that mechanism came to him in the ossuary the first time, I think that blueprint was deeply embedded in his neurons and went ‘ah. My time again. Not to worry I’m a bit of an expert at this I’ll get us through this yet (though you may not thank me for it by the end of it all)’. 

In that state he's unable to himself reach out and meaningfully ask for help (and also like... why would his inner world have any framework for that as even being on the table? this has never been an option before in his life, not in any safe or consistent way; he's fucked up the way he is because the same things/people that should have been and partially, comparatively, were the sources of help and relief and safety growing up are also the sources of pain and abuse, that eternal irreconcilable ambivalence, the double edged sword of unpredictable insecure attachment), but it also keeps him from doing anything uh drastic the other way too, on acting impulsively in ways that can’t be taken back. (that seems to be more illario’s role/dubious privilege in the family lol.) at many points in his life and especially growing up, freezing and going numb around the pain is as close to having control of anything as there was any hope of. 'harm will be inflicted on me unpredictably, but fuck you I don't have to truly feel it as long as I shut all this other stuff down as well, that's what I can control' nervous system logic. (it'll get you every time.) for what it’s worth I’m not so sure his nervous system judged that one incorrectly, I think that is the kind of rebellion you would have to cling to while being raised by someone like caterina, because look at illario if you want to know how much she respects and rewards anything more overt or active. (I mean, if you don’t succeed, at least. swing at Grandma Dellamorte you’d better not miss or you’ll meet that cane swinging at you the other way and she will not miss)

I say all this because I think it's as easy to demonize the freeze response as it is to demonize anger, to conceptualize it only as an obstructive force that, as bellara puts it, is one of the purest forms of a heart not seeming to want to let you be happy, or a mindless byproduct of trauma. But in my experience, the brain doesn’t generally come up with ‘stupid’ defense mechanisms. Even in the most maladaptive of coping mechanisms, there is at the core of it some part of you that once meant to save your life, no matter what trouble it is wreaking for you today. when you look at the setup of Lucanis’ soul, as it were, you can see the dual and in some ways genuinely noble and even tender qualities this response has in him, however misguided: it does imprison, but it also protects, and it means to protect; for all the pain along the way it has sheltered all the parts of his soul that are most precious and breakable, the most vulnerable parts that want to live and so so importantly love completely and freely. Lucanis thinks he’s protecting not even primarily himself but everyone he loves by staying where he is. (“It would be better for me to stay here than to risk losing you”) A child’s logic, to be sure, but logic of a kind and clearly one that caterina has encouraged in him because that’s a conception of love it’s been very useful for her for him to have. Freeze looks like utter hopelessness on the surface, but in some ways I think it’s the utmost triumph of hope — a spare and unrelenting winter that exists because it thinks one day spring might still come, and the things too precious and fragile to thrive in your life as it is now might bloom then. 

He is an adult now, and Caterina no longer controls his entire world, physically and emotionally. There’s finally room for other things, other people, himself, in his life, without everything having to defer to the gravitational force of what Caterina wants from him at the end of the day. And while I think her jumpscaring him with the First Talon position is partly her attempt to wrangle him back into the status quo of control she once had, I’m not sure it’s going to work quite the way she might hope — at least in the Treviso saved route, there are just too many fresh spring shoots in his life at that point that could grow into something new, it’s too late to trample all the saplings growing up through the cracks in time (and indeed some of them might also fight back). (The outlook on the Minrathous saved route is um. Perhaps less convincingly immediately hopeful to me and the prospect of actually getting around to healing further down the road, but I refuse to give up on him that’s my little guy and he’s above all incredibly smart and stubborn and not a quitter and all the rest of this still remains true beneath it all, just like. Give him a moment here.) His hopes and dreams have diversified while she had her back turned lmao he suddenly keeps them with so many more people than just her and Iillario now. She doesn’t hold the monopoly of meaning and connection in his life the way she used to. And whether out of love (you know. Hope is every man’s prerogative I suppose) at seeing him really happy for perhaps the first time or sheer pragmatism, I think she’s going to have to accept that and adapt her ways of doing things with him accordingly, or else have him drift even further away from her.

Spite is the urgent impatient voice that starts to break through to go ‘that moment is now it HAS to be now. We need to shake off the shackles and illusions and face what’s actually here so we can learn to properly live now, or this winter will starve us to death as surely as anything Zara could do to us’. And he is right! As crucial as this soul-starvation landscape has been in survival, it has clearly reached the end of its sustainability, you can’t survive permanently on frost alone. I just also want to recognize the credit Lucanis (and his fucked up but valiant nervous system <3 pour one out for a real one) also deserves for stubbornly holding on in any way he had to until Spite’s true escape project is even an option for either of them. Especially since Lucanis seems to harbour a lot of self-loathing and frustration over his own propensity for freeze — “You know him. You can open the door, but he won’t walk through it”  (still one of the saddest most painful things I’ve ever heard. In case you were wondering. He knows. He knows what he’s like, and he despairs of it, he thinks it means it’s his own fault he still feels like this. Augh.) The real point at the end of the day is not that spite saved lucanis or vice versa, but that as traumatic as it was to get there and against all cultural expectations, it is ultimately their enmeshed condition, their togetherness, that saved them both. (which, again, when you consider the cultural narrative of possession and spirits most andrastian nations are working with…what a radical conclusion to come away with haha. Not unprecedented at all, if you look at Wynne and her spirit, but on a deeper and more psychological plane than ever and even more impactful for it, to me.)

[clockwayswrites]

Totally not writing about Tuesday on a Thursday

Masterpost wc: 674 cw: attempted mugging

“Look, dude, I have seven dollars and fourteen cents in my wallet. I know that because I had to buy lunch on campus today and I have no idea how I’m going to make seven dollars and fourteen cents last the rest of the week,” a voice said from the alley that Jason was approaching.

A voice that was becoming very familiar over meals and passing each other on the stairs.

“What’s in the fucking bag?” a different voice croaked. “Hand it over.”

“My notes from class and binders of engineering diagrams. It’s worth even less than seven fourteen. I don’t even have a working pen in there, dude, the last one exploded in my hands this afternoon. Do you see how blue my hands are? That is not natural. I hope you know that that is not natural.”

Was Danny really being mugged and talking back to the mugger? This guy was a disaster. Jason moved quietly as he approached where the alley started.

“You’re a fucking liar, hand it over!”

“Okay,” Danny said with forced calm. “Just taking the bag off…”

There was was a heavy ‘fwack’ followed by an ‘omph’ of pain and the distinctive sound of a body hitting the ground. Jason gave up being stealthy and sprinted around the corner. Hopefully the mugger hadn’t gone for anything vital. His place was stocked with first aid, they were close by, he could—

Danny’s head shot up from where he was standing, bag dangling from his hand, over the prone body of the mugger. He smiled sheepishly. “Jason, hi!”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, Tuesday! Are you okay?” Jason asked. He nudged the mugger hard with his foot. He only got a groan in response.

“Oh, yeah. I mean I’m still broke and tired, but what else is a college student?” Danny said breezily a he shouldered his bag again. He ran a hand through his long bangs, pushing them back. “But I’m fine— he didn’t even nick me with his knife!”

“You still shouldn’t argue with a mugger like that, it’s a good way to get stabbed,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hands and checking that he hadn’t actually been slashed. Jason wouldn’t put it past Danny to hide injuries, “and you don’t want to be stabbed.”

“Yeah, it really sucks. It took me weeks to heal last time I was, I kept ripping my stitches open,” Danny said breezily.

Jason had to close his eyes and take a breath. How was this guy alive? He grabbed the knife the mugger was using, folding it up and tucking it away, before he rooted through the man’s pocket.

“Um, Jay? What are you doing?”

“Looking for his— there!” Jason pulled out the rubber banded roll of cash and tossed it at Danny who almost most fumbled the catch. It was sorta precious how he looked down at it, eyes all wide in shock.

“Call it emotional distress compensation. No way you’ll find who else he robbed and he sure doesn’t deserve it.”

Danny cocked his head, several emotions running across his face before he shrugged and shoved the cash into his bag. “Guess I get to still eat this week!”

“Tuesday,” Jason said. He reached out and tilted Danny’s head up by the chin so that their eyes met. “If you ever don’t have enough to eat, you come to me, alright?”

“I don’t want to—”

“Tuesday,” Jason said more firmly. “I like cooking. I always make extras for left overs. I won’t have anyone in the building starving— I know what that’s like. If you don’t have enough to eat or the energy to cook or anything else, you come to me. There’s always food at my place. Now be a good boy and say you understand.”

Danny blushed and nodded, his head rocking in Jason’s large hand. “I understand."

“Good boy,” Jason said with a smirk. He let his thumb brush over Danny’s cheek before he dropped his hand. “Now come on, I don’t trust you get back home in one piece.”

-----

AN: Jason continues to despair over Danny's self preservation. Danny continues to blue screen over Jason. It's been so fun to get to explore the Jason/Danny dynamic as opposed to the Red Hood/Danny! It's turning out nothing like I expected LOL For how willing Hood is to be put on his knees by a feral Danny, Jason sure enjoys taking control of this soft nerd. Idk, I'm just going with it!

Due to being shadow banned (still, ugh), I'm no longer tagging people! To be notified please go to this post and subscribe!

[french-unknown]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: shanks, vivi, ace, law, sabo 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐖/𝐂: 1.2k +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 1 |

✧ You were part of the Red Haired Pirates crew for a long time.

✧ You've been sleeping with the captain for almost as long.

It had started during a night of drinking on a remote island where, after a few drinks, you realized that Shanks was a lot more flirtatious than usual. One word after another, you ended up sleeping together that same evening before waking up the next morning in the same bed. You both decided to continue this relationship.

Everyone knew what you were doing.

✧ You gradually became attached to him but, knowing that it wouldn't go further than sex, you said nothing while continuing what you were doing.

✧ So you found yourself having to watch passively when he was being flirted with or when we disappeared with someone during drinking evenings. On his side, he happily raised his glass to you when you got hit on and made jokes when he caught you in bed with someone else.

✧ Things changed when, totally drunk, he admitted to you that he was sad you weren't dating because he would have loved to kiss you in front of the others. Then he changed the subject as if nothing had happened.

✧ It was only the next morning, while you questioned him despite his hangover, that you discovered that he had also liked you for quite a few years. It was just he also thought you only wanted easy sex from him.

✧ You have known each other since childhood and immediately became friends. You started dating secretly during your teenage years. Her parents thought you were just close friends.

✧ So you thought she loved you too but, one day, she completely disappeared from your life without warning.

One evening she was there, and the next day she had already disappeared without a trace. You didn't know it but she was off to infiltrate Barroque Work to save her country. She didn't put you in the scheme so you wouldn't be in danger. You found yourself from one day to the next without news of your lover, totally abandoned. The shock was hard to take.

✧ The reception was therefore more than cold when she returned to the palace.

✧ She naively thought at that time that you were still together and that your relationship would resume where she left off before she left.

✧ However, you refused to meet her because you were convinced that she didn't want anything serious from you. You were just a little youthful love interest—nothing at all—just good enough to be thrown away when she matured.

✧ In order to prove to you that she really liked you, she had you summoned by force to the throne room with her parents. As soon as you arrived, she declared herself to you in front of her parents before kissing you directly on the lips and introducing you to her parents as her lover for several years.

✧ You had some doubts but you weren't really sure.

✧ It mainly came from the fact that he was always by your side and very affectionate towards you. At first, you thought he was like that with everyone. He would run towards them as soon as they entered the room to jump on them. He was always talking to them animatedly or listening to them with stars in his eyes. Or he was very tactile with them since he always had contact with you, whether it was an arm around your shoulders or a hand against your back.

However, you realized this was not the case after discreetly observing him interacting with the others.

✧ You had some doubts about whether he liked you more than the others, but not as a lover. You secretly prayed at that moment that you wouldn't be in the best friend zone.

✧ You got tired of it one evening.

You were on Moby Dick and he had joined you in your room to chat. You don't know how but you found yourself lying on your bed, side by side, discussing some of your problems. During a more emotional moment where your voice had faltered slightly, you felt his hand slip into your hair to massage your head. You then pulled away angrily to ask him—quite aggressively, unfortunately—why he was so clingy to you.

"You don't like me anymore?" He then asked with his head down, hurt.

✧ You discovered that evening that he had confessed his feelings several months ago when you were both drunk and he had been thinking since then that you were dating. It was just that he remembered it and you didn't.

✧ He wasn't particularly nicer to you than he was to the other members of his crew. He also didn't come to talk to you or seek your company. You honestly thought that, to him, you were just another member of the Heart Pirates.

✧ Your vision changed a little when you fell ill and it was he who came to take care of you. "Shut up. It's the captain's role to take care of his crewmates." he had declared.

✧ However, when you refused to eat the soup he brought you because you didn't like it, he initially resisted before going back to get you another meal. A minute before, he maintained that you wouldn't have anything else to eat and he suddenly changed his mind after taking a look at you.

As he left, you heard him grumbling that you shouldn't be so cute. It took you a few minutes to process what he had said but it eventually got to your brain.

✧ From there, you actually realized that he gave in to your demands quite easily. Unlike everyone else on the crew, including Bepo. So you used it to your advantage.

✧ It continued like that without him making the slightest move so you took the courage to declare yourself.

He simply replied, "I think I see what you're talking about. I accept your confession." before dismissing you from his office with a wave of his hand. You just had time to see his red cheeks before he hid behind one of his books.

✧ You were quite close but not as close as he was to Koala or other members of the Army.

✧ Your group were ambushed by the people you had been following for several weeks under Sabo's orders. At the end of the confrontation, you emerged winners but not without losses.

Some were dead and you were injured with several broken bones and a bruised face.

✧ You were therefore urgently repatriated and you spent the next few days lying in the infirmary until your condition stabilized. You were then transferred to a room alone to rest and recover from your injuries. Your face nevertheless remained unsightly swollen with bruises that badly colored your face.

✧ One day, you heard the sound of boots echoing in the corridor. You didn't want anyone to see your face, which you were ashamed of, so you curled up on your side before pulling up your blanket to hide your face.

You pretended to be asleep.

The door opened. The person slowly walked to the edge of your bed and sat down.

"You sleep?" Sabo's voice whispered.

Faced with your lack of response, he stood up and you felt a kiss being placed in your hair.

"Rest easy and don't ever scare me like that again. It would hurt me to lose you before I could tell you I liked you."

And he left as silently as he had arrived.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717 @lys-ada @viscade @parkyrr @dozcan123 @livwritesfics @anotherproblemsos @phsycochan @sketchmilk @clovernumber3 @radiorowrites

[artsninspo]

VERY MERRY MARTINI🍸 - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this request | ♡ a flash forward of this

summary: Returning home for Christmas dredges up old wounds and unexpected sparks. Between family chaos and a chance encounter with her first love, Rio, she’s swept into a whirlwind of bittersweet memories and heated confessions. Can they rewrite their story, or will their past keep them apart? A cocktail of love, nostalgia, and second chances awaits.

tropes: second chance romance, small town nostalgia, reformed bad boy & unresolved emotional conflict - angst, fluff and a sprinkle of steam

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: ~ 2K

You pluck a peppermint from the dish at the bar, untwisting the wrapper and pluck the candy into your mouth as nostalgia hits you. Sucking on the candy you remember a time where your granny’s crystal dishes were full of them and Christmas meant family and holiday cheer instead of restaurants and swanky parties. Your parents divorce has shattered all the warm and fuzzy feelings and in spite of being back in town for the first time in almost a decade everything feels different - but not in a good way. Being a child of divorce to two prideful parents is a full time job.

“What can I get for you?” a young bartender smiles.

“A … merry martini” you respond with a smile checking the menu.

“Coming right up” he winks flirting for his tip. You shift in your seat looking at all the other rejects who like you have nowhere better to be. The drink is slid in front of you and you open your purse.

“You're too pretty to pay” he winks, making you smile.

“Merry christmas” you say, raising a glass to him and taking a sip to take the edge off. Your holidays are stacked with activities and outings. Both of your parents want to show off their girl - like you’re some prized fucking heifer. They’ve tried their best at normalcy so there's no room for honest discussion on how much the chaos hurts. Your father went from married man, to divorcee where you and boxing were the light of his life. But you had been replaced with a new wife and a son who could be his prodigy. Then there was your mother who’d left the marriage committed to becoming her own light. Now she shines so bright it's blinding. Her and her husband are so perfect it’s hard to share space with them. Not to mention the competition between both parents had you in a constant tug of war.

“Another one please” you smile shamelessly placing a twenty in the tip jar.  The bartender nods without judgement making another one. This time you wince at the strength of the first sip. “Perfect” you wink and he smiles tending to the other patrons.

“Davis”  a man introduces himself to your left. Your mind tells you he's a predator. When you’d been looking your best he had not approached but after two drinks in under five minutes he's grown a pair.

“Not interested” you respond dismissively.

“Why not, you dont think I'm handsome?” he asks but you'd bet your last dollar he was married. You glance at his left hand and bingo, there's a faint indentation. The vulture in front of you thinks he’s gonna get some easy ass.

“I could be piss drunk and never give you the time of day or night - get lost” you tell him not in the mood to be used and discarded or sold a dream.

“Is that so?” he asks a glutton for punishment.

“Mhm” you respond, draining cocktail number two and he smiles handsome enough under the right circumstances.

“Maybe I was just being kind to the trainwreck at the bar. Spreading holiday kindness to the less fortunate” he jabs.

“No wonder your wife doesnt fuck you, I wouldnt either. How does putting me down make you feel, mister kind man?” you ask patronizing him some more. His chest rises and his body goes rigid.

“Careful Davis, this one’s pretty but will lay your ass out” a voice says, giving you goosebumps. “Her pops owns the three boxing gyms in the city. That means after she’s done with you - if she tells pops at least one of the guys will catch you outside” he continues and Davis looks between you and the man with resentment before standing and finding somewhere else to be in the bar. You feel your heart race and try to get yourself together before you turn around.

There he is, in all his glory somehow more attractive now than he’d been all those years ago. Your eyes catch a tattoo on his neck and he slides you your third drink but that's way too dangerous now with him in your midst.

“You were never afraid” you mutter and he smiles.

“Ahh, I lack good sense remember. Your pops only had one gym at the time” he shrugs using the line you used in your break-up. He’d done you dirty, broke your heart and then thumbed your nose in it. He was a part of the reason you never came back home.

“Right” you nod and he looks at the drink with an amused expression. It hadn't been all bad. He could still vividly remember all the nights he spent looking up at his ceiling because the morning couldn't come soon enough. He couldn't wait to see you, feel you, kiss you, sneak you into his house while his granny was working. Nobody topped the feeling you gave him till this day. The two of you had been inseparable and he never cared what people said - he was in love with you and wearing it for everyone to see. It was why your rejection hurt so bad and Nick’s betrayal cut so deep. You never listened, never stopped to hear him out while hurling insults through tears. He couldn't get a word in and then you never spoke to him again - not even when he tried being civil at your graduation.

“How long are you back for?” Rio asks testing your energy towards him.

“None of your business” you respond, making him smile.

“So it’s like that?” he asks.

“It’s like that” you respond.

“So what? Are we gonna be beefing forever?” he asks.

“Why are you behind the bar? You aren’t nice enough to be a bartender.” you comment sipping slow.

“You know me well. I'm the owner,” he says.

“Makes sense,” you nod, looking him over again. The prime location and atmosphere, along with the internet reviews was a signifier of success. “Graduated from illegal to legal impairment” you swallow.

“Look, enjoy your drinks, if you need a cab have my boy call you one” he snaps in bad humour before walking away. He didnt take shit from anyone these days and that would never change. The edge is back on so you scroll looking for another bar and when you find one you head to the bathroom to sober up. Finished from relieving yourself you re-apply your lipstick and fix your hair in the mirror when Rio enters locking the door of the swanky bathroom behind him.

“What's all this?” you ask genuinely confused.

“In case I never see you again I didn’t sell drugs on the job that summer. I stopped like you asked and it fucked Nicks business up because I was the money maker. He asked me to come back and I said no because I was all in on us and the naive shit we had planned. Nick being the spiteful bitch he is, set me up, he knew you’d dump me and you did. You wouldn't hear me out and I couldn't say shit to the cops or my granny would have had two of us inside at once. Couldn't write it in the letters you didn't read either cause they read it and you wouldn't be near me.” Rio says and you look into his eyes. One thing remains true - you still can't tell when he’s lying. Your brain wants to say something smug and spiteful but your heart wants to accept it as truth and move on.

“I was alone and I needed someone to be angry at - it couldn't be my parents so I made it you. Don't sweat it” you shrug, opting for something in the middle.

“Your pops misses you like crazy” he surprises you.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

“We have dinner together once a month, he signed on as my mentor as a part of my probation. Even gave me a loan for this place” Rio says, telling you things you’ve never known.

“He always liked you,” you nod.

“Yeah we’ll I only really meet with him to hear updates about you, every fucking time I hold my breath hoping that I dont hear youre married or engaged because in my head youre still mine” Rio declares speaking directly to your heart. It was the Rio you knew and not the one that got in a relationship with one of your classmates when he was free from his stint in juvie. Although you knew it was just to hurt you, it still did.

“I’m gonna go” you whisper walking forward but he doesn't move around the barred door. He’d been your safe place through the most turbulent times and you’d not returned the favor. Tears well and you wipe them away feeling the effects of the alcohol. Rio catches your arm as you reach for the lock, his eyes lowering as he looks down at you. A thumb swipes away the tears.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, maintaining eye contact. You're seventeen again and find your face scrunching up embarrassingly. Rio continues wiping the tears away feeling emotional himself as he takes you into his arms cradling you into a hug. There was so much that was different, your perfume, your shampoo, how your body felt in his arms, the heels instead of sneakers. The bathroom bar instead of sneaking into the one at your fathers gym. His love for you was unrivalled. The tears slow to a halt after a few minutes and Rio’s hands slide lower down into your lower back. When you look back at him his eyes are encouraging. It's a relief that he finds no satisfaction in your moment of weakness.

“Fix your make up, stay pretty” he says kissing your temple in a gesture so casual it could only be out of love. You don't question him getting your items from your purse again and doing a quick touch up. When you're finished Rio examines the armour you’ve crafted to protect yourself from your own vulnerabilities and gives a nod of approval. Your heart swells with love for him. He takes your chin leaning in for a kiss. It had been too long since your lips had known his. Too long since his tongue claimed yours while being body to body. Since his hands grabbed handfuls of ass and trailed up against the skin of your torso. 

Loud knocks on the door ends the steamy moment.

“I need to PISS” someone slurs on the other side of the door. You smile, stepping back and ridding the smudged lipstick from Rio’s lips. He does the same for you, unlocking the door and moving aside. The drunk patron rushes into a stall paying neither of you any mind.

“Let me take you home,” Rio offers.

“I don't want to go home” you respond.

“You’re going home, I’m not touching you again until you're sober. I need you to feel and remember my shit, you don't get to pretend to forget after I’ve been waiting this long” he says holding your hand. You can't help but smile at his mean ass. He drags you to his office where he gets his keys and to the black truck waiting in the barking lot. He gets your door like old times adjusting the seat to your comfort. His heart races the entire trip to your hotel and he stays in the car knowing he doesn't have the will power to refuse you twice. He watches you turn around and he rolls down his windows so you can see him instead of the tints. Smiling makes you feel optimistic for the first time this entire trip. Hand to lips you blow him a kiss. He smiles, unable to maintain his hard exterior.

“Fuck me” he laughs knowing hes down bad for you. 

Heading to the hotel you hum along to the Christmas music playing in the lobby, sucking on another peppermint you smile at the nostalgia of your and Rio’s good times. Excited to be back home and for the promise of a very merry Christmas.

authors note: thank you for reading, i'm working my way through the holiday requests so yes this will be a one of one, since I'm pretty sure we all knows what happens next. it rhymes with next without the t 😉

Writing for this amazing community is such a joy, and your support helps me keep creating.

If you enjoyed this fic: ❣ Like the post to brighten my day! ❝ Comment—whether it’s a detailed review or a single emoji, I’d love to hear your thoughts. ↺ Reblog to share the story and connect it to others who might love it too.

Vote below and let us know which trope has your heart! ❤️

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[selarina]

-> Satoru Gojo/Reader (ft. Suguru Getou)

Summary: Getou Suguru finds himself living not only with his roommate Gojo Satoru, but also with his girlfriend.

Tags: love triangle, jealousy, unrequited love, light sexual content (implied/referenced), fluff, unresolved sexual tension, emotional distress, mention of reader having periods, mentions of infidelity, themes of polyamory, alcohol consumption, mild language, third person pov, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.2k words

Author's Note: i wrote this before challengers came out i swear

Read on AO3

You waddle in, hair mussed and eyes bleary, absently rubbing at them like a child.

“Morning,” Getou says, with a smile.

“Morning,” you reply, punctuating it with a yawn.

You’re swathed in a dim blue corduroy shirt that fits loosely around your figure. Your shorts lay hidden right under the shirt, extending merely a few centimeters from where the hem of the shirt ends. 

Getou doesn’t mean to stare, but it stands out — there’s a soft crimson hue that’s sitting right below the end of your shorts, and at the center of which is a pretty bite mark.

Getou stares at the mark a bit longer than he could feel normal about but he relents — as one does. He pours out a cup of juice for you. A routine. A loose routine. Some days it’s juice, other days it’s toast. Some days it’s fruit. 

“Thank you, Getou,” you smile at him as you always do. 

He likes your company at his house. At first, he admittedly didn’t, you woke up at ungodly hours, you often scared him when he returned from work, and you left your coat around on the sofa instead of the coat hanger. But all that’s changed now. Now you seem to waltz with the very air that sits in his house, making space for yourself, like a drawer for your clothes and a coaster for your mug. It works.

Almost like you’re all just in a well-timed play, Satoru walks in. And he’s wearing one of his many gray sweatpants.

Suguru doesn’t linger on his presence having witnessed him come out of the same room in so many different forms over the years. It’s routine now, he doesn’t have to bat an eye at him to know he’s walked in, but he does look, allowing himself the indulgence — his eyes lingering on a red hue around his neck, another pretty bite mark, mirroring the one of your thigh.

Today Satoru seems to be a touch weary in his movement. Getou could tell it’s just one of those mornings when he would get a bit extra grumpy. A fleeting state that would soon pass after a stomach full of breakfast.

Satoru moves, standing behind you, hands encircling you in a hug as he buries his face in your back.

“Morning, Suguru,” Satoru’s voice emerged, muffled against your back.

“Good morning, Satoru,” Getou answers, as he promptly places a third cup of juice for Satoru, with the same practiced grace he extended to you.

“Morning baby,” he murmured. He comes up to leave a soft peck on your cheek, and he says it hushed like it’s only meant for you to hear. 

“I know I’m preaching to the choir,” Getou starts. He hopes the annoyance is permeating onto his face, hoping his disquiet reaches you both. “But these walls — they’re thin, you know?”

“Oh? I’m sorry, Getou! We’ll be sure to moan in whispers,” Satoru quickly retorts, as he punctuates that sentence with a wry grin. 

His face seemed perfectly punchable to Getou in this moment — what with his toothpaste ad-worthy grin. He stared, a poker face as he thinks he’s never seen a look as inviting and off-putting as Gojo Satoru’s.

You cinch your brows in annoyance but Getou notices one side of your mouth curving itself into a half-smile. You’ve always been good at this, your face is neither restrained nor fully disclosed. He frowns. 

You turn to hit Satoru lightly on his shoulders, Satoru even turns so you can reach more easily. “Stop!” you giggle as you turn to look at Getou. “Getou, please forgive his audacity. We’ll be quiet next time. I promise.” 

Your face tries to maintain a sincere smile but it’s never sincere enough to stop you from moaning your way to sleep. 

A sigh escapes Getou, a sigh borne of a quiet acceptance as he sets out three plates on the table.

—

Getou sits, hunched over his desk, the lamp casting a pool of jaundiced light onto the scattered papers, he’s nearly halfway through his report. Half an hour more, he thinks, and the whole thing will be done. If he focuses as he has been for the past hour, that is. But of course, as though he is cursed to partake in a comedic play — no, tragic play — he hears the muted whimpers from across the fragile wall that separates him from the two of you. 

He knows the script by heart now. It is only time before it gets louder and louder and louder before he has to blast music on an alarmingly high level to drown it all out.

And he’s not sure what makes him break this time, maybe it’s the report, maybe it’s the lack of good sleep from the previous night but he bangs against the wall.

Once. Bam!

Two. Bam!

Three. Bam!

Three bangs, and the sounds immediately cease to a stop. 

“I have a report to finish,” he announces into the stillness, his voice loud, to ensure it penetrates through the wall.

The silence stretches on. Satisfied, Getou returns to his report.

—

He comes out, his eyes are tired as he thinks about what to make for dinner tonight. 

“Hey Suguru,” you say from your place over on the couch, it pulls him only slightly back to the present.

“Hey,” he returns, his hands barely hanging onto his shoulders as he redoes his hair into a quick bun. He witnesses the aftermath in the half-reflection of a glass cupboard. He can barely see himself, barely a silhouette of a man, he thinks. 

“What do you guys want tonight?” he asks, peering into the fridge, surveying the contents with a hollow gaze.

Satoru rises from his cozy place in between your legs, marching over to grab Getou away from the fridge. Getou would be baffled if he wasn’t so tired and numb from finishing up the report.

“There’s no need for that. We figured you’re tired and want to rip our heads off at this point so we could never make you cook for us in this state,” Satoru pats his shoulders, gripping it a bit more tightly now as he guides him to take a seat on the couch.

Getou barely notices an assortment of different sushi alongside an already corked open bottle of red wine that seemed to magically materialize before his eyes.

He simply stares, wanting Gojo to just explain, he’s too tired to ask, too tired to truly care enough to not give in.

“Dinner’s on us tonight,” Satoru grins, the same familiar toothpaste ad-worthy grin that grows less and less annoying by the day. 

Getou would groan out loud if he had the energy for it.

“More like Sushi and Sticks, but yes, on us tonight,” you add, pouring wine into a third glass and handing it to Getou.

He takes it, muttering, “There’s no need for all this.”

“Of course there is. Just eat, Suguru.” Satoru plops sushi into his mouth as he speaks.

Your face twinges in annoyance. “Don’t talk while eating." You turn back to Suguru now, as your face shifts into a smile. "And besides, Suguru — I’m more worried about you poisoning our dinner tonight.”

Suguru manages to chuckle at that, mostly at the crooked way your lips are smirking, white tooth shining in between.

He takes a sip from the glass. He doesn’t usually like red wine but he couldn’t care less tonight, he’ll indulge and leave all the head-banging to his tomorrow self.  

—

The next morning, Suguru finds himself sprawled on the floor, his head pulsing with an unforgiving ache, echoing over and over against the confines of his skull. He decides he needs to clean the living room, having remembered not cleaning up after last night but he seems ensnared by a weight holding his arm down. 

He turns, his chin pressing into his chest as he tries to look without moving and — it’s you, nestled against his arm mirroring the same tenderness one would show a comforting plush companion. 

Satoru clings to you, in a similar manner, only he’s nestled against your stomach, instead of your arm.

Suguru very very carefully disattaches himself from the two of you, as he stands trying to shake off the drowsiness and the throbbing headache. He must have fallen asleep on the couch after dinner. How he ended up sprawled against Satoru and you is a question that remains unanswered and honestly, he doesn’t really want to know why, he decides.  

He swivels his head across the room and notices how the living room is clean — pristinely so, and the remnants of the sushi and wine are all tidied away into a box, and a closed bottle. He smiles, as he walks into his room. He’ll take a hot shower this morning.

—

“Hey, thank you for doing this with me Getou,” you say, as you roll up your sleeve.

“Anytime,” he says, following to mirror your actions. “Why didn’t you ask Satoru?” he asks, he's been nursing this question since you first invited him to join you.

“Well, I’ve been here with him. He hates the texture of clay, and I have been coming over here on my own but you know,” you continue, “if you like it, I’d love for this to be a regular thing between us,” you say with a smile, and something flops itself in his ribs, and suddenly he feels like he wants to leave.

“And Satoru is fine with this?" he prods.

"Fine with what?" you counter, your tone innocent, though a faint note of mischief lingers beneath the surface.

“You going to a couple’s clay therapy with… well, not him,” he says.

"Yeah," you affirm, your voice soft and reassuring. "He's fine with it. I know he whines like a baby, but he’s surprisingly mature with things like this, you know.” 

“Right,” he says plainly.

"Besides," you add, your hand gently squeezing him, “It's just you, Suguru." 

But he doesn’t feel reassured at all, he’s a bit upset Satoru doesn’t care because it’s just him, just Suguru. He’s his best friend so, of course, he’s fine with this. But nothing’s fine at all, and his hands tremble as he tries to hold the clay.

“Here—” you say, stepping up to draw closer to him, “Let me help.” 

And just like that, your hands are on his, and his hands stop trembling but his heart — it’s beating so fast, he hears it in his ears. You look up, a soft crinkle in your smile, a faint smudge of clay on your cheek as you encourage him. Maybe it’s the light or the softness of your hand against his, but he thinks he’s never seen a person as beautiful as you.

__

Both of you are greeted by the image of Satoru, cut straight from the cover of Vogue, he’s adorned in formal attire, a well-fitted blazer draping his frame.

"Wow," you exclaim, and Getou can't help but silently concur. Satoru cleans up impressively when he decides to wear more than just loosely fitted house clothing. "Where are you off to, Mr. Businessman?"

One second you’re beside Getou and the next you’re throwing yourself onto him, your hands encircling his neck, as you pepper soft kisses to his cheek. 

“There’s a gala tonight at Dad’s,” Satoru mumbles, a playful pout forming on his lips. “Please come with me or I won’t make it to bed tonight,” he says, throwing his head back as his grip loosens around you

“Sure, but I need to take a shower and get dressed. It'll take a bit,” you say, glancing down at your clay-stained clothing.

"It's alright," Satoru reassures you. “Come in when you’re ready. It's scheduled to continue until midnight,” he says. He then turns his attention to Getou. “You too – Suguru, Dad asked for you. You’re free, right?”

Getou's mind races, contemplating a myriad of excuses he could offer. He's not entirely sure which one will slip from his lips, but just as he's about to speak, you interject.

“He’s free all night,” you say. Right, he did tell you he had no plans. 

“I’ll see you both there,” Satoru grins, bestowing a soft peck on your cheek before jokingly leaning in to plant a kiss on Suguru's cheek as well. Suguru nudges him off with a groan, but can't suppress a small smile as Satoru walks away, giggling softly, toward the car.

—

“Wow,” you say, emerging from the room, a blue dress adorning your figure. As you approach Getou, you wrap a shawl around your neck. "You clean up nicely, Suguru."

"Thank you," he replies, his words plain as his eyes remain fixed on the mirror as he fumbles with tying his tie. 

Getou has always relied on Satoru for this task — ever since Satoru first learned to tie a tie at the age of seven, Suguru has had little need to do it himself. Satoru’s always around after all. Maybe he should wait until they arrive at the gala and let Satoru take care of it.

"I can help if that’s okay," you offer, and finally, Suguru turns to look at you. And it’s not a surprise, not when he found you beautiful with clay smeared on your face. You’re beautiful, in a refined sense this time.

"You look beautiful," he remarks, the words flowing forth unbidden and unrestrained from his lips. His eyes remain fixed on you, dazed and entranced.

"Thank you," you respond with a warm smile. Your hands reach for his tie, your fingers deftly adjusting its length.

You work quickly and efficiently, handing him your phone as you loop the tie and pull it up to his neck. "Is this too tight?" you inquire.

"No, it's perfect. Thank you," he replies, with a gulp, returning your phone with a smile.

"Shall we go?" you suggest, and all he can do is nod in silent agreement.

—

The event is grand, a slew of gold and shimmer greeting you as you enter through the big doors. You haven't attended many events hosted by the Gojo household, for Satoru rarely graces such occasions with his presence. However, when you have attended, they have always been nothing short of grand.

You make a conscious effort not to be daunted by the esteemed guests. Being with Gojo Satoru requires an air of confidence that should precede the man himself. He effortlessly commands respect solely by his birthright, but you need to command respect despite your birthright. Still, it comes easy to you as your hands are locked with Getou’s, you walk through — your head held high, only greeting those who bow to greet you. 

You’re only at the precipice of your entry, and Satoru walks his way towards the two of you. The hand locked to your own starts to falter but you hold it tight, turning to eye Suguru who looks at you confused. Satoru’s here now, you can let go but you don’t — you merely tighten your hand as Satoru holds his hand out for your other, unoccupied hand. 

You smile, “Why, thank you.” And the three of you enter in lockstep with each other.

The evening goes as every evening at this household does — Satoru’s by your side clinging to you as he whines about leaving, you remind him that you all just got here, Getou passes you some food, and you chomp on them as you sip the wine, judging its taste with Suguru, Satoru disappears, presumably having a fight with his father, as you look all over trying to find him. 

The evening proceeds as every evening at the Gojo residence does. Satoru clings to your side, bemoaning the idea of leaving even though you've all just arrived. You reassure him, reminding him that the event has only just begun. Getou discreetly passes you some food from the counter, and you nibble on it while sipping your wine, judging its taste with Suguru. Satoru vanishes momentarily, presumably locked in a confrontation with his father, and you look all over the building trying to find him. 

This time, however, Suguru doesn’t help you look. He stops you, his voice soft but resolute. “Let's dance.” 

You're taken aback, but you accept his outstretched hand. You know he’s partly doing this because you’re too worried today, Satoru seems to be in a more fragile state than usual — what with his mother, his father, and his father’s mistress making an appearance together today. 

Getou moves like a man with composure, his demeanor still and practiced as he swirls you across the floor. There's a slight fear in your heart that you might stumble and fall, but with each step, his hand holds your body tight, securing you with every move.

“You’re good at this,” you remark. “Really good.”

"Yeah," he replies. "I've had some practice," he recalls a time when Satoru had offered to help him learn how to dance before prom — to impress his date. "Satoru taught me," he admits.

"Right, checks out," you chuckle. "You're even better than him though. Do you secretly practice in that little room of yours?" you squint your eyes, with a smirk on your lips.

“Well, only so I can impress pretty girls like you,” he quips, punctuating his statement with a graceful dip.

You rise from the dip, a soft heat coursing through your cheeks. You're about to respond when you notice Satoru standing alone, a forlorn expression on his face as he downs a glass of alcohol. Suguru’s eyes follow your own as he turns, his own expression shifting to one of concern — Satoru rarely indulges in alcohol.

“You should talk to him,” you suggest, aware of the soft, resentful pang within your insulated chest that recognizes — right now, Satoru needs Suguru more than you. He’s a much more practiced person in the art of soothing Satoru having decades to perfect them. And besides, you figure someone needs to cover for the three of you here, and it might as well be you and your pretty smiles.

Suguru nods, making his way across the hall to reach Satoru — he doesn’t say much, only asking him to follow him outside to the balcony, Satoru wordlessly complies.

"You should set the glass down, Satoru," Suguru gently advises, attempting to pry the drink from his grip. Satoru resists momentarily, causing a small spill on his suit.

"This suit was expensive, you know," Satoru mumbles, his words slurring slightly. “You’re paying for this.”

“Uh-huh,” it would cause barely a dent in Gojo’s account to replace the suit, but he knows he’s deflecting trying to talk about anything but what’s bothering him. "What's bothering you? We can leave if you want. We've been here for a while."

"I'm fine," Satoru insists, dawdling closer to the balcony's edge. Suguru hurries to hold onto him, his fingers tightening around Satoru's waist.

"You're not fine," Suguru counters gently. He manages to take the glass from Satoru's hand, setting it aside. "Tell me, Satoru."

"I don't... I don't know," Satoru confesses, his voice heavy and his voice meek. "I've known about them since I was ten. Why does it still bother me?" 

“It doesn't matter how long you've known about it. Emotions don't adhere to timelines, Satoru,” Suguru says, his words soft because they can be — it’s only the two of them out here in the chill of the evening air.

After a while, Satoru finally breaks the quietude. "Thank you for this," he says.

Suguru doesn’t respond.

“I don’t say this often, or at all but thank you,” he says, with a sad chuckle. 

Suguru smiles, as Satoru comes to hug him, flopping himself onto Suguru’s body. He’s tired and drunk and acting sappy, Suguru chuckles. Satoru tries to push back, and he manages — enough to leave a soft kiss on Suguru's neck, “Thank you.” He hears him mumble as he tightens his hold on Satoru.

Suguru attempts to pull back to meet Satoru's gaze, but the younger man seems dazed and half-conscious. It becomes clear to Suguru that it's time to take Satoru home.

—

Things change after the gala. Suguru finds that he prefers this to whatever was happening before. At least now, he’s in here with the two of you, able to take up space in his own living room, his own house — instead of being cooped up in his room in order to avoid sharing space with you two. 

You started inviting him out to events you attend, he finds that you’re far more resourceful than himself or Satoru — you have a myriad of hobbies, all of which you treat with care. He finds himself doing the same, despite his disinterest in some — he likes the time he spends with you. Satoru starts joining in on some days. On other days, he lounges on the couch, inviting Suguru to fall into a routine of laziness with him, the two of them end up napping all day, only for you to come join them in the evening. 

You hear the click of the door handle turning, and then shuffling, before Getou flits into the living room with a small cover in his hand. 

He’s about to greet you when he sees you in your sorry state — nose running, eyes weeping with a slew of tissues at your feet.

“Uhh—” He stops to take the scene entirely before his eyes flit to the screen in front of you — a movie with a dog and some child playing. “Are you on your period?” He finishes, looking directly at you, face serious with concern. 

Your mouth opens ajar in shock, “I hope this is some sort of bad joke on your part,” you retort.

“No, I’m just confused,” he replies, eyeing the screen and back to your face. His face serious and lacking of any sense of amusement, 

“What’s confusing — I’m allowed to cry without it being my period,” you say, firmly but he’s finding it hard to take you seriously when all he wants to do is squish your cheeks. “I’m allowed to be sad,” you say.

“You’re just — you’re not often,” he says plainly.

Another figure flits into the scene with sleepy eyes and the same excruciating sweatpants.“Shit baby, are you on your period again?” he says, with a yawn.

Your mouth opens up more, in shock, in annoyance before you speak up a simple word — “Couch.”

Getou only then chuckles.

“What? What did I do?” He whines, immediately by your side as he clings to your head. “Baby?” He prods again, and you can tell he’s trying to don puppy eyes but you can’t see him through all your tears.

“Couch,” you reaffirm. “Tonight.”

You hear Getou giggle from the kitchen before he’s by your side, his hand stretching over to give you — “Ice cream?” He asks.

You take it wordlessly but Getou doesn’t miss the soft crinkles on your face.

The three of you settle on the couch, you in the middle, with Satoru and Suguru flanking you on either side. Satoru wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you snuggle against him, your tears slowly subsiding. Suguru leans in, his hand resting on your thigh in a comforting gesture. Suguru can’t help but wander with his mind, is it normal for Gojo to let him, his best friend, do this to his girlfriend? Is it normal for him to like it?

"You guys are kinda sweet when you’re not being dicks, you know," you sniffle, wiping away the remnants of your tears with a tissue.

Getou chuckles softly, and Satoru joins in, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

—

"I should probably head home.”

Satoru pouts playfully. "Can't you stay a little longer, baby?"

“No, I have class tomorrow and I don’t want to be late.”

“Getou can drop you with the car, it’s fine. Stay. Pretty please,” he pouts even more.

“What?” Getou asks. “Why should I drop her?”

“You don’t want to drop me?” you ask, he doesn’t miss the slight hurt in your voice, in fact, it stings at his heart but he’s confused and he doesn’t understand anything at all at this moment.

“No— Of course, I don’t mind. But Satoru can drop you,” he says, confusingly reassuring.

“What?” Gojo asks, confused. “You know I sleep in. And you’re up by that time anyway.”

“But you are the boyfriend,” he rolls his eyes. “You should be doing this,” he says.

“Well, if that’s all,” Satoru chuckles, getting up to come and place himself standing beside Getou. He lifts his hand up, patting both sides of Suguru’s shoulders like he’s knighting him. “I now dub you my girlfriend’s boyfriend.” He continues to chuckle as you join in with the chortles but Suguru doesn’t laugh.

Satoru, still reeling from the humor, leans down and kisses your forehead. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I know Suguru will drop you home. He always does. And if not, I dunno know— just kick me awake."

“Fine, fine. See you both tomorrow,” you say, giving both of them a final smile before you head out the door.

Suguru remains still, still dazed from the knighting scene, and watches as you blend into the darkness of Satoru's bedroom.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Fifteen

Words: 6.4k 18+ Minors DNI

Shauna may finally be gone, but now the real work begins: healing.

Chapter warnings: Angst, smut (yes *finally*, not me saving it to the last chapter lol), I dunno if it's even really smut because there are also feels tbh but nevertheless minors DNI, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oh my god we got there

A/N: Ok wow, I feel emotional. We've arrived at the final chapter. I just want to say an enormous thank you to all of you for your support of this story, your mutual and hilarious hatred of Shauna, and your patience with our girl Teach. I hope you find this ending satisfying, and I would absolutely LOVE to hear your thoughts - good or bad. I wrote this story over the course of many months, over the course of many life changes and a life-altering loss, and injury. You kept me going, and I thank you so much for that. Thank you, thank you, thank you x

Fourteen | Series Masterlist | Epilogue

A/N 2: actually….after some sleep and some very fair and generous feedback I’m going to pop an epilogue on this guy. I can’t say goodbye to these three.

The front windows were dark, but as he pushed open the door he could hear the soft murmurs of Ellie and Tommy, felt along the corridor to the back room where they sat, huddled over a lantern, a loose blanket over Ellie’s shoulders. They stilled when he came in, Ellie giving him the once over.

‘Where is she?’ Joel murmured, his voice rough from the cold.

‘Put her upstairs, she was dead on ‘er feet,’ Tommy said. He watched the furrow of Joel’s brow lessen only slightly. ‘I wrapped her up tight and warm, brother,’ he said, grinning a little.

‘She spent all day with her,’ Ellie explained, her face impassive but the venom behind the word. ‘She deserved a rest.’

Joel nodded, considering this. He wanted to head up the stairs and stick his head in, check that you were warm enough, that you were still there. Tommy watched as Joel clenched and unclenched his fist.

‘Where is she?’ Tommy asked, and Joel quickly shook his head.

‘Didn’t find her, she took the horse and the gun. But I got the third one, brought it back here, put it in the garage with the others.’

‘We’ll have enough to get back, easy,’ Tommy calculated, and Joel agreed. He gazed back at Ellie, saw the way she was staring down at the tabletop as if it had secrets printed in the wood.

‘I might hit the hay,’ Tommy said, standing quietly and, catching Joel’s eye, nodding towards Ellie. ‘I’ll check in on Teach, make sure she’s restin’ easy.’

Joel’s shoulders finally fell, some of the tension leaking out of him. Suddenly he was so tired, his bones aching in the cold. He wavered a little as Tommy practically shouldered him into the chair beside Ellie, who watched him sit. In the lamplight her pale skin glowed, ethereal.

For a moment the two sat in silence, listening as Tommy’s footfalls quieted up the stairs.

‘M’sorry-‘

‘-sorry,’ Ellie said at the same time, the two of them stopping to smile nervously at the other.

‘What you sorry for, kiddo?’ Joel asked, reaching up to rub at his shoulder, the band of muscles tight all the way up to his jaw.

‘Comin’ out here, believing Shauna. Then Teach coming out, nearly getting…’

‘Stop,’ Joel said, moving forward to rest his hand on Ellie’s, turning it palm-up and gripping it. ‘This is on me, all of it. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘I heard what you said,’ Ellie said, her eyes still cast down. ‘This morning, that you thought I shouldn’t see Teach anymore. That I should spend more time with Shauna.’

Joel felt heat on his cheeks, a bubbling of something ugly and accusing in his belly.

‘I was trying to…keep the peace.’ He watched as Ellie scoffed, withdrawing her hand from him. ‘I was wrong,’ he said, quickly, hoping to catch her before she retreated from him entirely. ‘I was…weak. I was scared, I dunno. I shouldn’t have let her…’

At this, Joel trailed off. He wasn’t sure where to start, where exactly it had all truly begun. Was it when she pushed Ellie out into the studio? Was it when she essentially forced the Town Council to execute Steve and Wren? Was it when she arrived at the gates, injured and scared, having apparently scorched the earth here and running out of bridges to burn?

Was it when she left, the first time. When it was just him and Sarah, and he did his best not to show the anger, the hurt, for what he thought at the time was the sake of his little girl. Let her go on believin’ her mama might come back, let her go on leavin’ presents under the Christmas tree even years later. Didn’t really tell her what was goin’ on, just let her guess. Let her believe her mama might one day come for her, because he was too chicken shit to tell her the truth: Shauna never loved either of them, never had any capacity for love other than when it served her.

And he’d let her do it, let her leave and come back just to repeat the same shit twenty-five years later. Knew all that she was, knew what she was capable of, and kept her secrets just the same.

‘I should have protected you from her, and what she was doing…but I didn’t let myself see it, because I wasn’t strong enough to believe it for m’self,’ he said, eventually. He watched Ellie’s eyes go wide.

‘Woah,’ she muttered, and for a moment he just stared at her, the entirety of his circulatory system on display, his skin fleyed away. ‘That’s some serious honesty, man,’ she said, and then grinned at him. ‘Proud of you.’

Joel felt relief swirl light and cool in his belly, a huffed out little laugh escaping him.

‘Thank you, only took me a coupla decades,’ he said.

Ellie let her grin wane a little. ‘I thought I was gonna have to explain it to ya stupid ass,’ she said, and giggled with him.

Ellie rubbed at her eyes, the exhaustion suddenly plain on her face. Joel stilled, concern overtaking him.

‘Y’should sleep, Babygirl,’ he said, but Ellie was shaking her head.

‘Need to talk t’you,’ she said, shimmying her shoulders a little as if she could force the sleepiness off them.

Joel swallowed. ‘Wait…’ he said, because suddenly he was seeing visions of her telling him she wasn’t going back to Jackson, visions of her saying she was heading over the horizon to Salt Lake, to Washington, to some other QZ to try and find another nest of fireflies, a nightmare of her telling him she didn’t love him anymore after all that he did. ‘Wait, babygirl…I gotta tell you something,’ he said, watching her to make sure she’d let him.

She settled, uneasy, on her chair. Joel took a big breath. ‘When Shauna came back, and I first looked into her eyes, y’know what I saw?’

‘Sarah,’ Ellie said, easily, and Joel smiled a little. Of course she knew.

‘Yeah, Sarah.’

‘Y’told Tommy,’ Ellie said, casually throwing his younger brother under the bus, ‘and Tommy told me. I think he was worried I was mad at you.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yeah…but not for that part,’ she replied, with that honesty that could devastate him.

‘I kept her around, ignored all her shit, because…I felt like, I had to. I felt like Sarah was in there somewhere, like I could do her right somehow if I took in her mama.’

Ellie nodded, listening intently.

‘I was wrong, Babygirl,’ Joel said, his voice thickening under the strain of trying to get the words out before she abandoned him. ‘I see more of Sarah in you then I ever saw in those two eyes.’

Ellie blinked at him, reaching out to take Joel’s hand again, and he saw for the first time that it was trembling. He braced, took a breath. ‘See her in you when you’re givin’ me shit, when you make me eat m’breakfast…when you remind me to dress right for the cold. For so long I couldn’t even stand it, the way you reminded me of her.’

He swallowed. ‘The both of you…so smart, so funny. The way you do what’s right, always wanna do what’s right. Fix shit. Try to save people. Try to protect ‘em. She was like that. I loved that about her. I love that about you, too.’

He watched as Ellie’s eyes grew wet, mirroring his own. He wanted to reach up and wipe away the tear tracking down his cheek, but it would mean letting her go. ‘I saw you up there on that roof protectin’ Teach, trying to call them off ‘er.’ He tasted sour over the back of his throat, his heart beating wild in his chest, the image of you with your eyes shut tight wailing for them to come for you instead still seared onto the back of his eyelids. ‘Sarah was a smart girl, but that was brave, Babygirl. That was strong.’

He sucked in a breath, exhaling it long and slow out of his nose. ‘All this time I made you feel like you were matchin’ up to her, didn’t I?’ he asked, and his heart broke a little as she nodded. ‘You went out to that damn studio in the garage because you thought I didn’t need ya anymore, didn’t wantya now I had my old family back. Some of it, anyway.’ Again, Ellie nodded. Joel bit down on his bottom lip to stop it wobbling, wondering if he would draw blood. ‘I’ll never forgive m’self for making ya feel that way,’ he said. ‘Because she would have loved you, Babygirl. She woulda looked up t’ya, woulda done anythin’ she could to be a badass like her sister.’

At this, Ellie gasped, and Joel realised, for the first time, he’d said it out loud. Her sister.

‘Know I hurt ya, you and Teach.’ He had to remind himself not to grip her hand so hard he might break it, purposefully loosening his knuckles. ‘Just please…’ he said, a little gasped sob stopping him for a second. ‘Please…don’t give up on me.’

Ellie let his hand go, sliding back into the chair. Joel righted himself, wiping his face and mirroring her, trying to tamp down the panic washing up over the shore of his belly.

‘I don’t wanna stay in the studio,’ Ellie said, picking at the skin on her fingers.

‘You can come right back home…’ Joel agreed, but Ellie held her hand up to stop him and he trailed away. This was it. She was going to march off to meet her death on the side of some mountain, at the bottom of some ravine, at the end of a raider’s gun, and it would be as if he was the one that did it, slid the rocks out from under her feet, pushed her head under the water, pulled the trigger and painted her blood on the wall.

‘I want to stay with Teach,’ she rushed out, seeing that he was panicking, the way he was lifting his hand to his chest.

At this, Joel blinked, struggling to hear with one bad ear and the other full of blood and terror.

‘I…what?’ he asked.

‘I checked with her, she said it was OK if you said it was OK. She said…she could give me her spare room.’

Joel tried to digest this, tried not let the panic overtake him, the beast just behind his breastbone chanting under my roof, under my roof.

‘Did she?’ he asked, stupidly.

‘It’s not about…it’s not out of anger,’ Ellie said, her voice wavering a little. Later he would reflect on how hard this must have been for her, when he was able to assemble his thoughts into a line again. ‘I just…I need space. For a while. To get passed it all.’

‘You got space in the studio…’

‘Not there,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Doesn’t feel right, now. Maybe one day but…now it just feels like that place is all about…her.’

He knew he couldn’t protest, knew he had no right to howl in anguish or fury at the idea. Even in the studio she’d been too far away, but now this…

But she was staying in Jackson. And you would care for her, like she was your own.

‘M’so sorry, Babygirl…’ he said, the weight of the day suddenly pressing on him. ‘You go wherever y’feel comfortable, I don’t want you to feel like ya can’t be…yourself, where you are.’ The guilt was heavy on his back, and he shifted in his seat to try and ease the pressure of it, failing almost immediately.

‘It won’t be forever…’ Ellie said, and he realised she was consoling him, something he never wanted her to be in the position to have to do.

‘No, you take as long as you need,’ he said. ‘I’ll be alright, will give me time to practice my guitar without…judgement,’ he said, mustering enough courage to wink a little on the last word just in the hope it would make her smile. To his relief, it did.

‘Can burn all the mac and cheese you want,’ she grinned.

‘Whole place will smell like burnt noodles 24 hours a day,’ he said, feigning pride and puffing out his chest. She giggled at this, and he felt some of it brush up against the sharp edges, debride some of the scorched flesh.

‘Listen, you and Teach…’ Ellie said, and he grimaced.

‘We don’t have to…’

‘You and Teach,’ Ellie repeated, talking over him, and he quieted immediately, ‘I don’t need to know details, but you nearly fucked that up too, man,’ she reported.

‘She hate me?’ he asked her, and Ellie pretended to think for a second before she shook her head.

‘Hate’s a strong word,’ she smiled, ‘but she and I talked and…I mean, I’m fine, but you gotta…’

‘I know I gotta,’ he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling, imagining you tucked up on a mattress made of sagging springs and rotting cotton.

‘She’s good for you,’ Ellie said, and Joel let his eyes snap back to her. ‘Before Shauna, and all of that…you were doin’ better. I could see it in you.’

Joel smiled at this, the fatigue pulling hard now at his shoulders. ‘She was a badass today,’ Ellie said, and Joel nodded.

‘She gave you her gun, huh?’ he asked, and Ellie nodded.

‘Tch…stupid,’ Joel muttered, pretending to disapprove, braced for the whack Ellie immediately sent his way.

For a moment they both stilled. ‘I dunno, she just…she feels so warm, y’know?’ Ellie said.

Joel nodded. All this time he’d been worried he would steal that very same warmth for himself, when you’d been trying to give it to him, willingly.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he agreed.

--

You woke with a gasp, the tattered curtains doing nothing to shield against the dawn. You squinted, your body wound tight like a spring, your mind racing to catch up. Ellie on the roof, Wren meandering towards you, then up in Joel’s arms, your face pressed into his neck as you whimpered. Your sense-memories kicked in before the images played in your mind, your heart thrumming against the walls of your chest while you fought to get your bearings.  

Joel’s arms around you, holding you to him, up and into safety. Tight and strong. You could still feel them banded around your waist.

A soft little snore behind you made you freeze. You ran your hands under the blankets to feel the arms bracketing you, holding you again to him.

His warm breath pushed at the back of your neck, your legs tangled with his under the blankets. For a long moment you lay still, your eyes travelling passed the curtain to the vista beyond it, the snow-capped mountain where you had sent your gaze the night before, as you had prepared yourself to see Rose again, to be again with your parents. Knowing Ellie would be safe, to rest.

As the sun set last night over the trees, now the dawn broke across them. You let you a long breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, felt the pull of the muscles under your jaw, a hot little tear threading its way down your cheek to the bare pillow beneath you.

‘Hey…’ you heard behind you, your little sniffles enough to wake such a light sleeper.

‘Sorry…’ you immediately started apologising, even as he turned you in his arms, pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and cocooned you in it, slipped his hand underneath your neck to cradle your head against the warmth of his skin. You gasped into him, feeling his pulse just beneath the skin as he pressed you to his throat.

‘Easy…easy…’ he whispered, and you sucked in a breath just to let it sob out of you.

‘M’sorry…’ you tried again, but he was having none of it, cooing to you with his lips to your brow, shushing you gently as you whimpered.

‘I thought I was going to…’ you stuttered, and he stilled, letting you get it out. ‘I was ready to, Joel. I was going to see Rose.’

He felt the weight of the words settle over his shoulders, felt the little tickle of heat behind his eyes.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he whispered as you brought your hand to your face to shield yourself from him, from the sweetness of it, from the fault line emerging jagged and burning down your middle.

‘I got ready,’ you said, as he rolled to his back, pulling you with him and securing you fast to his chest. You cried into his neck, your face tucked away under his jaw.

‘No, not yet, baby,’ he cooed. ‘Not ready for that, yet.’

You felt the strength of his arms around you, the tightness of his hold, the tension in your muscles melting away under the press of him. Gradually you stilled, your gasping sobs simmering back into hiccupped little sniffles. Eventually you realised Joel had been speaking to you.

‘So brave…my smart, brave girl,’ he said, his mouth pressed again to your forehead. You closed your eyes, remembered the thundering of the horse as he rode to you, the world tilting as he pulled you to him, his whispered words as Tommy got Ellie off the roof.

Remembered the moment you saw her, had needed to pull her into your arms, to let your body feel her safe and sound, pressed her into your chest in the hope that your nervous system might finally start to believe.

You reached up and pushed your fingers through the buttonholes of Joel’s shirt, entwining yourself in him, weaving yourself into the fabric. You stilled as his hand came to rest on yours.

‘You found her, you got her back to me,’ he said, his voice thick. You raised your head and watched a tear track down his cheek. ‘Thank you, baby,’ he choked out.

The tear tracked a silver line down his skin, glowing in the light of the dawn. You pressed your lips to it, felt the moisture absorb into your skin, down into your bloodstream, where it mingled with yours.

‘She wants to live with me,’ you said, exhaustion pulling your head back down to rest on his cheek. ‘I won’t take her unless you say so.’

‘I know you’ll take good care of her,’ he said, earnest, to the peeling paint above your heads.

‘Do we go back to Jackson, now?’ you asked, your voice quiet.

‘I guess we do,’ Joel agreed, shifting his gaze to the window, eyeing up the cold. ‘Maybe when we’ve got the warmth of the day.’

You nodded, sniffling, still. You were hungry, and you were so tired, and you felt more exposed than you had in years, out beyond the walls. But Joel had you tucked up under his chin, wrapped in threadbare blankets on a lumpy mattress, and for the moment this was all you wanted, this moment to stretch out long and languid into the afternoon, this man beneath you and around you, before the world got so much harder all over again.

‘M’not ready to go back,’ you mumbled and he stilled, his hand suddenly gripping yours.

Panic seized him, commenced burrowing sharp claws into his chest. He knew he had hurt you, knew there was so much still to say, but he had thought Jackson was your home, had been yours before it had been his, and if either of you should choose to exile themselves due to the devastation he’d brought down upon you, it should surely be him.

‘…what?’ he gasped, letting his eyes track the blooming water stain in the ceiling to distract from the maw opening in his chest.

You raised your head to look at him properly, your tears dry on your cheeks. He gazed down at you, his heart beating so wildly in his chest he was sure you could hear it.

‘Please, Joel…’ you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips as he felt them quiver. ‘I don’t want to go back to real life yet. I need to…I need…’

You trailed off, your cheeks pinking up in the gentle purple light breaking over the mountain.

He understood, then, pulling you up and over him so that he could properly crash his lips to yours. You reached up, pushing your fingers into his hair, feeling him shiver when you raked your nails over his scalp.

‘Oh, fuck…’ he whimpered into the cavern of your mouth, shifting his hips to seat you, straddled, above him.

‘Please…’ you whispered again, ‘I need to feel good.’  

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he muttered, cradling you to him as he stripped your shirt from your body, peppering kisses over every inch of skin as he exposed it.

‘Need to feel you…’ you huffed, reaching down to pull his own shirt over his head, seeking out the heat of his skin, feeling the muscles taut and shivering as he hissed at your touch on him. His chest, so impossibly broad, marred with scars from years of conflict. His arms, so strong and firm when he circled you in them. His knuckles, split and pink from the cold, rough against your skin as you pressed them to your lips.

You felt the ache in your core, the sudden feeling of emptiness enough to have you keen into the air above your head.

‘Ssh…’ Joel whispered, reaching up to pull you back down to him, kissing you deep and slow to swallow your groans. ‘Need to be quiet, baby, can’t wake up the whole house.’

You nodded, concentrating hard to try and make sense of what he was saying to you, distracted as you were by his hard length now nestled between your thighs. You rolled your hips, pushing down on him just enough to elicit a gasp from him and you smiled, then, victorious. You watched the dimple on his right cheek emerge as gave you a lopsided grin. ‘Cheeky girl,’ he said, as you rolled again.

You kissed him again, tasting him in your mouth, grasping his bottom lip between your teeth. How many nights had you spent imagining his beneath you like this, writhing and groaning?

‘God, baby, so beautiful,’ he muttered, grasping at your hip and pushing his clothed cock up to your mound. ‘I was so selfish when I had you on that damn couch,’ he gritted out, taking a second to gasp and regain his ability to speak. ‘Just took from ya…’

He pushed one foot into the mattress as he flipped you, catching your yelp in his palm over your mouth as he positioned you underneath him, reaching down to pull your pants and your underwear off and down your legs.

‘Wanna give now, baby, just like you deserve,’ he promised as you let your eyes fall closed, his words a soothing balm over your frayed nerves.

You fumbled for his waistband, fumbling fingers in the way of his as you pulled at him. He grinned, removing his hand from over your mouth to slip the fabric free of his hips. You allowed yourself a single glance.

He was beautiful, like he’d been carved out of marble just for your eyes. His cock, hard and thrumming as it was, thick and almost purple he was so hard. You swallowed a moan, turning your head to sink your teeth into his forearm to keep yourself from making a sound. He let our a surprised laugh.

‘Been thinking about this pretty little cunt ever since I tasted her,’ he informed you, his eyes roaming over your body as you lay beneath him, panting and your chest red. He leant down, unable to resist, to slip a nipple between his lips and tugged gently at the bud between his teeth. Your hands automatically went to his hair, turning his curls over in your fingers as you whimpered above him. ‘This beautiful little cunt all spread open for me on that fuckin’ couch,’ he said, using his free hand to trace his way down your body to tease, gently, between your thighs. You felt his fingers trace your slit, gently ghosting up and down over the skin and you keened for him, rolled your hips as if you could grasp him and bring him into yourself through sheer force of will.

‘Thought about you…’ you confessed, suddenly emboldened by your overwhelming need for him, by the pulsing of your cunt so close to his touch. ‘About your mouth on me, about your fingers.’

‘Bout my cock?’ he asked, and you nodded, your eyes finding his as he slipped his fingertip to your clit, finding the little bundle of nerves straining for him. You gasped as he made tight little circles, played you like an instrument made just for his hands.

‘Oh…!’ you gasped as he descended, lay his body on you and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He kept his mouth clamped as he slid his fingers between your folds, his weight pressing you into the mattress and enrobing you in him. He bit back a groan as he explored you, felt your slick gathering at the peak of your thighs.

‘Please…’ you whimpered into his mouth, bring your face to the side to again bring your mouth to his bicep, whispering pleas into his skin. ‘Please, need you, please don’t tease me…’ you begged.

He shifted, settling between your thighs, watching your face as you opened your eyes to follow him as he moved above you.

‘God, baby…’ he said, and you nodded at him, agreeing wholeheartedly with all the things in this moment he couldn’t find the words to say.

Joel took a second to breathe, to record this moment in his mind, so unsure if he would ever get another one like it. He shook himself, sliding a shaking hand over his length and pushing to notch at your entrance.

He watched your face as he found his home in you. Saw the way your face relaxed, from saddled brows and gasping pleas to closed eyes, slack jaw, your mouth hanging open as he stretched you. He leant forward to take your chin in his hand, nibbling little kisses to your chin as he hitched your leg over his hips to sink himself in, deeper.

Heaven. Maybe he had died down on that street after all. He shivered as you raised your hands to his back, cradling him to you, your sweet little whimpers hot in his ear.

‘So big…’ you gasped, as he stole your lips in another kiss.

‘M’sorry, baby,’ he started, the pleasure running rampant over his brain stem, words suddenly bubbling up from deep inside. ‘M’so sorry, I just took…I just took…’ he said, sorrow melding with white hot joy. ‘Wanna give it all back, everythin’ anyone ever took from ya,’ he choked out, half out of his mind now, feeling a crack appearing in a long-held dam. ‘Wanna love you, baby, like you should be.’

You were gasping, taking fast, shallow breaths as he pushed impossibly deeper inside you, whimpering as tears gathered again on your cheeks.  

‘Joel…’ you mewled, and he sobbed out your name to pair it.

‘Will never hurt you again,’ he promised, cradling your head in his hands as he went up on his elbows above you, kissed the tears where they ran. ‘Will only love you, baby, I promise. I promise.’

You fluttered around him, and he thought as long as he lived he’d never feel peace as this, never feel so at home as he was buried inside your beautiful, warm body.

He ground against you, his pubic bone pushed hard and unforgiving into your clit. You lifted your head to Joel’s shoulder, sinking your mouth into the muscle to stop yourself from crying out at the burning pleasure of it, the building ache.

‘I can’t…’ you whined, ‘I can’t hold it back, Joel…’

‘Don’t you dare hold it back, wanna see you come’ he gritted out, purposefully grinding harder on your clit just to watch your brows arch.

You shook your head. No, no, not that. Couldn’t hold the world back, couldn’t hold back the encroaching dark. Couldn’t hold the love back, rushing up to meet you as you crashed, as you fell all the way down.

You took his face in your hands, desperate to get him to understand. He dipped his hips, his pace slowing as he ground deeper into you, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head again, scared to speak lest you let it all go.  

You knew after this it wasn’t going to be easy. That after this there would be hard conversations, long-healing wounds. That after this the sharp edges would reappear, the hardness of the world encroaching again. But in this moment, Joel nestled deep inside you, his skin between your teeth and his arms wrapped so tight against you. In this moment you were safe, in this moment the cold and the darkness could never get to you. In this moment your salvation and your forgiveness, in this moment your acceptance of his flaws and of yours. In this moment, well beyond the walls to protect you, freer than you had ever been.

You couldn’t contain it. The tremorous fear, the scorch of it, the aching. Couldn’t let it go, terrified to let it consume you.

You watched realisation dawn across his face.

‘Oh baby, I know,’ he said, resting his forehead on yours as he felt the wildfire begin at the base of his spine. ‘S’OK, baby,’ he assured you as you writhed beneath him. ‘We’ll go together, we’ll go together, my sweet girl.’  

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

No one in Jackson had a lot of stuff, so Ellie fit quite nicely into your spare bedroom, and into your life. As soon as she’d settled into her new space you settled into your new routine of waking her in the morning, ignoring her grumbling, making her eat some oats or some toast and packing her off to walk with you to school. Of an afternoon she’d go off with Dina or her group of steadily solidifying friends, returning to your doorstep for dinner just as the sun dipped low over the horizon.

Some nights she’d help you cook, cutting the potatoes with a steady hand, her concentration poking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. Other days you would send her down to the mess hall to bring back something, holding the leftovers in the fridge for the morning.

Before bed you’d get her to read to you for a little bit, and her pompous English accent was coming along. It had worked especially well for Persuasion, but less so for The Great Gatsby.

‘I don’t see what was so great about this Gatsby guy,’ she proclaimed, screwing up her face in distaste.

‘Mmm,’ you agreed, non-committal. ‘Let’s see how that plays out.’

You kept telling yourself she was your roommate, so you resisted the urge to tutor her, to parent her, in the times when you weren’t at school. You had stumbled upon a somewhat motivating phrase one afternoon when she was feeling restless, talking about sneaking Dina out of her house past curfew to go and hang out with some of the younger patrolmen behind the Bison, asking her with a patient tone ‘What would Joel say?’. She’d stayed tucked up in bed that night, and every night the rest of that week.

And some afternoons you knew that she left school and went to stand on the wall with him, chatting to him and keeping him entertained until his shift was over and she came back home. You resisted the urge to ask about him, wanting to give her the time with him, to give yourself the time just the same.

When you’d returned to Jackson you hadn’t had to ask him, knew that he sensed it anyway, in that way that he had. You cooled things off with Jonah, kept your head down thinking about the next year’s curriculum, considering whether you could safely incorporate some kind of field trips beyond the wall so the kids could be safe if they ever got stuck out there. The Town Council were considering the idea, even though Billy wasn’t keen.

And you kept clear of Joel, letting the wound settle a little before you poked it, parts of your life still feeling purple and bruised where he had been. Sometimes you and Rose discussed it of a nighttime, and you were surprised to find she was on your side. She counselled not guarding your heart too closely, when the time was right that you felt you could let him in. When you were ready. Until then, you knew he was there.

--

Joel worked the wall, his eyes on the horizon and on the streets beneath him. If he got up early enough, started his shift a little early, he could be up in time to see you and Ellie make your morning pilgrimage to your little schoolhouse on the hill. He wouldn’t feel settled until he saw it, your two figures disappearing around the corner, wrapped up against the cold.

He filled his time. He was getting better at guitar, remembering some old tunes he hadn’t thought of for a long time, some of Sarah’s favourites if he remembered properly. Of a nighttime he would come down off the wall and make his way to Tommy’s, have a quick bite for dinner and head back home before Robin got too grizzly. He probably wouldn’t ever be able to tell him, but he was proud of the father Tommy was becoming, of the leaders he and Maria were for Jackson. He’d never be able to say how grateful he was to his brother for helping him secure this second chance.

And then there were his favourite afternoons, the ones where Ellie would amble down the hill just as the light started fading, vault up the ladder and keep him company ‘til shift change. The first time she’d done it he’d stood, his hands in his pockets and almost too scared to turn to her, keeping his back stiff and upright looking out over the treeline. She’d settled beside him, resting against a pillar and gazing out and up over the mountain. She hadn’t said anything of any consequence, nothing of any meaning, her presence there just enough for him.

The second time he’d asked her if she liked her new place and she agreed that she did, even though you were always trying to teach her things. He grinned at that, his mind conjuring up an image of you, exasperated, trying to make Ellie concentrate on a twenty-year old textbook.

‘She makes me do the accents,’ Ellie complained to him, and he huffed out a laugh into the grimy light of the late afternoon.

‘I know you well enough to know no-one can make you do anythin’, kiddo,’ he deadpanned and watched as the blush spread over her cheeks.

‘Next week we’re starting our new unit,’ she informed him, and his ears perked up at this.

‘Yeah, what she gotcha doing?’ he asked.

‘The Middle Evils,’ Ellie replied, and Joel grinned, not correcting her. That was a battle you could fight just fine on yer own.

After Ellie disappeared down your street for dinner he contemplated following her, seeing if you’d let him in. He held himself back, knowing that was selfish, that he needed to be patient for you. That he’d earned this penance, this atonement. Knew that he would wait for you, until the world’s very last dawn, even if he secretly hoped it would be sooner than that. Until then, he knew you were there.

--

Ellie called out from the front door, pushing her boots off so as not to track in the snow.

‘There’s another one!’ she called, and you felt a little bubble of something in your chest.

‘What is it this time?’ you called back, your hands busy as you sat at the kitchen table.

‘It’s a guy…umm…he’s got a helmet on, and a little sword?’

You thought for a second.

‘A knight?’ you asked.

She entered the room, dropping the carefully carved figure on the table in front of you. He even had a little shield.

‘Were they like…the Middle Evil soldiers or something?’ Ellie asked and you sighed, having corrected her enough times to know she was now doing it on purpose.

‘Like…ancient FEDRA,’ you said, and she screwed up her nose.

‘Ugh, gross,’ she said. She settled beside you, picking up a coloured sheet of paper and a pair of scissors you’d borrowed from the seamstress in town.

Thoughtfully, she started cutting.

‘I saw him this time,’ she said, and you felt your hands shake a little as you made the final snip to your paper star.

‘He’s normally so sneaky,’ you said, and she huffed in agreement.

‘I think maybe he wanted to be seen,’ Ellie said, matter-of-factly.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, but Ellie didn’t answer, now fully engrossed in cutting the stars. You were giving Prom another go, hoping for no further interruptions this time. The theme was Winter Wonderland, which just so happened to necessitate the triumphant return of Ellie’s decorational genius.

‘I wondered about inviting him in,’ she said, after a while.

‘Is he good with scissors?’ you asked, trying to massage some feeling back into your hand.

‘One way to find out,’ Ellie said. You saw her watching you, carefully, out of the corner of your eye.

‘You think you’re ready for that?’ you asked her, and she levelled you with an honest gaze.

‘I am if you are,’ she said. You felt a little flip in your stomach, a traitorous little spark of something that could have been excitement, could have been fear.

‘Umm…’ you said. Out of the corner of your eye Rose smiled warmly at you, nodding slowly, always so kind, so calm. You'd try to be more like her.

‘I mean, there’s still so many of these to cut,’ you said, after a while. Ellie grinned, jumping up from the table and down the hall, flinging the door open hard enough to whack it into the wall.

Not for the first time, Ellie’s enormous voice rang out, clear as a bell and knocking the wind from you.

‘COME IN, JOEL! SHE SAID YES!’ she called.

Taglist (and extra special thank you list)

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

@somedayheaven

@maryrhodalouandted

@casssiopeia

@atorturedpoetatmidnight

[seungkw1]

halloween night — ksy

⛧ pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader ⛧ theme: strangers to lovers, nonidol!au ⛧ word count: ~2.5k ⛧ warnings: smut, swearing, praise kink, oral (m. & f. receiving), softdom!hoshi, petnames (f. receiving - baby, pretty girl, etc.), unprotected penetration (stay safe kids), tiny bit of fluff at the end

your halloween night is going pretty lousy — that is, until you meet a handsome, tiger-print-wearing stranger at a party

♡ moodboard by @myhimbomingi ♡

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

“You look fine. Stop worrying, you’re gonna have a good time tonight!”

You stop fiddling with your skirt and look up at your best friend with a sigh. ”I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this stupid thing.”

Halloween is, in your humble opinion, the greatest holiday ever invented. You always love putting together your costume, something unique and creative each year – which is why you feel like a fucking idiot standing here dressed in a cliché sexy nurse costume. But, you needed to get your shitty ex off your mind – it had been two weeks since you found out he was cheating on you – and what better distraction than alcohol. Hell, you might even find someone to make out with if you drink enough. Not your usual M.O., but fuck it.

Now that you’re here though, you’re starting to have second thoughts. Your best friend Mina is bubbly and sociable, so she thrives naturally in a party environment – you, not so much. To make matters worse she’s the only person you’ll know here, so you’re now realizing how awkward this whole thing is going to be. Wishing now that you had worn something more comfortable, you slap on a fake smile as you step inside. Here goes nothing, I guess.

—

Mina spent about 15 minutes introducing you to everybody as you did your best to engage in polite small talk, but she eventually got absorbed in chatting with some old friends while you inadvertently joined a very boring conversation with some cryptocurrency bros where some guy named Chad or something was going on about bitcoin. You pretended to be interested in whatever Brad was saying, but you kept zoning out. Stifling a sigh, you went to make your escape. 

“I’m gonna use the restroom, I'll be right…”

Nobody even looked at you. Brent had moved on talking about stocks or some shit. You rolled your eyes as you walked away. Assholes.

The other room was too crowded for your liking, and so was the kitchen. Spotting the back door, you quickly made your way outside before anyone else could talk to you. 

—

The cool October breeze hits you as you practically burst through the door and out onto the patio. You know you’ll probably get chilled before too long, especially in this dumb miniskirt, but the crisp air feels delightful. The relative quietness is a relief too. Taking a few moments to breathe, you start to relax, but soon enough your mind drifts back to your ex against your will. It’s not like you miss him – you’re definitely over that jerk – but you’re still extremely pissed off about the whole thing. You feel tears starting to form as the anger wells up inside you – you hate that you cry when you get mad, which only makes you even more upset. 

“God fucking dammit,” you mutter under your breath as you go to wipe your tears away before you start full-on crying. You know bottling up your emotions isn’t ideal, but neither is having a breakdown at some stranger’s house.

You can have your breakdown later, you tell yourself firmly. Just not right now. Don’t make a fool of yourself, just hold on out for a couple more hours and then-

“Are you okay?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. Quickly turning around, you find yourself face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome stranger. The man is so striking it takes you a few seconds to process the horribly tacky, bright orange tiger-print shirt he’s wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” you say as you collect yourself.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he says, his sentence trailing off.

You both stand there for a moment in silence. You find yourself trying not to blush at how good-looking he is, but you notice him noticing your low-cut top but trying to act like he didn’t notice it. Yeah, that is not helping…

The man clears his throat. “You just seemed like you were crying or something and uh… sorry, I guess that’s not really any of my business…” he apologizes, turning red. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’ll leave you be…”

“No no it’s okay!!” you blurt out, perhaps a bit too fast. “I mean, you can stay, I don't mind.”

“Are you sure? If you want to be alon-”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupt before he goes to turn away again. “I mean, I did originally, but uh…”

What are you doing?? You literally don’t even know this man.

You ignore the voice inside your head. Fuck it, didn’t I say I wanted to find a hot stranger to make out with tonight? Here’s one right in front of me.

You introduce yourself and stick out your hand. His face turns into a soft smile as he takes your hand in his – he shakes it firmly, and you try not to think about how strong he feels. He locks eyes with you and holds on to your hand for a few moments too long. Your heart seems to skip a beat. 

“Soonyoung,” he replies. Letting out an even bigger grin, he finally lets go of your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

—

You don’t even know how long you two have been sitting on the patio couch talking. All you know is that not only is Soonyoung incredibly handsome, he’s also funny, charming, and easy to talk to – and, he’s clearly very attracted to you. Usually it takes a number of drinks before you get flirty, but the tension between you two is too strong to resist. It’s taking all of your willpower not to drop everything and kiss him – and the way he keeps stealing quick glances of your lips tells you the feeling is reciprocated. 

Despite how flustered you are, it is pretty chilly out, and eventually you start to shiver. Soonyoung notices and gives you a concerned look.

“Oh shit, we should probably get you inside.”

You glance back toward the chatter of the house party regretfully, not wanting to go back in and be amongst everybody else once again. But you are getting cold.

You look back to Soonyoung and you both sit there in silence for a few seconds. A sly smile creeps back onto his face, and he hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “Or… we could get out of here.”

You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

And so you find yourself on Soonyoung’s couch, straddling his lap, making out with him – the cheesy horror movie you had put on in the background long forgotten. Time seems to be at a standstill as you press your lips into his – softly at first, but more intensely with each kiss. His muscular arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body even closer to his, and a small moan escapes you as he pushes his hips into your core. 

Soonyoung stops kissing you momentarily so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

His low and raspy voice sends a jolt through your stomach. Your skirt has risen up over your hips, leaving your underwear as the only barrier between your pussy and the growing bulge in his jeans – you push yourself into him even further and this time he lets out a moan as you feel his cock twitch against your aching cunt.

Grabbing onto your waist he pushes you over onto the couch and rolls over on top of you. He kisses you again, his hand cradling your face, his body weight pressing down on you as you feel the blood rushing through your veins. He kisses you for a few moments more before he jumps up, pulling you along as he leads you into his bedroom. 

He stops right before the bed and pauses to look at you, his hand delicately tracing your neckline. “You know, I really like this costume, but I think I’d like it more off of you.”

You let out a laugh as you roll your eyes at him. You begin to unbutton his shirt as you reply, “Well I don’t really like it at all, so you can definitely help me get rid of it.”

He grins back at you. “You look incredible, but I will happily oblige.”

Grabbing the hem of your top, Soonyoung pulls it up over your head and tosses it behind him. He pulls his shirt off too, disregarding the rest of the buttons, and you have to keep your jaw from hitting the floor – to say he was toned would’ve been an understatement. 

He grabs you by the arms to pull you in for another kiss, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. You slowly run one hand down the defined curvatures of his abs until you reach the waist of his pants. Your lips still pressed against his, you begin to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.

Getting down as you undo the zipper, you pull down the band of his underwear and his cock springs free. You run your tongue up his length, your mouth stopping to take just the tip in between your lips as you taste his juices before taking him in your mouth. Soonyoung lets out a groan, and you begin to slide his cock down your throat – slowly at first, but as you begin to pick up the pace he places his hand on the back of your head, making sure you take his entire length with each motion.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You look up at him, his cock halfway in your mouth still, your lips red and your eyes teary from choking on him.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and low.

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls your head back up, his cock glistening with your spit. 

“Stand up for me.”

You quickly stand up – it’s impossible to ignore how wet you are at this point.

Soonyoung takes you by the hips and gently pushes you down onto the bed. “Get comfy baby.”

You rest your head against the pillows as he situates himself between your legs. He lifts your skirt up just enough to reveal your visibly soaked underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me huh?” he says he starts kissing your inner thighs, close enough to your entrance to make your clit throb but just far away enough to drive you crazy.

He teases you with one finger tracing over your clothed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. Not giving what you want just yet, he reaches his hand behind your back and unclasps your bra, taking it off of you. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he says as he begins to kiss your breasts. You let out a small whimper as his hand makes its way back down to your clit, his thumb circling over the fabric gently.

Finally, he reaches his hands under your skirt and slides your panties off, his face resuming its position right in front of your cunt. You let out a hiss as his tongue makes a stripe over your folds, slowly taking in your wetness – you cry out suddenly as he begins to suck on your clit. 

Soonyoung goes down on you for what feels like an eternity, only stopping here and there to shower you in admiration.

“You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Pussy so pretty for me.”

Just as you feel the heat welling up inside your body, he slides his fingers inside of you. The vibrations of his mouth moaning on your clit combined with the pressure against your g-spot nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum…” you cry.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm rushes over you as you grab him by the hair, cumming hard on his mouth. Out of breath and seeing stars, you start to come down and your body relaxes into the bed – you run your hand through his hair as he delicately kisses your soaked pussy, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.

Soonyoung comes up to give you a few soft kisses on the lips. Wrapping your arms around his back, you pull his warm body into yours. His erection presses up against your still-throbbing core – you try to position your entrance right on top of his cock but he teasingly pulls away and starts kissing your neck instead. 

“Please Soonyoung,” you beg.

“Please what baby? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you on the neck once more before slipping his cock inside you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

“Mmm I made you so wet baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

He slowly starts sliding his length in and out of you, but before long you find yourself trying to ride his cock, trying to make him go faster – which only makes him slow down even more. He smirks, locking eyes with you – undeniably addicted to how much you need him.

“Such a little slut, you want me to fuck you harder?”

You nod, looking up at him – desperation in your eyes.

“Use your words baby.”

“Harder,” you plead.

“That’s my good girl.”

Soonyoung thrusts into you, picking up the pace this time, until he’s fucking you senseless. Your cries fill the room from the overwhelming pleasure, and much to his enjoyment you start to whimper out his name. 

“That’s right – say my name babygirl.”

You repeat his name as every inch of him continues to pulse into you, stronger with each stroke. 

“You’re taking me so well. My cock so good to you baby?”

You cry out something, presumably some form of yes, but you don’t even know at this point. You feel yourself start to climax once more. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum again.”

“Cum with me, pretty girl.”

Electricity rushes over your entire body as your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock pulsating as his cum fills you up inside. You both lay there for a few moments, his strong arms wrapping around you as you breathe heavily together. He slowly removes himself from you and rolls over to pull you into an embrace – him as the big spoon. You giggle as he holds you tightly and gives you little kisses on your cheek. 

“You know,” you admit, “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

“I am too,” you say as you begin to yawn. You are completely worn out in the best way possible.

He nuzzles into your neck, clearly also getting sleepy. He pauses a moment before he asks.

“Stay here with me?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay,” you reply softly. 

You drift off to sleep in Soonyoung’s arms – blissful and content.

[end]

you can also find me on ao3 ♡

[bunny-jpeg]

it came to me on a sunny day - dad!simon - inspired by the song 'my girl' by the temptations

maybe i'll make this a whole fic? idk... lemme know <3

telling simon you were pregnant was nothing but a shock. but it was inevitable. you two weren't the best when it came to protection, so one night of passion led to the conception of your daughter.

you mostly wore simon's jacket due to you being pregnant most of the winter. you kept telling yourself that you'd get a jacket to accommodate the growing bump, but by the time you got around to it, simon's sweatshirts kept you warm enough. even though simon still put a hat on you every time you left the flat.

simon just loved the swell of your belly, he always smiled when he felt the movement of your daughter. he would lie on the couch, legs dangled off the edge in an uncomfortable manner to be closer to your belly.

if you both weren't so worried about protecting simon's identity, you would've put him online to tout him as 'father of the year'. in your second trimester you did get married at the court house. it was an informal affair, something to put on paper. he promised that the two of you could have the whole celebration after the baby was born.

"simon." you said, "watching johnny choke on a fry that kyle threw into his mouth after the ceremony is worth more than some stupid party." you then leaned over to kiss him, your ring felt comfortable on your finger.

however as you entered your third trimester and your fingers became swollen, you had you wear your ring around your neck on a chain. when you felt about it, simon simply said, "chain's closer to your heart."

when summer came your little rosemary was born. she was born in the end of june, your friend remarked that she was a cancer sign. simon was there the whole way, even when you punched him when a particular hard contraction hit.

"i'm gonna kill you, simon." while that wasn't the first time he ever heard that phrase, it was the only time it ever made a shiver run down his spine. but he was your rock the entire way, the full ten hours it took to delivery rosemary riley.

she came out screamin' though, a far cry from the silent nature of her father. you had never seen simon cry too many times, but the first time he held the pudgy newborn, you could see him hold back the tears.

"simon."

"yeah?" his gaze didn't leave his daughter.

you patted him on the arm, "you can cry, no one's going to judge you." you knew he always felt like he had to be the protector of his little family. but when you leaned over, exhausted yourself, and kissed him on the cheek. the emotion flooded out of him.

you were parents now.

simon took to being a father really well, despite his nervousness (that he never showed on his face) to end up like his own father. he realized that it was a lot easier to be good parent than he thought.

"i love you both." he often said to you, "thank you."

he said that you gave him a second chance at life. after everything, the pain that caused him to shut down and become a killer for the military. you and rosemary allowed the coldness to turn warm. while he still was intimidating outside the home, in the safety of where you lived, he was able to be the caring parent he was denied growing up.

"rose." he said in his low voice, "where are ya goin'." then picked up the toddler with ease so she didn't topple the television on top of her, "you can see it just fine over here." then carried her back to the couch.

you both did your best to not raise an ipad baby, rather you made good use of the second hand printer you had and let you colour and draw to her hearts content. and books. so many books.

"that's a bear, rose." you said as you pointed to the drawing in the book you were reading to her before bed, "b-e-a-r."

"B!Ear!" she chirped as she kicked out her little legs under the covers. she was a very smart girl.

she gets it from me, simon said jokingly.

of course he often let his little rosemary colour in his tattoos with washable markers while they're sitting outside on a nice summer's day a year or two down the line. the little girl is still getting used to holding markers and colours outside the lines of the tattoos. but simon finds it endearing.

nothin' is gonna hurt his girls.

"honey." you said.

"yes?"

"i think we're giving rose a sibling a lot sooner than we expected." <3

(i wanted to write something tender on this beautiful spring day. if it's sunny where you are today soak in the rays!)