#her tendrils are so fun

[rokurookajima]

yah i do remember canon

[arom-antix]

Yuri!!! On Cards collaboration!

So, I know I've been pretty inactive recently, at least in posting my own art but for good reason! In the Yuri on the Web Discord server artists and writers alike have all collaborated to illustrate a deck of cards and write stories for each of them. And as a resident artist myself, I couldn't not take the opportunity to draw for this project UuU

Oh and if anyone was wondering, yes, I am to blame for inflicting this giant project onto the server BUT I REGRET NOTHING AND NEITHER WILL YOU IF YOU CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S WORKS. Trust me, they are amazing! The masterpost can be found here!

GIANT thanks to @lines-on-ice and @yaoiconnoisseur for helping so much and being amazing co-administrators and basically making this entire thing possible! You really saved me from my own overambition XD

The guidelines for this project can be found on the Yuri!!! On Cards blog as can the masterpost with all the links to everything. All the art that gets posted to Tumblr will also be reblogged by the blog.

With all that said, here's the actual art I made! (Break for those who don't want their dash to die UuU)

Okay, I lied. First, I'd heavily recommend for you to check out the guideline posts, both the general and artists' and even the writers' if you're up to it to get a grasp of the perimeters of this project. There's also some vague lore and AU stuff about the whole thing to find which will give you context for why the art looks the way it does to a certain extent.

You can also just jump right in and take everything as I ramble about it which, I mean, I won't stop you, the guideline posts aren't short. I will not blame you. You can still just look at the art. If that's your choice, go on ahead!

First up!

Ace of the Kingdom Otabek, The Deep Shadow

Being of the Kingdom of Diamonds, he's skillful and sharp. He moves quietly as a shadow and is just as mysterious.

Okay, I can't comment much on how he actually is, you'll have find that out by reading his fic(let?). They were supposed to be ficlets but as writers tend to do, none of us could manage that so take "ficlet" with a big grain of salt for every written work.

I've, by the way, not read any of the ficlets for this project beside my own so I'll get to experience the reveal with y'all and I'm gonna perish waiting.

Anyway, about the art. The yellow of course comes from the Kingdom of Diamonds' designated colour. As for the outfit, it's based on this handsome fellow I found who's supposed to be a Kazakh archer which I thought fit Otabek's whole shadow thing perfectly (and Writingfromtheshadow's fic Equivalent Exchange has me in an iron grip and I don't want to be released).

If there are any Kazakhs in the audience, you are free to laugh at me for any inaccuracies or missteps, I am but a humble little not-Kazakh, I don't expect to have gotten it all right UuU

Next up!

King Yuuri, Wanderer of Dreams

The ruler of his realm, he is as the mind flows. Kind and benevolent yet of fickle thoughts, the spirals of the subconscious are ones he both masters and bows to.

Again, gonna be waiting for his fic with everyone else but like. It's Yuuri. Anxiety is kind of a given.

In terms of art, I don't know if you can tell but this was where I started writing my will because oh my stars, what did I get myself into. If you follow me or my art, you'll know that I don't draw lineless. Like ever. And apparently I decided this project on a deadline that others were depending on me making look nice was the place to go all out.

And the worst part is that I'm not even mad at it so I have no argument to not do it again.

Anyway, the blue is from the designated colour of spades and yes, you've guessed right as to why this colour was picked for this suit. I'm predictable, leave me alone. As for the rest, the outfit is inspired by traditional Japanese dress that the Internet told me about (again, Japanese may laugh at me all they want UuU Your culture is very cool but also there was so much info, I hope I got it at least a bit right).

Also I spent like eight hours looking at hanakotoba for this and I've never been this happy about a decision I regretted so much while I was having to draw that many flowers. And you know I had to include The Gay Flower^(TM).

The Japanese iris is now Yuuri's btw.

All the flowers used are: Japanese irises, Jasmine flowers, Forget-me-nots, cherry blossoms, white roses, green carnations and blue roses (Viktor's flower. Read: I am predictable).

And finally!

Queen Minako, Tamer of Minds

Of the Realm of Dreams, she sees your fears, the snares laid by the subconscious and, strict and blunt as she is, she clears a path for the motivated and lets no potential go to waste.

Again, haven't read a word of the fic.

This one was by far the one that I made the fastest and I would've loved to do more with it but like deadlines. I'm gracefully skipping over the fact that I set the deadline and am fully to blame for being late.

But, as with Yuuri, blue is for spades. And since I wanted her to have a leotard but still match Yuuri and make her outfit look even slightly Japanese inspired, sheer fabric to the rescue! With cherry blossoms, of course, because CSP had the pattern preinstalled UuU

And I don't know if it worked but I tried to make her hair both look like her signature style, traditional Japanese hairstyles I found on the good ol' Interwebs and then kind of a spade by having that middle stick be the stem and the hair the spade's butt.

Also this probably goes without saying but the ranks of the characters are just titles. Yuuri is not married to Minako, she is just the Queen and he the King, don't worry.

Again, a BIG thank you to everyone who also participated, it was so fun to work together on this and see everyone's progress! Nic and Lil, you're amazing, thank you so much for everything you've done for this!

And to everyone who's made it this far, thank you for sticking around and please go check out all the other art and the ficlets! I promise it's worth it!

Masterpost | AO3 collection

[makotonaegiunderstander]

thinking about my Tokyo Ghoul au I made for Danganronpa. It was meant to be kind of its own thing, not necessarily doing THH and not necessarily copying the plot beats of Tokyo Ghoul. Either way Makoto takes Kaneki’s place kind of, mainly bc when I read the opening I could not stop thinking about what supernaturally bad luck Kaneki had. And the way Kaneki ended up being the “bridge between two worlds” and represented justice and a means to an end for BOTH sides at different points gave me ‘Ultimate Hope’ vibes. At the same time Kaneki could EASILY be replaced with Hajime due to the conspiracy that Kaneki’s accident was done on purpose to basically experiment on someone to see if they could create the hope they needed. Only reason I didn’t jump to it is bc back then I was sticking Makoto in any scenario I wanted AND there’s another Tokyo Ghoul character that fits Hajime’s story. Anyway. I wanted to toy with the idea of someone who values life and helping others so deeply as Makoto being forced to do horrible things or else lose himself entirely. Becoming something you feared and only viewed as a monster until they revealed themselves to be people, but still horrified to find yourself in the middle. I think Makoto would have a unique reaction and I think he’d lean much more towards self sacrifice and helping try to get both sides to see each other’s humanity much faster than Kaneki did or Hajime would. But he’d also be ashamed and scared of what he’d become and desperate not to hurt anyone, which would be a disaster in the making as the longer a Ghoul goes without eating a person, the more beast like and unhinged they become. It’s not ALL that much different from a vampire au save the fact that there’s no option to just. get a little blood from a living person and leave them just slightly woozy or raid blood bags from donations. You HAVE to seriously injure someone or outright kill them to live, which is what separates the two.

[cuntstable]

I wanna hear the part 6 Kakyoin thoughts

its just like an addition to the jotakak take i have but i think itd be so funny if like in some Happy Ending version of p6 where nobody dies (which i mean its already a kakyoin survived au so whatever) kakyoin and jotaro reconnect and almost get together but then kakyoin and pucci meet and reconnect over shared times in the evil vamp house as teens and they have so much more in common that jotaro has to get divorced again because kakyoin leaves him for a catholic priest of all things. just the biggest L imaginable. also with the possible addition of later jotawes this makes the family reunions very good i think

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Drawing SOS Chronicles things again

The first time Oliver meets Almitak in "person", things get a little tense. After all, you can't transfer your soul into the body of a willing victim child without some drama.

(Silas and Silvie in the background are not having fun watching their friend get possessed)

[retrobutterflies]

Little Dragon | t.n.

Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint

A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.

Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.

It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.

But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired. 

You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.

A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.

You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.

Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.

You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.

"Are you alright?"

His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.

"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."

His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.

"You look cold," he concluded.

"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."

You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.

"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.

"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.

"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."

You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.

"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.

"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.

"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.

"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.

"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.

"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."

"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.

"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.

Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.

"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.

Your insides burned at the nick-name.

"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"

He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.

"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."

The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.

"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.

"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"

His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.

But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.

"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.

"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.

"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"

You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.

"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.

"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.

"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.

"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.

"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"

"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.

He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.

"Theo," your voice turned pleading.

His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.

"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."

Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.

His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.

"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"

You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.

It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.

"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.

[inkedinshadows]

Tea, Cookies, and Love

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel takes care of his mate while she's on her period.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

@azrielappreciationweek

You hated being on your period.

Even after years, it was still hard to deal with the cramps and pain, so strong that most days you couldn’t even get out of bed. Instead, you curled up under the warm sheets, clutching a hot water bottle tightly over your aching tummy. It didn’t help much with the pain, but you liked the comfort it brought.

The door opened silently, and Azriel slipped inside. He had a steaming mug in one hand and a small plate with chocolate cookies in the other. “I made your tea, love,” he said quietly as you lifted your head from the pillow. “I know it doesn’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”

You just frowned, watching as he set the plate and mug on the nightstand. The smell of ginger and peppermint reached your nose, but you didn’t touch the tea. You would likely burn your tongue if you took a sip now.

“I thought you were going to Rita’s,” you murmured.

“The others did,” Azriel confirmed. As he sat down next to you, a few tendrils of darkness wove through your hair, drawing a small smile from you even as you clenched the muscles in your stomach at the stabbing pain.

You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to work through the next cramp before you could ask, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Azriel lifted a brow, visibly trying to hold back a smile. “You're really asking that?”

Sitting a bit straighter in bed, you nodded weakly as you reached for the mug. Even if you couldn't drink it yet, you could still savor its warmth in your hands.

“I'm not leaving you alone and in pain while I’m out having fun,” he stated. His voice was soft, but it carried that underlying determination that told you he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Yet, as he stood up and began undressing, you still tried, blowing over the hot tea. “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to go with them, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, pulling on some sweatpants and a shirt. He turned to you with a smile. “But I don’t want to.” He climbed into bed next to you, slipping under the blanket and wrapping you in his arms. “No, I want to stay here and take care of my beautiful mate.”

A new warmth spread through your body, one that had nothing to do with the mug or the hot water bottle. You actually removed the latter from your stomach to place it on the nightstand instead, so that you could snuggle closer to Azriel.

“Don’t you need that?” he murmured, letting you move around to find a comfortable position. You settled for curling up against his strong/muscled chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Not really,” you answered in a whisper. You finally took a sip of the tea, and its pleasant taste filled your mouth, warming your throat as you swallowed. Hopefully, it would soothe your aches, but you knew how unlikely that was. “It’s not that hot anymore.”

“Do you want me to go heat it up again?”

You looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. You shook your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I just want you here.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your temple, then draped his wings around you. “Whatever you need, my love.”

You wanted to answer, but you grimaced instead as another cramp twisted your gut. It felt like being ripped apart from the inside, and you almost spilled the tea while trying to find a position that would bring you some relief. Azriel’s broad hand covered your lower stomach, gently massaging the area to offer what little comfort he could.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I hate feeling like this too,” you mumbled once the pain settled, at least for the moment. You drank some more tea, and your eyes took in the chocolate cookies he had brought you. “Are those Elain’s cookies?”

Azriel nodded, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your stomach. “She made them this morning. I thought you might want some before they're all gone.”

“Gods, I love you,” you breathed. You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush against his, but you didn't kiss him yet. “You just make it so easy.”

Azriel's lips curled into an amused smile. “I love you too, beautiful. But what is it that I make easy?”

You set the mug down, cupping his face with your now-free hands. “Loving you, Az.” You finally kissed him, pouring all your feelings and gratitude into the kiss and down the bond. “You make it very easy to love you.”

You chuckled as a faint blush crept up his neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, “but I don't do anything special.”

“He doesn't do anything special, he says,” you scoffed playfully. You gave his cheek a kiss, then reached for the mug again and took another warm sip.

Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin and closed your eyes. Azriel held you tighter, cradling you against his body. As he opened his mouth to reply, you knew he was going to say that it was true and he didn't do anything special, so you beat him to it.

“For starters, you're here with me instead of out with our friends,” you pointed out. You didn't even open your eyes, instead simply listing all the reasons why he made you fall in love with him every day, all over again. “You made me tea even if I hadn't asked for it. You rub my aching belly. And you brought me Elain's cookies.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he said. His tone was soft, and he sounded as if he was defending himself and his choices. He really didn't see what was special about it. “And I know how much you like her cookies.”

You sighed quietly. You picked up a cookie, but even though you loved them, you didn't feel like eating anything right now. You'd save them for later, when the cramps would hopefully relent. So you offered it to him without a word.

Azriel took it, brows furrowed. “You want me to feed you?”

Your quiet chuckle was interrupted by a twinge of pain deep in your core, and you quickly disguised it by saying, “I want you to have it.”

He shook his head and handed the cookie back to you. “They're for you.”

“The others are for me. That one is for you.” You didn't even touch it, opting to simply sip from your mug again. “It's how bonds are accepted.”

“We accepted the bond years ago,” he mused. He didn't take a bite, instead waiting to see where you were going with this.

“I know.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. He was beautiful, and he was yours. Your love and your home. Your mate. Just as you were his. You knew he considered himself lucky to be with you, but he never realized you were the lucky one.

“Every day, I am beyond grateful that the Mother blessed me with you as my mate,” you murmured. A sudden lump formed in your throat, and you weren't sure if the tears prickling your eyes were caused by the hormones or the depth of your feelings for him. “And I want you to eat that cookie. Because I want you to know that I would choose you in every life, no matter what.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, but you could see the swirling emotions in his hazel eyes. The love and care, the vulnerability he showed only to you. He slowly lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite, his eyes never leaving yours, your ache momentarily forgotten.

“I would choose you in every life too,” he said softly. “I would find you, and I would love you. In every life, every world.”

When you kissed again, the bond between your souls glowed stronger and brighter.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[illyrianbitch]

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: After sleeping together, you and Cassian are wrestling with what it means for your friendship--- leading you both to misreading everything.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! best friends to lovers. literally just two big dummies in love, lots of miscommunication (tbh lack thereof), awkward moments, a sprinkle of sex! lovey dovey hot sex!

Word Count: 13k

This is part two of this fic, but can be read as a stand-alone :)

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The room was bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the day, tendrils of morning light peeking through your sheer curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft brightness that now enveloped your room. You smiled to yourself, a heat rising to your cheeks as memories of the night prior began flooding through your mind, melting into you like warm honey. Cassian’s scent clung onto the sheets wrapped around you, evoking a warm, fluttering sensation in your chest. You inhaled deeply, delighting in the comforting smell, in the warmth it brought to your body. 

You slept with Cassian. You slept with Cassian. You fucked Cassian.

You pulled your sheets closer to yourself, an anticipation rising in your chest. There was a childlike excitement in your stomach, a giddiness that made your cheeks hurt from your smile. You let out a small breath, preparing yourself to turn over and face Cassian next to you, to revel in the intimacy of the morning after. You two needed to talk, of course, to discuss the new boundaries between you— to discuss what you even were. 

But as you shifted your weight, your smile dropped instantly. You stared at the empty spot next to you, the sheets wrinkled with an impression that almost made out Cassian’s form. Your heart sank like a stone in your chest, heavy with a weight of disappointment. You sat up right, scooting backwards to rest your back against the headboard. Your hand held your sheets to your chest, covering your nude form. You let out a deep sigh, a sadness raking through your body in waves. Of course he was gone. 

You chastised yourself for feeling so upset, for feeling so bothered. You knew better. This was Cassian, after all. An illyrian known for a good fuck– a great fuck. In fact, the rumors hadn’t done him justice. You always knew, deep down, that Cassian would be great in bed. There were too many females preaching about his skills, too many fawning over him for it all to be lies, to be over exaggerated. At one point, Mor had admitted that it was great– for the standards that she held him at. Sex with females was much more her speed, she had told you, but Cassian wasn’t too bad, even given the circumstances. At the time, the words never bothered you. But now, thinking back on them, you felt an envious irritation prickle at your skin. 

A part of you had hoped that this was different– that you were different. When he fell asleep next to you, you took it as a sign. Cassian almost never stayed the night with the women he fucked. You'd caught him before, coming home in the dead of night, a grin on his face, reeking of sex. The next morning he’d make some comment about it, tell you about his recent conquest– how flexible they were, how much they wanted him, how they said his name like he was a God. You always rolled your eyes, called him a pig, made fun of him. But now things were different. You were the female who wanted him so badly, the female that had moaned his name like he was a God. 

Had he left in the middle of the night and you’d failed to notice? Escaped your room and went back to his? Or was it early in the morning when he was hit with the sudden realization of what he had done? A sudden feeling of regret that grew arms and hauled him out of bed? He was probably thinking exactly what you were. It was a mistake. 

A glorious mistake. Repeated six times. So, six mistakes. Six glorious mistakes. But mistakes nonetheless. 

A deep sense of embarrassment filled you as you recalled the things you’d done the night prior, the things you'd said in a lustful haze. The memories were still fresh in your mind– you could feel the trace of Cassian's touch on your skin, the way his mouth felt on you, the way he had rolled his hips while inside you. You felt queasy now– dirty, almost.  

You lowered your gaze to where your hand clutched your soft sheets against your body. Instantly, you let out another pained sigh. Scattered across your chest were love bites Cassian had left behind– each dark and loud in their appearance. You stared at them with a frown. 

In the heat of the moment, you welcomed his marks, reveled in the passion they showed, enjoyed the idea of being marked as his. But now, in the light of day, they served as something entirely different– marks of bad decisions, reminders you’d have to face until they faded. Considering how prominent they were, how many were spread out around your body, you knew it would be a while until you were free of them. 

You slumped further into your bed, a heavy weight settling over your shoulders. With a resigned sigh, you let your head fall back against the headboard, the impact of it against the wood echoing softly in the room.

Fuck. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian had forgotten the plans he’d made with Azriel– a meeting to review recent findings, to plan for future missions. He was already running late by the time he had woken up, the sunshine filtering in your room too bright for it to be early morning, the time he had agreed to meet Az. His body was relaxed in a way it had never been before. He supposed that would be expected after having the best sex of his life– with… his best friend? He tried not to overthink it. Instead, he had rolled over, taking in your presence with a smile.

He spent minutes looking at you, admiring the way that you slept, the peaceful rise of your chest as you breathed— he’d done his best to avoid staring at your naked form, the way your nipples perked in the morning air. He failed severely. How could he not appreciate them? Appreciate the rest of your body? The very thing he was lucky enough to touch, lucky enough to have pleasured.

It took every ounce of his will to remove himself from your bed, to keep himself from leaning over and embracing you, waking you up with a kiss. Every bone in his body ached for him to be intertwined with you again. So, in order to leave he had to at least touch you once. Tenderly, he had leaned over your sleeping figure, softly bringing the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek. 

He wanted to leave a note, leave something for you to wake up to. He searched for minutes, but your bedroom offered him no options. For a female who collected many things, your ‘trinkets’ as you liked to call them, you failed to own the one thing he needed– a pen. 

But he didn’t let him bother him too much. You knew him well enough to assume he’d left with good reason. And he was confident that you’d come find him to talk when you awoke. The thought of it alone made him feel giddy, made him excited in a way that traveled to both his heart and his cock at the same time. Such a strange feeling. He never thought the two would be so connected. 

He couldn’t focus all morning, none of Azriel’s words registering in his mind. His thoughts were all surrounding you. The way you smelled, the way you felt, how beautiful you looked when he fucked you, how beautiful you looked when you slept. Azriel had gotten tired of him, irritated at his lack of attention. With an eye roll he had sent Cassian on his way— and Cass had made a beeline for you.

He hadn’t expected to run into you immediately as he entered the hallway. But he accepted the timing gratefully, taking you in with a smile. A warmth fluttered in his chest as he walked towards you. 

“Cassian,” you breathed out, a small smile finding its way onto your lips.

Cassian frowned at the use of his full name falling from your lips in a way that felt so stiff, so unnatural. He swiftly recovered, meeting your smile with one of his own. His eyes shamelessly scanned you as you stood before him, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Your heartbeat quickened, the sound echoing in your ears as you fought to regain your composure. Clearing your throat, you drew his attention back to your face.

"Mornin'," Cassian greeted, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he looked at you. His wings flared out behind him, extended comfortably and proud. You ran your eyes along their outlines. 

"Morning," you managed to reply, your voice coming out strained and uneven. You instinctively pulled your hands to the high neckline of your dress, tugging at the material in a nervous attempt to draw it closer to you.

Cassian's grin faltered for just a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find an explanation for your movements, for how you stood before him– uneased, almost awkward. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"How did you slee—"

"—Did you have a good—"

Your voices overlapped, the words tumbling out in a jumble of awkwardness. Cassian's eyebrows lifted in amusement, a small smirk now playing at the corners of his lips. Your laughter bubbled up nervously as you met his gaze with a small, uncertain smile.

"You first," you said, as you gestured towards him with a hesitant hand.

Cassian's smirk softened, a small breath of amusement escaping him in the form of a gentle laugh. He observed you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. “Did you have a good night?”

The images manifested in your mind quicker than you could process, the sound of his voice echoing in your head. 

I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?

I wish I could be here forever.

Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.

You blinked away the flurry of thoughts, feeling your stomach clench in an uncomfortable knot. A rush of heat flooded your already tinted cheeks. Hastily, you tried to push the images away– your new feelings of arousal too. You only hoped Cassian couldn’t tell, that he couldn’t smell it. 

"Uh, yeah... yeah I did. Did you?"

Cass picked up on the way you stumbled over your words, on the uncertain cadence in which they were spoken. But he decided against acknowledging it. You seemed to be happy last night, content with him. So, perhaps, this was how you always were after sex. He’d never seen this side of you, never seen you right after you’d fucked someone, after someone had fucked you. The thought eased some of his anxiety. This was a natural response for you, he affirmed, all he needed to do was play it cool and casual. You’d set the pace.

"Oh, yeah. I did," Cassian replied, his tone lowering as a gentle smile played at the corners of his lips. His hazel eyes seemed to soften, their usual warmth taking on a golden hue that made them glimmer in the light. You felt a flutter in your chest, an inexplicable pull towards him that made it hard to tear your gaze away. 

You nodded awkwardly, managing a small, strained smile. "Cool," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You found yourself now avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere but his face

"Cool," he repeated, his tone lighter than yours, laced with amusement. You could hear the smile in his voice, could picture it without even looking at him. His nonchalant demeanor was almost disarming, and you found yourself glancing up at him, meeting his gaze without intending to.

There he was, looking back at you with an easy smile, his eyes warm and inviting. Your face softened and you felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth spreading throughout your body like a gentle wave. 

“Hey, so-” Cassian reached his hand forward, moving to place it on your arm. You quickly deflected the movement, taking a step backwards as you threw a thumb over your shoulder.

“I, uh, I actually have to go,” you stammered, your voice hurried as you searched for an excuse. “I’m meeting Fey and Mor for breakfast. Can't be late.”

You offered a small apologetic smile before turning on your heel and disappearing around the corner, leaving Cassian standing alone in the hallway. Cassian's expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features as he watched you retreat. He felt his wings slump slightly behind him as a frown creased in his brow. You had left– no, fled– in the same direction you were coming from. 

His hand hovered in the air for a moment, as if suspended in the space where you had stood. He looked down at his hand, then back to the spot where you had disappeared around the corner before letting it slowly fall back to his side.

✹ ✶ ���� ✶✹ 

Mor was incredibly hung over when you showed up at her apartment, frantically knocking like your life depended on it. She stumbled to the door, her hair disheveled and her eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep.

You rushed inside without a word, looking at her with a face of exasperation. Mor blinked blearily at you, trying to process the world around her, one that was moving faster than her brain could handle. “What's going on?" she asked, her voice muffled by a yawn.

You stared at Mor for a moment. When you opened your mouth to respond, no words came out. You didn’t know where to start– didn’t even know what you wanted to tell her. How do you explain that you’ve completely humiliated yourself? That there's a chance you’ve messed up your friendship with Cassian? With a frustrated groan, you turned away and walked to her couch, slumping down onto it with a defeated sigh.

It took 15 minutes for Feyre to show up, her footsteps echoing as Mor opened the door. She rushed in, concern etched on her face as she peeled off her coat.

"I rushed over as soon as I could. What was the big dea—" Feyre's words trailed off as her eyes fell upon you, sprawled on your back on the couch, your groans muffled by the pillow you clutched tightly to your face. Feyre looked over to the blonde next to her. 

"She fucked Cassian," Mor stated blankly, taking a sip of the warm liquid in her cup– tea, from what Feyre could smell. Something to help with Mor’s evident hangover– another thing Feyre could smell. 

Feyre's eyes widened in surprise as she let out a small gasp. Then, her face transformed into one of slight amusement. "Took long enough."

Mor swallowed down her tea, nodding in agreement before clearing her throat. "So either it went really good or really bad.” She exchanged a meaningful look with Feyre. "I haven't been able to tell which it is yet.”

Feyre nodded in understanding, her expression softening as she walked over to where you lay, sitting on the ground beside the couch. As Mor settled into a chair across from you, Feyre leaned forward, resting her arms on the cushions to get your attention. "Hey, Y/n," she said, her voice ringing softly in your ears. "Why don’t we move this pillow away."

You slowly lowered the pillow from your face, turning to the side to meet Feyre's gaze as she said, “Well, someone looks extra beautiful today.” 

You stared at her with an unamused face. "I'm so absolutely mortified," you mumbled, a frown forming on your lips.

Pushing yourself upright on the couch, you tossed a glance at both Mor and Feyre. They looked at you, quiet and expecting, eyebrows raised slightly. With a deep breath, you let it all spill out. You walked them through the night at Ritas, the conversation when you came home, details about your night with Cass, the sex, and how you had woken up to an empty bed. 

"And then when I saw him, he was so casual, so nonchalant about it," you explained, frustration lacing your words. "I half expected him to give me a fist bump and call me dude." 

You didn't miss the way Mor choked on her drink, a small sound escaping her lips that almost resembled a laugh. Feyre did her best to maintain her composure, her lips pressed tightly together. But her eyes, sparkling with suppressed laughter, gave her away. In all fairness, you would be laughing too. In fact, a part of you, deep down, wanted to. It all seemed so absurd. A few months ago, the idea of being intimate with Cassian would have been something so unrealistic. 

"Well, this is Cassian," Feyre began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. “He’s….”

She looked towards Mor for help. The blonde held her gaze for a minute, and then spoke, "Oblivious," she supplied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Honestly, I don't understand how he talks to women," Mor continued, "He's horrible at it. Pretty privilege gets you things, I swear-"

Feyre's expression shifted to one of quiet reprimand. "Mor."

“No, she's right," you admitted with a sigh, tapping Feyre’s hand lightly. "He is pretty bad. He gets away with it because he's hot. And he's good in bed... which I now know." Another groan escaped you as you sank back further against the couch.

You understood now why decision making under any drug, under any hazes, was heavily frowned upon. Your eagerness to bed your best friend, the lustful trance you were in, both drunk on your own arousals, it left you in a mess. You cringed at the embarrassment that still filled you. How were you supposed to be normal, now? Cassian’s smell still filled your nose, the mere thought of him made your core clench. Seeing him made you feel feral. And now, you had to face him casually— knowing he had seen you in such a vulnerable position; that he had seen you completely naked, moaning underneath him. The image sent a blush up your neck. 

"If he wants to move on from it, okay," you said, "But I don't know how to be normal around him. How do people do this?" 

“What?” Mor asked, “Have casual sex?”

“No. I love casual sex,” you said. Even though you’d never finished before Cassian. “But sex with your best friend? Not casual.”

She shrugged. “Depends on the best friend, really.”

You shot her a look. 

“Sorry, not helping.” She lifted a hand up in surrender. “Got it.”

Feyre shifted beside you, her gaze gentle as she placed her hand on top of yours. "Look, it doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to be," she reassured you.

You nodded, appreciating her attempt to ease your anxiety. You knew this wasn’t that big of a deal, at least not to everyone around you. But you were stressed. Your friendship with Cassian was something that you treasured dearly. You knew him better than you knew yourself. He was home. The thought that your bond, the relationship you had formed over centuries, could have been changed by one night of flimsy thinking— it made you worry.  

"I know,” you replied. “But I don't know how to even look at him..." Your voice trailed off as you cringed inwardly. "Like, I said things..." 

Mor and Feyre exchanged a puzzled glance before turning their attention back to you. Feyre furrowed her brow, leaning in closer to you. "What... what things?" 

You couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks flushing at the thought of last night. How had you gone from so confident to so shy now, shy at your own memories, at your own words?

Mark me. 

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

Fuck me like I'm yours. 

With a clearing of your throat, you attempted to regain your composure, trying your best to act natural as you avoided meeting their eyes.

“Just things I can't look him in the face knowing that he heard," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze remained fixed on your hands, fidgeting with your nails in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from their gazes.

“Gods, Y/n,” Mor started, “What kinda stuff are you into?" 

You snapped your head up to meet her gaze, a mixture of shock and disbelief evident on your face. "Not like that, Mor!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with indignation. The blush on your cheeks deepened. "Just very... intimate things," you clarified quickly.

You watched as Mor and Feyre shared another look.

"Hey, stop that," you interjected, pointing a finger between them.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Hmm? Stop what?"

You narrowed your eyes. “The looks.”

Again, Feyre glanced over at Mor– a movement so swift you nearly missed it.

"That! Stop that," you insisted.

They both let out sighs, small smiles playing on their lips. 

"Y/n,” Mor said, “I think you're stressed because it's only been like, what? 12 hours?”

You gave a slight nod. She smiled in response, leaning forward in her chair slightly. “I'm sure it'll go away in a few days.” 

Feyre chimed in, her voice equally as comforting. "If that's what you want, of course," she added.

You nodded to yourself, taking in their words. Maybe they were right. You were in a shock system, your emotions were all over the place. Everything would settle soon. You could handle a few days. A few days to let it all leave your system, a few days to fall back into the old rhythm between you and Cassian. Things would be back to normal within a week, you told yourself, nothing to worry about. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian had begun to realize that he had misread the situation entirely. 

You were distant, more so than he’d ever experienced. At first, he wrote it off as a busy schedule. Even before you two had slept together, your schedules were hectic, causing your time together to be few and far between. But then he started observing you more, started noticing the way that you acted. 

Cass was a physical male, he knew this. He loved to be around other people, loved to touch those around him— in both platonic and sexual ways, depending on the audience. So when you started to doge his cheek kisses, started to duck under the hand he’d move to wrap around your shoulder, he’d taken note.

It hit him last night, when everyone was gathered and sitting around the living room, talking about recent events. The plan was to go over any looming threats, collectively share all the information you had. When you arrived, everyone was already seated. You had stilled, your eyes falling on Cassian, and then on the empty space next him. It felt like hours that he watched you stand there, glancing between him and the cushion. 

He fixed his position, adjusting his wings to make space for you, for them to fall behind you as you placed your head on his shoulder. But the movement never came, his shoulder remaining cold and untouched. Instead, you sat down timidly, pushing yourself further into the other end of the couch, leaning away from him. 

The act, or the lack of it, led him to one conclusion: you regretted that night together. It made so much sense now, in his tired mind. The avoidance, the inability to even touch him, to be in the same room as him. It reeked of regret. How had he not realized sooner? 

He felt a sense of guilt wash through him. You were supposed to be best friends– you were best friends. How had he missed such obvious signs? Cassian deflated. 

Had he made you uncomfortable? With how open he’d been with you? His mind raced with thoughts. If he was a selfish male– which, often, he could be– he would start the conversation with you. He would confess to you that he thought about that night more often than he’d care to admit, that he wanted to repeat it every night–  for the rest of his life, even. But Cassian wasn’t selfish when it came to one thing; he wasn’t selfish when it came to you. So he was faced with a new situation now, one he didn’t know how to navigate, one he couldn’t rely on battle strategies to overcome.  And he was stuck. Completely and utterly stuck.

How could he possibly go back to normal? How could he return to the male he was before– the one who had never heard your sounds of ecstasy, one who had never felt you wrapped around him? 

Sure, he was a strong male, able to withstand any torture, any battle— but he couldn’t withstand you. Couldn’t ignore the sweetness of your smell, the flutter in his chest that came to life when you laughed. He wanted to ignore it, oh how desperately he wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't. He couldn’t ignore it when images of you overtook his mind, couldn’t ignore it when he saw you everytime he closed his eyes, that he heard your whimpers in his sleep, heard the way you chanted his name like a prayer. He didn’t think he had it in him. 

But he supposed he had to try. Because it was you. 

And for you, he’d do anything. Even if that meant never speaking of the roaring in his heart. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You usually loved family brunches, as chaotic and loud as they could be. 

But you weren’t looking forward to today. 

Things with Cassian were still strange. You were willing to admit that they’d gotten slightly better, that now you could look at him without immediately remembering how his tongue felt on you. Before, it was seconds before you’d fall into a dream state, imagining yourself back in your bed with him a week prior. Now, it took a couple of minutes. You considered it progress. You could avoid him throughout the house, tiptoe around his door, keep note of his schedule— but interaction within a family meal was hard to bypass. 

It had been a few days now, but if Cassian wasn’t going to mention anything, neither were you. 

He hadn’t talked to you, couldn’t even look at you without clearing his throat awkwardly, without looking away. Had it been bad for him? All the thinking you’d done over it, mulling over every aspect, had left you reeling. You were exhausted– and incredibly frustrated. Sexually.

You stared at the table in front of you, eyes scanning each seat. Seating arrangements were never something explicitly discussed in your family, but the positions usually stayed the same, an unspoken order to how everyone naturally found their places around the table.

You always sat with Cassian and Azriel, sandwiched between them as their conversations veered into arguments over the most trivial matters—exchanges you explained as males being males. Big, illyrian babies. You always took the opportunity to bother Cass, siding with whatever Azriel’s view was just to see the mock offense play out on his face. He always gasped in disbelief, accusing you of lying, insisting that you actually agreed with him because you both thought the same about everything. Even though you always dismissed his words with a smile and a wave of your hand, he was always right. You did think the same– about everything. Until now.

Mor usually sat next to Amren, the pair drinking wine together while they traded offhanded comments about the rest of you. And then, of course, there was Rhysand and Feyre. Their chairs were always positioned so close together that it was almost as if they were connected, Rhysand's hand often finding its place intertwined with Feyre's—  or when they weren't being subtle, resting possessively on her thigh.

Your eyes scanned over the empty seats at the table. Mor and Cassian had yet to sit down, leaving 3 empty seats: two next to Azriel, and one next to Amren– across the table. You took a deep breath. It was probably in everyone's best interest that you sat away from Cass.  

You didn't want to make things awkward, didn't want him to lean in for conversation only to be hit with the overwhelming scent of your arousal. The last thing you wanted was to force him to pretend he didn't notice, to watch him struggle to act normal while you were clearly fawning over him. It would be mortifying– it had been mortifying. You knew Cassian would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, but it would put him in a strange position as someone who didn't see you in that way, someone who was trying to move on.

You decided it was best to wait it out a little longer before you could be around him properly again, give yourself time to regain control over your emotion. Until then, you’d keep your distance, avoiding situations that might intensify your feelings. 

With a slight hesitation, you made your way towards the seat next to Amren, oblivious to Cassian's presence as he emerged from the kitchen. His familiar scent washed over you like a tidal wave, enveloping your senses in a way that had you melting– you feared that your legs would turn to jelly, that you would fall to the floor in front of him. Your grip on your plate tightened instinctively.

You looked up at Cass, meeting his gaze directly. Beautiful, beautiful hazel eyes peered down at you. They widened a fraction, his mouth slightly parting. You managed to give him a small smile, slightly breathless as your stomach tied itself into knots. You attempted to sidestep him, but he mirrored your movements, resulting in a clumsy dance of trying to avoid collision. With each step, you found yourselves inadvertently blocking each other's path once more, creating a scene that you knew would be comical had you not been the one stuck in it. 

"Oh, sorry, I—" you started, your words interrupted by Cassian's chuckle of amusement. His laughter caused a flutter in your heart, a small smile making its way onto your face as a blush rose to your cheeks

With a casual gesture, he lifted his hand and plate high above, and you quickly ducked underneath, a wave of relief rolling through you. Scrambling over to Amren's side, you felt the weight of eyes on you, but you didn’t dare to look up, didn’t dare to see whose gaze it was. The last thing you wanted was to risk catching Cassian's eyes again.

As you settled into your seat, you focused on maintaining your composure, ensuring that no one else could sense—or The Mother forbid, smell—the emotions you were feeling: arousal, attraction… and something else. Something sweeter. 

You turned your head to the side, meeting Amren’s gaze, her expression unreadable save for a raised eyebrow. With a soft murmur, you muttered, "Don't start.”

To your surprise, Amren's lips curved ever so slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She didn't say anything in response, opting instead to take a leisurely sip from the crimson liquid in her cup.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian was surprised when you’d shown up to training, clad in your fighting leathers and a small smile on your face. His heart quickened its pace as his eyes landed on you, the sight of you filling him with a rush of unexpected excitement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he even realized it, a warmth spreading through his body. 

Your hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, swaying gently behind you with each purposeful step. As you walked, Cassian felt a surge of desire stirring within him, his eyes tracing your figure, taking in the way the leather clung to your body, how it accentuated every curve. He’d noticed how good you looked in your letters before, of course, but he’d been better at pushing the thoughts away, at refocusing himself. He found it incredibly more difficult now that he knew what you looked like underneath them. He wondered if you were still adorned in his marks, wondered what it would be like to strip you naked right here, take you on the floor. 

He didn’t notice you had reached him, that you were standing in front of him with furrowed brows, until you were saying something. He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and hastily cleared his throat. "H-hey, Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

A small frown creased your brow as you tilted your head. "When have I ever missed a training session of ours?"

"Yeah, right, it's just," Cassian paused for a moment, “You’ve been so busy recently.”

You glanced away briefly, a flicker of guilt—or was it shame?—crossing your features before you turned back to him with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been... busy," you admitted, your tone clearly apologetic. "Dealing with some stuff."

Cassian felt a tug on her heart, a sense of guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. Memories of your night together flooded his head, each vivid and pleasurable. He pictured your face, the way you spoke, the feel of your skin. Was he so engulfed in his affection towards you, so blinded by his lust, that he had missed any sign of your discomfort? Had you not enjoyed yourself?

"Well, uh, is everything okay?" 

He watched as a faint smile graced your face, soft and reassuring. 

“Yeah," you replied, “Yeah, I think so.”

Cassian felt a tug at his heartstrings, a warmth blooming in his chest like wildfire. His wings fell slightly– a movement of relief, a sense of comfortability filling him. His heart pounded against his ribcage, its steady rhythm echoing in his ears like the pounding of a drum. He wondered how you couldn’t hear it— prayed that you couldn’t.

"Well, good, I'm glad.”

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face. You playfully punched him on the arm, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he’d missed. He took in every detail of your expression, savoring the way your features softened with amusement.

Despite the lightness of the gesture, so casual, so platonic, he couldn't help the heat that spread through him at the contact. The sensation lingered long after your hand retreated.

He chuckled, pushing his feelings down deeper into his chest. “As if.”

You both fell easily into your normal routine, sweat beginning to pool on your skin as you maneuvered around one another. Cassian paid extra attention to the way you moved, to how your body acted around him. 

"You seem a bit distracted today," he remarked, his voice laced with playful amusement as he deftly dodged another one of your attacks, your favorite dagger gripped tightly in your hand. Your actions didn’t seem as fluid as normal, your movements staggered and uncertain. 

You shot him a pointed look. Then, a small smirk played on the corners of your lips, your beautiful pink lips. "I could say the same," you countered. "Maybe if you focused more on your body than mine, you could actually beat me."

Cassian blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden change in tone. Were you… flirting with him? He felt a rush of excitement course through him, his heart leaping in his chest as blood rushed to both of his heads. Even if it was simply playful, he relished in the feeling, in the reality of you being able to banter with him once more.

"Oh yeah?" Cass replied, matching your playful tone. "I guess I'll just have to try harder, won't I?"

Cassian's eyes followed you intently, tracking every movement with precision. Your steps were lighter now, more agile, more calculated. He almost smirked at the fact that his words were riling you up, causing such observable differences. In one swift movement, you deflected his hand, your body falling closer to him. Instantly, Cassian's senses were overwhelmed by your presence, the scent of you filling his nostrils, sweet and intoxicating. A surge of desire coursed through him. You smelled so damn good. He wanted to grab you then, kiss you, undress yo-

The breath was knocked out of Cassian's chest as you skillfully knocked him off balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a resounding thud. With a slow blink, he registered the movement, finding himself pinned beneath you, a dagger pressed against his throat. 

There was a grin on your lips as you looked down at him triumphantly.

"For such a big male, you sure do go down easy," you teased.

His mind was instantly filled with Images of you sprawled out before him, memories of him falling to his knees at your glistening core. He smirked. 

"I seem to recall you loving how easily I went down.”

You let out a small gasp of surprise– barely audible, but Cassian caught it. The sound sent a jolt straight down his core, straight to his cock. He watched as a blush crept onto your cheeks, a beautiful pink color dusting your skin.

He felt the weight of your touch ease, the tension in your fingers relenting against his skin. Your eyes met his for a moment before they drifted downward, lingering momentarily on his lips.

A single strand of your hair had broken free from your ponytail, cascading delicately over him like a silken tendril. Its faint touch tickled his forehead. Slowly, Cassian reached up, his fingers trailing along the curve of your cheek as he tenderly tucked the stray strand behind your ear. He kept his fingers there for a moment, tracing the shell of your ear, the same way he had done a week prior. 

A mounting pressure swelled within his chest, something deep inside him pushing him to speak, urging him to confess these new feelings he had begun to realize– feelings for you. But just as he summoned the courage to speak, you shifted slightly, and Cassian’s eyes widened.

Oh fuck. Cassian thought. Oh no. 

He was hard. Rock fucking hard.

Panic surged through him like a lightning bolt. Not now, he thought, not here. Not when you’d finally started acting normal around him, flirty even. You were going to be uncomfortable, put off by his weird attraction to you. 

As he scrambled to regain his composure, Cassian's movements became hurried and erratic, his muscles tensing as he attempted to push himself upright. When his body shifted abruptly, you instinctively pulled away from him. He missed the frown that made its way onto your face, the hurt that flickered in your eyes. Instead, he was focused on positioning himself in a way that didn’t face you, a way where his evident arousal wasn’t so… evident. 

With a hurried nod and a mumbled acknowledgment of your victory, Cassian swiftly made his exit. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor upended the wine bottle, allowing the last remnants to cascade into her glass with a satisfying glug. The evening sun casted warm hues through the windows of her apartment, a view that would have left you relaxed had it not been for your wound up mind. 

"I didn't even realize I was flirting with him until it came out," you said, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush.  "I could've sworn he liked it! I mean, he matched the energy."

Your friends stared at you. A moment of silence passed. Then, Amren's voice cut through the air. "I'm failing to see a problem," she stated bluntly, fixing you with her narrow gaze.

"Yeah, isn't this good?" Feyre chimed in, her voice gentle but firm. "You liked it, right?"

You let out a small sigh.

"Yeah, I liked it," you admitted, leaning back against the couch. "But then, a few moments later, he was practically pushing me off him and leaving."

It was a wrong move on your part— the flirting, that is. You were just beginning to fall into a normal pace with Cass, finally being able to be around him without wanting to rip his clothes off. And now you were back in the same position, a weird tension wrapped around you and your best friend. It wasn’t like you had planned on flirting with him, but it didn’t change the fact that you liked it. You thought he’d liked it too, could have sworn you saw a gleam in his eyes. 

You let out another sigh, a sound laced with frustration. 

"And you know what else?" you continued, your tone escalating. "He called me baby. Like who calls someone baby when they're inside them and then just leaves in the morning, no mention of it? And now he wants to act all normal? But will flirt with me and then run away? It's cruel."

Feyre's eyes widened slightly, your words registering in her mind as fast as you spilled them. She blinked, turning to exchange a quick glance with Mor– the blonde seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entertainment, her lips turned up into an amused smile. 

You caught the exchanged glance, your eyes fitting onto Mor as she brought her glass to her lips. She raised an eyebrow at you, meeting your gaze. 

"Don't even say it,” you said, catching the knowing glint in her eyes. 

Mor chuckled.

"Babe, I literally haven’t said a thing since you walked in."

You stilled. She was right. You were rambling, rambling like a horny teenager with a silly crush. You sank further into yourself, running your hands down your face in frustration.

"Are you a mind reader, girl?"

You scrunched your face in confusion as you turned to face Amren. 

"No?" 

"Exactly," she retorted, "Figure out what you want and then talk to him. No need to be children about it."

You recoiled slightly at the bluntness of her words, feeling a pang of irritation at the implied criticism. But deep down, you knew she was right. But what did you want? You didn’t like the unease that filled moments with him, you didn’t like how you had to overthink everything you did, everything you said. But did you truly want things to go back to how they were before? Or did you want something else? 

With a resigned sigh, you allowed yourself to lean into Feyre's comforting presence, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to dissipate as she placed her head on top of yours. You let your mind spiral as your friends began talking amongst themselves.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rhys found it funny at first, hilarious even. 

Seeing Cassian so riled up, so flustered, was amusing. But it had been hours now, and Rhysand had work to attend to— important court affairs that he couldn't focus on while Cass was spilling his guts out like a common court gossip. What was once entertaining now felt exhausting. Rhysand felt like he had a child. Either that, or an annoyingly vocal pet. 

Rhys let out a chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the study. Cassian came to an abrupt halt, shooting a sharp glare at his brother. 

"What's so funny about this?" Cassian demanded.

Rhys regarded him with a knowing look, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "All of it," he replied with a small shrug. "You’re one of the most feared males, and here you are, stumbling over one night with Y/n. It's fascinating."

Cassian’s glare only sharpened, his jaw clenched. Cassian was stumbling. After practically running away from you the other day, he’d found it hard to face you again. Embarrassment filled him when he thought of it, when he thought of how easy it was for him to get riled up at the thought of you, how embarrassing it was for him to have to run off and rub himself raw every time you smiled at him. He was a grown male – a terrifying warrior– and he’d almost finished in his damn fighting leathers at the smell of you. 

He thought it was rough before, after that first night at Rita’s, that week of lusting after you so hard. But it was much worse now after having experienced it, after knowing how fucking fantastic it was to fuck you, to make you moan. 

"Don't judge me,"  Cassian snapped, his tone defensive. "You weren't the Lord of calm and collected when you and Feyre started moving past friendship."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Are you comparing this situation to me and my mate?" 

Cassian paused for a moment. The look Rhysand gave him made him feel like a child caught with his pants down. He glanced away for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts, before meeting Rhys's gaze again. He frowned. "Shut up," he growled, his tone still gruff, but with a hint of sheepishness that Rhysand didn’t fail to pick up on.

What was Cassian supposed to do? Should he live with his feelings for you in secret? Pretend they didn't exist in order to return back to normal with you? He supposed he could ignore them, shove them far into a crawlspace in his mind, leave them to collect dust. But it wasn’t realistic. The mere sight of you sent shivers across his body, the thought of you alone made him horny enough to be incapable of rational thought. 

Pushing himself off his chair, Rhys walked around his desk to where Cassian stood, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. With a firm touch, he clapped a hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

"Cassian, brother," Rhysand began as he guided them both towards the door. "You know that I love you."

Cassian's brows furrowed at the sudden statement, but his frown softened into a small as he reciprocated the sentiment. "I love you too, man," he replied.

"And that I'd die for you.”

Cassian nodded, his brows furrowing deeper. 

"So take this the way that you wish," Rhysand concluded, his voice trailing off as he gave Cassian a final nudge forward. 

Cass stumbled forward slightly, face twisted in confusion as he turned to Rhysand– only to find himself met with the sight of the door slamming shut in his face. Cassian’s mouth fell open in offense. A sense of frustration prickling over him, soon turning into a wave of embarrassment. 

"You're a prick, Rhysand!" he exclaimed, shooting a glare at the closed door.

Rhysand's laughter echoed from behind the door, a sound that only served to further fuel Cassian’s annoyance. With a shake of his head, Cass turned away, his steps heavy with frustration as he made his way down the hallway.

Fix your mess, brother. Rhysand's voice echoed in his mind. It's leaving you very exposed.

Cassian flinched internally as Rhys emphasized his point with a firm tap against his mental shields.

Fuck you. 

No thanks, Rhysand swiftly replied, Wouldn’t want you to finish in your fighting leathers at the smell of me.

Cassian growled as he forcefully shoved Rhys out of his mind. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian’s stomach clenched as he rounded the corner, catching sight of you standing outside his door, hand poised to knock.

"Y/n?" 

You let out a startled sound, a mix between a gasp and a shriek, as your hand flew to your chest, your eyes wide with surprise. "Gods,” you breathed out, looking at Cassian as your heartbeat slowed. “You scared me.”

Cassian smiled at your reaction, a warmth spreading through him as the sound of your sweet voice filled his ears. With a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his gaze softening as he took in your presence.

"Sorry," he said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached you with a small smile. “What’re you doing?”

Your cheeks flushed at the sight of his smile, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. How embarrassing. It’s literally only been a minute. You blinked, clearing your head of your thoughts. "Oh, I was looking for you.” 

Cassian’s smile turned into a grin as he tilted his head with a small laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart, I gathered that much.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of the pet name, a wave of longing washing over you as you realized how much you had missed hearing it. It had been over a week since you last heard it, over a week since Cass had been comfortable enough to use it once more. Gods, had you missed him—the way his voice sounded, the warmth of his smile, the comfort of his presence. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. 

He stood before you, his gaze warm and tender as he took in your presence, savoring the moment, tracing the features of your face with his eyes. For a brief instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by quiet as you took each other in. 

"Wanna go in?" he asked, giving a small nod towards the door behind you. "Or we could stand out here. I'm good with either.”

The sound of his teasing wrapped around you, and you gave him a jokingly unamused face, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Loser, " you replied, rolling your eyes with a smile. You turned to open his door, walking into his room. 

The smell of him instantly surrounded you– peaceful nights and crackling fires, a warmth that only he caused within you. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as your smile deepended. You heard the sound of the door close softly behind you. 

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one clamoring for attention as you tried to find the right words to say. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to tell him, what you even wanted from him. 

"I want to talk about the other night," you blurted out, turning to face him. Instantly, you felt a rush of nerves flood through you, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Y’know, when we fucked.”

Cassian's demeanor shifted slightly as he stilled. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, too.”

“You have?”

Cassian nodded, his movements hesitant as he ran a hand through his hair."Yeah," he admitted, "I wasn't sure how to approach it.”

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, your pulse quickening. His gaze bounced around the room, falling everywhere but your face. You frowned, waiting for his eyes to settle on you, wanting to see the brown hues you’d grown to love so much. 

His gaze finally met yours. 

"I know you regret it. We can move on and go back to normal. I promise."

You frowned, your face falling at his words. 

"Regret it?" 

Your tone was a clear indicator that Cassian had said something wrong. But now he was confused, unsure of what he said that warranted your confusion. 

"Yeah, it seemed pretty clear.”

You shook your head. "What are you talking about?" you repeated, your voice now tinged with frustration. Had Cassian believed you didn’t enjoy yourself? Had he been thinking that the entire time? 

"You won't even touch me," Cassian stated matter-of-factly. There was a sense of frustration in his voice that seeped into his words.

"Because whenever I touch you," you said, your voice now slightly trembling, "I feel this weird warmth that makes me want you to rip my clothes off!"

The confession spilled from your lips before you could stop it, the raw honesty of your feelings washing over you in a wave of embarrassment and frustration. Your eyes widened as you watched Cassian take in your words. 

“Well I want to rip your clothes off!”

His admission filled you with a sense of relief that had you releasing a breath. The relief quickly turned into arousal, a fire beginning to simmer underneath your skin, a warmth spreading through your veins. You wanted to pull him into a kiss, to run your hands along his chest. 

"You do?" 

"Yes!" Cassian replied, his voice deep and guttural, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity in his tone stirred a primal desire that pulsed with an undeniable heat. He took a few large strides towards you, stopping so he was directly in front of you, looking down at your face. 

Your chest tightened, your heart fluttering erratically in its beat. You quickly reined in your impulses, forcing yourself to hold back from making any rash movements. Rushing into things had only led to complications last time– you were not going to repeat the same mistakes.

Amren's words echoed in your mind. You needed to think about what you wanted— what you truly wanted. And deep down, you knew the answer. All you wanted was Cassian. You had always wanted Cassian. But the thought of risking your friendship, of irreparably altering the dynamic between you, filled you with a sense of unease that you wanted to run away from. 

Returning to normal seemed like the safest option, the path of least resistance. Keeping your friendship intact, with no risk of crossing boundaries or venturing into uncharted territory, felt like the logical choice. But as Cassian stood before you, his gaze filled with longing, you weren’t so sure if the safest option was what you wanted.

"But that's a problem!" you said, "I don’t want to risk ruining this," you continued, gesturing between the two of you. "This amazing and strong friendship we've built, because we just want to fuck each other."

“Just want to fuck each other? Is that all this is?” He paused for a moment. “Is that what you want?’

You hesitated. “I don’t know," you admitted, your voice soft. "But I've thought about it, and I could do it, for you. Because I am really, really attracted to you."

Cassian's heart skipped a beat at your words. He wanted to grin at the emphasis of his attractiveness, to poke fun at how much you liked him, but he found himself caught up on two words that you had uttered.

"For me?" he repeated, a slight frown on his face. “What do you mean for me?”

You let out a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips as you glanced to the side before meeting his gaze again. "C’mon, Cass. You don’t do romance.”

Cassian's brows furrowed in surprise, a hint of offense flashing in his eyes. "What are you talking about? I do romance just fine," he protested, his voice defensive.

"You've never had a girlfriend, or any serious relationship for that matter," you pointed out, "And you've been around a long time, you old fuck."

"Wrong. There was that one female that one time." 

You stared at him blankly, your mouth slightly parted.

"You know, with the…the hair," he continued, gesturing vaguely to his own body, mimicking the flow of long hair.

The corners of your lips turned up as you let out a small laugh of disbelief. He was an idiot. You had feelings for an idiot. 

"Your attention to detail truly astounds me, Cass," you remarked dryly. "I'm surprised Azriel isn't worried about his position as our court's Spymaster. Should I go tell him that his job may be up for grabs?"

Cassian wanted to laugh, but he recognized your attempts to deflect instantly, deciding to place a hand on your arm. His eyes swiftly scanned your features, craning his head down to catch your gaze. 

“Y/n,” he said softly, calling your attention back to him. Your eyes met his almost instantly. 

"Yes?" 

"I don’t want to just fuck you," Cassian said, his hand coming to rest against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I mean, I do. Real bad. Reaaaal bad," he added with a hint of playful exaggeration. “But it's not just that.” 

"Then what is it?" 

"I want all of it.”

His other hand moved up to hold your other cheek. He gazed at you intently, his eyes soft with a look of longing that had you melting into his touch. His thumbs brushed your cheeks in tandem. You brought your hands up to hold his wrists, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and exhaled deeply, your brows furrowing with uncertainty.

"What if we don't work and this turns into something really bad?"

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumbs gently tracing circles on your cheeks as he considered your question. "Or, hear me out," he began, his voice steady and filled with conviction, "What if this is something really good?"

"But what if it’s not?" you repeated, your voice heavy with worry. "I mean, you've already seen me naked and I don’t know how to act.”

Cassian grinned at the comment, his mind drifting off to the images of you buried into his mind. But his expression quickly softened, falling back into the seriousness that you needed. "Hey," he said gently, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. "Give me some credit."

You let out a small sigh and nodded softly. Cassian was always great at reeling you in when he needed to, at calling out your pessimistic tendencies. Maybe he was right. You weren’t giving your best friend enough credit. He wouldn’t let anything ruin your friendship— centuries of your bond had proven this. If he was confident in this, in you, you should be too. You looked at him, still quiet. His eyes softened.

"Life would suck absolute balls without you," Cass said, adding with a small clarifying grin, "In a bad way."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his words, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “How romantic.”

Cassian’s grin only widened, his thumb tracing along the curve of your smile line, a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine. You relished in the feeling of his hands on you, on the heat his movements sent through your body. 

"Okay, maybe I could stand to work on my romancing," he chuckled, a sound that made your heart swell. "But what I’m trying to say is… I like you," he confessed, his voice brimming with a sincerity that made you breathless. "You’re my best friend, and you’re so beautiful, and so hot. And I like you."

"You like me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck yeah I do.”

His hazel eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through your veins, an intensity that made you feel exposed before him, as if his gaze had the power to strip away every layer of doubt, of apprehension. 

"Loser," you whispered, your voice soft, teasing. You felt a blush on your cheeks, a heat that traveled up your neck. There was something about the way he spoke to you, about the confessions he had made, something that made you feel timid, meek. 

Cassian's grip tightened ever so slightly on the base of your neck, slowly pulling you even closer to him. You ran your hands along his wrists, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

Cassian's voice lowered. "Maybe, for you." he murmured, his gaze holding yours with unwavering intensity. "Do you like me too?"

“Maybe.”

"Maybe?" Cassian repeated, his voice a low rumble. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hunger that made your core clench. Leaning in closer, he closed the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into your ear. "Seemed a bit more than maybe when you were writhing on my cock.”

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt his stubble against your cheeks, his hands tightening around the base of your neck. 

Your breath hitched, “Cassian.”

"Yeah, baby?" 

The name had you practically melting in his touch. Cassian's voice was laced with a husky warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, a neediness pooling at your core. As he spoke, his lips brushed softly against your cheeks, his mouth moving lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your neck with a gentle fervor. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Each kiss sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through you, each hair on your body on end. The kisses were gentle, passionate, and you were already soaked, your breath ragged and heavy. You could smell your own arousal, could smell his even stronger. The scent made your mouth go dry, made you excited at the images that began to form in your mind. 

"Kiss me." 

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Instantly, Cassian responded to your plea, his lips meeting yours in a heavy kiss that left you breathless. His hands held your face as you reached out to pull him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, gripping at them as he moaned into your mouth. 

His touch was sure, confident, as he began to help you shed your clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and ties in a hurry. Your hands were frantic as you helped him peel his shirt off, trailing a finger across his wings as he groaned. His pants came off next, the sweats easily pulled down and discarded. You ran your hand along his clothed length, hard and ready underneath this underwear— those quickly came off too, your fingers eagerly helping to rip them off. 

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt— not now, not anymore. Every touch of his set your skin on fire, igniting a passion that you could feel consuming you with every second, with every gasp you let out. And you welcomed it, eagerly pulling him closer, wanting to be as close to him as possible, wanting to make up for lost time, for the entirety of this week, for the centuries you’d spent missing out on this. 

You could feel how ready you were for him, wet and slick between your thighs, legs rubbing together impatiently as he pulled apart to fully scan your naked form before him. It was then that you became aware of the open air on your skin, at how your nipples responded to the chill, peaked, pink, and eager. Your mouth went dry at the sight of Cassian, his body illuminated by the faint faelight in his room, his wings extended out proudly, dominant. 

“You’re fucking stunning, sweetheart,” he praised, “I don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

And then he was on you again, wide hands, warm and rough with callouses and scars, ran up the length of you, one pulling you in by the base of your neck, the other grabbing at your breasts. You registered some movement, your steps taking you backwards as Cassian led you to his bed. When the backs of your calves hit the base of his mattress, you fell back onto his bed, pulling him with you. 

His hands were all over you again, grabbing at your skin, at your waist, roughly bringing your breasts into his palm. You weaved your fingers through his hair, grabbing at his scalp as he lowered his mouth onto your neck, trailing kisses down your body. 

You looked down at him, watching as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking at it while you mewed underneath him. He released it with a small pop, and then he was pulling away slightly, a finger trailing over a small spot on your skin where a previous mark of his was left, now small, almost faded. He glanced up at you, a look in his eyes that made you gasp, made you clench everything below your waist. 

“We can’t have these disappearing, now can we?”

He brought his mouth back onto your skin, sucking and biting at the area, his other hand roughly palming at your other breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. You pulled at his hair even harder, small sounds of ecstasy falling from your lips like gentle rain. Cassian welcomed the sounds, feeling his heart flutter, feeling his cock grow harder with every moan he pulled from you. 

“Better,” Cassian said, lifting himself off you with a wolfish grin “Now everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words shouldn’t have made you melt as much as they did, shouldn’t have made your cunt throb at the idea— but it did. Every part of your body was filled with a warmth that spread through you, consuming you in a lustful, vulnerable haze. You couldn’t say anything in response, couldn’t move. All that you could do was whisper his name, chant it over and over again like it was the only word you knew, the only word you needed. 

"Fuck," Cass groaned, meeting your gaze as he pushed himself upright. His face was pinker than before, flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, his large fingers wrapping around his cock. He pumped once, then twice. You watched as Cassian lowered himself, shuffling between your spread legs. He wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs, pulling them apart further to slot himself in between. His wings shivered behind him. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. 

“Been dreamin of this since that night.”

And then he dragged a finger up your core, collecting the wetness that had pooled, glistening and gorgeous before him. You jumped, an immediate response to his touch, and Cass cooed softly in response, continuing his exploration until his finger was resting on your sensitive clit. It was already throbbing beneath his touch, a hot pulse of desire that seemed to radiate throughout your entire body.

“So needy,” he whispered, in awe. “And so damn wet, Cauldron baby, this all for me?”

He circled it carefully, moving slowly and gently, teasing your clit with delicate, little nudges. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you breathless and craving more. Cassian knew, now, exactly how to drive you wild. You could feel your arousal building, your body responding to his every touch.

“Oh Gods,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets. “Please.”

You weren’t sure exactly what it was you were begging for, what you wanted more. You wanted him, wanted to feel him, his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his cock. 

He closed his mouth around you, his tongue pressed firmly against you as he gently sucked. You let out a high-pitched gasp, your jaw hanging open, eyes tightly shut as vibrant colors danced behind your eyelids, sparkling like fireworks, as Cassian continued to lick and suck at you, repeating the same rhythmic pattern. You arched your back, meeting his tongue with eager enthusiasm.

Cassian pulled back slightly and smirked, bringing his middle and pointer fingers to his mouth, getting them wet with his saliva before pushing them into you. Cass groaned at how easily they slid in, at the glistening wetness that pooled around your hole. Your head fell back onto the mattress, overwhelmed with the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Cass.”

Cassian's tongue moved greedily over your clit as your cunt fluttered around the base of his fingers, pulling him in closer, drawing in his touch even more. Cassian swore at the sensation, his lips parting around your cunt as he sucked hard. Your back arched, legs falling away, ass lifted up for his attention. You pushed yourself against his mouth, against his fingers, unrestrained, eyes tightly shut, hands fumbling for something to grab onto. 

“That’s it baby, say my name,” Cass groaned, pulling his mouth from your cunt, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you. He increased the speed of his fingers, curling them to massage the inside of your walls.“Touch your tits for me, sweetheart, play w’them.”

And you did. Your hands moved to your breasts, grabbing them roughly, rolling your nipples in between your fingers as he worked his tongue around your clit, fucking you with his fingers. 

Then you were gripping him by the base of his neck, hands weaving into his hair as you pulled him up to you, his body frantically crawling over yours, hands braced on the mattress. Your lips met his with urgency, a mix of greed and desperation. You sighed in satisfaction as Cass groaned, opening his mouth for you immediately. You pushed further into him with your tongue, a hand sliding further into his hair and tugging gently. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, a heat rushing through your body at the memory of him merely moments ago, suffocating between your legs, lapping at you like a male dying of dehydration.

When you pulled apart, you were breathless, foreheads leaning against each other. You looked at him through your lashes, lids heavy with lust, with desperation to be filled with him.

“I need you inside me.”

Your voice was quiet, a soft plea that made Cassian feel feral. He felt it straight down to his cock, throbbing and ready, aching to feel you clenching around him, to feel you falling apart. 

In a swift movement, he stood up and flipped you over, your breath leaving your lungs. You let out a small squeal as he pulled you onto your knees, following the movement to kneel behind you once more. He roughly spread your legs so that you were spread bare before him, your glistening cunt on full display. He let out an animalistic groan, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, kneading the flesh roughly. 

“You’re telling me I could’ve had you like this all week?”

The sound of his voice alone made you moan, made you squirm underneath him as his hands ran up and down your hips, down to your thighs. He ran finger through the wetness at your core, leaving hot, wet, and open kisses on the backs of your thighs. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, his finger still running through your folds. You let out a sigh of protest at the removal of his mouth, but soon you felt his lips down on your ass once more— as he bit the skin, leaving a mark of ownership, a claim to him.

“Cassian!” 

He stood up, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of you before him, spread wide and beautiful, slick and wet, shining with anticipation for him, for his cock. You looked over your shoulder, watching as Cass smirked, lifting a hand slowly.

The first smack on your ass was startling, hard enough to warm you, heat blooming over the curve of you keened, eyes slipping shut. Your head fell back forward, resting on the mattress. He stroked his cock, allowing it to glide against your entrance until both of you were slick with your desire. 

“You’ve made me wait. I want to hear you beg for it, sweetheart.” You could hear the grin in his voice as he slapped your other ass cheek. “Show me how much you want me."

You sucked in a breath and pushed your ass out further, back arched real pretty, your cheek squished against his mattress, pressing into the soft sheets below you. 

“Cass, please, please.” 

Cassian let out a pained groan and then pressed against you, his chest melting onto your back as his cock slid in, creating a tight, hot, wet stretch. His body pressed against yours even harder, the warmth of his skin seeping into, what felt like, your very being. You felt the muscles in his thighs against you, working in rhythm of his movements as he fucked you, thrusting into you with a pace that had you writhing underneath him. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only heightened the sensations coursing through your body, a smell that made you drool. 

“I missed this,” Cassian growled, “Couldn’t stop thinking about fucking this pretty pussy.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in a haze of pure pleasure as you focused on the feeling of Cassian inside you. Each thrust sent cool, electric, shivers down your spine, the sensation of being filled and stretched by his cock causing you to clench around him, begging for more.

His hands gripped your hips with a firm grasp as he drove himself deeper into your body.The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, ragged breaths and incoherent praises falling from both of your lips. With one hand still on your hip, Cassian leaned forward and sunk his other into your hair, tugging you back up with him— a little rough, possessive. He brought your face to his, cheek to cheek as he murmured against you, his breath hot. 

“Fuck, Gods, Y/n,” he groaned out, his voice raspy, deep. He sounded breathless, the words stuttering out of him with every hard thrust. All you could do was moan, letting your body emit every sound that formed in your throat. Cassian’s hands were heavy and bruising, exploring every inch of you as he fucked into you harder, faster. Palming at your hips, your stomach, over the column of your throat. A hand settled there, squeezing at the tender flesh on your neck.

“Whose pussy is this? Huh?”

He asked, breath harsh, voice wrecked. The heat of his body against you made you feel like you were on fire, every part of you being filled with him, warm and pliant in his hands. You wanted to sob with it all, at the pleasure that you were feeling, at the flutter in your chest and the coiling in your stomach. 

“Yours,” you managed to whisper, moving a hand behind your head to frame his face, to delve your fingers into his soft, messy hair. You felt Cassian twitching inside of you, his grip tightening on your throat, the other hand gripping onto your tits. 

“Yeah, baby,” His voice filled your ears as your head fell back into his, his tongue running alongside the side of your neck. He gave you a small bite, quickly sucking to soothe the pain. “Fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart.”  

His hand dropped from your breasts, trailing down your body as he rutted into you faster. His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud. You arched into him, your hand grabbing at his hair tighter, harder, causing him to groan into your neck. His cock slid deep inside you, filling you completely, and you swore you could feel every vein and every ridge as it rubbed against your sensitive walls, as his length stretched you out with every stroke. It was all so overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, your pleasure building up, coiling deep within your core. 

The sounds you were emitting made Cassian feel as if he truly were a God, chasing after your release, every sweet sound of yours fueling him to take you, to make you his. 

"Cass, oh gods, Cass, please." 

His name on your lips drove him even wilder, thrusting into you harder. 

"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me, come with me."

You felt Cassian’s heart pounding on your back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you. And with another roll of his hips, you were falling apart, clenching around him, both of your eyes slamming shut as he tumbled over after you, falling into the bed. The sensation of your pussy tightening around him caused his own coil to snap, one final thrust into you before he was filling you with his desire, coating the walls of your cunt with his seed. 

He pulled out, cock slightly limp, glistening with your combined fluids— a trail of his cum and your wetness tied you two together, his seed slowly dripping down your core. The sight of it alone had his cock twitching again, stirring at the fact that you were filled with him.

It was beautiful— you were beautiful, breathless before him, body limp with ragged breaths. Cassian was a lucky, lucky man.

That thought also made his cock stir again. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹  

As you leaned back against Cassian's chest in the warmth of the bath, a sense of peace washed over you, gentle and comforting. You welcomed it with open arms, your tired, achy muscles relaxing in the water. Steam filled the room around you, creating a cozy cocoon of comfort, a quiet air that made your heart hum. Cassian's arms encircled you protectively as you leaned against his chest, feeling each rise and fall of his breaths. 

Cassian was gentle when you had finished, his touch soft as you laid on the bed, watching as he brought a warm cloth to your body. He was adamant on being a gentleman, on being tender as he cleaned you up, on running a bath that he had insisted on carrying you to. There was a deeper care, a thoughtfulness in his actions now that touched your heart, made it flutter in a way that had you blushing, cheeks tinged pink with admiration. 

With a soft chuckle, you broke the comfortable silence, your voice filled with a soft tone that made Cassian’s heart beat faster.

“You like me,” you whispered, as you ran your hands along his arm. 

“Actually,” he breathed, placing a small kiss to the top of your head. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And then, as his words sank in, a wide smile spread across your face. You turned to look at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest as you met his eyes.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," he replied, his own smile mirroring yours.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: for everyone who asked for a part 2, i hope you luved this as much as i did. i just luv these two dummies. be on the look out for a lil valentines day inspired blub of them <;3

[eff4freddie]

Play With Her

Explicit - 18+ Minors DNI

A sequel to Play With It

Words: 4k

You and Joel have fond memories of the last time he called you from work. But a slight misunderstanding leads to some fun with your neighbour, and to you ( accidentally) fulfilling one of Joel’s secret fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, people. So much. Smut. Oral (m and f receiving), phone sex, mmf (kinda), Joel talks his girl through it like a gentleman, surprise Frankie, Joel’s a little shocked but he is very into it, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Joel being kinda soft dom again.

You hadn’t forgotten Joel’s antics in his car in the middle of a workday, but despite a particularly explosive afternoon immediately following, you hadn’t had the time to properly get him back. It hadn’t been either of your faults, just that work continued to be relentless, something went wrong at the site, materials weren’t delivered, the vendors got mad. You developed a little twitch in your eyelid. Joel came home rubbing his neck and shoulders and turning the kitchen upside down trying to find the heat pack.

You knew there was love there, that there was passion. You weren’t worried about it, even though you missed him. You knew that it was situational. When the air cleared, you’d get back to taking each other apart.

--

Joel woke up early again, groaning as his muscles ached like they hadn’t had any rest at all. You were in bed beside him, and he knew that you’d had a late shift but you’d managed to rack up enough overtime that today you had the whole day to yourself. He was so proud of you, his little worker bee, and even though he was disappointed your schedules hadn’t aligned so that he could enjoy the day with you, or on top of you, he still knew it was good for you. He left a little note on your bedside, telling you he was gonna call around lunchtime. He marked it with two x’s and two o’s. For a second he imagined actually peppering your skin with kisses.

‘Soon, baby,’ he said, to your sleeping form. He was quiet in his socks on the carpet as he left.

On the way out the door, piece of toast between his teeth, he looked over the front lawn. It was getting out of control, and he’d been meaning to cut it, but he just couldn’t find the energy on a weekend, and as the days were gettin’ shorter as the weather changed, he was leaving in the dark, home in the dark. He didn’t like the look of the lawn, worried that the state of the grass was a direct reflection of the state of his aging body, of his bone-deep fatigue most days. That the neighbours would twig he was getting older, purely by the weeds spreading their tendrils over the path to the door.

‘Morning, Joel,’ he heard a voice call, and he glanced over to next door’s patio, where one such neighbour was standing with the newspaper in his hands.

‘Frankie,’ he said, nodding his head. He got on well with Frankie, even if he wasn’t 100% sure he trusted him all the time. He had a kid he had over every other weekend, who Sarah adored, and other than that he lived alone. Ex-military, he reminded Joel of Tommy, and he tried to be sensitive knowing some of the shit he must have seen. He didn’t seem lonely, he was handy and knew how to get Joel’s truck going when the engine was on the fritz, and more than anything he treated you respectful, tipped his cap when you walked by, and Joel liked that. Appreciated the manners.

‘Early start,’ Frankie said, and Joel sighed. He rested a hand on his hip.

‘Too early,’ he grunted, and the younger man smiled knowingly at him. As Joel moved to the truck he limped a little, his hip bothering him after he carried some lumber the wrong way on the site a few days ago.

‘You ok?’ Frankie asked. Frankie noticed everything, Joel knew. It would have kept him alive in his last job, he supposed.

‘Yeah, just gettin’ old, getting’ tired.’ Joel nodded to the lawn. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘Could help you with that, got the day clear today and…well, don’t have other plans.’

Joel had seen Frankie out on his back porch drinking on his own, sometimes with a couple of other men who all looked a similar age, similar previous occupations. He didn’t mind so long as they kept it down and didn’t catch your eye too much.

‘Can’t ask ya for that,’ Joel started, but Frankie waved him away.

‘You’re not. I’m offering, hermano.’

Joel nodded. It might be a nice surprise for you, he thought, to have the house reclaim some of its street appeal. Lord knew it didn’t have much to start with.

Sitting in his truck he fired off a quick message to you so you wouldn’t be surprised by Frankie on your front lawn. ‘Organised a sruprise 4 you, baby xxoo,’ he wrote. He was going to be late. He sent it without too much thought.

--

You woke, lifting your arms up over your head and listening to the pops of your joints as the stretch moved up your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. You had no idea what you were going to do with your spare time.

After a second or two of blissful cotton-headedness, you noticed a droning sound from the front of the house. You stood on achy knees and padded over to the window. Surely Joel hadn’t taken the day off too, with the worksite being so crazy lately?

You sucked in a tight little breath when you saw him. Shirtless, with his curls poking out the side of his ballcap, pushing his lawnmower over your unruly grass in the late-morning sun. You scrabbled for your phone to check the time and also to try and orient yourself, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen through a wormhole in your sleep, as though Siri would be able to tell you one way or the other.

You saw the message from Joel. A surprise? You glanced around the room, looking for any clues. Eventually your eyes fell on a scrap of paper on your bedside, and you read that, too. For a second you stood, confused, trying to put the pieces together. He had organised a surprise, there was a half-naked man on your lawn, and he was going to call you at lunchtime. And you remembered exactly what transpired the last time he did that.

Your felt your brows shoot up to your hairline as realisation dawned. Did he know you’d had a crush on Frankie since the moment he’d moved in next door? How could he know, you’d been so careful not to stare too long, not to smile too much. You’d felt the sparks, and you’d poured cold water of them well enough, you’d thought.

But nothing got past Joel. You couldn’t believe it, but also you definitely could.

A surprise for you? No. This time you were going to be one step ahead.

--

Joel didn’t like to eat his lunch in the truck, never fully able to get the tang of egg salad out of the upholstery after, but this time he made an exception. He’d pulled back around to where it was quiet, knowing some of the guys on site liked to pump the tunes during their breaks, set up a little jerry-rigged tailgate to try and while away the 40 minutes they had to themselves. He thought with a shiver about the last time he’d snuck off to park somewhere quiet. He let himself wonder for a moment if you’d be up for something like a repeat. He grinned a little as he dialled. He didn’t think he should push his luck.

The call connected almost straight away, like you’d been waiting for him, and he felt a little flutter in his heart. You were so sweet to him. He needed to take you out somewhere special soon, make you flutter for a little while.

‘Hey baby,’ you said, your voice high and breathy, and he guessed you were still in bed.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said, teasin’ you.

‘Mmm,’ you said, ‘no cameras this time?’

‘We can if you want, baby, but I was just calling to check in on ya.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, and to make sure Frankie’s doing his job,’ he said, chuckling a little.

‘Frankie’s doing just fine,’ you said, and you sounded weird somehow, maybe a little out of breath?

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, and you hummed in response.

‘Wanna see you,’ you said, and he felt a shiver up the base of his spine. He knew that tone. He felt the smirk appear on his face.

‘Yeah, you sound like ya do,’ he said. He took the phone from his ear and connected Facetime. He heard you doing the same.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. He’d assumed you were in bed, so he was surprised to see you were up, standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the front lawn. Your cheeks were a little flushed, and you looked a little sweaty. He wondered if you’d been for a run.

‘There’s my girl,’ he said, because the sight of you always lit something up in him, and you smiled at him, a coy little thing.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ you said, a dimple appearing on your cheek as you arched a single brow at him.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, feeling his cock stir. Maybe you were up for a repeat after all.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, biting your lip. You were holding the phone up with one arm, but he could see your other arm held fast in front of you. Were you touching yourself in the living room?

‘Show me,’ he said, and you grinned at him. You panned the camera down, slowly, so that first thing he saw was the straps of your camisole, one hanging off your shoulder to hover just over the swell of your tit. You lowered it again, over the belly, where you had shucked up the hem and he could see some exposed skin, your little belly button he sometimes liked to tickle with his beard just to hear you squirm and squeal.

Then a little further down. Angling the camera so that he could see down your body, to your feet on the carpet, and to the man on his knees between them.

Joel blinked. He was sure his heart stopped.

‘What…’ he started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was too distracted by the man hitching one of your thighs over his shoulder and opening you up, teasing the lips of your pussy apart to properly latch to your cunt. ‘Oh my god,�� he uttered.

‘Oh my god!’ you gasped, as Frankie sucked your clit between his teeth. ‘Oh baby, he’s so good,’ you groaned.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Joel asked, trying not to overthink that his cock was rock hard while he watched another man lick a stripe along your seam.

‘Surprise…’ you gasped. ‘Got a head start.’

Joel’s hands were shaking. A head start on what? He watched as your hand gripped Frankie’s head, his ballcap on the floor beside him as he grasped at your hips, pulling you down harder on his face. You were squirming there on top of him, as he huffed out little exhales into your skin.

Your breath was starting to get faster, coming in little pants, as your thigh clenched around Frankie’s shoulder. For a brief moment you worried you were going to suffocate him, and then he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh and teased at your opening and you simply didn’t care.

You angled the phone back to your face, your eyes fluttering shut so that you didn’t see Joel’s slightly shocked expression.

‘Such a good surprise, baby, thank you,’ you said, and Joel felt his belly flip in on itself. You were blissed out, he could see just by your face you were half gone already. Your little whimpers were sending electric shocks to his cock. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, or that he had wanted to see it ever since Frankie appeared next door. He just assumed you’d never be into it, and now looking at you writhing he couldn’t remember why.

He swallowed on a dry throat. You cracked open an eye, noticing he’d stopped talking. You saw that he looked a little pale, and worried for a second he was regretting it.

‘He’s not better,’ you said, trying to form words to reassure him while Frankie was pushing any sensible thought out of your head with his tongue. ‘He’s good, just as good. It’s just different.’

You were shuddering a little, Joel could see that you were trembling from the pleasure the other man was wringing out of you. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because he didn’t want to take this from you when you’d accidentally given him something he thought he would only ever dream of, not when you were feeling so good, not when you had apparently read his (dirty, filthy) mind. Because he was enjoying it, if he could tame the beast that was howling mine mine mine every time you whimpered under Frankie’s tongue. Because, ok, this wasn’t what he had planned for the day, but it was so much better.

His cock was already so hard it was almost painful. His beautiful, dirty girl. ‘He eatin’ it right, baby?’ he asked, and you moaned a little in response. He heard Frankie grunt a little from beneath you. ‘Show me,’ he said.

You angled the phone down again, this time reaching to put it closer to your cunt, so that Joel could see the way Frankie was suckling at your cunt, the way his tongue was working his way in and out of you, how at some point he had slipped two fingers into your cunt and was pumping them slowly, angled in the way Joel knew you liked, the way that made you stutter.

‘Fuck…’ he groaned, as Frankie huffed out an exhale.

‘She’s good, man,’ Frankie said, pulling his mouth off you for just long enough to force out the words. ‘Tastes like a warm spring morning.’

Joel could feel his cock pulsing, could hardly hear for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

‘You treat her right,’ he ground out, his jaw ticking. He could feel the furrow in his brows, knew he was almost glowering at Frankie. ‘That’s my girl you got there,’ he added, feeling the need to remind him. To remind himself.

‘She always get this wet for you?’ Frankie asked, and Joel practically growled. He was about to tell Frankie you could practically drown him every night when he noticed your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair moving to his shoulder to try and get purchase.

‘Lay ‘er down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t let her fall.’

The camera moved, blurred as Frankie got up off his knees and pulled you over to the couch. He heard you sigh as your muscles relaxed, Frankie lying you down and settling between your open thighs.

‘Thank you, baby,’ you whispered to Joel. He swallowed.

‘Look after you,’ he said, fumbling with his fly. He was rock hard and worried as soon as he held himself in his hand he’d nut like a teenager. He wanted to ride this out with you, wanted to be present for all of it, wanted to stave it off as much as he wanted to chase it down.

‘Oh, he’s got his fingers in me,’ you said, gasping. ‘They’re so thick, just like yours…’

‘He hittin’ the spot?’ Joel asked, as you angled the camera down your body and he saw Frankie hovering over your cunt, lips once again suctioning at your clit.

‘Mmmhmm’ you replied, breathless. ‘He’s good, baby, he’s so good.’

Joel couldn’t form words for a second, gripping the base of his cock to try and regain some sort of control over it.

‘Wish you were here,’ you said, as you pushed your hips down onto Frankie’s face.

‘Yeah?’ Joel asked, wincing as he drew his palm over the weeping, sensitive head. ‘What’d you do if I was there, baby?’ he asked.

‘Want you everywhere,’ you groaned. ‘Want you in my mouth, in my pussy while he sucks on my clit. Want you in my cunt while I suck him.’

Joel gasped, his eyes slamming shut as his head tilted back on his shoulders. You were going to be the fucking death of him, and he would happily go if this was how you’d go about it.

‘Want your tight little cunt, baby,’ he grunted, pumping now, not able to help himself, the want for you overwhelming as Frankie raised his head a little to eye him through the camera. Your hips were bucking now, involuntary and fast. ‘Play with her,’ Joel said to him. ‘Don’t let her come yet, not ‘til she’s earned it.’

He heard you whimper, a desperate little cry, and watched as Frankie pulled back. Joel watched as his face glistened with your slick.

‘Joel!’ you cried, and he sniggered a little.

‘Ain’t what I meant when I said you could cut my grass,’ he said to Frankie, who grinned at him.

‘Not my fault your girl’s got a delicious cunt,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Let me see her,’ Joel said. He held his breath as Frankie took the phone from you and angled it back towards you. He saw you, splayed out on the couch for him and for Frankie, one leg on the floor and the other held fast against the couch, your slick spread over your thighs as your pussy grasped at the air, desperate for something to lick it, to suck it, to fuck it. ‘Jesus,’ Joel said, staring at your folds.

‘Don’t know how you leave the house with this waiting for ya, hermano,’ Frankie said. Joel shook his head.

‘M’a damn fool,’ he agreed. He saw you giggle, and he smiled.

‘Get on your knees for him, baby,’ he said, and watched as your smile fell, shock and want painting your pretty face.

‘You sure?’ you asked, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

‘You wanna be good to our guest, right?’ Joel teased, and he watched you smile.

‘I’m a good host,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘The best, baby. Go on now, make him feel welcome.’

‘Oh fuck, Joel,’ Frankie muttered, as you got up on your knees on the couch and crawled over to him, your eyes on the younger man’s cock.

‘Just wait ‘til you see what she can do with that slutty little mouth,’ Joel said. He was holding himself by the base again, almost holding his breath in anticipation. Frankie angled the camera down his body so that Joel could see your hand as you reached out to hold him.

‘It’s big,’ you said, looking up and straight at Joel through the camera. You could see how far gone he was, how much he was holding himself back. You felt more arousal pool between your legs just at the look on his face.

‘You can take it,’ Joel said. ‘Make it good for him, baby.’

You watched as he mirrored your smile. God, you loved him. Even now, with another man’s cock in your face, he was the love of your life and as soon as he was home again you’d tell him. Show him. Never let him doubt it for a second.

You extended your tongue to kitten lick at Frankie’s tip, tasting the pre-come that had gathered while you and Joel encouraged each other. You heard the twin groans of Frankie above you and Joel through the phone. You hitched your mouth over the head, gathering saliva and letting it run out over the sides. Frankie was big, but so was Joel, and you breathed through your nose as you slipped your mouth over him, opening your throat and trying to calm your racing heart.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ Frankie said, as Joel held his breath. You hollowed your cheeks, a bolt of want shooting through your cunt as Frankie stuttered, groaning low and heavy in his chest. He smelt faintly of Old Spice and grass clippings, and you tasted the salt on his skin of his exertion. Joel smelt of pine and lumber. Between the two of them they were a symphony of delicious masculinity.

‘Can you reach her tits?’ you heard Joel ask, shivering. Frankie grunted his ascent. ‘Reach down, if you play with her nipples she’ll soak the couch.’

You whimpered, breathing out hard through your nose as you worked Frankie further into your throat.

‘Look at me, baby.’ Joel instructed and you opened your eyes, letting them travel up Frankie’s glistening tanned body to catch Joel’s eyes. You could see he was working himself again, panting and squirming in the driver’s seat of his truck. His hands were trembling a little, causing your view of him to shake, and it matched the tremors that were coursing through your body as you sucked Frankie down.

You felt his hand grope at your tit and you rounded your spine to try and give him more room, sticking your butt out into the air in the process. You kept your eyes on Joel, fighting the urge to let them drift closed, wanting to watch him watching you with another man’s cock in your mouth.

‘Doin’ so good,’ Joel muttered and you preened under his praise. ‘Put your hand between your legs, rub that little clit.’

You whined, following his instruction, a little lightheaded from the heat and the desire and Frankie halfway down your throat. ‘Such a pretty girl, my beautiful girl,’ Joel prattled. ‘Love you like this, baby, throat all stretched out taking on another man.’

Your eyelids fluttered as his words hit you in your core, Frankie’s hips starting to roll as you eased your finger over your clit and started rubbing tight little circles on the bundle of nerves. Frankie pinched hard at your nipple and you gasped, sucking in air through your nose and trying not to gag in the process.

‘Oh fuck, she’s squeezing me with her throat, hermano,’ Frankie muttered.

Joel watched, almost completely out of his mind. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again, wanted this view of you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids so he could see it anytime he wanted. Your eyes were starting to water, your skin glistening with sweat, as your hips shuddered under your own touch and under Frankie’s.

Joel was so close he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He knew he had only seconds left, and by the looks of it, so did you.

‘Oh fuck baby, look what you did to us,’ he said, and you let your eyes drift from Joel’s to Frankie’s face as he grit his teeth, his eyes staring down at you, just barely managing to hold onto the phone as you sucked him.

‘So good,’ Frankie said to you, ‘can’t…gonna…’

You groaned, taking him out of your throat and reaching up to jerk the shaft while you sucked hard on the head. Still circling your clit with one hand you reached the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm. He cried out, the shock of the pleasure making him finally drop the phone. It landed, face up, just by his knees and angled up under your chin as Frankie shot his load into your mouth, gripping your tit in one hand and the other coming to rest on the crown of your head as he pumped his hips, his come shooting into your mouth as you rolled it over your tongue. Joel had an obscene view of it, watched as Frankie’s come spilled out of your mouth and onto the couch below you, nearly splattering over the lens. It was too much, finally too much, Joel shooting come into his hand and over his shirt as he fucked his palm, imagined it was your mouth, your cunt as you sucked Frankie’s come down, imagined he was inside you and also beside you, holding your head up as the younger man painted your throat.

He came as you did, gasping and whimpering for the other, your voice calling for him as he grunted out for you, and he recovered just enough to watch as you shuddered, your body shaking and rolling with the pleasure of it as you rested your face on Frankie’s heaving belly, sweat plastering your hair to your head, come dripping from your lips, as you rode out your high.

‘Fuck, baby…’ you whimpered, while you fought to catch your breath. Joel could see you collapsing, the pleasure wringing you out, leaving you shaky and spent. He swallowed, collecting himself enough to instruct the younger man.

‘Washcloths are under the bathroom sink. Make sure the water’s warm.’ He took a second to breathe, trying to clear his vision enough to be able to drive. ‘Wrap her up in a blanket, there’s one on the back of the couch.’ He watched as Frankie nodded, listening hard. ‘Hold her ‘til I get there,’ Joel said, his heart thrumming again, an ache building in his chest to be with you as he fumbled the keys into the ignition.

‘Hold my girl for me ‘til I’m there,’ he said, again.

[stormhearty]

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Triggers: character death, torture, blood, war

Summary: The fear that Helion envisioned had come true — the Death-God used your body to resurrect himself from the lake on the continent. But what no one had imagined, was that you would be alongside him — tainted in darkness matching the Death-God. What would the Inner Circle and Azriel do, to be bestowed your forgiveness for their acts against you? What will be the fate of Prythian with you guiding fates?

Note: The last part of “Pushed to the Edge”! I thank you so much for all the support for this requested series! Like I said, never thought people would want a continuation of that one-shot! I had so much fun writing this trilogy, and had so much fun watching everyone’s reactions! Please enjoy! Also… I will be writing an epilogue for this series. AHEM. Just to wrap everything up in an angsty bow. Also, I am always willing to write more for Seer!Reader! Don’t be hesitant to ask!

Part One | Part Two | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The room was deathly chilled, the skies above clouding, blocking the bright sun that had ruled over Day Court. The powers of a God overtaking a High Lord’s. The two of you stood near the large balcony window, shadow and sin coating the two of you — a God and a Seer — a powerful duo shaking the very foundations of Prythian.

Kosechi’s sinister grin grew wider as he turned his heels, walking towards the dias, you follow his tail. You felt the shimmer of wards opening and the winnowing of guards, the Dawn Court’s Peregryn surrounding the edges of the throne room — all ready to attack if the Death-God lifted the wrong finger against the High Lords.

But little did they know, you were a guard dog, ready to attack anyone that would be a threat to the God — ruthless and unforgiving.

Both of you rounded the last quarter of the table, stepping up to the dias as the Deathless God took a seat on the High Lord’s seat, as you stood near him — a vision of a High Lord and his High Lady of the Darkness.

You felt it though… The stares from the Inner Circle. They did not care for the Death God that casually sitting on the throne. They only looked at you, disbelief in their features but you could see something underneath that — the look of longing and regret.

You wanted to sneer, you wanted to show any hint of disgust at the look on their features — how dare they. After everything they have done to you.

Kosechi looked at the Inner Circle, before glancing at you from the corner of his eye and he snicked under his breath.

“How unfortunate, High Lord of the Night. To have lost your beloved Seer to me…” he pointed out, casually resting head tilting on bony hands as he looked at Rhysand, grin still evident on his features. “Did you know… how the High Lord of Day had hidden her from my followers since she was young … protected her within the wards of Day Court. I’ve been waiting… Waiting for her to fall to me, and you and her mate had made that happen.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hands onto his thighs as the grin widened, sharpened teeth glistening in the light.

“She was beautiful… when my followers found her bleeding body. It took a lot of power to seize her, your shadows protecting her…” Blackened eyes staring at Azriel, “But it was a well-worthy fight. Her light was dimming, leaving an empty echo and so I filled it. Filled it with darkness, it was so exquisite, watching her light dull…”

The Death-God caught your eye and tilted his head.

You had looked at him, charcoal hues staring before you bowed your head, silently thanking him as you felt the weave of shadow up your arms, ghosting over your skin — ensuring you were safe and well protected from any danger, even from Koschei himself.

Azriel watched, those tendrils of shadow wound around you, hearing the purr of devotion to you:

“We serve,

“We protect…

“We find, we hide…

“We cherish the light…”

After your death and after the disappearance of your body, Azriel could never summon the shadows again; they did not flock to him, they did not sing to him, not ever since then — and he realized why.

He realized that despite his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister, his shadows knew exactly what he had wanted, where he should have stayed next to. His shadows were attracted to your light, like flies to fire.

And they still clung to you, even now, and would never let you go.

He tried, fisting his hand as if trying to summon his shadows back to him; however, he could hear them hiss at him:

“You failed, you lost…

“You are not worthy of her light…

“We will not sing for you, only for her…”

Your eyes snapped at him as if feeling the attempt to strip you of the shadows. Your eyes met and you just stared, much like he did to you — all those months ago. That very stare, as if reaching into the depths of his soul, causing him to stumble backward, hands bracing the table behind him — the echo of the broken mating bond aching in his chest; something he will never get used to.

“And so,” Kosechi ended*, “I would like to give my savior a gift… one that I had promised her when I had resurrected her from her unfortunate death,” Koschei cheerfully said, straightening up in his seat, “Blood… of all of Pyrthian, starting with her beloved Night Court.” He raised a hand, darkness flowing out of him.

The Peregryn saw that to be a moment of attack and charged for the Death-God, only to be killed, swiftly and silently by you.

No one had seen it, your movement from the dias to the edges of the room, as if you used the shadows to winnow from one end to the other, though impossible. You stood, surrounded by lifeless bodies of those guards, dull eyes staring at the dead, in your hand a familiar dagger — Truth-Teller, dripping in blood.

Helion, Rhysand, and the rest of the Inner Circle watched, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in their throats at the site of you.

This wasn’t you.

You were someone who would never hurt anyone.

You hated seeing war, hated seeing bloodshed — saw it too often in your visions.

And it had been your duty to ensure, with your sight, to prevent it.

And yet, now, you were the one wreaking havoc on Pyrthian.

In that instant, they knew, they had lost you, completely, to the shadows and darkness that they had drowned you in — in the darkness that the Death God had filled you up with. They had failed you, completely and they weren’t sure… if they would ever get you back.

Feyre looked at you, and took a step forward, only to have her held back by Rhysand — a feeble attempt to protect his mate, “(Y/N) …” she called out your name, as if a way to break you out of this trance, to call you back to them, “What has he done to you? We apologize for not listening to you, and for not seeing you. Please, come back home… We’ll make it up to you, we’ll do anything to bring you back… please…”

You snapped your head towards her, charcoal eyes staring at your former High Lady, a mixed look of longing and hatred towards her way. Tears swam beneath your eyes, forcing them back, “You can’t apologize now…” you seethed, “You can’t tell me that you want me back — when all you did for months was ignore me,” your voice was shaking, that small part of you, that old light you had broken through, “And home? When has that been my home for the past few months? I was alienated, thrown away, cast aside, and yet you want me to go back? For what? For you to do the same again?”

Tears broke, as they ran down your cheeks, “He has done nothing to me… You all have forced your hand to make it this way. I have asked you multiple times to listen to me… I begged all of you to listen, but here we are now…” Pained hues stared at your family, “You have doomed us all to Pyrthian’s destruction.”

That old part of you, the one that had died when you had taken your life, the one that disappeared when Kosechi revived you, cried out — cried out for the loss of your light, loss of your innocence, loss of your own life; cried for the circumstances that fell into place. That old part of you drowned in the darkness that your mate and family had subjected you to. Leaving you seeping in the darkness that the Death-God soaked you in.

And you were losing yourself in that darkness.

You never meant it, you never meant to resurrect the Death-God, you didn’t want to.

You never meant to be the cause of Prythian’s doom.

But fate… seemed to be laughing in your face.

Azriel watched the confrontation between you and his High Lady, but he couldn't glance her way, all his attention on you. He watched as you held Truth-Teller in your hand, watched as his shadows wrapped around your hand that held that dagger as if to steady it in your hand, holding back the quiver that shook your body.

He could see it, that bit of light, that piece of you that he loved so dearly — he hoped to reach out to it… to bring you back home, to bring you back to him.

He took a step forward, passing his High Lady, a hand reaching out towards you.

Your head snapped at him, glaring at him as the hot streams of tears never ended.

It was as if the whole world stilled, just the two of you in that room.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered; your name was a prayer on his lips.

Much like his was yours, for so many centuries.

He stood in front of you, a hand shakily reaching up to try to touch you, to hold you again — to apologize for his mistakes, to beg for you to come back. Azriel let scarred fingers touch your cheeks, wiping the tears that stained your cheeks. Your skin was cold, ice cold. No warmth, nothing that echoed you. But he held on, cupping your cheek and holding you near him.

You bit your lip, trembling, fighting back all the urge to lean into his warmth — to fall back in love with the Shadowsinger.

“I’m sorry… I am sorry. I will beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness. To kiss the very ground you walk on, follow the shadows to the darkness of your soul. I will be your blade, slicing your enemies for you so that your soul doesn’t darken anymore…”

Azriel’s hand slipped down your face, caressing cold skin as it trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before grasping around your hand that held Truth-Teller. The burn of a bargain tattoo searing onto both of your skin.

He flinched slightly but kept his hazel eyes on you, his hand gripping tightly onto yours. He felt your every shiver against his hold, he felt those tendrils of shadow wrap around his hand — hissing at the completeness of the two mates.

A sob escaped you, your bottom lip shaking as you looked at those hazel eyes you adored. His words soothed the ache in your chest; it was all you had wanted to hear… all those months ago.

But you couldn’t… you couldn’t let yourself forgive him.

You wrenched your hand away from him, as your other hand reached up, mirroring him, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek, “We had everything, Az…” your voice was hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing, lyrical, broken, “A family that loved us, a family that we cared for… Yet you were willing to throw it away for a few moments of passion, gallivanting with Elain… You had chosen her over me…” Dark eyes looked at the Made-Fae who stared at both of you with wide brown hues.

You stared back at Azriel, who looked at you as if you were the whole night sky, “…You, Azriel, have broken me, entirely and fully. You will beg for eternity for my forgiveness… We will see to what lengths you will go through… for me…”

You brought his face close to yours, your scent of fresh soft florals — jasmine and sage, overtaking Azriel’s senses. Your lips hovering over his own, “I will show you, my love, on how much you have broken me…”

And with your other hand, you flung Truth-Teller across the room, towards Elain, stabbing her right in her chest. A scream echoed, before your shadows flooded, blanketing the room in darkness, Koschei’s maniacal laughter ringing through the dark.

Azriel had lost track of how long he had been trapped within his cell, with no remembrance of how he got there. The wards that surrounded his cell were unbreakable, one of strong, ancient magic weaving through its walls. He had tried, multiple times to break it. However, difficult; his siphons were taken away and his wings were battered. His strength only depleted day after day, with every attempt to get out. He yelled and screamed, only to be met with silence every single time — he lost all will after that.

So he sat, in that cold, dark cell, watching the sun through the small crack in the rock as his only light source.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world — in Pyrthian.

He heard, though, through the cracks in the rocks.

He heard the whispers of Koschei’s magic and powers seeping through Pyrthian. The destruction of the world was quick and simple. The God’s power was no match for the Fae that lived, the Fae that had fought against him. He had realized that he and his family had caused this plight to fall upon Prythian.

And that you were right next to the Death-God, using those arrows made of shadow and darkness to rain havoc on both fae and humans alike. Sparing no one in its terrible wake, but…

He had heard of the whispers that you had asked to spare the High Lords from the destruction.

All but the Inner Circle.

The first time you had come to see him was three days after being locked in that cell. The shadows still clung onto your body, whispering and seething at him.

You had tortured him, physically and mentally. Using Truth-Teller to inflict wounds on skin and whispering to him on destruction that wrecked Prythian — as if you were lovers laying in bed after lovemaking.

After hours of torture, shadows swarming towards him to heal those wounds, you had lifted the silencing ward, allowing him to call out to his family — for them to communicate to each other… to keep their sanity within those walls. A kind gesture, you had reminded him. For them to listen to each other — when they couldn’t do the same to you.

What he didn’t realize was that the silencing spell was a haven — it allowed Azriel not to listen to the screams of torture that befallen his family.

He could hear the yells of his High Lord, the call of Feyre to her family, the frantic screams of Nesta and Cassian calling for each other, and the whimpers of the still-alive Elain.

There were many times when he tried to reach out — call for them, let his voice be an anchor through the pain.

He had been the reason for this destruction.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Azirel stopped reaching out; there was no point, there was no getting out of there.

It was like their own Prison, but it was of their own making.

The second time you had come to see him, you had pressed Truth-Teller into his hands, dark eyes locking into dulling hazel.

“I call upon your promise, Shadowsinger…” you had told him, the sting of the bargain tattoo on the back of his neck, the call of the use of the bargain, causing him to flinch, “The blade that will free my soul from the darkness. You promised you’d be it, right?”

And that’s what he had become.

A sword of blood — against all of Prythian.

All for you.

He wielded Truth-Teller against all Fae, beast, and humans alike.

He followed your command, not a single thought but listening to your voice as you whispered with the shadows on who to kill and whom to spare — much like a puppet on a string. Slowly breaking from the inside as he raised his hand against his home.

He had thought that you’d call on him often. As he promised, he didn’t want your hands to be stained more with blood, to have your soul darken more.

But you rarely had called him, only twice you had asked him to kill for you.

When the creak of his cell door opened, hazel eyes looked up from his position on the ground, watching you enter and closing the door behind you.

You tilted your head at him your hand reached out towards him, and Azriel shifted to his feet before kneeling in front of you — his bloodied hands grasping your own and pressing a kiss towards the top of your hand — a movement of devotion.

You leaned down, hovering over him as he looked up at you, “One last time… Azriel…” you whispered, your breath caressing his skin as you pressed Truth-Teller one last time into his hands, the two of you were winnowing out of his cell.

The two of you landed on familiar lands — Velaris — and in the distance the darkening cloud of Koschei’s followers and the Death-God himself, heading towards the City of Starlight.

Azriel watched as they slowly descended into the city, his body screaming to defend, to fight… to protect his home. But he waited for your command, on your word.

What he had not expected was for your shadows to cover his eyes, cover his ears, and slither around his hand that held Truth-Teller. His senses were blocked by darkness, and he couldn’t help the panic that zipped through his body.

This wasn’t like before — you never used your shadows like this.

He knew it was torture for him, to watch himself raise his hand and blade against Prythian — it was the reason why you forced him to fight — to see watch Prythian burn in his wake.

He was confused and it showed in his features.

He felt your hand on his upper arm, through the Illryian leathers that seemed to stick to his skin. He felt your body close to his own as you whispered in his ear, “Let the shadows guide you, Shadowsinger… Let them help you kill on my command…”

Azriel felt his throat bob and allowed the shadows to guide his feet, swarming around him and allowing them to whisper to him again.

He tore against leather and skin, smelt blood that splattered onto his face, and heard the muffled screams and cries of whoever he cut down. He didn’t know who he was killing, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to see the lifeless bodies of those who lived in his home, he had passed by on the streets.

He didn’t want to see the lives of the Velarians he just had taken.

The shadows continued to whisper to him — where to turn, when to strike, when to kill — relying on them as he did once before. He and the shadows were working in tandem, following your commands.

As he walked through the streets of Velaris, he felt the world calm — the screams stopped, the smell of blood fading through the whisps of wind — as if time stopped around him.

He allowed the shadows to lead him, stepping over fallen bodies, and debris. Azriel didn’t know where he was being taken and he didn’t want to know where if it meant more bloodshed on his people.

Footsteps grew closer, and a chilling shiver ran down the Spymaster’s spine, ears picking up on the slightest sound from the direction of the footsteps, Truth-Teller armed against whoever might attack him.

“…Strike in the void in the chest…”

He let the shadow lift his arm, as he lunged forward, Truth-Teller gleaming in the light as he broke through skin, striking at the place where the shadows whispered to hit.

A familiar gasp reached his ears, and the body collapsed against him; his arms naturally wrapping around.

The shadows slithered away from his body and Azriel blinked, focusing his eyes on the figure in front of him.

In his arms, at the end of Truth-Teller was you — he had stabbed you.

“(Y/N) … What…?” his breath came out shaky, as he collapsed with you in his arms, his hand releasing its hold on Truth-Teller as it remained embedded in you, in your chest, right where the void seemed to be swirling around the dagger.

He looked around him, noticing that it wasn’t the bodies of his city that lay on the ground but of Kosechi’s army — you had commanded him to kill Kosechi’s followers.

Before he could breathe out something else, a yell echoed through the skies of Velaris. Azriel whipped his head toward the sound, and he watched Kosechi’s body strike the ground, cracks on the earth as he stalked towards Azriel — the same gaping void in his chest mirroring your own.

Charcoal eyes of the Death-God shifted from the Spymaster’s to your own, as your life was slowly leaving your body and he let out a broken laugh, “Seems that your Seer has planned this… since I had resurrected her. Our connection...” another laugh, one of disbelief, "...was our downfall..."

Eyes moved again to Azriel, “You all never deserved her…”

Azriel watched as Kosechi’s body was swallowed by the void, leaving nothing but whisps of air in his waking — the Deathless God, dead.

Not even a second later, he was focusing on your body, watching the shadows wrap around Truth-Teller, as if trying to stop death from taking your body.

“No….No!” he screamed, as he shifted you in his arms, pressing a hand against your cheek and his forehead resting against your head, “You can’t do this, (Y/N)…” as he tried to catch your eyes, hazel eyes in panic mode.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think. All he could think was that he was losing you all over again — and this time permanently.

He felt tears streaking down his features, watching them fall onto your face, “What did you do, my love? Why did you do this?” he whispered against your skin.

He felt you chuckle, one so broken and shallow and he watched you look up at him, your colored hues staring up at him — one devoid of the darkness that had swallowed you up.

“I had always loved you, Azriel…” you mumbled, “… Loved you with my whole being… for centuries I had been devoted to you…”

A cough escaped your lips, dark as night blood dripping down the edge, “You will, for eternity, regret and mourn… You will be as broken as I was when you betrayed me…”

He leaned against the hand that you had lifted to rest against his cheek, your blackened blood streaking against his skin.

“You will never forget what you had pushed me to do… To save Prythian…”

With one last breath, your hand fell limp against your chest, your eyes dimming as the last of your light finally diminished. The shadows went wild against your body, their cries ringing in Azriel’s ears as he shook, he brought your body close to his.

A roar echoed through the skies of Valeris — one full of anguish and regret.

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[suugarbabe]

drunken daydreams | s.b. x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of drinking, pining, fluff

a/n: little fun fact i found out, beer pong was invented in the 1950's?? also this is for week three of jinxed july <3

Hopeless. That is what it felt like to crush on Sirius Black. Hopeless because Sirius was, well…everything. He was charming beyond belief, even professors falling for his half turned smile and cheeky winks. He was absolutely gorgeous, unfairly so really, onyx hair that fell in messy tendrils no matter how many times he ran his ring glad fingers through it. His eyes were always playfully full of mischief, but if you truly paid attention to him (and you did) you could tell that they shifted just the slightest bit in shade depending on his mood. His mouth seemed to permanently be painted with a smirk unless someone was telling him ‘no’, then his powder pink lips would puff in a pout and who in their right mind could deny that look? (certainly not you). 

When Lily asked you to spend a week at James’s family cabin with her over summer holiday you had originally said no. James’s cabin meant Sirius’s cabin since the latter now lived with the former; that and they were attached at the hip with no hope of prying them apart. Lily had pouted, begging you to say yes, but going only seemed like torture. Torture because it’d be a week essentially alone with Sirius as Lily and James would likely frequently find couple things to do, Marlene and Dorcus would be hiking everyday and Remus would seclude himself with ‘peace and quite for once’. Alone time with Sirius made you nervous because you were nearly, practically, almost one hundred percent sure that your feelings toward Sirius were not reciprocated. 

But that did not stop Lily from employing the raven haired boy to get you to change your mind. Which is how you found yourself conveniently alone with Sirius in the train compartment on the ride back from Hogwarts. “Pretty please, you can’t not go, everyone’s going,” in classic fashion with his little pout and his eyes widened. You tried to avert your gaze from his, knowing if you looked too long you’d give in. But this tactic failed miserably as Sirius simply moved back into your view, “I’m literally begging here, love,” and oh how he looked so pretty begging. “Please say yes, I cannot hear James or Lils complain the whole week. I need you there.”

He needed you there. That’s what he had said. And that one phrase spun a slew of delusional scenarios in your mind that led you to agree to join the rest of the group for the week. 

It wasn’t as bad as you originally anticipated in the beginning. The lot of you gathered at the Potter’s manor, utilizing the floo system for the trip to the cabin, that experience going surprisingly swimmingly for it being your first time. The first night at the cabin you guys decided on a bonfire. “It’s like christening the place,” James had said, with much encouragement from Sirius and much to the eye roll of Remus. “We’ll go get drinks started!” Lily grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your chair and back towards the door of the cabin, “any requests or all we good with surprises?” 

James Dorcus and Remus laid out drink orders while Marlene said you could surprise her. You turned to Sirius as he spoke next, “You know my drink, don’t you love?” You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the heat you felt wasn’t making itself prominent as a blush on your cheeks, “Firewhiskey with cola, right?” Sirius winked, nodding in confirmation and the swarm of butterflies in your stomach started humming. 

Back in the kitchen Lily was practically vibrating with excitement. You let out a long sigh, “Something got you worked up Lils? Wanna share with the class?” Lily wore a small grin as she filled all the glasses with ice, “I’m just thinking about what I saw and if you saw it too.” You halted in filling Sirius's glass, resting both hands on the counter in front of you, “What do you think you saw? Because James’s googly eyes over you is basically a daily occurrence, I didn’t think it’d have you this excited still.” Lily rolled her eyes at your statement, “I’m very clearly talking about Sirius and you.” 

You made a scrunched face at this, “There’s nothing between me and Sirius. Well, like we’re friends, obviously, but you know there’s nothing more.” Lily shrugged, a slight curl to her lips as she continued making drinks. “Lils, please. He doesn’t like me like that. It would never happen and honestly…” you grabbed a few glasses in your hands, “I’m coming to terms with that.” You were not coming to terms with it. But it would be far easier than having all your friends thinking you’re hopelessly pining after him. What doesn’t help is Lily’s next response, “I dunno, babes. I could see the two of you together.” She slid the back door open with her elbow before walking back onto the deck, calling out that drinks were ready.

That one comment had you reeling, overanalyzing every interaction and conversation you had ever had with Sirius. You barely even registered that he spoke to you when you handed him his drink before taking your seat in the lawn chair next to his. You glanced his way when you felt his stare after a moment, “Sorry, Siri, did you say something?” Sirius smiled sweetly at you, a hint of something you couldn’t read in his eyes, “Just a thanks for the drink, love.” The commonplace pet name had your cheeks aflame but you prayed to Merlin the light of the bonfire hid the evidence. 

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, everyone was eventually corralled inside for what James called a “mandatory game of beer pong” after Lily agreed to play (and be his partner) with the promise that everyone would play ‘the muggle way’, no use of magic for assistance. Everyone agreed and placed their wands on the counter and paired up, you finding yourself partnered with Sirius. Remus stated he would be the officiant to “help keep Sirius and James in line and following the rules” much to their promises to play cleanly. “Ready, partner?” Sirius called you up to the table, dropping the ping pong ball in one of the cups closest to him. You nodded, a tight lip smile on your lips to try and help hide the nerves that were brewing inside. 

You looked across the table at Lily and James, the red head trying to conceal her smirk as she looked from you to Sirius and back. You rolled your eyes with a slight smile before Sirius started smack talking James. “Oh you’re in for it now, Potter. You and your little Lilly flower are cute and all, but you’re no match for me and y/n/n here, isn’t that right, love?” Sirius held his hand out palm up, clearly waiting for you to slap it. You gave him a high five and a small nervous laugh, “Y-yeah, right.” 

To your surprise Sirius was actually correct; James and Lily were horrible at beer pong, but you and Sirius looked like seasoned champions. The game against them went rather quickly, James sulking against Lilly on the couch as Marlene and Dorcus re-racked the red cups. This game proved to be a little more difficult, the girls being able to really go toe to toe with you and Sirius, you were down to two cups left to sink, while Marlene and Dorcus only had three cups. Marlene stood tall at the end of the table, ping pong ball in hand. She closed one eye, Dorcus semi-slurring encouragements to her before Marlene gave the ball a light toss. 

You watched as the ball arched in the air coming down towards one of the last three cups. The ball began the swirl around the rim of the cup and your next actions were more on instinct than real knowledge or skill of the game. You bent down near the cup, giving a quick blow of air near the ball before watching the physics of the combination making the ball jump from the cup and land back onto the table. Sirius let out a gleeful noise of shock, whereas Marlene and Dorcas began protesting, “Hey! We said no magic! Remus, that’s a foul we get that cup right?!” Sirius, however, was quick to go to your defense, “Nuh-uh, there was no magic involved, that’s just how good y/n/n’s blowing abilities are!” 

Your eyes widened in shock at his words, Dorcas rattling off a teasing remark before Sirius could correct himself, “Oh? And how would you know about her blowing abilities, Black?” The drinks were getting to you slightly, a small giggle bubbling from your throat as Sirius tried his best to defend himself, “I, well…erm, that’s not what I meant…I-I mean,” he turned to face you, his eyes half lidded as they made contact with yours, “Don’t you look at me like that, love.” A lazy smile adorned your face, “I’m not looking at you any kind of way, Siri.” 

Sirius shook his head in disagreement, “You’re giving me those eyes.” You batted your eyelashes a few times, “I’m not giving you any special eyes. Besides, if you’re wanting to know about my abilities, you can just tell me.” Sirius’s eyes widened before he let out a huff of air through his nose, “No, I don’t, I want to- I mean, you did the, the thing- and then Dorcus said what she said and so I just - I, erm, n-no I’m good.” While you laughed a little at his stumbling, you couldn’t deny the pit growing in your stomach the longer he tried to find nice ways to essentially reject your playful advance. 

Luckily you didn’t have to hide your dejection for long as you and Sirius lost to the girls and now your solemn look could be explained by the loss of the game instead of the loss of any chance you had with Sirius. You gave him a half-hearted smile before going to find a seat on one of the couches as James and Lily went to play against the winners. You only half paid attention the game, every interaction with Sirius from the night playing back over and over in your mind. Why did he have to be so bloody hard to read? 

To even get you on this trip in the first place he said he needed you there. But you don’t speak two words to each other in any capacity until everyone arrived at James’s manor. Even there it was only long glances, which could have been strictly initiated by you. Although you could have sworn he was already looking your way one or two times when you made eye contact. Here at the cabin you knew his drink, because of course you did. Was he teasing you earlier when he asked?

But he also winked at you. And he’s been calling you love, and made that comment about your ‘blowing skills’. But he does make dirty jokes a lot. You really would be a perfect couple though, all of your friends told you so whenever you talked about him, sometimes even when you didn’t talk about him. People wouldn’t say that to you just to be mean to you, I mean, these were your best friends. But he also essentially rejected your flirtatious advances. Why was this so hard to- 

A ring clad hand was waving in front of your face causing you to blink several times before refocusing on the object of your delusional thoughts. Sirius had his ever present charming grin, a special glint in his hooded eyes, “Caught you daydreaming about me again, didn’t I, love?” Maybe it was the liquid courage, but the words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Don’t be mean, Sirius.” 

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “What do you-” Rather ungracefully, you cut him off, “Just because you know I have a crush on you doesn’t mean you can tease me like everyone else does. It’s honestly humiliating enough.” Sirius’s once smirking features changed to that of confusion, “It’s humiliating to have a crush on me?” You groaned in frustration, covering your face with your hands before looking down at your feet, “Yes, Sirius, it’s humiliating to have a raging crush on someone that clearly has no interest or feelings toward me beyond platonic friendship.” 

The cool metal of his rings felt like ice against your flamed skin as he forced you to look at him, “Who said my feelings were strictly platonic?” You opened your mouth to respond before quickly closing it again. You sat up straighter then, Sirius’s hand dropping from your chin, “Well, you did, you said that. Back during the game, when Dorcus was teasing us and I asked if that’s what you wanted. You basically stumbled over a way to tell me you were uninterested in my advances.” 

His melodic laugh filled your ears. You were ready to smack him for being so rude before he started giving you a viable response. “Sweetheart…I wasn’t trying to reject you,” you looked up to meet his eyes once more as he continued, “I responded that way because you had me flustered, you…kind of always make me feel that way.” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “I didn’t really know how to respond properly when Dorcus made that remark. And, erm, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by admitting I probably, erm, wouldn’t mind finding out how good your,” he gulped slightly, “abilities are.” 

Your gaze fell to his lips before meeting his eyes once more; Sirius bit his lip, trying to hold back what you were sure was a shit-eating smirk. His hand cupped your cheek gently, “Can I?” You gave a small nod as you leaned in, Sirius closing the remaining distance before capturing your lips with his. This was not a fiery, passionate, kiss. But soft, gentle and sweet. His lips slotted against yours as though they were always meant to be there. 

His fingers entangled slightly in your hair, pulling you closer to him. You braced yourself with a hand on his thigh. A small whimper drifted from Sirius’s throat at the extra physical contact, wanting to fuel you further. What felt like two small, solid objects pelted both you and Sirius, causing you both to pull away from each other in confusion. “Don’t partners usually only make out when they win a game, not when they lose?” Marlene teased lightly. You looked over at Lilly who gave you a wink. One thing was for sure, you were not going to doubt her again.

[moonlight-prose]

hi! just watched someone like you last night & i saw your requests were open for eddie 😫

either:

1. "did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm."

or

2. "we should really get up." "we should....but we won't."

whichever you like better!! they both screammm eddie to me

love is here to stay

a/n: what i wouldn't give to cuddle with this man in the mornings. possibly making him late for work as other things ensue. and i've always tied jazz songs to movies from the early 2000s and 90s. so this is based off the ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong song. i fear i'm down bad for this man and would love to have him be my boyfriend.

summary: mornings where the summer heat was unbearable and energy was nowhere to be founr, made getting up a difficult task. add a sleepy eddie and a multitude of kisses and suddenly it became near impossible.

word count: 1k

pairing: eddie alden x reader

warnings: semi-explicit so 18+ ONLY!!, summer heat eviserating anything fun, banter, eddie being a fucking tease, sweat, he calls the pussy her, comfy loving scenario.

New York City roared to life on the other side of your apartment wall. Chatter of people shouting, horns of taxis already stuck in morning traffic. Not even your shut and locked window could block each noise that came through. It was a place that demanded to be heard the second the sun rose up in the dark blue sky.

You mumbled something unintelligible, hand reaching for the covers that were no doubt kicked to the bottom of the bed. Halfway through the night the air shut off—effectively making your place a hellscape with no chance of avoidance.

What began as a night filled with naked skin and fast bitten thrusts, turned to the both of you sleeping as far away as humanly possible. You were almost certain if you opened your eyes you'd find Eddie at the edge of the mattress—his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Matching you completely.

"Mm," he groaned into his pillow, flipping over to his side, an arm flinging around your bare waist. "You move too much."

"Shut up," you muttered.

You could feel the tendrils of a somewhat breeze filter in through the living room where you'd left the fire escape window open. Neither of you bothered to shut it after the glass of wine and shared cigarette turned to stripping him of his shirt and you of your pants. It felt like a miracle you made it to the bedroom at all—his body collapsing atop yours with a pained groan; hands grasping for any piece of plushness he could find.

"Make me." Even in sleep he managed to grin like a tease. His eyes shut and hand shifting to cup your bare ass. "Feels like you want to," he sighed around a half yawn.

You shuffled closer, cheek pressed to his chest. "Feels like the fuckin' world is on fire."

He tapped your ass. "That it is baby."

What little energy you could gather was bled from your body the longer you lay there. Summer eviscerated any means of joy in your life. What could you do? Hiding inside was all you had left in order to escape the heat. Now even that left you withering against his torso—body slick with sweat that would only return moments after you washed it off.

"Eddie," you yawned, throwing your arm over his stomach. He offered a grunt; the heat now muddling his brain and cutting off his ability to form words. "You work today?"

His arm raised above his head, onto the pillows beneath him. (Pillows he stole in the middle of the night.)

"I could," he sighed. "Got lots to do at work."

"Ah. I forgot. Big time hot shot."

The audible smack of his hand landing harder on your ass made you laugh; your leg kicking out to deter his attacks. He couldn't help it. Toying with your flesh was the highlight of his mornings. His eyes creeped open, lips tugging into a lazy grin that screamed drowsiness. Only to watch as he jiggled your flesh—fingers kneading at you like a fucking cat who just found the softest pillow in the world.

"Unless you intend to fuck me stupid Alden. I'd stop that."

His head fell back with a raspy groan. "Got no energy to fuck you stupid baby." You glanced at him, chin resting on his chest. "How about I just fuck ya? Huh?"

"Stupid or no deal," you mumbled.

"My cock is gonna be begging for you all day."

"Too bad." You smiled, pressing a kiss to the hair that nestled in between his pecs. "Shoulda thought of that before you didn't call the super to fix the fuckin' air."

His sigh was wistful—-relenting. "Yeah I know. I'll call 'em today."

The city took over your conversation when silence began to filter in between the cracks of your haven. In this small bedroom, you were safe. Content even as the warmth of your lover began to stick to your skin and cause discomfort. Moving wasn't an option. Nor was taking a cold shower.

So you remained there, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath.

"We should really get up," he muttered, head turning to face the window.

The sun came through your sheer curtains, casting a shadow along the hardwood floor. You marveled at how picturesque it was—how heavenly.

"We should..." You placed another kiss against his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat along your tongue. He groaned, his eyes meeting yours. "But we won't."

"Baby," he breathed.

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it Eddie."

"C'mon!" he laughed. "Lemme eat your pussy. I'll be really nice to her."

"Fuck off. 'S too hot." You buried your face into his skin, biting back the peal of laughter he could tell lay on the tip of your tongue.

"All I'm saying is she's never not liked my tongue down there."

The loud smack you land to his stomach causes a howl of laughter to erupt from his chest. His body rolling over to trap you beneath him—pressing you down into the mattress as he bit at your neck. Another echo of the city poured in through the open door, cracking through the bubble you both resided in. But the feel of Eddie trailing kisses down your stomach killed every sound that didn't belong to him.

"Too hot my ass," he mumbled along your hip bone, teeth scraping the skin hard enough to draw a moan from your lips. "It's never too hot to have something sweet, baby."

You smiled, curling your fingers into his hair. "I hate you."

"You love me," he retorted, drawing your thighs up and over his shoulders. "Admit it."

When he looked at you like this: eyes bright enough to put even the sun to shame. How could you say anything but yes?

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker. 

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here. 

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote. 

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something.  She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away. 

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie 

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface? 

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself. 

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc. 

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes. 

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate. 

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine. 

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard. 

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy? 

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here. 

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings. 

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects. 

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold. 

So, yeah, no one really came in here. 

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant. 

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl. 

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class. 

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare. 

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets. 

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.  

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?” 

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly. 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.  

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly. 

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years. 

“Why do you care?” you snapped. 

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day. 

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever. 

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it. 

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something. 

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 4

my fave chapter so farrr

TW: emotional abuse/emotionally abusive relationship, swearing, gaslighting, body image/insecurity, mean not fun words

masterlist

Summary: As the warmth of spring sets in, a day at the lake offers a rare moment of vulnerability between the two. Guards are lowered, emotions come to the surface, and it feels like a turning point—until something happens testing the fragile connection, leaving more hurt in their wake than before.

The first time Joel saw you, it felt like the air around him thickened, freezing him in place. It wasn’t the snow falling gently outside, blanketing the ground in quiet softness—it was the sight of you, standing there with your back to him. Your brown hair caught the dim light, and for one devastating moment, he thought of Tess. That same brown, the same fall of hair down your back, made his heart stutter. He swallowed hard, chest tightening. It had only been a day since he’d arrived in Jackson, and he was still adjusting. His eyes locked on you, memories rushing in, ones he fought every day to bury.

But then you turned. It wasn’t her. Of course, it wasn’t her. It was you. And for some reason, that realization hit him even harder. You were beautiful in a way that made something inside Joel lurch and crack. He tore his gaze away, barely listening as Tommy droned on about the layout of the dining hall, each word just a dull hum against the storm inside Joel’s mind. That beauty—the kind he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for—had him gripping the reins of his self-control with white-knuckled fists. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, and he was disturbed at how much your sheer presence had unraveled him. It was dangerous to feel this way, especially here, especially now, and he hated how his control was slipping, the tension in his jaw betraying just how affected he was.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“I need some air,” he muttered, voice hoarse, cutting off Tommy mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, Joel pushed through the back door into the cold.

The snow fell in slow, lazy swirls, the air biting into his skin. He stood there, hands braced against the rough wood of a post, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. It wasn’t the cold making him shiver—it was the flood of memories crashing down on him, images of Tess tearing through his mind with relentless force. Her voice, her face, her eyes the last day they’d spent together… and that bite. That awful, rotting wound on her neck, raw and swollen. The edges of the bite were ragged, torn where the infection had begun its merciless spread. The skin around it was discolored, veins darkened and creeping like tendrils of sickness, the center festering with oozing blood. It had been a gruesome, final mark—a sight that made Joel’s stomach lurch, knowing it was the end. That memory clawed at him now, cutting deeper than the cold ever could.

“I never asked you to feel the things I felt.”

Tess’s words echoed through his mind like a curse. He had tried to shake them off back then, tried to bury the guilt and pain deep down where he wouldn’t have to face it. But no matter how hard he tried, it clung to him, a weight that refused to let go. His fingers dug deeper into the rough wood of the post, as if somehow it could anchor him, provide the stability he so desperately craved.

But it didn’t.

The turmoil inside him raged on, unstoppable. She had loved him—he knew that now, too late—and he had felt something for her too. What that feeling was, he couldn’t quite name. But it had scared him, terrified him enough to push her away when she’d needed him most.

Now you stood there, inside the dim lighting of the dining hall, a stranger who didn’t even know him yet, whose eyes hadn’t met his, whose name hadn’t passed his lips. And that terrified him. You were an unknown, someone untouched by the weight of his past, and somehow that made it worse.

His chest tightened further, his hand coming up to rest against his heart.

He felt like he was dying.

His mind spun back to Tess—her trembling hands, her last look, that fierce determination as she made him leave. The fear in her eyes— a type of fear he had never seen from her before—haunted him. He had failed her. And he couldn’t survive failing someone again.

It took him longer than he would have liked to pull himself together, but eventually, the deep breaths began to work. He opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus, and straightened. Tess’s ghost would always linger, but he couldn’t let her memory break him.

When he stepped back inside, the warmth hit him, though it did nothing to ease the tension coiling in his chest. His eyes immediately found you, your soft smile catching him off guard. The kind that could ruin him if he let it.

“Joel, this is—” Tommy’s voice faded into the background again as you stepped forward, extending a hand. You introduced yourself, but the sound of your name barely registered. All he could feel was the warmth of your hand in his, so soft against the roughness of his own.

It was then he made a decision—a choice he knew he couldn’t take back.

He would keep you at arm’s length. No matter how kind or good you seemed, no matter how much the softness in your eyes tempted him to care, he couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t let you in. Because if you got close—if you really got close—you could leave. You could break his heart, make him feel things he swore he’d never let himself feel again.

Or worse, he would disappoint you.

He’d prove to himself, and to you, that the darkest, deepest parts of his mind were right—that he was a failure of a man.

So, right then and there, as he let go of your hand and forced himself to step back, Joel decided he would do whatever it took to keep you far, far away. He’d be cold, distant, and harsh. He’d make sure you knew your place, even if it wasn’t the truth. Letting you in would mean risking everything he’d built to keep himself together.

And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen again.

•••

You were asleep, but it didn’t feel like sleep. Your dream state and reality blurred together, hazy and disorienting. Your body felt heavy, the sheets twisted around you as the familiar dread settled in—a feeling you knew too well. In your mind, you were back in that kitchen, the light dim, the air thick.

You stood in the kitchen, hands trembling as you clutched the edges of the countertop. It was a small thing—a forgotten grocery item. You’d said you were sure you mentioned needing more milk, but he stared at you with that cold, detached look he always got when things weren’t going his way.

“I don’t know why you always do this,” he said, his voice low but edged with accusation. “You never said anything about milk.”

“I did… I swear I did,” you murmured, your voice faltering as doubt crept in. Did you forget? No, you were sure. Weren’t you?

He shook his head, letting out a condescending laugh. “You always make up these things to make me feel like I’m the one who’s wrong. It’s like you enjoy confusing me.”

Your stomach knotted, the familiar fog of guilt settling over you. “I’m not trying to confuse you. I just thought—”

“You’re always thinking the wrong things, aren’t you?” His voice softened, but it wasn’t comforting. It was dismissive, like you were too simple to even get something this basic right. “Maybe if you paid attention once in a while, we wouldn’t have these problems.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words sticking like thorns. The argument wasn’t about the milk anymore—it was about how you were always the problem, always the one messing things up. No matter what you said, you couldn’t win. He made you question your memory, your intentions, even your sanity.

And then he’d turn it around. He’d wrap an arm around you, his voice shifting to that soothing, fake-sweet tone. “I just want you to be better, that’s all. For us. I’m only saying this because I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of your temple, the gesture so tender, yet it made your skin crawl. The warmth of his lips felt wrong, like a tainted affection that only deepened the pit in your stomach.

But it didn’t feel like love. It felt like you were sinking.

You jolted awake, heart racing, chest tight, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The dream had felt so real, like you were right there again, trapped in that endless loop of doubt and guilt. The remnants of his voice still clung to your mind, refusing to fade, making it hard to breathe. It was only when your eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing to 8:02, that you were pulled back into reality.

But even reality offered little relief. The dream had only stirred up Joel's words—the ones that cut just as deeply as your ex’s had. Except Joel had been more direct, more confrontational, less insidious, but still brutal in a way that made you question everything. It had been two long, restless weeks since that conversation in the stables—two weeks of replaying every word, every glance, every breath. And now, all you could think was, why? Why had Joel bothered? Why hadn’t he just kept hating you like before? You’d grown accustomed to the cold indifference, to the distance he had maintained so carefully, like a wall between you both. But now, there was something unsettling in the space between you, something confusing and raw.

His biting words echoed alongside the voices from your past—the same ones that had always made you doubt yourself, made you question if you could ever truly trust someone who could hurt you so deeply, only to turn around and apologize as if it could erase the pain. No matter how many logs he stacked or doors he repaired, you weren’t sure you could move past it.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself out of bed, hoping the morning routine might dull the weight of the dream. It wasn’t until you were brushing your hair that Maria’s invitation to the lake came back to you. The lake, an hour or so outside of Jackson, had been patrolled recently—no signs of infected, no danger, just the promise of calm waters and a quiet escape. The idea of cooling off in the lake’s embrace felt like a lifeline, especially with the oppressive spring heat pressing down, making the air feel thick and suffocating. You could feel the humidity clinging to your skin, beads of sweat gathering at the nape of your neck as the relentless sun bore down, almost punishing. The lake sounded like a reprieve, a chance to cool off and, maybe, push the heavy thoughts aside for a little while.

But when Maria mentioned Joel, you hesitated. Your heart gave a traitorous flutter, and she noticed it instantly—the way your smile faltered just slightly, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. You could feel her gaze lingering on you, sharp and perceptive.

“I can ask Tommy not to invite Joel and Ellie?” Maria offered gently, though there was something in her gaze—an unspoken understanding, as if she could sense the hesitation you tried so hard to hide.

You forced a smile, shaking your head as if the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. “No, it’s fine. Really.”

Was it fine? You weren’t sure. After everything, after weeks of coldness followed by... whatever this was? You didn’t know if you could handle that yet. The tension, the confusion that gnawed at you whenever you were near him, had only grown worse since that day.

Maria placed a hand on your arm, her expression soft but with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she teased, grinning. “We’ll leave him out there if he says anything outta line.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. A small laugh escaped you, the tension easing slightly. After all, why should Joel’s presence stop you from enjoying yourself? You’d been through enough—why let him take this from you, too? This was your chance to unwind, to escape the weight of your thoughts, even if just for a day.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen, if only a little.

But now that knot was back, tightening in your stomach as you stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the bikini Maria had brought over. It was beautiful, crafted from leftover fabric she’d skillfully pieced together, but it hugged your curves tighter than you were used to. The way it fit made you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Memories flooded in, unwanted but persistent—your ex’s voice creeping into your mind. “You should stop wearing stuff like that. It’s too revealing,” he’d said more than once, his tone always sharp, always judgmental. And then the comments about your body, the ones that stung more than you’d ever let him know. “Maybe if you went to the gym more, you’d feel better about yourself.”

The echo of his words made your throat tighten, the familiar shame creeping up. You tugged at the straps, trying to adjust them, but it didn’t help. With a sigh, you slipped on a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, hoping the extra layers might ease the discomfort. The reflection staring back at you felt foreign, as if you were seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes—his eyes.

You took one last glance in the mirror, forcing yourself to turn away before you second-guessed everything again. If you didn’t walk out now, you knew you’d never make it out the door.

But as you walked over to the stables, where you’d all agreed to meet, the thought of seeing Joel tightened something in your chest. You didn’t know where the two of you stood after his apology—whether his words had truly changed anything. You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. You weren’t even sure if you could forgive him. And that was the worst part of it—the not knowing. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you caught in the uneasy space between anger and hurt.

•••

When you arrived, Tommy and Maria were already waiting, gently petting the horses in front of them. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them, their chemistry unmistakable. They knew each other like the back of their hands—Maria could keep Tommy in check with just a glance, and Tommy always found a way to make her laugh, even in the quietest moments. It was hard not to admire how natural it seemed, the effortless ease between them.

“Hey, sunshine,” Tommy called out, his grin wide and familiar, that teasing nickname he always had for you wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you teased back, walking over, feeling a little lighter in their presence.

“You excited for today?” Tommy asked, leaning against the stable post with his arms casually crossed, that easygoing smirk never leaving his face.

“Yeah,” you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension from your shoulders. “The heat’s been killing me, so a day by the lake sounds like heaven right now.”

Maria chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes twinkling with that familiar warmth. “You and me both. It’s about time we all get a break.”

For a brief moment, the lightness of their company made you forget the weight pressing on your chest. The easy banter, the smiles, the sense of normalcy—it almost felt like you could relax. But then, as the conversation flowed around you, your eyes instinctively scanned the stables, your heart bracing for it. You knew he would be there. You could feel it in your bones, that unsettling awareness growing stronger.

And just like that, the moment you were dreading arrived.

Joel.

He appeared behind Ellie, who greeted everyone with her usual energy, but his presence weighed heavier. You felt it instantly. Your eyes met his for just a fleeting second, but it was enough to send your pulse racing, doubt creeping in—suddenly, this felt like a bad idea.

“Alright, let’s get these horses sorted,” Tommy said, clapping his hands with a grin, either oblivious to—or purposely ignoring—the tension crackling between you and Joel. “Looks like we’re gonna have to do some sharing.” His grin faded into an exaggerated frown as if he were considering the situation seriously, but it was obvious what he was up to.

“Tommy—” Maria started, narrowing her eyes at him, already suspicious. But he cut her off, making a big show of inspecting one of the horses.

“Yeah, uh, one of the horses has a bad leg,” Tommy said, his tone overly casual, waving his hand toward the stable like he was some expert in equine care. “So me, Maria, and Ellie can take one horse, and…” He let the words hang, his eyes flicking between you and Joel with barely contained mischief. “You two will share the other.”

The second those words left his mouth, you and Joel both jumped to object.

“No, I can—”

“Hold on—” Joel started, his voice rough and low, clearly as unhappy with the arrangement as you were.

But Tommy raised his hand, already prepared for the protest. “Now, now, I know what you’re both thinking—‘Tommy, we don’t need to share.’ But look, it’s a real delicate situation with that horse. Can’t risk it limping all the way out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the stable, where the perfectly fine horse stood, as if its imaginary injury were a life-or-death matter. “Besides,” he added, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Maria and I never get to hang out with Ellie.”

Which was a flat-out lie.

Maria groaned, rubbing her temples, while Ellie snickered from behind her hand, thoroughly enjoying the scene.

Tommy’s grin was shameless, and despite every excuse you and Joel tried to form, you both knew there was no talking your way out of this one. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was fine. You were both adults. A short horse ride wasn’t the end of the world. It was only an hour, after all—60 minutes, 3,600 seconds. How bad could that be?

Right?

Joel cleared his throat, his expression unreadable, but his body language gave him away—his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched. It was painfully obvious this was the last thing he wanted. But there was no backing out now—not without making things even more awkward.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough as he extended a hand to help you onto the horse. You hesitated for a moment, the thought crossing your mind—I can get on a horse by myself—but you kept quiet. Instead, you took his hand. Your fingers barely grazed his before he pulled away quickly, almost as if the touch had burned him. He couldn’t even meet your eyes. Was he that disgusted by you?

You tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on moving back in the saddle as Joel climbed up in front of you with a groan. The scent of leather and earth clung to him, familiar and unsettling all at once. The space between you felt impossibly small, too intimate, as your knees brushed against his sides. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some distance, but no matter how you moved, it was never enough. You were close—too close—and there was no escaping it now.

•••

The ride was quiet. Too quiet. The distant voices of Ellie and the others ahead were little more than murmurs now, their laughter and chatter fading as you and Joel lagged behind. You kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap, determined not to touch him more than absolutely necessary.

But the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait made that resolve harder to keep. With each sway, you felt yourself slipping, your balance faltering as the horse moved beneath you. No matter how hard you tried to steady yourself, your body would tilt forward with every step, brushing against Joel again. The warmth radiating from him, the solidness of his frame, was impossible to ignore, and it only quickened your pulse.

You gritted your teeth, concentrating on staying upright. It was taking everything—your core muscles burning from the effort of holding yourself steady, your thighs clamping down on the horse’s sides to keep yourself in place. The heat wasn’t helping either; the oppressive sun bore down, and sweat beaded along your brow. The combination of the heat and the constant motion made your body ache with effort.

“Would you just—” Joel’s voice cut through the thick silence, low and laced with frustration. He turned to glance at you briefly, his eyes narrowed with irritation, and even in that fleeting look, you could see the tension in his shoulders. “You’re gonna fall off the damn horse if you don’t hold on.”

His words were sharper than necessary, rough and unyielding, but there was something beneath the surface. It wasn’t just annoyance—it was something else. Like he hated that he had to care, that he couldn’t just let it go.

What did it matter to him if you fell off the horse? Why did he care at all?

You hesitated, hovering for a moment before finally giving in, wrapping your arms around his waist. The heat of his body was immediate, the solid weight of him grounding you in a way that took you by surprise. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the horse’s steady steps. Neither of you spoke, the silence thick, broken only by the rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Finally, the lake came into view, its waters shimmering under the midday sun, a sight that should have been a relief. As you loosened your grip on Joel, you felt a strange mix of emotions—relief tinged with something else, something more difficult to name. Something stirred beneath the surface—something visceral, raw, that you hadn’t even realized was there until now.

•••

You waited for Joel to dismount first, watching as he landed with that quiet, grounded grace he always seemed to have. Just as you were about to slide off the horse on your own, you noticed him turn back toward you, his hand extended. Your eyebrows shot up involuntarily, the gesture catching you off guard. Joel offering help wasn’t something you were used to.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, but before you could overthink it, Joel stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he guided you down. The contact was steady, his grip firm but not rough, and the unexpected warmth of his touch sent a ripple through you. You barely had time to react before your feet hit the ground.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly, your voice more sheepish than you’d intended. The touch was brief, but enough to linger, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

You quickly stepped back, letting go of his hand and focusing on steadying yourself while Joel moved to tie up the horse. From a distance, Maria caught your eye, raising her eyebrows in a silent question—You okay? You nodded quickly, offering her a small, reassuring smile before turning your gaze to the shimmering lake, hoping it would calm the whirlwind of feelings stirring inside you.

The water sparkled under the midday sun, the surface glistening like a thousand diamonds scattered across the blue expanse. It was beautiful—peaceful in a way that made you momentarily forget the awkwardness and tension lingering around you. A soft smile spread across your face as you took in the sight, the warmth of the day finally settling into your bones.

Ellie, unsurprisingly, was the first to dive in, her energetic somersault sending a splash echoing across the quiet landscape, jolting you from your thoughts. You laughed, shaking your head as she resurfaced with a triumphant grin, water dripping from her hair and eyes shining with pride.

“Show-off,” you called out, a smile tugging at your lips as Ellie splashed around, her carefree spirit contagious.

"She’s something, ain’t she?" you said to Maria as she came up beside you.

Maria chuckled softly. "Yeah, she keeps us all on our toes, that’s for sure," she replied with a grin, peeling off her outer layers to reveal the swimsuit underneath.

"You coming?" she asked, glancing over at you as she adjusted her straps.

“In a second,” you responded with a smile, watching as made her way to the lake.

"Don't take too long!" Maria called back with a grin as she entered the water, instantly enveloped by Tommy’s arms, their playful splashes and laughter ringing through the air. There was a carefree joy in their movements, a natural ease that spoke of years spent together, of shared moments and quiet understanding.

For a moment, a familiar pang of loneliness settled deep in your chest. You’d always been good at hiding it, masking it behind independence and keeping yourself busy. But being around couples like Tommy and Maria—watching the effortless way they moved together, the love they shared so openly—reminded you of something you had long buried, or at least tried to. The ache of wanting that kind of closeness, of sharing your life with someone who truly knew you, hit harder than you expected, leaving you feeling more exposed than the summer heat could explain. But with the promise of love came the risk of vulnerability—the fear of being too much or not enough. The idea of opening yourself up like that, of letting someone in, carried a weight you weren’t sure you were ready to bear.

Shaking off the feeling, you bent down to unlace your boots, slipping out of your shorts and tank top. Your swimwear hugged your body a little too tightly, making you feel self-conscious under the sun’s glaring light. It had been years since you’d felt truly confident in your body—before the words that had forever changed the way you saw yourself, leaving invisible scars behind.

You assumed Joel was still occupied with tying up the horses, his back turned to the group. But as you straightened up, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it unmistakable. His presence, always so quiet and watchful, sent the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

You turned slightly, catching Joel’s eyes trailing over your body before he quickly averted his gaze. But not quickly enough. That brief look—just a flicker of something in his eyes—sent a rush of heat through you. Suddenly, you felt shy, arms wrapping around yourself instinctively, as if you could shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. You had never expected to feel exposed around him, never thought his glance would affect you like this. Yet here you were, standing at the edge of the lake, completely thrown off by the raw intensity of the moment.

Joel cleared his throat, the sound breaking the thick silence between you. His hand remained on the horse’s reins, gripping them tightly as though he needed something solid to ground himself. His face gave nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly, betrayed him. It felt like he was holding something back—something unspoken.

You thought you heard him murmur something under his breath, too quiet to catch. Whatever it was, it sent a ripple of tension through the air, making you even more aware of the shift between you. He didn’t meet your eyes again, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he had whispered was meant to stay unsaid. The moment hung between you, heavy and uncertain, leaving you more unsettled than before.

You took a step toward the lake, needing something—anything—to pull you away from the weight of that moment, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes still lingering on you. Even as you walked, his gaze felt like a tangible presence, and it took all your effort not to glance back.

You stepped into the cool water, the sharp contrast against the heat of the day sending a shiver through your body. The chill was refreshing, grounding you as it enveloped your skin. Ellie, of course, was quick to start splashing you, her laughter echoing across the lake, wild and infectious. She spun through the water with boundless energy, her joy impossible to resist.

Tommy and Maria soon joined in, their playful banter filling the air, and for a brief moment, you let yourself be swept up in it. You laughed, dodging Ellie’s relentless splashes, the cool water against your skin making you feel lighter. For those few minutes, the tension eased, and all that mattered was the simple joy of being in the water, laughing alongside them.

But from the shore, Joel watched—quiet, steady, and distant, his eyes following your every move, even if he tried to hide it.

Joel’s POV:

He couldn’t stop himself from looking. Couldn’t stop himself from noticing every little thing about you—the way your small hands had clung to him on the horse, the heat of your grip still lingering on his skin. And now, there you stood, at the edge of the lake, exposed under the bright sun, bare in a way that made it hard to breathe. His eyes traced your form, and before he could stop himself, he muttered under his breath, “Fucking hell.”

The way your gaze had held him, the way you moved—it was undoing him. Every ounce of distance he had fought tooth and nail to keep, every wall he had meticulously constructed, crumbled in an instant. Months of hard-earned control, months of convincing himself that he didn’t care, that you didn’t matter, shattered with just one look. He had thought he was safe, thought keeping you at arm’s length would protect him, would be enough to keep you away. He thought if he could just say the right things, those cruel, cutting words—the ones that slashed through you, calling you a burden—it would be enough to drive you away for good.

And it had worked. He saw the way your face crumpled when he said it, the way your heart seemed to break right in front of him. That moment had haunted him ever since, the memory clawing at him in the dead of night. If he had truly wanted to keep you away, he should’ve stopped there. He shouldn’t have fixed your door. He shouldn’t have apologized. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here today, where every glance at you was undoing him in ways he couldn’t stop.

But here he was, watching you, and realizing it had never been enough.

You had wormed your way into him, past every defense he’d spent years perfecting, twisting something deep inside him—something he thought he’d buried so far down it couldn’t ever resurface. But you’d found it. You slipped through cracks he didn’t even know existed, without even meaning to, and now, watching you, he felt everything unravel. The walls, the distance, the control—it was all crumbling around him, and the worst part was, he couldn’t stop it.

He didn’t know if he even wanted to anymore.

Then, you stepped into the lake, and it stopped him cold. The sun caught your hair, turning it to gold as you waded through the cool water, the surface rippling around you like silk. Your cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink from the sun, your skin smooth as it peeked through the water’s surface, glistening in the light. Your laughter—light and unburdened—floated across the air, so carefree, it felt like a melody he didn’t deserve to hear. You were radiant, glowing with a joy he hadn’t seen in you before—not around him, anyway. A small, unbidden smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slipping through the cracks of the guard he kept so carefully in place.

It wasn’t just this moment that cut through him; it was the memories. Seeing you around Jackson, time and time again, he tried to keep you from occupying his thoughts—and failed every single time. From the very beginning, from the first time he saw you in the dining hall, your presence had unsettled him, and it hadn’t gotten easier since. He remembered the first patrol you’d taken together—how he had to force himself not to look at you for too long. How he silently berated himself for letting that raider get so close to you. He thought of the time he’d cut his hand open, and how you’d carefully stitched him up. He would’ve rather let the hand fall off than have you that close, because it did something to him, something he couldn’t afford to feel.

He would catch glimpses of you at the stables, in the market, moving through town with that same smile you wore so easily. You were kind, always kind—and he had been nothing but cruel to you.

And that’s when it hit him—guilt, sharp and brutal. Seeing you like this, so free, so happy, twisted something deep inside him, because he knew. He knew that, more often than not, his presence had cast a shadow over you. You were better without him. Lighter. And damn if that didn’t burn more than anything else.

"Joel!" Tommy’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "You gonna stand by that damn horse all day or join us?"

Joel blinked, realizing Tommy and Maria were both staring at him, grins on their faces. Ellie floated nearby, splashing water aimlessly. He narrowed his eyes at Tommy, his usual scowl slipping into place, but Tommy just raised an eyebrow in challenge, undeterred.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, pushing off the tree where the horse was tied. His feet felt heavy as he walked toward the edge of the lake, the tightness in his chest growing with each step he took toward the water—and toward you.

You were there, just a little ways from the others, your back turned to him as you floated peacefully, completely unaware of the way his gaze lingered. The sun glistened off the surface of the water, highlighting the smooth curve of your shoulders, the way your hair clung to your neck. His chest tightened further.

Without a word, Joel reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the air felt thick, like even the wind was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

Just as he pulled the shirt off, you glanced over your shoulder, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. The lake, the people, the sounds of laughter all faded into the background as that unspoken tension settled between you again, thick and palpable.

He hesitated, shirt in hand, the water lapping at the edges of his boots. And you were looking at him—not with annoyance or indifference, but with something that made his chest tighten. Something he hadn’t expected to see in your eyes.

Joel finally pulled his shirt off, and your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The way his body moved, the sheer strength in his broad shoulders and muscular arms, was hard to ignore. His skin was tanned and weathered, a testament to years of hard labor and survival. Scars traced across his chest—some faded, others fresher—each one a silent story of the battles he’d fought, and won. They crisscrossed over his skin like a map of pain and endurance.

Despite the roughness, he looked good—better than you had ever let yourself imagine. His body was broad, solid, and the soft swell of his abdomen triggered a heat between your legs. His skin gleamed under the sunlight, the muscles in his back shifting as he tossed the shirt aside, his jaw clenched in that familiar, determined way.

And then you realized what you were doing—biting your lip as your gaze lingered too long on the way the sun kissed his skin, how his body moved. Heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment creeping in as you quickly turned away, but not before he caught you looking.

He stepped into the water the cool lake seemed to welcome him as he waded in, the ripples spreading around his legs, the water shimmering against his tanned skin. You couldn’t stop watching—how could you?—as he drew closer, the water now lapping at his waist, glistening droplets clinging to the lines of his body.

You forced yourself to tear your gaze away, swallowing the heat that had suddenly risen in your chest. Turning back to Ellie, you splashed her playfully, hoping the cool water would distract you from the sudden tightness in your throat, the strange warmth creeping across your skin.

But it was hard to ignore the feeling that the temperature had gotten hotter—not from the sun, but from something else entirely.

•••

You had been in the lake for what felt like hours, the cool water a soothing contrast against your warm skin, your fingers slowly pruning from the time spent submerged. Your hair floated softly around your shoulders, catching the fading light as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over everything. The sky had shifted into breathtaking hues of pink and orange, the kind of beauty that made the world feel still for just a moment.

Ellie, Tommy, and Maria had already climbed out of the lake, their laughter echoing as they made their way to dry off. You half-expected Joel to follow them, to leave the water behind, to leave you behind. You braced yourself for the sound of him moving through the water, for the quiet splash that would signal his retreat. But it never came.

Instead, silence stretched between you, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. The lake suddenly felt smaller, like it was closing in around you both, as if the world had narrowed until it was just the two of you, floating in the stillness.

Then, without warning, you felt it—the gentle current, or perhaps something else, pulling you closer to him. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the space between you shrank until your body drifted into his. The contact was soft at first, barely there—a brush of skin, a collision of warmth in the coolness of the lake.

“Sorry,” you murmured, the word slipping out as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved to pull away, but before you could, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in place. His fingers curled around your hips—not possessive, but steady—like he was anchoring both of you in that fleeting moment.

“S’alright,” Joel said, his voice low and rough, thick with something you couldn’t name. In the quiet, it sounded almost too intimate, the words carrying more weight than they should. As if realizing it himself, he quickly withdrew his hands from your waist, but he didn’t move away. He stayed close, the two of you now facing each other in the water.

The lake swirled around you both, but all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, the way his touch seemed to linger in the coolness of the water. Your breath hitched, your heart beating in time with the soft ripple of the lake. The silence between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t shake, and the air around you thickened as if waiting for something to happen.

You looked up at him, and in the soft glow of the setting sun, his face was bathed in gold. His eyes—usually so guarded, so hard—were softer now, searching yours with something you had never seen before. There was an intensity in his gaze, but beneath it, a tenderness lingered, like he was silently asking a question he wasn’t ready to voice. The pull between you made your chest tighten with something unnameable, a feeling that left you off balance, dazed and heavy.

You were acutely aware of where his skin brushed against yours—the faint caress of his hands that had barely touched you moments ago, the way your legs accidentally bumped his beneath the water. Despite the closeness, something fragile hung in the air, as if the moment would shatter if either of you moved too suddenly.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting slightly, his eyes breaking away from yours for a split second. “You, uh… you doin’ alright?” His voice was rough, awkward, like he wasn’t used to asking such questions, especially not to you.

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone. He had never been cruel, exactly, but this gentleness? This was new.

“Yeah, I’m… fine,” you stammered, your own voice sounding more breathless than you’d intended. You glanced down, focusing on the water, but the tension still thrummed between you.

“You don’t usually ask how I’m doing,” you added, your lips curling slightly in a nervous smile.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I don’t, do I?” His eyes darted back to yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “I ain’t… I’m not always good at this.”

“This?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean… being nice?”

Joel sighed, the words he wanted to say slipping through his fingers. You could see the struggle in the way his brow furrowed, the unspoken weight of whatever it was he was holding back. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, a man at war with himself.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you said softly, sensing the awkward tension rising between you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, and for a split second, his brows drew together as if your words had stung. That brief moment of vulnerability caught you off guard—it hurt him. He didn’t like hearing it, didn’t like you thinking that he didn’t care or didn’t want to.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his composure. "I know I don’t," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, rougher. "But that ain’t the point." His gaze locked on yours, more intense than before. He wanted to say more, wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the words just wouldn’t come.

You stayed there, waist-deep in the water, not knowing what to say next. The silence between you had shifted again, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you were ready to confront. You could feel it—the pull, the undeniable gravity of something deeper growing between you, as if the water itself was holding the tension, making every ripple feel like an unspoken truth pressing in from all sides.

For an instant, you could see the battle in his eyes, as if he was torn between wanting to pull you closer and keeping you at arm's length. It was as if everything he’d ever told himself about you—the distance he tried to maintain—was unraveling, crumbling under the weight of this moment. He wanted you to need him, to see him in a way he had never allowed himself to admit.

Despite everything he’d told himself from the moment you met, now, more than ever, he wanted to be needed by you.

•••

Eventually, you had gotten out of the water, the chill in the air making the warmth of the lakeside feel even more inviting. The group had gathered lazily on the shore, towels draped over your shoulders as the last traces of sunlight kissed the horizon. You sat down, still wrapped in the lingering tension of the moment with Joel, but trying to push it aside as everyone settled into the familiar ease of friendly chatter.

That’s when you noticed Maria, her expression a little more serious than usual as she glanced anxiously at Tommy. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it like she was gathering strength from him, her excitement barely contained beneath the surface.

“We’ve got something to share with y’all,” Maria finally said, her voice soft but brimming with anticipation.

Tommy grinned, the kind of grin that said he’d been dying to spill the news but had managed to hold back—just barely. He gave Maria an encouraging nod, unable to contain his excitement.

“I’m pregnant!” Maria blurted out, her smile lighting up as the words left her.

For a second, the world seemed to pause, and then everything shifted. The air buzzed with the energy of the announcement as it sank in. Ellie was the first to react, her eyes wide before she let out a whoop of pure joy, practically leaping over to hug Maria.

"Holy shit, Maria! That’s amazing!" Ellie laughed, spinning around, her excitement contagious.

“Oh my God, Maria!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. You rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. “Congratulations!” you said, your smile wide and genuine as you turned to Tommy and hugged him too. “This is incredible.”

“Thanks,” Maria said, her eyes shining with happiness.

“How long have you known?” you asked, still buzzing from the news.

“A month or so,” Maria replied, her smile softening as she glanced at Tommy. “We’ve been keeping it quiet until we were sure.”

“I’m so happy for you two,” you said, squeezing her hand.

Joel stood up, moving toward Tommy with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, murmuring a quiet "congratulations." He extended his hand for a shake but, at the last second, pulled Tommy into a brief, firm hug instead.

Tommy chuckled, clapping Joel on the back. “You ready to teach me a thing or two?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Joel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded, his voice soft. “You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do.”

Teach him? The thought echoed in your mind, lingering. Had Joel… had children before? The idea twisted something inside you. It made sense, the way he spoke with that quiet, heavy knowledge, like someone who had been through something unspeakable. The realization left you feeling unsettled, a sudden wave of sadness washing over you.

Ellie’s voice echoed in your mind from weeks ago: “He’s lost people.” The memory made your chest tighten. There was a quiet ache there, a sense of grief lingering beneath the surface of his rough exterior.

Joel’s gaze flickered toward you for a brief moment, and even in that split second, something passed between you—something unspoken, something heavy. It sent a ripple through the quiet moment, a fleeting connection that only deepened the mystery surrounding him.

And just like that, the celebration continued around you, full of laughter and joy. But as you watched, the pull of Joel’s quiet presence lingered, leaving you with more questions than answers, more curiosity than clarity.

Still, it wasn’t the time for those thoughts right now. Pushing them aside, you flashed a smile and said, "Well, we have to celebrate!" You glanced between Tommy and Maria, your eyes twinkling with excitement, determined to keep the mood light despite the heaviness tugging at the edges of your mind.

Tommy clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s hit the Tipsy Bison and raise a glass, or five, to the new baby Miller.”

•••

It was now well into the night by the time you left the lake, the stars twinkling above as the heat of the day finally gave way to a cool breeze. You found yourself back on Joel’s horse, your arms slipping around his waist with ease this time, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t have to ask you to hold on. You just did, without question, the tension between you from earlier now softened by the gentle sway of the ride and the exhaustion that clung to your limbs after hours in the sun and water.

You watched the broad line of Joel’s back as he rode, the ends of his hair still damp, occasionally catching a glint of moonlight as it dripped slightly. His presence, steady and solid, lulled you into a state of quiet comfort. The rhythm of the horse, the warmth of his body, and the stillness of the night all blended together, creating a cocoon of calm.

Without warning, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the day catching up to you. Before you knew it, your head dipped forward, and you were fast asleep against Joel’s back, your arms slack but still resting around him. You didn’t hear him when he said your name softly, testing to see if you were still awake.

When you didn’t reply, Joel sighed under his breath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with something between amusement and exasperation. “Gonna be the death of me.”

He adjusted his posture just slightly, careful not to jostle you too much as the horse trotted along the quiet path back to Jackson. The warmth of your body leaning into his back felt different now—less awkward, less loaded with tension, and more like an unspoken understanding. A quiet intimacy that neither of you needed to comment on.

When you arrived back at the stables Joel reined in the horse and glanced over his shoulder at you, still slumped peacefully against him. He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He reached back, shaking your shoulder gently to wake you. “Hey,” he called softly, “Wake up. We’re here.”

You stirred slowly, blinking as you fought to shake off the drowsiness. Your eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, you were disoriented, the stillness of the night and the gentle sway of the horse making you feel like you were still dreaming.

“Heavy sleeper, aren’t you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your half-daze. You blinked, disoriented for a second, glancing around the now-empty stables, trying to remember where you were.

“Huh?” you mumbled, still a little confused.

Joel’s eyebrow quirked, and his mouth twitched with amusement. “You still wanna go to the bar, or you want me to take you home?”

You straightened up quickly, rubbing your eyes. “No, no. We’re celebrating one way or another,” you said, trying to shake off the fog. “I just had a quick power nap, that’s all.”

Joel chuckled, a low, warm sound that surprised you. It was the first time you’d ever heard him laugh at something you’d said, and it caught you off guard. The corners of his mouth lifted in a way that softened his usually guarded expression.

Joel dismounted first, his movements deliberate and slow, turning back to offer you a hand. His hands found your waist again, firm but gentle, steadying you as you slid down from the horse.

“Where did Maria and Tommy go?” you asked, your voice still a bit groggy as your feet hit the ground.

“They headed out a few minutes before us,” Joel replied, his tone calm but with a hint of teasing. “Had to wake you up, remember?”

You blinked, the memory of him gently nudging you awake still a little hazy. “Right… power nap,” you mumbled with a sheepish smile.

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Yeah, sure looked like it.” His eyes softened slightly as they met yours, a subtle warmth there that hadn’t been before.

•••

The Tipsy Bison was anything but quiet. The room buzzed with life, a steady hum of voices and laughter filling the air as people gathered after a long day of hard labor. The place was rugged and worn, but comfortable—the wooden floors creaked underfoot, and the scent of old leather and whiskey hung in the air. Dim lanterns cast a warm, amber glow over the tables, where Jackson’s residents shared stories and tried to forget the weight of the world outside, even if just for a few hours.

You stood at the bar with Maria, ordering her an orange juice and three beers for yourself, Joel, and Tommy. Behind you, Tommy and Joel were seated at a table near the corner, their heads leaned in slightly as they murmured to each other.

As you waited for the drinks, you turned to Maria, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Maria, seriously, I’m so happy for you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You didn’t realize it until you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Maria laughed, blinking rapidly as she fought back her own tears. “You’re gonna make me cry, and we’ll both be a mess.”

You let out a small laugh, brushing at your eyes. “No, seriously. I can’t wait to meet this baby. I’m going to be the most insufferable aunt ever,” you added with a grin, “and this baby is going to be spoiled rotten.”

Maria’s smile softened, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background. “I know you will be,” she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth. She reached out and squeezed your hand. “Thank you.”

As she let go, Maria's eyes glinted with mischief, her teasing smile returning. “So… you and Joel, huh? I saw you two at the lake today. Seemed… close.”

Your face instantly flushed, and you fumbled for words, completely caught off guard. “I-I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “He’s just… been nicer, I guess? Not as grumpy as usual.”

Maria chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as if she wasn’t quite convinced. “Nicer, huh? Sounds like progress to me.”

Just then, the bartender set your drinks down, breaking the moment to your relief. You picked them up, handing Maria her orange juice before heading toward Joel and Tommy, who were still deep in conversation, their heads bent close as they spoke in low voices. As you approached, you could hear the faint murmur of their discussion, though you couldn’t make out the words.

You glanced at Joel, a smile tugging at your lips before you even realized it. The day had gone so much better than you had expected. Joel’s usual gruff exterior had softened into something different, something softer. You hadn’t expected to see this side of him—the man behind the walls he kept so carefully in place.

And in that moment, as you walked toward Joel, you made a choice. The bitterness you’d been holding onto for so long was finally starting to thaw. His small kindnesses today—the way his hand had brushed your waist when he helped you off your horse, the quiet looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t watching—had planted the smallest seed of hope in you. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different between you two. Maybe you could leave the hurt behind, move past the sharp words and the tension that had defined your every interaction.

But then you heard it.

Tommy, with that usual playful smirk, leaned in closer to Joel. “So… you and her, huh?”

You and Maria froze mid-step, still a few meters away, unnoticed.

Joel’s entire body stiffened. Even from behind, you could see the tension ripple through his posture, his grip tightening around his glass, jaw clenched as if trying to hold something back. You couldn’t see his face, but his voice was enough. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he muttered, low and tight, like he was struggling to keep control.

Tommy chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing in Joel’s chest. “Come on, man. I saw the way you two were today at the lake. You’ve been spendin’ time with her, helpin’ her out. Thought you couldn’t stand her at first, but now…” He shot Joel a look, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “She’s a good girl, Joel. Real sweet. Pretty too. Can’t say I’d blame you if—”

“Stop,” Joel snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a whip. There was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before—a coldness, an urgency, like he was desperate to shut this conversation down before it went any further.

Tommy blinked, startled by the sudden harshness in his brother’s tone. “Whoa, hey. I’m just sayin’—”

But Joel’s mind was racing. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He hadn’t expected Tommy to bring this up, hadn’t expected to be confronted with the truth that had been gnawing at him for weeks. You were getting under his skin, and that scared the hell out of him. Today had only confirmed what he’d feared—that he’d let you in too far, let himself care too much. You were the closest anyone had come since Tess, and that terrified him.

He’d had a good day with you today, better than he’d had in a long time with anyone. It had been easy to be nice, to let the tension between you slip away for a few hours. The way you had smiled at him, the way your laugh had filled the space between you both, made it impossible for him not to soften. For a moment, he had allowed himself to forget the walls he had built, to push aside the fear that constantly gnawed at him.

But hearing Tommy mention it—seeing someone else notice the change in him—sent a jolt of panic straight to his core. It was like the spotlight had been turned on, illuminating the truth he’d been trying to bury. Tommy had seen it, the closeness, the way Joel had softened around you. If Tommy could notice it, how long until you did too?

The realization hit him hard. He couldn’t afford to let you get that close. He couldn’t allow himself to feel this way, to care this deeply. The last time he’d let someone in, the cost had been unbearable. Losing Tess had shattered something inside him, and now, the idea of losing you—of letting himself care enough that it could hurt him like that again—was paralyzing.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He pushed you away.

“She’s annoying, Tommy,” Joel said, his voice hard and clipped, each word forced out like a bitter pill. “Doesn’t know what she’s doin’ half the time. Always in the way. Trust me, I could never be with someone like that.”

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a blow that landed right in your gut.

Tommy’s smile faltered, his face falling into disbelief. “Jesus, Joel…” he muttered, shaking his head, the warmth in his voice gone, replaced with quiet disappointment.

But Joel didn’t see you standing there—had no idea you were close enough to hear every cruel word. The cold indifference in his voice cut deeper than any wound. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care—it was that he dismissed you, reduced you to an annoyance, a burden. A burden he barely tolerated.

The sound of glass shattering on the floor yanked both men’s attention back towards you.

You stood there, frozen in place, the beers you had been carrying now in pieces at your feet, amber liquid spreading across the wooden floor. Your heart felt like it had been torn apart, the weight of his words crashing over you, suffocating you. You had heard every single word, each one striking harder than the last, until the fragile hope you had been holding onto crumbled to dust. The air felt heavy, your chest tightening painfully, each breath a struggle as the full force of his rejection washed over you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, the dam breaking before you could stop it. No amount of blinking could hold them back now—they spilled down your cheeks freely, hot and unstoppable.

Maria stood beside you, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, her wide eyes darting between you and Joel, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just witnessed.

Joel’s gaze finally met yours, and the look on your face—the hurt, the betrayal—hit him harder than anything he’d ever felt. The coldness in his chest, the wall he had tried to build between himself and his feelings for you, shattered in an instant. His heart twisted painfully, and for a fleeting moment, you saw regret flicker across his face.

But it was too late. The damage had already been done.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, to explain, to fix the mess he had just created, but the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat, useless.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. Without a word, you turned and walked away, the tears streaming down your face, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

You had been ready to forgive him. You had been willing to let go of the past, to give him—and the two of you—a chance. But now? Now you weren’t sure if you ever could.

Not after this.

•••

Tag list:

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@somedayheaven @ohdearvalentine @keseqna @kulekehe

@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Three: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, murder, serious illness, needles [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you SO much that he’s disgusting about it. He’s extra delusional. Anakin doesn’t love drama HE IS the drama. He's still a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: June 27th

I came to the diner tonight, I love to see you wait tables. You’re so kind and sweet, even to the assholes and shitheads that don’t deserve to breathe your air. Your beautiful smile, those pretty eyes and how you bat those long lashes, that bell-like giggle you pull for those nasty old men’s jokes.

I know it’s not real, but it’s fun to watch you pretend baby. And just as fun to listen to your annoyed retelling of your night when you get home. Gods I could just listen to you talk for hours. Watching your face change as you speak, the acute movements of your eyebrows and lips that tell me how you really feel.

You’re just like me, more than you know.

I ordered some coffee, sat at the bar one of those red spin-y stools, and listened to your sweet lilt tell lie after lie to your customers.

You’re a busy, busy girl aren’t you princess?

Sorry for the messy writing, it was difficult not to laugh as I wrote these little white lies of yours.

1. Saving up money for a car: true, but doesn’t get you good tips

2. This is your second job and life on your own is just real hard: I’m amazed that this one works as well as it does, really pulling on those old lady heartstrings huh?

3. ‘Sorry guys, I’m just- having a hard day. You understand right?’ *sniffle* the only thing those guys understand is the masculine urge to stop a girl from crying and if shoving a few extra bills under their dirty plate makes your day ‘better’, they’re gonna do it.

I don’t know how you continue to use that one on those poor fools, it’s always the same few guys too. They really think you’re something special huh?

You are of course, very special. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know that you’re full of shit. I know for a fact you had a really good day. I was there.

You cheeky little minx.

4. Your mom is out of work and you’re helping her out: your mom is out of work, but you’re definitely not helping her out. She wouldn’t take your money if you offered it. (You wouldn’t offer it over your dead body.)

Can’t blame you for this little lie though, your mom really is a piece of shit. Exploit that bitch all you want, she deserves it. I’ve seen those nasty posts she made about your friend. All that because he’s gay?

Oh no! It’s contagious! It’s the vaccines! Gluten!

Come on lady, it’s 2023.

5. you’re getting married! I fucking wish. But, not yet princess, you won’t need to worry about anything when it’s time for that. Thats what I’m here for, I’ll make sure you get everything you want.

6. ‘It’s on the house honey.’ I was so jealous hearing this one for the first time. You’re just absolutely rotten aren’t you? Refills are free.

You’re perfect for me and you don’t even know it.

Diary Entry: June 28th

Angelic. Cherubic. God-kin.

A biblical beauty if I’ve ever seen one.

The way your hair creates a halo around your face. Tendrils gracing the soft contours of your cheeks, the twitch of your nose when you shift just alittle too much and a strand tickles it. The subtle pull or purse of your lips that tells me you’re deep in the land of dreaming.

Sleep is one of the most basic human needs. It’s not meant to be as glorified as you make it, but somehow you do.

It’s intimate. They way your breathing slows and your body melts into the soft hands of sleep. It’s an event that I’ve been graciously given the opportunity to witness.

It was so, so, so worth waiting for.

SleepyTime Tea, a cute name and of course perfect for my purposes. You drank a cup almost every night. It’d been on my mind for a while and I figured… it couldn’t hurt to open it up and help you get an even better sleep.

Now that I’ve had the privilege of seeing an angel at rest… well I don’t think I could ever witness anything more breathtaking.

Except for maybe your sweet little pussy.

I checked and double checked the measurements on those sleeping pills I promise. I would never ever hurt you sweetheart. I was so anxious, trying to make sure I got the mixture perfect.

It worked like a dream. Didn’t it?

Damn right it did. Worked well enough that I was able to tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead before I left.

I also did you a little favor or two as well while I was there. It wasn’t a completely selfish visit.

I replaced an old beat up scrunchie, it was past time for you to retire it in my opinion. Now it’s serving a better purpose: squeezing the base of my cock while I fuck my fist to the sounds of your desperate moans, both of us needy for a never quite satisfying finish. If only I had the courage to open that door.

You need a man sweetheart. You need me. Those toys of yours just don’t hit the spot for you do they? Hurts my heart that it takes you so long… and I know it’s not on purpose. I can tell the difference.

Nothin’ can mimic that sinful feel of flesh on flesh.

I took out your bathroom trash, I know you hate doing that. And maybe I accidentally knocked your toothbrush off the sink.

Sue me.

But I promptly rectified the issue, I just so happened to notice you were out of brush-head refills a few days ago and came prepared. You’re welcome baby.

I also purchased the same brand of brush that you have.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Date:

June 29th

You woke up, rolling out of bed at 9:30. An absolutely ridiculous time to be awake on what was meant to be a lazy stay at home day. But alas, you are a good friend, and good friends go through with their plans.

Even if you made those plans a month ago and completely forgot them.

Your cat laced it’s way through your legs while you stood on unsteady feet. You’ve really gotta stop with the caffeine, it’s definitely not normal for someone as young as you to wake up with the shakes. But you’re a creature of habit and an absurd amount of sugar and caffeine were included in those habits.

Staying true to those habits you made your way to the bathroom across the hall, absentmindedly grasping at air for a few seconds before realizing your toothbrush wasn’t where you always left it. With a frustrated groan you looked around and saw that someone… or rather something had knocked it into the floor.

“Boogie!” You turned around and made your way to the living room, interrupting her morning routine by scooping her up and forcing her to face the music.

“How dare you.” You whispered, trying to pull out a stern voice. “I don’t have any new tooth brush heads. What am I supposed to do you little shit?”

You bent down, picked it up and popped the replaceable head off, tossing it into the… empty trash can? When did you take out the trash?

Whatever. Focus. “You better hope I have a spare regular one.” You shot a nasty glare at your cat who sat unbothered on the bathroom counter.

You searched through the cabinet below the sink and through all the drawers and found none. Not even that travel one from last year’s vacation. Finally you opened up the medicine cabinet-mirror combo and was pleasantly surprised but also annoyed, to see that you did actually have a replacement.

“Well shit.” You scoffed, “I should’ve just checked there first.”

Next on the list was a giant tumbler of coffee and a hit of your vape for breakfast. Delicious.

You searched in the catch-all drawer in your kitchen for a hair band, not finding any of the small black ones you settled for a stray scrunchie that lived in this drawer specifically for circumstances like this.

Grabbing the light blue silk scrunchie you went to slide it on your wrist and gather your hair but stopped mid movement. No sharpie mark. You could’ve sworn last time you wore this it had a sharpie mark on it from being trapped in the drawer with a cap-less marker. Weird, but not weird enough to care about.

With your caffeine withdrawal taken care of and your morning duties finished, you slipped on some tennis shoes, grabbed your small backpack and walked to the gym two blocks away. Your wonderful and lovely, much more active friend had invited you to a yoga class to meet ‘someone who isn’t a lazy bastard’.

Which… doesn’t really make any sense considering your last boyfriend liked to lift weights but couldn’t bear to lift a finger to help you.

But you love Luke, and Luke loves to play matchmaker. So you’d suffer through this with a smile. It couldn’t hurt and it might be fun, if all else fails at least you got to hang out with your friend and giggle at him drooling over the ‘guy with this sexy scowl, big broad shoulders, oh my god he’s so soft but like in a buff way it’s insane.’.

“Lukey!” You jogged up to him where he was waiting for you outside the gym.

“You’re late.” He stated sternly despite the little smile curving his lip.

“No I’m not. It’s 10:20.” You scoffed.

“Yes and class starts at 10:30.” He retorted.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but 20 comes before 30.” You said feigning concern as you touched his forearm while walking inside.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “I mean you’re late to meet this guy I was telling you about!”

He shoved you gently past the various equipment and to a smaller room with mirrors along one wall. He very conspicuously pointed toward a younger guy with… a mullet?

“You’re joking.” You gasped. “Luke I swear to god you’ve gotta be kidding.” You squeaked smacking his arm.

“What?!” He squealed, pulling his arms up to his chest and curling in on himself. “Stop I didn’t invite you to kickboxing! Ow!”

“A dude with a mullet?” You glared at him.

“Wait till he turns around, the mullet will be forgiven I swear.” He said, holding up his hands in an offering of peace.

That peace treaty was immediately ripped to shreds when Luke loudly dropped his metal water bottle on the hard floors, a smile that could beat the devil’s smirk on his face.

The guy whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in concern, soft greenish tinted blue eyes taking a moment to glance over you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, a soft accent lacing his voice as he walked over to you.

Is it strange to say that a man with a mullet is… graceful? Yes, it is.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You answered quickly, not missing the snicker that Luke made when he kicked the water bottle over to you.

You bent down and picked it up, holding it with a grip that would surely snap your officially ex-best friends neck in half.

“Here let me take this for you.” The blonde haired stranger said, reaching out for your backpack and for some reason you let him take it.

He just… exuded a calming energy. No wonder he likes yoga, he’s probably the most zen person you’ve ever met. Everything about him was soft and comforting. His voice, his beard, even his knuckles as they ghosted across your arm when he grabbed your bag.

“Th-thanks?“ You said in a statement that sounded more like a confused inquiry.

You followed him and Luke inside, the blood draining from your formerly flushed cheeks when he unrolled your yoga mat in the front row. What kind of cosmic curse has Luke unleashed? You shot him a look to burn through brick but he just seemed giddy as if you weren’t planning on disposing him in the sewer after this.

“I’m Ben, your instructor. Luke told me you’d be coming today, he mentioned you’ve never taken a class like this before?” He looked over at you, an understanding smile on his face.

THE INSTRUCTOR?

“R-right yeah. No, I’ve never taken a yoga class before.” You shook your head and introduced yourself in return, holding out your hand for a hand shake and being utterly shocked at Ben’s reaction.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s alright darling.” He laughed softly, enveloping you in a warm embrace that could smelt iron. It certainly made you malleable, maybe even alittle bit melty.

The kicker though? A kiss to the side of your mouth.

You blinked at the audacity, did he just-? But as he pulled back you realized it wasn’t a creepy thing… it was a friendly thing. He just greets everyone that way because he’s a genuinely kind person. You knew that to be true because he turned and did the same to Luke, ending his with a firm pat to his shoulder.

A little green monster clawed it’s way through your stomach at the sight, but you drowned it quickly with the use of your knowledge as a sane person. You don’t know this guy. Luke brought you here because of this guy, he’s not after him, he’s after Beefy McBeef in the corner. You don’t know him, you’re purely getting jealous going off the fact that he is pretty and the realization that you’re not special.

You spent the rest of your time thinking peaceful thoughts to chase away the images of Luke’s tiny pea brain being squished betwixt your fingers for this horrible idea of his, while failing many attempts to mimic the variety of poses and stances Ben showed the class.

Even Beefy McBeef was doing better than you, and you could definitely see why Luke had his sights set on him. Masculine, but not in an intimidating way. He’s right, he’s soft but buff.

After class ended Luke insisted on dragging you over to Ben to say goodbye.

“Thanks, I enjoyed the class.” You said awkwardly, forcing a polite smile.

“Oh I’m so glad, I was hoping you would.” Ben said, a bright smile on his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’d love for you to come back next week.” He said sincerely, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze that made your mouth dry.

“I’m not super sure that yoga is my thing, but I’ll definitely think about it.” You smiled, surely he’s just being nice. Like he was earlier.

“Well if yoga isn’t your thing, I’m sure we can find something that is, hmm?” He chuckled, ripping a scrap of paper from his class schedule and scribbling his number down.

“O-oh.” You blushed. That was the smoothest pickup line you’d ever heard… you couldn’t even be mad about it. “Thank you, I’ll… text you later?” You said unsure about your own words.

“No rush darling,” he gave you a warm smile that matched the softness of his hand that took yours and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

When he pulled back he’d somehow snuck the slip of paper into the palm of your hand, he left you there buffering. You turned slowly to look at Luke who was standing there with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Your turn.” You said sternly, nodding toward Mr. McBeef.

“No.” Luke said with an air of finality, scooping up his bag and spinning on his heel toward a few of his class friends.

Luke so kindly helped you make a fool of yourself. It’s only fair that you return the favor. You marched over to Beefy with a sweet smile.

“Hey!” You said, introducing yourself to him.

“Hey little lady.” He chuckled, taking your hand for a handshake, his palm dwarfing yours. “Names Han.”

“Han. Suits you.” You added with a small smile.

“So, Han. You know Luke?” You said, nodding in his direction.

“Y-yeah I do,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervousness you didn’t expect. “Why?”

“Luke is- he’s alittle shy.” You said in a hushed tone. “He’s been talking about you an awful lot.”

“Me?” Han questioned, a downturned grin creeping up his lips as his eyes darted between you and your friend who’d migrated across the gym.

“Yeah, you.” You laughed, “he’s got a massive crush.” You gave him an accomplished grin.

“H-he does?” He gulped, starting to get red in the cheeks. “He’s hardly ever spoken to me.”

“Like I said, he’s shy.” You reminded him gently. “You should go talk to him.”

“Yeah… I will.” He smiled, standing up and placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Go get ‘em Beefy McBeef.” You said in a tone so normal that he almost didn’t notice.

“What did you call me?” He laughed.

“Beefy McBeef.” You shrugged, unable to hide your devious smile. “that’s what Luke calls you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Han laughed, big and hearty, Luke turning his head with a jealous scowl until he realized he was laughing with you and it morphed into a mask of pure panic.

“Oh yes he does.” You said firmly. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked.

“Sure babe.” He laughed, still recovering.

“Introduce yourself to him as Beefy McBeef.” You said with pleading eyes.

“Seriously?” He laughed, almost a giggle if you could consider a guy like him a giggler. “What’d he do to you?”

“Just trust me when I say he deserves it.” You said sincerely.

“Can do.” He shook his head with a snort and made his way over to Luke.

“Hey, Luke.” He said, a slight tease in his tone. “Just wanted to introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and watched with amusement as Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Good. You thought. He deserves alittle embarrassment after the way he forced you into conversation with Ben.

“Beefy McBeef.” Han said, struggling to contain his laughter as he shook Luke’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You watched from behind a nearby pillar as Luke turned fire truck red. He frantically searched for you until he spotted you with a massive grin and waggling fingers.

“I’ll kill you.” He threatened but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Sure you will Lukey.” You said with a laugh, running over to the wall where you’d propped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder. Blowing Luke a kiss as you walked out of the gym.

After returning home you showered and sat down on the couch, resigning yourself to rotting on the couch. You’d done your good deed for the day, two actually:

1. attending a social event

2. helping Lukey talk to Han

You’d also done your one terrible deed for next few months. It’s never intentional that you do something bad, except this time it was. But was it really all that terrible if it got Luke what he wanted? Nope.

Add that to the good deeds list then.

3. embarrassing Lukey while helping him talk to Han

All’s fair in love and war.

Speaking of potential love and possible war, you rummaged through your bag to fish out that phone number, you even dumped out all the contents and searched your clothes as well.

It was no where to be found and you were actually kind of bummed about it. You can’t go ask for his number after all that, that’s just… embarrassing.

Shit.

Diary Entry: June 29th

Sweetheart.

If I knew you didn’t love Lukey, I’d have been scraping him off the sidewalk right about now. That little twerp was trying to set you up with someone else.

I know it’s not his fault. He’s being a good friend, he just wants you to be happy. He doesn’t know about me and that’s okay, it’s all okay.

But god, could he have picked a worse guy? I mean… really?

*Ooh look at me and my beautiful luscious locks.* GAG.

I could tell he was making you uncomfortable so I got rid of that little paper as quickly as possible. I would’ve hated for you to have the reminder of that fucking creep. The way he kissed your hand? What the hell was that?

So, I slipped it out of your bag and stayed around to listen to your sinister revenge plot.

I’ll say it again baby, you’re more like me than you know.

Ps. Beefy McBeef? Please.

Diary Entry: July 1st

I’m not an unreasonable guy baby. Really I’m not, but you’re on your phone so much. It just really bugs me you know? We don’t spend quality time together like we should.

I want you to dance around and sing. I want you to lay in the living room floor and color. I to watch you suck ass at MarioKart and laugh when you get frustrated and scrunch your nose.

I want to watch you read so I can read aloud to you, with my e-book copy. I want to watch The Witcher with you, I love that show. Shits cool as fuck, sword fights are so awesome I’ll ignore the fact that you only watch it for Geralt.

He’s not real and I am. So fuck it, can’t hurt to fantasize. I’d be one hell of a hypocrite if I said you couldn’t.

Anyway, sorry I’m rambling.

Are you okay? You’re just… quieter. Is it something I’ve done?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I think I’ve figured it out sweet girl, I did some online research and replayed some footage. You’ve not been taking your birth control like you should. Come on baby you gotta remember to take it on time alright? Skipping it and taking it out of routine will mess you all up and we can’t have that.

I’ll try my best to remind you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You know me, I’m always worried.

Just… I’m gonna need to borrow your phone so that I can install some software for you. I’m just alittle concern that you’re hiding something from me princess. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Diary Entry: July 2nd

That SleepyTime tea is a lifesaver.

God I just feel so relieved knowing that I can monitor you. I swear it’s not in a weird way, I just needed to make sure you were in a good headspace you know?

Your search history is so funny. I makes me happy to know you’re just as goofy as me. It also makes me happy that you’ve not searched anything concerning.

Your socials are clean. Your camera roll is full of cute pictures of you and your friends, as well as a few of your ex that I swiftly trashed for you. Maybe just a few naughty ones in the hidden album, don’t worry I didn’t stare. I’ll have plenty of time to do that in person.

Your texts are mostly dry. That’s a good thing though, that means you have more time for me. Even better? No dating apps. Good girl. Those are terribly dangerous, they should require a background check for users, you never know what kind of weirdo is on the other side of that screen.

I’m proud of you babydoll. You’re such a good girl, my good girl.

I’ll help you stay a good girl too. Your phone is mirrored to my laptop, so I’ll be able to see everything you see. No room for mix-ups or miscommunications between us this way.

Communication in relationships is so important.

Which is my reasoning behind the new phone software. You understand don’t you doll? I mean, I can only tell so much from your diary. You like to write and that’s amazing, it’s a great outlet and you should keep up with it. You’re the reason I started my own journal. You were so right when you said ‘it sorts my thoughts and soothes my heart’.

I never thought I’d be a journal guy. Look at me. Self care king.

Diary Entry: July 3rd

I have the most amazing news princess, after careful research and a very thorough deep dive into all of your neighbors, I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our distance issue.

Did you know that the old man across the hall from you is a widow? Poor guy, 10 years without his wife. They were married for 53 years. 53.

That’s the goal baby. That’s the kind of love I have for you.

If Alan Jared Nelson is anything like me, he’s miserable without Gloria Anne. Just like I’d be miserable without you.

He’s sick you know? He’s on a wait list for a liver, has been for 2 years. Isn’t that just the worst kind of hope? It’s cruel really.

Why give the man and his remaining family the hope of a ‘few’ more years, knowing damn well the guy is old enough that he might turn to dust they minute they cut into him. Why put him on the list at all? He’s 92. No one is giving him a liver.

The liver disease he’s diagnosed with is a doozy too, it’s aggressive, painful, and necrotic. He’s in constant pain. He’s got a port for morphine.

Do you know what kind of horrible pain a person has to be in to get a morphine port? Excruciating.

Alan has lived a long and beautiful life. Between the heartache of loosing his love and the debilitating disease he suffers from… it would be a mercy to lay him to rest don’t you think?

He’s a patriot through and through, he was in the army reserves. Now, that’s not my cup of tea but good for you Mr. Nelson.

America’s birthday is a good day for a guy like him to die isn’t it?

Date:

July 4th

Anakin counted the windows over and over, repeating the number in his head as he quietly trekked up the creaking rusted fire escape on Mr. Nelson’s side of the building. Not only was tonight a poetic release of this man’s long and happy existence, it was a very good cover.

Majority of the city was busy watching the fireworks at the celebration in the park, including you. Anakin had ensured you’d left before he even considered walking over to your building. He couldn’t bear the thought of committing a heinous, though arguably merciful, crime in the vicinity of such a pure form of radiance.

As expected the din of booming explosions and crackling sparks masked the noise of the quiet power drill Anakin used to remove bottom piece of the outer frame of the out-dated window. Internally cursing the fact that you lived in such an old building, there’s absolutely no way that these windows are up to code. It might make this task easier, but it made him a nervous wreck to think someone could break into your home in under a minute as long as they brought a drill and a magnet. The process was almost silent, you wouldn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late.

Once the piece of frame was laid aside Anakin used the heavy duty magnet to coax the loose curved clasp that held the window shut, out of the hoop that it rested in. He sighed, thinking he should definitely complain to the super once he moved in. The ease of breaking and entering wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

Sure it was a wonderful thing for Anakin, there would be absolutely no trace of the break in. The man is old, there would be no autopsy, there are no outdoor cameras on this building or the one next to it. This unit is tucked into a well hidden alleyway and no one saw him walk this way. But his worries were based on thoughts of you and your well-being.

Anakin sprayed Wd-40 along the tracks of the metallic frame and waited a moment before wiping off the excess, hopefully ensuring a silent entry.

The moment of truth arrived, Anakin lifted the window just a hair to test it. Finding it whisper quiet despite its age as he opened it and stepped inside.

The interior of the home was just as you’d expect, family pictures, a fridge covered in cards and handwritten reminders. An obscene amount of carved wooden trinkets and the forever mysterious wooden fruit that seemed to adorn the tables of many an old folks homes. Apples and roosters strewn about the space in the form of paintings, lampshades and oddly detailed itchy blankets.

A gorgeous abalone jewelry dish held a silver pendant, trapped beneath was an intricate lace cover that seemed to be made specifically for the coffee table they rested on. Upon closer inspection Anakin determined that it was tailor made. Gloria Anne Nelson must’ve been a talented craftswomen, the quality of work was amazing.

Alan’s display of his wife’s work, her jewelry dish and her favorite engraved pendant… he’d made an altar for her and probably didn’t even realize it. He’d even placed a tall, thick white candle next to the abalone dish. It left Anakin with a lump in his throat, imagining the horrible loneliness this man must feel.

He stood up from his crouched position and took a breath, smoothing his shirt to iron out his emotions. There would be time for proper mourning and reflection later.

He walked toward the short hall that housed Alan’s bed room and bathroom, but stopped short when something on the wall caught his attention.

A calendar depicting a summertime scene of a lake and a small fishing boat was tacked to the wall above the dock for his home phone, a small note pad and pen resting beside it.

A small smile turning the corner of his lip, the sight bringing a fond memory of his grandmother keeping a set-up very similar to this. Must be a universal old person habit.

He stepped closer to read the writing in the small squares and came to the realization that this calendar was not up to date. This calendar was from 2013, ten years ago.

Anakin knew from his deep dive into the Nelson’s life that Gloria had passed on July 16th, but he didn’t realize that July 4th was the anniversary of Gloria and Alan’s first kiss.

She’d kept up with that anniversary for the entirety of 53 years. Poetic.

He took a look around the kitchenette and living room again. Really and truly looking this time, not just glazing over the bigger items, the things that caught his eye. This time he looked at the in between.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, it was something he’d never forget, an achievement he’d strive for for the rest of his life.

Alan’s home was a shrine.

A neatly kept time capsule full of warmth and fondness. It oozed from the very walls of the space. Gloria had never stepped foot in this space, but she dominated every inch of it. Her devoted husband had rebuilt his life in her image, even in death he worshipped her just as Anakin worshipped you.

A heavy weight settled in Anakin’s heart, this was the right choice. This confirmed it.

He quietly entered the bedroom, Alan’s C-PAP machine humming with a rhythmic flow of air, in, *scish*, *puftk*, out. It was soothing in a strange way, or maybe it was just a relief from the suffocating silence that compressed Anakin’s lungs when he was absorbing the space past the door.

He kneeled at the edge of the bed, pulling a small tube of lidocaine from his jacket hoodie pocket, along with a pair of gloves that he quickly donned. Wincing at the snap of the latex against his sweating palms, but the man continued his peaceful slumber, unaware that it would be his last.

He lifted the corner of the blanket and grimaced as he placed a small dollop of the cream via his index finger between Alan’s fourth and fifth toes. He didn’t even flinch.

Anakin kept the time on his watch and waited until the ointment did it’s job to numb the tender flesh. Fishing a small needle meant for insulin injections from a ziploc bag in pocket. Drawing a bit of air into barrel before carefully pricking the soft skin, holding his breath as his victim twitched.

When he stilled Anakin gently pushed the plunger and created a pocket of air in a vein that would soon end this poor souls life on earth. He withdrew the needle and stored it and the gloves in the ziploc bag, returning the blanket to its previous position.

He should’ve left then, but morbid curiosity had a tight hand around his wrist. Urging him to stay and wait out this event to its completion. So he tugged up his hood and stood motionless.

No one should be alone in their last moments. The least Anakin could do is provide silent support from the darkened corner. He counted the seconds on his watch until the man’s fingers twitched and his throat visibly tightened as a gurgled ball of air left his lungs. His eyes opened, wide and terrified as his body acted of its on volition.

Wrinkled hands weakly pawing at the C-PAP that was fitted over his head, Anakin watched his chest heave and collapse rapidly, the swell of his ribcage caving in on itself with each labored breath.

He’d heard of the ‘death rattle’ before but had never considered it to be anything other than a wives tale, until now. Alan’s choked coughs and gasping breaths reverberated in his chest and rolled up the stretch of his esophagus, coming out in a groan muffled by his lolled tongue.

He brought his fist to his chest in weak thumps, while his other reached over the side of the bed in the general vicinity of the night stand. It’s incredible what the human brain is capable of during such critical moments of stress. Anakin watch with a fascination that went beyond curiosity, wondering how the hell this guy was aware enough to try to grab the phone laying there.

Alan let his head fall to the side and his fading eyes blurred, but didn’t miss Anakin’s figure. To him, he was just a silhouette of midnight black. For some reason Anakin noticed a bit of the fear leave Alan’s tired eyes, softening as though he was accepting his quickly approaching end.

He stopped struggling, stopped reaching for the phone and instead held out a shaking hand to Anakin as though he wanted him to take it.

What kind of monster would deny a dying man?

He stepped forward on silent feet until he clasped the man’s wrist and felt his weak grip on his. The leathery skin was clammy, sickly to the touch and it made Anakin’s stomach churn.

“Death?” A small creaking attempt at the word eeked out of Alan’s lips.

“Yes sir.” Anakin responded. Was it true? No. But was it a lie? Also no. He was and he wasn’t.

“A-about…” the old man heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “About damn time.”

Anakin was usually quick on his feet with his quips but this man’s nonchalant attitude, his welcoming of his fate was unexpected.

“Sorry Mr. Nelson.” He chuckled. “I’m a very busy man.”

He laughed. A rare occasion if not the only occasion that someone’s dying breath was a laugh. Anakin’s brow pinched together, wetting his lips with his tongue before chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched the life drain from his eyes.

Once his hand went slack and limp Anakin gently laid it across his chest, checked for a pulse and found none. He patted the old man’s shoulder and turned to exit the room, he didn’t look back and he didn’t take another breath until he set foot on the fire escape and the window was shut. Making quick work of closing the clasp and reassembling the metal frame.

He took a shaky breath and checked his watch. Bewildered by the passing of time. He literally couldn’t comprehend it, pulling out his phone to confirm. The times were indeed matching.

Three minutes and 57 seconds.

He was only inside for three minutes and 57 seconds. He felt like hours of his life had flown by, he felt both aged and more alive than he’d ever been. The only thing he could compare this feeling to was… the feeling he got because of you.

He’d done a good thing.

Alan said so himself, the man was ready, beyond ready to embrace death. Anakin had done him a favor by taking his life returning his soul to his soulmate.

It gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He thought maybe he would feel sick, he almost did, until he didn’t. He decided not to question his contentment, instead pocketing it to tuck away in the recess of his mind that he stored his more unhealthy thoughts and experiences in.

He liked that about himself, his ability to compartmentalize at will. He liked to be neat and tidy, it was only natural that his mind mirror that. He knew that it was just his mind’s creation; his mind didn’t really look like a neat room of filing cabinets.

He had one for childhood memories, one for his favorite happy memories, one for his mother, one for his friends, one for his work life, one for his home life. But the two most important things housed in the confines of his skull were the golden pedestal holding the beautifully crafted, one of a kind ceramic vase he poured his love for you into; and The Pit.

He didn’t like The Pit. His inner self kindly transported the things that belonged there via a lockbox and unceremoniously tossed it over the edge at a safe distance. Even the figment of his imagination in this scenario was too afraid to peer over the edge of the chasm. He’d never heard anything hit the bottom, if he got too close he would fall, and fall, and fall, and fall, and fall for eternity.

Then what would you do? Suffer through a sad existence like poor Mr. Nelson?

No. He can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen. You’re to precious, too pure, too good to experience anything but radiant joy.

He breathed in relief as he found himself suddenly outside his front door, he’d traveled on autopilot.

He showered and tucked himself into bed, exhausted and drained emotionally. But not too much, not enough that he could neglect his duties. He checked the tracker on his phone, pleaded to see that you were abiding by your unspoken agreed upon curfew. Home before 2:00am. Always.

It was only 12:30. Good job princess.

He waited, following the little blue dot to the larger red one and switched over to the live camera feed and witnessed you chatting happily on your phone as you trotted up the stairs.

He thanked his past self from this morning and grabbed the laptop from his nightstand and patiently waited for the mirror image of your phone updated.

Luke. It was just Luke making sure you got home safe; maybe Luke wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t a threat to Anakin in anyway and he was concerned with your well-being. Not as much himself of course but enough that Anakin could throw a smidgen of respect his way, it’s nice to know he already has something in common with your best friend.

He did his routine night-time walk through of your device, seeing that you’d turned on your alarms for the next day already. He smiled fondly, his sleepy girl.

He turned up the sound on your bedroom camera, plugging up his phone and putting the laptop on the night stand. He placed his phone next to his head and listened to your breathing slow and relax.

He loved this. Sleeping with the sound of your soft snores and mumbled sleepy words. It was an intimacy that he craved to manifest into the flesh world.

Soon he would.

Someone please tell me that if you’ve waitressed/known a waitress who’s done shit like that?? If not I just told on myself for being a big fat liar.

Part Four

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[yearningagain]

it's enough (to make a girl blush)

HIIII EVERYONE so you know that fic i was asking for a beta reader for?? well i found one!! and i'd like to present the first chapter of it's enough (to make a girl blush), my first SERIOUS fic that i 100% intend on finishing!!

i'd like to thank the amazing @kayleeofcamelot for being my lovely beta reader <3

also on AO3!

wc: 1.1k | rating: e (18+) | pairing: steddie | cw: none | tags: a/b/o, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington, modern au, baker steve, famous eddie, getting together, gay eddie, bi steve, soulmates/true mates/scent mates, side buckingham

part two | part three

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

"God, fuck- alpha, please ..." Steve begs, sat upon a man's toned, yet lean thigh, grinding and rutting against it as he chased his high. The man chuckled darkly, his hands coming to grip Steve's hips, tight enough that Steve knows there will be bruises, guiding him along roughly.

With barely open eyes, he managed to peek at the hands that would surely leave marks come morning. Dark tendrils of tattoos that stretched from the man’s second knuckle and up his arms. Fingertips calloused and dexterous, nails bitten and paint chipped, and almost every finger has more than two silver rings adorning it, save for his right hands ring finger. No, that finger holds only one ring. An aged, loved, golden band with three small red crystals set in a line.

Small gasps left Steve's lips, every roll of the omega’s hips pressed his cocklette deliciously against the fabric of the omega's thin shorts. Both pants had surely been ruined by the amount of slick that poured out of him, but he couldn't make himself feel bad about it, even if he tried. Something inside him, his omega , told him that the alpha was having just as much fun as he was.

"Ah- ‘M close, alpha..." Steve pants, head feeling pleasantly fuzzy. He could smell how his own scent had changed, the spiced apple scent turning into something heady and thick. Suddenly, he got hit with the most divine scent in the world. Campfire smoke and pine, a hint of petrichor and old books. Home- a whispered thought. It almost sent him over the edge.

Almost.

Then, all of a sudden, everything felt wrong . It was as if he was floating away from his body, his mind a balloon escaping a child's loose clutch. He couldn't smell the alpha, just his own scent turning sour and rotten. The cool sensation of the man's rings where they pressed into bare skin suddenly spread all over, no longer comforting, but as if ice water had engulfed him. Something nagged at him, though, in the back of his mind. Something like a spark, settling into the omega and igniting coals to keep him warm and happy.

And Steve opened his eyes.

—

Steve glared at himself in the mirror, bare in preparation for a shower. There were no marks, no evidence of anything happening. One more glance over his entire body confirmed that there was nothing left of the alpha. It was a simple wet dream. The only thing that kept him from dismissing the dream entirely was his strong disappointment when he woke up alone, and the low thrum of energy he could feel stemming from his inner omega. (And the slick-soaked sheets he'd have to deal with later.) If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear the whispering rumble of "Mate. Alpha. Mate. Alpha."

He shook himself from his stupor and hopped in the shower. What did it mean, this newfound warmth over someone he'd apparently made up in his mind? Was he really that lonely? No, of course not. 

(Yes. He was.)

After turning over question after question in his mind only to come up blank, he sighed. He'd have to talk to Robin about this. 

Reluctantly set in his decision, he got out of the shower and patted himself dry, threw his hair up in a towel, and put on a fresh pair of sweats. Throwing a glance at his alarm clock, it read 9:57 AM . Robin should be awake by now, hunched over their dinky coffee machine with her eyes still closed and dried drool on her chin. 

It was Sunday, so Robin didn't have class and the bakery Steve worked at, Claudia's Cakes , was closed for the day. He figured he could take her out to lunch. Maybe the deli two doors down from the bakery? He had been having a craving for their Cubano recently. 

Stepping out of his room and shuffling to the kitchen, Steve found Robin exactly like he thought, arms braced on the counter to pillow her resting head. The coffee machine gurgled away, the strong scent mingling with Robin’s earthy strawberry aroma.

"Morning, Robs."

A small groan is all he got in response. He chuckled softly and fetched the sugar and creamer, setting it on the counter next to his best friend's birds nest of bed head. Taking his place at their table, he opened up his phone to check his messages (mostly from Dustin talking about some band he found online).  Soon, Robin slumped into the chair across from him, a mug of coffee placed in front of him as she sipped on her own. Now that she was actually awake, she looked at him with a curious expression.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Steve asked her.

She hummed, taking a calculating look. "No, nothing on your face. You just... you smell different. Not bad different! Just different, like instead of cinnamon apple cake, you smell like roasted apples. And honey? What's up with that?" 

Steve is surprised she doesn't spill her coffee all over the place with how she flings her arms around, emphasizing her question with a pointed finger and finally slamming her mug down.

"I don't know, dude.” Another glare from her. "I really don't! Anyways, did you want to grab lunch at the deli today? My treat."

Sighing and giving him one last glare, she shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I’ve been meaning to stop by the record store, could we swing by on the way back?”

Steve threw a pointed glance to their overflowing record crate below their old record player, a housewarming gift from Robin’s mom. She huffed in response, crossing her arms and mumbled “I just want to look.”

Crimson painted her cheeks and she avoided his gaze, which was all Steve needed to know. He knew Robin had made a friend (or crush rather) in her music theory class at UIC, and she and Steve were basically some sort of cosmic twins, and he knew all of her tells. So when he asked if he’s finally going to meet her, she really shouldn’t be that surprised. She still looked up at him with wide eyes, dropping her arms to the table. Another pointed look from Steve and she relented, “She told me to stop in when I could because she wants to show me this really cool limited edition vinyl the store got in recently and she looked so pretty when she asked, Steve. She had these pigtails and she was wearing this eyeshadow that made her eyes pop and she was wearing the skirt I told you about, the one with the hearts? Yeah, that one! And her sweater was, like, four sizes too big and she looked tiny! Anyways, how could I possibly say no when she looks like that?! She batted her eyelashes at me, Steve. Don’t give me that look.”

The omega simply sighed, shook his head fondly, and stood up. 

“Be ready in an hour, Buckley.”