#i actually had this in mind for ages n i really wish i can write to make this

[rynfloros]

hear me out. au where hap never dies n becomes a father figure to all the kids

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[sleepyangelkami]

PERVERTED II c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.5K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - carl decides to go through with this weeks saturday sleepover. so far, he's been able to control himself. until, that is, he hears you whimper his name in your sleep.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, slight angst, somnophilia, thigh riding (kinda), fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, wet dreams, sex dreams, innocence kink, corruption kink, dom!carl, sub!reader, noncon, heavy manipulation, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

"you sure you don't wanna come?" rick questioned as he took a box from his son, landing it inside the back of the truck. "we could use the help."

carl watched his dad place a hand on his hip before shaking his head, hand on his hat. "no, i promised y/n i'd stay over. can't miss saturday sleepover can i?" he'd laughed yet he knew he wouldn't wish to miss it for the world, either. rick gave him a look, lips slightly perking up as if he knew something. "what?"

rick wasn't born yesterday either. he was well aware what it was like to have a silly crush, especially at that age. but this... this was much different. "nothin'" before packing in the last box. "you be good, alright? don't ruin the house while glenn and maggie are gone."

the two were going on the supply run with him, along with many more of the fighters. "bye, dad." watching him get into the rusted car.

and so, the day went on.

by the time lunch rolled around, carl still hadn't seen you. however, he wasn't entirely alone. he soon found ron who decided to help him look for you. in return, you'd also be looking for his also missing girlfriend, enid.

"they're always running off." ron muttered under his breath. he knew enid was close with you, possibly your best friend had carl not been thrown into the mix. enid was always running off with you, slinging you around by the arm. "hey, what's the deal with you two anyway?" carl's head peeked up, brows knitting together. "is she like your girlfriend or something?"

his mind moved like puzzle pieces. girlfriend. carl had never had a girlfriend before but he was pretty sure you had to kiss and all that to actually be in a relationship. then again, you don't touch yourself with your 'friend's panties sitting on your dick. he cleared his throat. "no... no we're not together."

saying you were his friend didn't seem all too right but saying you weren't his girlfriend didn't seem right either. you were something.

but ron didn't look convinced, rolling his eyes with his brows raising slightly. "whatever, dude." was it really all that obvious to everyone aside from you? carl thought that if there was a competition on the most oblivious person alive, you'd win.

but perhaps that was the easier option. would he have preferred you to know? everything seemed so easy with the fact that you were so oblivious. it was like a reminder that he could do anything he wanted right under your nose.

"finally." hearing the mutter from ron, carl looked up. this was when he was met with the sight of you, as pretty as ever, sat next to enid on a bench near the town's pond.

carl could barely look at you. the way you sat with your legs folded, smiling away innocently, completely unaware of what he'd done last night. you wore a pretty skirt, enough to slightly hike up your legs, giving carl a view of the pretty plush of your thighs.

he could only imagine digging his hands around the plush, holding it and kneeding the skin. he could only imagine grasping your thighs, holding them close while he rammed his di―

"there you guys are!" ron exclaimed causing carl to shake his head, ridding himself of the thoughts he'd been having. "carl and i were looking all over for you." he had this voice he used when he spoke to girls, one that carl could guarantee was not the voice he used with him.

enid only rolled her eyes. the sight of her boyfriend and carl was enough to have her smile drop. "well, we weren't looking for you." she mumbled. some may say she didn't like anyone aside from you, not even her own boyfriend. carl didn't think there was much of a point of being with someone that you didn't even like. "hence the getaway pond."

ron must have thought she was joking because he came up to pinch her side and kiss her cheek. the sight alone had carl's stomach turning.

however, the sweet sound of your lulling voice was enough to bring him back. "hi, carl." you beamed at him, smile as wide as ever. he hadn't even registered you moving from the bench to his side. all he remembered was the feeling of you snaking in next to him, your body so close. suddenly, he felt so dirty. "we were feeding the ducks." smiling like a child on christmas. you always smiled like that, like you had a thousand things to be smiling about. it always made carl wonder if you were truly made for this world at all.

when he was around you, he was fighting off his own smile. yours was so contagious. the way his lips curved upwards told you he was happy for you, he always was. "that's great ba― y/n." correcting himself as his expression faltered, smile wavering.

he watched as your entire face fell.

he was unable to bring himself to call you those cute names. baby, sweetheart, like an old couple who'd spent their entire lives together. he couldn't bring himself to say such things after he imagined himself fucking you just the night before. it didn't seem right, not when you were so oblivious to the dirtiness behind his words.

the smile wiped clean from your face, carl was sure you could have cried.

you reminded him somewhat of a kicked puppy.

he'd been the one to kick you.

he never called you y/n, unless speaking to someone else like his father or even ron. this was because they'd hardly understand who you were if he was referring to you as sweetheart.

the point was, he only used your name if it was wholeheartedly necessary.

you wondered what'd changed.

your mind ran back to the night before. when he'd entered your house, looking awfully suspicious and at the sight of you, he practically rushed out the door. had you done something wrong? your heart ached at the idea that you may have upset him. a heart of gold, some people said you had. carl had to beg to differ. the look on your face explained all he needed to know, a heart of mere paper.

he regretted it the moment he said it.

he knew how you got, how all up in your head you could be. he could only imagine how you'd be for the rest of the day, going over every interaction you've ever had with the boy and wondering where everything went wrong, where you messed up.

the moment your name slipped from his lips, he thought it may have been better to call you anything else in the entire world. even if it was laced with the dirty undertone.

he felt your body move slightly away from his, eyes cast down on the ground to avoid any glances. "'m gonna go see aaron." you announced, rather loudly too.

"okay." enid responded, her eyes glancing you over before turning to carl, a slight glare, if you will. she didn't particularly like carl, though carl hadn't the foggiest idea why. perhaps it was because she was so protective of you. carl had to roll his eyes, if anyone knew what was good for you, it was him. "don't stay out too late."

you didn't respond, grasping your bag that sat at the bench before turning onto the footpath.

carl had to purse his lips. "wrong way." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

with slightly wide eyes, you realised he was right. spinning around on your heel, you began walking left instead of right. "thanks." you mumbled under your breath before continuing your walk to one of your favourite people in the entirety of alexandria.

back at the pond, carl was cursing himself under his breath before turning around to find two accusing pair of eyes sat on the bench. one pair belonged to enid, the other to ron. "what did you do?" was enid's accusing tone, her face hard as stone. carl was on the receiving end of this look very often, he didn't fear it... well, he feared it a little but not as much as before... okay he feared it.

"what do you mean what did i do?" he instantly fell to defending himself. despite the fact that he knew he was the reason for your declining mood. "i didn't do anything."

whether it was to intimidate carl or that she smelled the sort of fish smell of ron that carl had smelt earlier, she perked up on the bench, loosening her boyfriend's arm across her shoulder. "she looks like a deflated balloon." she argued.

"yeah." ron nodded his head. carl couldn't stop the glare he sent his way, what did he know. "everyone knows aaron's like her very own guidance councillor, his boyfriend too." he shrugged his shoulders. "whatever you did, i'd say fix it quick."

the brunette boy only glared at the couple. "thanks guys, for that enlightening advice. but i don't need it, okay? i didn't do anything."

on the contrary, he was well aware that it was his fault. he needed to fix it and he needed to fix it fast but he didn't need enid and ron whispering in his ears. nobody knew you like carl, they didn't know what they were talking about. they hadn't seen you crying over some stupid movie you watched. they didn't see you smiling the way he did, they didn't take notice like him.

they'd never understand what it was like to know you. only carl would. and he'd make sure of that.

the sun was setting by the time carl had made it to your house. you'd opened the door, taking him in with your eyes before allowing him inside. maggie and glenn were on the run so the two of you headed straight towards the bedroom where'd you'd begin the movie night. however, carl was more focused on the fact that you'd spoken barely four words to him tonight rather than which disney movie you'd force him to watch this time.

he knew you were in your head but you wouldn't utter the words because what were you meant to say? hey carl, why didn't you call me baby? something so simple had ruined your entire day.

however, carl couldn't keep it in anymore. "are you okay?" he blurted out after many moments of silence as he sat atop your pink bed sheets.

you, at the foot of the bed pursed your lips. you pressed play on the movie and allowed the credits to begin. you weren't the type of person to insist that you were fine if you weren't. carl liked that about you, he never had to guess. "are you mad at me?" voice meek, like a childs.

the realisation hit carl that despite what he was feeling for you, he'd have to push it down in order to continue your friendship. at least, he couldn't take it out on you. "'course not, baby, c'mere."

the name fell from his lips like sweet relief.

it suddenly occurred to the boy that you needed him. desperately so. something as simple as calling you by your first name had thrown off your entire day. carl should have been worried, concerned even. instead, his heart fluttered a little.

you truly did rely on him.

with a sigh of relief, you found yourself crawling up to the boy. today had been so long with you being in your own head so when you felt the feeling of his hands sneak around your waist, it was like coming home after a long day at work.

you couldn't see his face but if you could, you'd see the sheer nervousness on his face. he needed to control himself but he wasn't sure how that was possible while you cuddled up against him beneath your bed sheets, clad in your pretty pale blue shorts and your white spaghetti strap top.

your knee was bent, extending over the top of his legs. there was a sharp intake of breath as your knee gently bumped against the prominent bulge in his shorts. you hadn't noticed, he knew you hadn't noticed and to make sure you wouldn't notice, he reached over to switch off the light, clearing his throat. "so, uh, what are we watching?"

"the princess frog." you answered, turning your head up to look at his face as he groaned.

a look of displeasment was evident on his face. "it's so boring!" he practically gushed.

offence hit you like a truck. "excuse me!" you battled. "i'd like to see you opening up your own restaurant all by yourself." even carl had to admit, you got him there.

carl never understood why you picked movies that you fell asleep so early during.

he heard your soft snores and your gentle breath hit the crook of his neck within the first half hour of the movie. though he couldn't blame you. truthfully, he could only blame himself in how he had your head messed up, practically knocked off your shoulders for the entire day.

it took until almost a full hour into the movie for you to stur.

at first, carl thought he'd misheard it. a little noise falling from your lips. then, he heard it again.

he held his breath as he heard the whimper leave your lips.

then, he felt it.

the gentle roll of your hips against his thigh had him practically seeing stars. the boy glanced to the tv hoping for some kind of a distraction from his obvious hard on. he couldn't wake you up, not because he actually couldn't. but because he wasn't too sure if he wanted to.

admitting it sounded like nails on a chalkboard but he'd be lying if he said he did want to. the little whimper you let out, sleepily and lowly albeit, into his ear was enough for him to almost completely loose his control.

it was like he was dreaming, it was everything he'd dreamed of, especially the night before.

you sounded even better than he'd thought.

he shouldn't have laid so still. you weren't aware of the way your hips bucked onto his leg, a little whine stretching from your lips. he reminded himself that you were too busy sleeping to understand what was going on. he couldn't engage with you, that'd be wrong.

so... wrong.

then he'd swore he heard it. "carl." a mumble in your sleep, enough for him to not know whether or not you were actually sleeping. he took a glance at your face, eyes screwed shut.

he was imagining things, he had to have been.

you soon rolled over, leaving him laying very stiffly as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening.

you were having a wet dream, obviously. that'd never happened before, at least not while cuddled up against carl. but he could have swore he heard you say his name. he shook his head, knowing he was wrong, he was so caught up in what had happened the night before that he was imagining you breathe his name.

then, he heard it again.

this time it was more stretched out into a whine. due to the movie on in the background, he could vaguely make out the way your cunt rutted onto nothingness, the mattress maybe but it wasn't enough to cause any real friction.

his mind stirred. if you really were having a dream about him, surely it was only his duty to... help?

but it was dirty, downright perverted.

but your noises were growing needier, obviously the bed wasn't enough for you to create real friction from. he had to help you. "poor girl, can't even get herself off." he mumbled under his breath, not enough to wake you up.

if he were to touch you, it wouldn't be for him. no, he was doing this for you.

he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't wake. on the contrary, you'd sleep through an asteroid should it hit your home.

he reached his hand down beneath the covers, holding his breath. he was helping you, he reminded himself, helping you. this was for you, making sure you felt good as your dream continued. your dream of him.

suddenly, he wasn't the all too dirty one. perhaps you were.

his fingers gently felt the core of your shorts, taking an intake of breath upon feeling just how wet you were. it practically seeped onto his fingers, it was a wonder if his sweatpants didn't have a wet stain on them from how you'd been rolling your hips against them.

he breathed in, gently massaging the area you needed him the most, you all but moaned into the pillow, eyes screwed shut.

carl had dreamed of this moment for as long as he lived, he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

the way your hips jutted into his hand, creating all the friction you needed and you whimpered again, still stuck in slumber, had carl's confidence through the roof.

it was as if saying his name, he realised you wanted it just as much as he did.

how he ended beneath the covers, he wasn't too sure. perhaps it was the newfound confidence he'd gained.

he'd spent too long dreaming of this moment to stop now. he breathed as shallow as a man could before his fingers travelled back to your shorts, gently pulling them away from your aching cunt. that was when he realised you hadn't been wearing panties. did you do that often around him? had you been... expecting something?

nonetheless, carl was more than willing to give it to you.

his breath fanned your pussy, prettier than his sick mind could have ever mustered. the image would be burned into his head, it'd never leave. one thing was for sure, this boy wasn't leaving the next morning without putting his mouth to your cunt.

and that was exactly what he did.

his tongue reached your pussy, licking a long stripe and feeling your thighs jump and your body jolt. obviously, never been touched.

he knew it'd be him who touched you first. now, it was just him making sure of it.

he licked again, your wetness gathering on his tongue. he tried to hold back the groan that spread throughout your entire body. yet, you still lay sleeping. it somehow only egged him on further. he knew you wouldn't wake. to him, your body was his for the taking. and he was going to take it.

his tongue found your cute hole, hands against your thighs, holding them, trapping them down.

tongue dancing across your clit, he heard you moan even louder, still trapped by slumber. his lips curved upwards, tongue circling your clit. he moved one of his hands, using his middle finger to gently slide into your sopping hole. so wet for him, already.

he cursed enid and ron for thinking they knew you. he cursed all of the people who thought they knew you. the truth was, the only person you could ever rely on would be him, he'd make sure that you got what you needed, make sure all your needs were fulfilled at all times. perhaps this was just him making sure of that fact.

his tongue moved away from your clit, moving his other hand to meet it. he saw the way your body writhed against his hands. he couldn't wait to do this when you were awake.

it wasn't until your thighs actually began to shake that he knew what was happening. "s'pretty." he mumbled, dazed as drool practically dripped from his mouth. you truly were, the most beautiful thing he'd ever encountered his entire life.

mouth moving back to your cunt, he moved his tongue back against your clit at an alarming pace. with his now free hand, he held your thighs down, trapping them under him as your body shook against him, jutting your hips back and practically rolling your hips against his face. he relished in it. you were practically getting off to his pretty face which told him all the more just how much you loved this.

he felt your hips force themselves back to the bed, shaking and vibrating until your juices poured out onto his tongue.

you'd came.

he lapped you up without second thought, tongue dancing over your hole and licking the juices off the single finger he'd pushed inside of you.

licking his lips, he finally rose. he watched your face lull in your sleep, obviously content and finally getting your sweet relief. he gently moved your shorts to cover your pussy again, as if nothing had happened at all.

it took mere seconds for you to roll back over and onto him, cuddling against his side. he couldn't help but feel even dirtier.

you'd never even know.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part six)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: y'all this part absolutely drained me. Idk what it was but I felt so stuck when writing this. I got it to a point where I can start part seven fresh, so fingers crossed whatever happened here doesn't happen again. I hope you all still enjoy it lol <33

part six: because I love you

Waking up in Hugh’s arms was heaven. He was still asleep when you first opened your eyes, his soft snores tickling your ear. You were grateful that he didn’t have those loud old man snores like some of your past lovers had, though you were sure you wouldn’t mind if he did. Gently lifting the arm that was wrapped around your waist, you carefully rolled over to face him. As you studied his resting face, you felt overcome with a deep sentiment of gratitude. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake. The face that almost always carried a smile was at peace, lips slightly ajar. You adored his face, the deep lines showing a life of joy and laughter. Each nook and cranny aging him beautifully over the years. It made you sad in a way. You wished you could have experienced life with him, wanting nothing more than to have the ‘right’ life with him. A life where your relationship with Hugh made sense and was accepted- but you would gladly take whatever time you could get with him. 

You placed your hand on his cheek, sliding your fingers delicately over the course hairs that covered his jaw. Your chest felt warm. The feelings you had for the man who slept so deeply before you had grown stronger than you’d anticipated, but Hugh made it so easy to fall for him. And you had fallen for him, you knew that now. If one thing for certain came out of this time you’d spent with Hugh, it was that you were unbelievably in love with him. You had always found yourself falling too fast for the wrong people but you had good faith that for once it would be right. For once, you wouldn’t get hurt. You trusted him to protect your heart and to do right by you. You knew he would. 

As much as you wanted to stay and count every wrinkle that laid upon his face, you had to pee really bad. You gave him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and wiggled slowly out of his grip. You gave him one last look over before heading down the hall to the bathroom. As you sat there, memories of the night before danced around your mind. The way he kissed you, touched you. He made you feel like you were worth something. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, always feeling used by other men and deep down you know that all you were to them was just some young girl to fuck. You never actually meant anything to them. Hugh was different. Being with him felt right. You couldn’t find any other words to describe the feeling. He hadn’t brought you here to have sex,  for once it was you who had made that decision. He bought you flowers and a cake to congratulate you on an achievement that no one else cared to celebrate with you. He cared for you in some capacity and it made you feel horrible, because even with all this confirmation, you still had doubts.

You’ve been fighting a secret battle since the moment he kissed you, the moment everything between you changed. Putting what you were feeling into words felt impossible. What you did know though, is that you were terrified that you wouldn’t be enough for him. Scared that he would snap out of whatever daze he was in and miss the life he had with his wife and kids, the life that didn’t involve you. The life that made sense. 

When you walk back to the bedroom you find Hugh sitting up with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His glasses were perched on the lower bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off any moment. His eyes peaked over the frames as he turned to look at you. “Morning baby. I was just about to text you, thought you left.” He sets his phone down on the bedside table as he speaks. “Mhm, just had to pee.” You walk over to the bed and climb up, straddling Hugh’s lap. “Why didn’t you use this one?” He jerks his head to the bathroom that’s attached to the room and you shrug. “I don’t know. The vibes of the thirst trap bathroom just feel different.” You joke. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” He asks, smirking slightly. You shake your head. “Absolutely not.” You affirm and it makes Hugh chuckle. “I was wondering if you had any plans for your last day in the big apple?” His hands rest on your exposed thighs and you become all too aware that you’re still butt ass naked under his t-shirt. “Uhh, not really. I was actually gonna ask if I could hang out with you today…” Your voice is shy. “I was really hoping you’d say that. I might have planned a few things for us.” Hugh smiles and you could feel excitement flood your body. “May I have insight on said plans kind sir?” You put on a posh voice that Hugh mimics. “I’m afraid not my lady, for each destination today is to be undisclosed until further notice.” You drop the bit but not without letting out a deep belly laugh at Hugh’s impressively good accent change. “Can I at least have a little hint so I know what to wear?” He thinks for a moment. “I’m giving you the proper New York tourist day, so wear something comfy.” He pauses. “Maybe wear something incognito. It might be harder to hide than it was the other day.” You hum in acknowledgment. “Do you think I could borrow some underwear or something? I’m feeling a little exposed.” Hugh laughs. 

Your fingers picked at the basketball shorts he let you borrow, tying the strings over and over again as Hugh made breakfast. Small conversation filled the large space and the domesticality of the situation made you flustered. “I’m kinda nervy about the tour. Are you gonna come support me on opening night?” He’s whisking the eggs in a small bowl with a fork and it was oddly attractive. “As long as my schedule allows it, I'll be there. I'd be at every show if I could be.” He looks up and sets the bowl down. “I’d do a lot of things for you, probably anything.” He adds before he turns around to start one of the gas stove burners. It ticks a few times before it catches. “That’s a lot of power to hold and you definitely messed up by telling me that.” You hold your hands up, each finger touching, as you wiggle them in an evil manner. Hugh looks back at you from where he’s moving the eggs around in the pan and smiles. “Don’t get too excited. I said probably anything.” You drop your hands and shrug. “That’s a lot more than I'm used to.” He turns back to the eggs. “Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” The question takes you aback. “I’m not trying to be mean…After hearing some of the things you say and seeing how Pedr-..how he treated you, I’m not seeing anything good. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused on how a girl like you has never had anyone treat you right.” He plates the eggs and oils the pan to drop the turkey bacon as if he didn’t drop such a big observation onto you. 

“I uh-...I’m not really sure what to say…I mean I guess I haven’t really had a guy care about me all too much.” He turns to you, staying close to the stove. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You shrug. “I mean you’re not wrong. Everyone always seems to give up on me before anything serious happens…but hey that’s the price of being famous and having my taste in men I guess.” He flips the bacon. “I don’t know how I feel being your taste in men then. They aren’t really setting a good reputation.” He jokes but it stings a little. “Eh. I think you’re doing a lot better than any of them ever did. You’re sweet and kind…and unbelievably sexy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from its original content. It works, Hugh laughs. “You should go take a picture in the mirror again and post it. Your fans would love it.” He takes the bacon off of the pan and sets the pieces on a paper towel lined plate. “I didn’t post that for the fans babe. I posted that for you.” Your jaw drops and you draw a dramatic gasp. “I knew it was a thirst trap. Y’know next time you can just send it to me instead of posting it on instagram. I’d love a few more to add to my collection.” 

“Your collection?” He cocks an eyebrow up and you ignore his question. “Do you need my help with anything? I feel kinda useless just sitting here.” You ask as Hugh pulls out a container of strawberries. “It’s okay baby, I got it.” You hum, fingers going back to the strings on your shorts. Hugh washes a handful of berries and dries them one by one. “You’re good at changing the conversation.” He mumbles and lets out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at him with an innocent face. He’s silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft knocks of the knife hitting the cutting board. You watched as each slice of the strawberry fell over as Hugh worked. His hands stop for a moment and you look up at him, catching his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and that I truly care for you.” His eyes focus back onto the cutting board. “I know that.” You mumble. “Then let that be a reminder. I want to hear the things you’ve been through. I want to know everything about you so I can be the best version of myself for you.” You didn’t know what to say, so instead you hopped out of the chair and hugged him.

–

After breakfast and after you followed Hugh around like a lost puppy while he got ready for the day, he drove you back to your hotel so you could do the same. You were frantically walking back and forth as you got ready, packing your suitcase as you went along. Hugh was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone. You picked out a pair of baggy black denim cargo pants to wear but you couldn’t decide between the classic ‘i love new york’ t-shirt you bought your first day here or a maroon turtleneck. “Which one should I wear? I’m leaning towards the new york one but I feel like that’s too touristy you know?” You start speaking as you walk out of the bathroom and hold up both shirts. “If I wear the turtleneck then I can probably get away with not wearing a jacket and I can also wear the converse I have that are in the same color.” You stand at a mirror that is in the hallway, putting each shirt over your chest, comparing them. When Hugh doesn’t answer, you turn to see him staring at you. “Hugh did you hear anything I just said?” He’s sat up on the bed now, no longer in the starfish position he was once in. “Wear the new york one baby. You won’t be a tourist forever. There’s only a matter of time before the city becomes familiar.” He explains. “Mm. Good point. Thank you babe.” You throw the turtleneck on your open suitcase and just as you're about to throw the simple graphic tee over your head, Hugh speaks. “Wait..don’t put that on yet. C’mere.” The last part is mumbled as he holds his hands out for you. 

You set your shirt down as you walk over to him. Both his arms snake around your waist as soon as you step between his thick thighs. “You look delicious right now.” His arms loosen as he pulls you back, taking in your appearance. “Is me not wearing a shirt, turning you on Hugh?” You tease. You almost forgot that you were only walking around in a simple black t-shirt bra. It lifted your boobs surprisingly well for the style and you could tell it was getting to Hugh. “What if I said it was?” He asks, eyes moving from your chest to your face. “If this gets you going too easily, you’re gonna struggle when you see the outfits I perform in.” You laugh. “Mhm. I’m excited.” He growls with a smirk before plunging his head towards your cleavage, kissing up and down the exposed skin. “You’re such a hornball.” You let out in your fit of laughter. He rests his face in the crook of your boobs. You can hear him mumbling something but you can’t make out the words. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” He reluctantly pulls his face back. “I said that we could always stay in today instead…Wanna get another taste of you.” His hands grip your waist and you feel a pulse between your legs from his words. 

“As tempting as that is…and it’s really really tempting. I wanna go out with you today, have some normality before life goes back to normal tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have time before my flight…for what you said.” He smiles and pats your butt. “Okay baby. Finish getting ready so we can go.” You lean down with puckered lips, meeting Hugh’s in a sweet kiss. “I’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes.” You promise as you pick your shirt up and run back into the bathroom. 

Somehow in the short time it took you to get ready, Hugh convinced you to let him take you to the airport. You tried to refuse since you already had accommodations made for the early 3:30am flight but he fought back. He said that it would be easier and we could spend more time together before I left. You agreed, wanting to spend every single last second with the man you loved. He threw your suitcase in the trunk of his car and the two of you were off on whatever adventure Hugh had planned. 

The first stop was at Battery park to see the Statue of Liberty. Hugh surprised you with a ferry ride that took you from the park to Liberty island, then Ellis island. You thanked Hugh non-stop as you boarded the ferry. You were a big history nerd and being able to be around objects and buildings that have existed for many generations of people before you, excited you to your core. Hugh was watching your thrill with a smile, sneaking pictures of you when he could- you never noticed. You did ask him to take a few pictures of you as the ferry moved right in front of lady liberty herself. Your smile was wide, eyes crinkled behind your sunglasses. Hugh held you close the entire time, kissing the top of your head every now and then. He would take you all over the world if it meant he got to see you this happy all the time. 

The whole exploration took about four hours. You were very thorough in your wanding, not wanting to miss a single detail. You apologized to Hugh every time you felt like you were taking too long but he never seemed annoyed or upset, just happy to be with you. Once you were back on the mainland, the two of you were starving and started to discuss places to eat. “I think that Stardust place would be fun but I heard it’s almost impossible to get in.” You don’t mean for it to sound like it was something you really wanted to do. You were just thinking out loud. “I can get us in there baby.” Hugh says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hugh Jackman…are you telling me you’d name drop yourself for me?” You smile. “I told you, anything for you sweetheart.” He raises your intertwined hands to his face, leaving a kiss on yours. “As sweet as that is, I could probably name drop myself and get in.” You smile. “It’s probably not smart for you to go into a place full of theater nerds anyway since you’ve been on Broadway multiple times or whatever.” You joke. “You’re probably right. I am quite the Broadway star.” He jokes back. “Fuck it. Let’s just get pizza again. I've only a tourist for so long, remember?” “Fuck it.” He agrees. 

You find a different pizza shop this time, waiting in the car while Hugh goes in to order. You spent the time looking through your phone. You saw a few texts from Ashley and it made your heart ache. She was a terrible friend but you still grieved the good times you did have. Once you got back home, you knew it was probably for the best to talk to her, settle everything, and get some closure. You thought a lot about loose ends you needed to tie as you entered this new chapter of your life, Pedro being one of them as well. You wanted as clean of a slate you could get as you moved forward with Hugh. 

“God I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in there.” Hugh says as he opens the driver door, sitting two styrofoam cups in the center console drink holders. “Do you mind holding this for a moment sweetheart?” He asks, holding up a small box that had a large brown paper bag sitting on top. You grab it and Hugh climbs into the car. “Would it be too cliche if we ate this at the great lawn?” You ask with a lazy grin. “Maybe a little bit but it sounds like a great idea darling.” He smiles back. 

The drive to Central Park was a short one. Finding a parking spot however, took awhile. Hugh drove through one of the nearby parking garages, going up and down until he finally caught someone pulling out. When the two of you finally reached the lawn, you were a little nervous at the amount of people there but you put it aside, hoping that your sunglasses would be enough to hide you from any possible fans. You found a spot, farther away from the larger crowds. It was peaceful for the most part, both Hugh and yourself to engaged in conversation and eating to care about anything else. When you were both done eating, you scooted closer to Hugh, who then offered you to sit between his legs as he leaned back. Your back was against his chest, lifting with every breath he took. “This is nice.” You say, looking up at Hugh. “It is.” He agrees, kissing your forehead. When you look forward again, a girl catches your eye. She’s sitting not too far off and she’s staring. It makes your heart stop, afraid that she might have recognized you or Hugh. Your suspicion is proved right, her eyes go wide and she lifts her phone, pointing it directly in your direction. “Babe, I think that girl is recording us.” You nudge Hugh slightly to get his attention. He looks in the girl's direction and sighs. “Let’s get out of here.” The two of you walk back to the car, hand in hand. 

“Do you wanna go home or are you still up for one more adventure?” Hugh asks once you’re both settled in the car. The way he says ‘home’ makes your heart flutter. You know it’s probably out of habit but it makes you wonder what sharing a home with him would be like, how being with him officially would be. “I’m down for more touristing.” You smile, trying to let go of the bitter mood that girl had put you in. You didn’t mind fans recognizing you but it always sucked when a good moment was taken away because of it- a moment that would have been normal if you and Hugh were ‘normal’ people. 

The sun was starting to set as Hugh drove and it was beautiful. Seeing the city lights take over was a sight to see. “I thought we were going somewhere else?” You ask in confusion as Hugh pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building. “We are but I thought we could walk, if that’s okay with you love. It’s not too far.” He parks the car in his designated spot. “Yea that’s fine.” His hand squeezes your thigh, a place it often sits as he drives. “Let’s go then.” 

You were convinced there wasn’t anything more beautiful than walking through New York at night. You were never fond of big cities, only living in Los Angeles because you had to for work, but something about nyc brings a sense of home you’ve never felt before. Almost like a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a place that felt right. 

The last stop happened to be Times Square. The second you found a good spot, you passed your phone over to Hugh to take pictures of you. It was a little over stimulating the longer you stood there, admiring all of the giant screens and billboards. You tried to tough it out as long as possible but your last straw was when some guy in a janky super hero suit tried to come up to you. Hugh was quick to grab you and lead you away. “I can’t make up my mind on what’s worse, the con artist in Hollywood or the ones here.” You joke, Hugh laughs agreeing. The streets started to empty the further away you got from the square and you were thankful for that. As you walked hand in hand with Hugh, you started to hum the melody of ‘New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. Hugh smiles down at you and releases your hand to pull you closer, his arm resting over your shoulder. “Ooo. Can we go in there real quick?” You ask, pointing at the small grocery market across the street. “Sure baby.” You can tell he’s confused so you answer his question before he can ask. “I wanna make dinner for you.” You look both ways down the street before crossing. “You don’t have to do that sweet girl.” The sliding doors open and you’re hit with the cool air. “I want to.” He doesn’t say anything else as he follows you around the store. When you hit the produce section, you lift the sunglasses that had been sitting on your face for most of the day, creating a makeshift headband. You gather a mix of yukon gold and baby red potatoes, as well as a few carrots and a stock of broccoli. “What are you making?” Hugh asks as you walk towards the meat shelves, grabbing a pack of two chicken breasts. “A spicy, maple chicken sheet pan dinner.” You explain, walking towards the next aisle. “A sheet pan dinner?” He questions. “You throw everything onto the same pan, shove it in the oven, and boom, you have dinner.” He laughs. “I guess that makes sense.” 

Hugh insisted on paying for everything but you refused. He had paid for almost everything else since you’ve been in New York and you had to remind him that you too had too much money than you knew what to do with. He complained about it the whole way back to his apartment, it was kinda cute. When you finally got back, you asked Hugh to gather everything you’d need: a cutting board, a large bowl, a peeler, a colander, etc. You wanted to make sure you had everything so he could sit and watch, just as you had with him this morning. “I could get used to this.” You look up from where you're mixing the veggies and seasoning in a bowl. “What, me cooking for you?” You ask, sarcasm present in your voice. “No, you being here with me.” Hugh smiles. “Oh..” You whisper as you dump the prepped veggies onto the parchment lined sheet pan. “Was that too forward?” You’re patting the chicken with a paper towel and placing them in the same bowl as he asks. “No. I like when you say stuff like that, it just makes me all nervous.” You drizzle the chicken in olive oil and add your choice of seasonings. “Why does it make you nervous?” His elbows are on the counter, hands resting in his hands. “Because someone like you likes someone like me, it’s crazy.” You place the chicken on the sheet pan before placing it into the already heated oven. 

Hugh stands up and walks behind you. His arms wrap around you as you wash your hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asks, giving light kisses to your neck. “Sometimes.” You wiggle out of his arms to dry your hands on a towel that rests on the oven handle. “I must not be doing a very good job at showing it then.” You walk back over to him, where he’s leaning back on the counter. “It’s not you babe, it’s the voices.” You point to your head. “What are they saying?” You think for a moment. “Do you want the default answer or the real answer?” “The real one.” He responds without a second thought. “I think I’m just scared that all of this is temporary.” You say motioned your arms around. “I’m scared that one day you’ll snap out of whatever it is you feel for me and just…just leave and not want me anymore.” He pulls you into his chest. “I don’t know what I can say or do to break you free from that but I can promise that I won't just leave you. If there ever comes a time where I don't want to be with you, which is very unlikely, I’ll tell you.” You don’t say anything as he holds you. The two of you stay like that until the twenty five minute timer you set is going off. 

—

“Do you really have to leave today?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your back softly. After dinner, Hugh went down to fetch your suitcase out of his car. Both of you took showers, separately this time. Now you were straddling his lap, laying forward with your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Unfortunately..” You sigh out. “You can’t stay just a few more days?” He practically pouts and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.  “I really wish I could but duty calls. I jump right into work once I’m back.” This time he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you.” “I’m gonna miss you too.” You give his neck a few small kisses before speaking again. “When are you coming back to LA?” You lift your upper body and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I’m not sure. Got some stuff to deal with here, might take a while.” He lifts himself up, sitting up straight against the headboard, putting you both in the same position as this morning. “Hm. What stuff?” You ask, hands trailing down from his chest to his abs. “Divorce stuff. Ex-wife stuff.” He shrugs slightly and leans forward, his lips meeting your neck as he leaves his own kisses. “Oh..” It comes out more as a moan, Hugh’s teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. “That must be hard, divorcing after so long together.” His lips falter for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” He leans back against the headboard. His response made you feel weird. Hugh’s voice was distant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You apologize, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “It’s okay, it would’ve come up eventually.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it Hugh, it’s okay.” 

“It’s something we should talk about though. It’s not fair to you. You’ve opened up so much to me, I should do the same for you.” You’re silent, not sure what to say. “Does it bother you?”  Hugh asks.

“Does what bother me?” You know what he’s asking but you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“That I was married?” He’s looking at you, but you're looking down at his hands. 

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Him being married isn’t what bothered you. “Look at me baby.” His voice is stern, a tone that you haven’t heard before. When you look at him his eyes are quick to line with yours. “Does it bother you? Don’t lie to me.” You sigh, hands sliding from his stomach. You rest them on top of his own where they are placed on your thigh. “I wasn't lying. It doesn’t bother me that you were married.” 

“Then what’s up sweet girl? I can tell there's something going on in that pretty head of yours..” The way he’s looking at you makes your heart race. He’s looking at you like you're the most important person in the world, like you mean everything to him. 

“I don’t care that you were married…it’s just..this is gonna sound stupid but..I’m scared of how long you two were together and how recent your divorce was.” 

“What do you mean baby?” 

“Like I said earlier, I’m scared of this being temporary. That I’m just some…god I don’t know…that I’m a rebound or something. That the two of you will realize that being separated wasn’t the right decision.” Your posture breaks as you slump forward slightly. “I knew that she would always be in your life and I’ve been trying to make peace with that…but the thought of you leaving is too much.” You confess. 

“Y/n…What Deb and I had has been over for a long time. It was over years before we finalized anything. Everything now is purely about our kids. I’ll always hold love for her in my heart but it isn’t a romantic love anymore. That love is reserved for you sweet girl, all for you.” His fingers delicately lift your chin. “I’m a devoted man y/n. Once you have me, I’m yours. I promise.” His thumb rubs along your jaw. You lift your pinky and he chuckles slightly. He lifts his own and links it with yours. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Hugh asks, seriousness fills his voice. “I really want to be.” His eyes soften. “What’s stopping you from being all mine baby?” 

The question is loaded. The answer was full of worries you shoved deep down, hoping they wouldn’t come up as soon as they did. From the moment you walked into his home, you tried your best to ignore the family photos that littered his walls. Photos of him and his wife with wide smiles, their kids standing between them, smiles just as wide. You pushed down every feeling you had as he showed you the rooms he kept for his kids for when they would visit. His daughter's room hurt the most. You saw glimpses of your own teenage years that you’d excited only a few years earlier. His son’s room reminds you that that was the room of a man whose age was more appropriate for you. You’d been reminded non-stop that what you had with Hugh was wrong in the eyes of others, so wrong that you were starting to feel it too.

“Does it ever worry you that our relationship isn’t practical? That it doesn’t make sense?” He makes a face and he looks almost offended.“How doesn’t it make sense? I like you, you like me. You’re happy, I’m happy. What more is there to it?” 

“That’s the thing Hugh. When it comes to you, it will never just be you.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “I'm confused baby.” You sigh. “Hugh, you were married for decades, with kids. What is your ex-wife going to think about you dating a girl that’s thirty three years younger than you? Hell, better yet, what will your kids think Hugh? What are they going to think about you dating a girl that sits right in between their ages?” You rant. “What Deb thinks about us doesn’t matter. She’ll get over it.” His hands give your thighs a small squeeze. “And your kids?” He sighs. “I’m not sure what they’ll think but I’m sure that if I explain it to them they’ll understand. They’re old enough to where you won’t need to be a big part of their lives.”

“I know that babe but I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit into your life as it is. I can’t just show up to the family Christmas parties as your girlfriend. Do you know how fucking weird that will be for me, for them?” His face falls and you know he doesn’t take your words the way you intended. “It would be weird to be my girlfriend?” 

“Hugh, that’s not what I meant.” He goes to move you off his lap but you tighten your thighs to stand your ground. “Babe, you have to understand what I mean. I don’t wanna hide from your kids and Deborra. I want to be a part of your life completely and that includes knowing them.” He stops moving and sighs. 

“This isn’t going to be easy y/n. I know I have baggage and I’m sorry that this wasn’t something we talked about sooner. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave and have nothing to do with me.” Hugh lowers his head slightly. “Hugh, I don’t wanna leave you. I’m used to older men, just not ones with ex-wives and kids.” You try to make it lighten the mood, hoping to make him laugh. It doesn’t. 

“Everyone’s gonna hate us if we do this. The fans, your family, probably even my family if I’m being honest. The crazy thing is that I don’t care if everyone hates me but I don’t want to be the reason everyone hates you.” 

Those last words felt like a weight coming off of your shoulders. The words were so simple but had been so hard to say all this time. They were true. You didn’t care if fans turned on you, you didn’t care if your family disapproved, though you couldn’t imagine them disliking Hugh. Selfishly, you also didn’t care that much if Hugh’s family hated you. These were all miniscule issues when it came to you loving Hugh. As long as he was happy, you were happy. But the thought of Hugh experiencing any of that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want him to lose fans he’s had over the long course of his career, you didn’t want to put him through the burden of his family not approving of you and him having to feel the awkwardness every time you were around them. You couldn’t imagine him jeopardizing the life he had built all because of you. You were still building a career. Everyone around you has already experienced you dating men that have no business dating someone your age. You didn’t want to hurt him with the implications that came along with your name and age. 

“That’s not fair to say.” Hugh squeezes your hand. “You can’t put the weight of everything on yourself. If you decide that you want to be with me, then that’s how it’s going to be. You and me. We’ll figure everything out together.” You look off to the side because you know if you look at him the ache you’d been feeling in your throat will betray you. “Look at me.” The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches for your cheek as he attempts to move your face to look towards him. You refuse, already feeling a tear slip down involuntarily. “Baby please.” He tries again and you let him turn your face. A sob escapes, the pain in your neck finally relieved. “What’s wrong y/n? You gotta talk to me.” His voice is sweet and patient. All this man does is care for you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you and your family Hugh. I don’t want them to suffer, all because I love you.” You sob. “You what?” His hands drop down to your knees. “I love you, Hugh.” You try your best to get the words out through the steady stream of tears. “Do you mean that baby?” He asks softly as one hand comes back to your cheek, wiping a few tears away. “Of course I mean it, that’s why I can’t leave you. I feel so selfish because the smart thing would be to walk away so no one gets hurt but I can’t. I love you too much to let you go.” 

“I love you y/n, so much.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” You ask with sad eyes. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the moment I met you baby. You looked so pretty that day and your voice was like a siren's call. I tried to fight the attraction but when you invited me to your album party, I didn't care anymore. I wanted you.” You grabbed his face at the confession, pulling his lips to yours. You both let every emotion spill into the kiss. “Does this make you my girlfriend now or are we still friends that hook up and love each other?” He asks jokingly with a dopey smile. “As much as I want to say yes, talk to your kids first. Please. I think it would make me feel a little better about everything.” He kisses you. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.” 

—

Leaving Hugh felt impossible. Not knowing when you’d see him next and him being around his ex-wife without you here to distract him made you nervous. You trusted him but when it came to you or the woman he was married to for twenty seven years, it was hard to say he'd choose you. Even after his reassurance, you had a feeling she would always come first. 

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You ask as you hug him, the two of you in the same hidden room from when he picked you up. “I really wish I could baby. I’ll try to get back out there as soon as I can.” He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay there for as long as you can. “I should probably go.” You say reluctantly. “Yea, you should.” You give him a few quick kisses. “Don’t leave me waiting too long. I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile at him before giving him one last kiss. “I won’t, sweet girl. Text me as soon as you board and when you land okay?” You grab the handle of your suitcase. “I will.” You start to walk towards the door that leads out to the public but before you go out, you turn towards him one more time. “Bye Hugh.” You give him a small wave. “Bye baby. I love you.” The words make you smile. “I love you Hugh.” You give him one more wave before you walk through the door.

thank you for reading!

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

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[jjunieworld]

#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸  part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟；) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!

∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

⟢ READ HERE!

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

⟢ READ HERE!

taglist 1﹙ OPEN! ﹚⸝⸝⸝ click here for series taglist! 🏷️ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @ghstzzn @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @lilactangerine @chaconadine @americanojake @in-somnias-world @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @inkigayocamman @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @tasnim10 @deobitifull @won4me @zeeloveshee

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∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , wips , taglist ] all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[awearywritersworld]

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[alicentofhightower]

the dragon and the crab

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!celtigar!reader

synopsis: boys seem to catch your eye more, as of late. you wonder if that’s the reason why you’re helping this drunken fool of a prince.

includes: drunk aegon, he’s actually not that bad here. so sorry if this is ooc this is my first time writing a oneshot for him!

WC: 1.5k

a/n: this was written with ty tennant’s aegon in mind because it’s set during laena velaryon’s funeral, but you can envision tgc’s aegon too i don’t really care. i did not proofread this so im sorry for any mistakes, i literally just wrote this on my phone in bed because i miss aegon and im bored. i might write a part 2 idk

-

The first time Aegon sees you, he cannot help but wonder why you take such a liking to Helaena.

Laena Velaryon’s funeral had been an uneventful one. A bore, to be honest, but his mother would smack him if he’d ever voiced that thought aloud. He’d never known the noblewoman well. Honestly, his mind was more preoccupied with the looming thought of his upcoming wedding.

It was tradition for Targaryens to be married to relative. They’d practiced it for hundreds of years, long before the doom of Old Valyria. His mother had always seemed so intent on practicing the customs of her Andal forbears, and Aegon wished she’d been the same for his marriage.

Deep down, he knew why Helaena would be his wife. It was to keep her close to Alicent. If she’d been wed to some fat lord in the Riverlands, or a foolish one from the Reach, it would make no difference; there was no real confirmation that she’d ever be kept safe. His mother would not have another Aemma be made of her only daughter.

“We have nothing in common,” Aegon complained, constantly having to brush his silver waves away from his face. The wind from the beach was relentless.

He stood off to the side next to Aemond, away from where you yourself sat next to the Princess. She seemed to speak in riddles, with the way she mumbled of ‘spools of green and black’, but you did not mind. You could tell she was of a sweet nature.

Helaena handed you another shell to hold, her fingertips tracing the texture of it. “She’s our sister,” interjected Aemond.

Everything about Aegon was improper. The way he could not seem to let go of his cup of wine for even a minute, the way his eyes wandered towards the skittish maids, even down to his posture; hunched and lazy. “You marry her, then,” The elder prince said, his fingers loose around his chalice. If he wasn’t careful, he’d probably drop it, make a fool of himself as he always had.

“I would perform my duty. If mother had only betrothed us.” Aemond did not speak out of genuine desire for his sister, only his yearning to be the firstborn son. To be given the duties of his unwilling brother.

“If only,” He scoffed.

His blue eyes traveled to where you were, listening closely to every word of his weird soon-to-be wife. Aegon did not pay much attention to his Old Valyrian lessons, much less his history, but even he could recognize which house you were from by the dress you wore; ivory and scarlet, the colors of House Celtigar.

Your house was a Valyrian one itself, though far less proud than the one of his own or the Velaryons. You wore a veil of mourning to honor the late Lady Laena, but he could see the earrings you adorned beneath it; crabs, closely resembling your sigil.

You could not hear what the young princes spoke of, but your eyes had averted over to them occasionally, though most of your attention was paid to Aegon. His face was scrunched together as he studied you, trying to figure out why you’d ever willingly be in the company of Helaena. Mayhaps you were just as off-putting as she was.

Blooming into womanhood, you could not help but take notice of boys your age; Aegon himself was quite handsome, though lustful and foolish, and your mother had personally warned you to stay away from him on the way to Driftmark. It only made you want to talk to him more.

Soon enough, Aegon made his way over to another servant, grabbing the pitcher on the platter she held and pouring himself more Arbor gold… away from where you were. You wondered if that’d be the last you saw of him.

-

It wasn’t.

Sleep had escaped you. Taking a stroll outside was far more appealing than tossing and turning in your bed, so you’d wrapped your robe around your nightgown and snuck out of your chambers.

You almost gasped when you saw him. There he was, at the end of the stairs, drunk and hiccuping with his eyes closed. He sat against the stone of the railing, head drooping and hands still grasping his goblet tightly.

“My Prince?”

No response.

Descending down the steps, you poked his hunched shoulder. He did not even start. It took a harsh shake of his forearm to wake him, and Aegon threw his head back when he did, smacking it against the marble behind him.

Aegon’s pale hand flew to cradle the back of his skull. He hissed, features squeezing together as he let out a sharp breath. It reeked of wine, and he appeared to be startled that he hadn’t been smacked yet. “Grandsire?” He asked, eyes still scrunched shut.

“No,” You said softly. “It’s just me, my Prince.”

His eyelids shot open. It took a moment for him to recognize you. “Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be abed?”

Gods, maybe your lady mother was right about avoiding him. He’d already begun to irritate you, and you’d been speaking to him for less than a minute. “Shouldn’t you?”

His head lolled to the side, falling to rest on his shoulder. “What will you do? Tattle on me to my mother? I’ve already been scolded today,” He grumbled, his words slightly slurred.

Really, you should just leave this fool of a prince alone, act like this never happened, and climb back into bed. You won’t. It’s normal for men of his age to indulge in their vices, but some part of you tells you that this is wrong; that he shouldn’t be out here in the cold night, slumped into a mess of his own limbs. You feel bad.

Boldly, you reach forward again, grasping his wrist. “Come on,” You say to Aegon, your tone softer. “I’ll help you back to your chambers.”

“I’m too tired.”

He yelps when you yank him up, stumbling forward, his hands scrambling to grab your shoulders to keep him upright. “You should not treat a Prince so roughly.” Despite his words, Aegon allows you to wrap an arm about his shoulders, guiding him forward.

His eyes are wide as he looks down at you, seemingly trying to figure out why you’d pour this much time into someone you don’t even know. There’s a flush becoming all the more apparent on his face, and unbeknownst to you, it’s not because of the wine.

You’re sure there will be a scandal made out of this. An unmarried young noble-lady taking King Viserys’s firstborn son, drunk, back to his chambers during the hour of the owl? Certainly the maids will begin to whisper false tales of your relationship with the Prince, and your father will reprimand you on the ship back to Claw Isle. He might have you married even sooner to dispel them. You cannot find it in yourself to care.

“This way,” You whisper, walking towards where the innermost hall is, where the royal chambers are. Aegon’s steps are uneven and irregular. If you’d not been holding him, he’d probably have fallen twice already.

He’s even more beautiful under the torchlight. Soft cheekbones and plush lips, he’s the very image of his mother, though he certainly does not act like it. Your lips almost part at the feeling of his nose nudging against your cheek, though you attempt to ignore it.

He’s drunk, you tell yourself. Pay no mind to him.

The knights on patrol raise their brows at the sight of you when you make your way past them. An awkward position you’re in. Both his and your arm are wrapped around the other’s shoulders, and his knees are bent so he can be at the level of your face. He’s not even looking forward to where you’re trying to go, his eyes analyzing the look on your face.

He was so talkative when you woke him. You wonder why he’s gone quiet, but reason it to be that he’s exhausted. “What’s your name, again?” He sputters.

He nods rapidly when you tell him it, as if he’ll remember it on the morrow.

Finally, you make it to his room; even the doors to it are grand and tall, befitting one of his status. Yours are farther away from his, in the corridors practically across the keep. It’ll be a long walk back.

You find you don’t know what to say. “…Well, good night, my Prince,” You say softly, letting go of him to let him stand by himself. He wobbles.

Aegon turns to leave, but whips his head around before his pale hand can grasp the handle of the door, his eyes darting around the features of your face. He wants to remember you, it seems.

“You won’t stay?” He can barely pronounce the words correctly, let alone stand up, choosing to lean on the door behind him to keep his balance. Somehow, it’s both endearing and pathetic.

Your cheeks flush at the mere idea of following him into his bedchamber. What was he thinking?

“No, my Prince. It’s best I leave you be.”

Aegon nods solemnly at that, tongue running over his slightly chapped lips. He bows his head in thought, then raises it again, a peculiar glint in his eye that you cannot decipher.

“….’s Aegon. Just Aegon,” He says, quiet, like it’s a secret only the two of you know.

��Good night, Aegon.”

[dixonswingz]

Poolside

Summary: Alexandria era. You and Rick Grimes share a home in Alexandria. You and Rick have been oddly close since the quarry, there has always been tension between you two. The house you two share happens to have a pool in the backyard. One day while Rick is out on a run, you decide to go skinny dipping since you are alone and nobody is watching. Until Rick comes home earlier than expected.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (don’t do this.), semi-public???, age gap (reader 18+), masturbation, fingering, biting

A/N: this is my first time writing smut.. and first time writing fanfic in general for the first time in years, so my apologies if this is the worst thing you have ever read. id appreciate some requests so i can continue my fanfic journey :)

About a few hours ago, Rick left to go on a run with a small group. It has been a few months since everyone finally started trusting Alexandria. You were glad everyone decided to stay. You were finally able to take showers again and sleep in an actual bed. Although there has been tension between you and Rick, that you both are well aware about, you guys stay in separate rooms. Although you wish you could fall asleep in his arms every night.

Today was your day off from doing work sunrise to sunset. You decided you needed some time to yourself to relax in peace and silence. What’s better than skinny dipping on a nice warm day? You grabbed a towel, sunglasses, a book, and prepared yourself a cold glass of lemonade.

You slid open the back door and stepped outside into the warm air. You sighed in relief, finally having time to yourself to do whatever you wanted. You laid out the towel on the edge of the pool, placing your book and lemonade on the towel. As you slid into the pool, you hissed slightly at the coldness of the water touching every crevice in your body. You weren’t really worried about anybody seeing you, as every house had fences for privacy. Even in such a small compound, everyone still had privacy which was amazing.

As you read your book, a spicy scene came upon the next pages. Recently, or really ever since you laid your eyes on Rick, he has been on your mind every single hour. Whenever you read scenes like these, you imagined it was the both of you rather than the characters in the book. Sometimes you even touched yourself while reading and having these dirty thoughts.

The more you read, the more aroused you got. You held the book with one hand holding open both of the pages. Turning around, your back rested against the wall of the pool, facing the back door. If anybody walked through right now, you wouldn’t be able to see them. You left the door open, so you’d only know if somebody was coming by the sound of footsteps.

You slid your free hand slowly down your abdomen, to your thighs, to in between your legs. Your breathing hitched as your fingers slid over your clit. You slowly started to rub circles, whimpering silently. Every time you touched yourself, all you could think about was Rick. All you needed was Rick. You’ve had your eyes on him for years.

Two fingers slid inside of your throbbing cunt, letting out a quiet moan as you threw your head back. Rick walked in through the front door, seeing the back door open. You were too focused in your arousal to hear anything around you. You started to thrust your fingers in and out faster, Rick walking to the back door as you were touching yourself. He heard your moaning and whining as he saw you with your head thrown back, sunglasses on.

Rick looked at your body, realizing you were completely naked. His bulge grew larger. As you were approaching your climax, making it obvious by your body jerking, Rick cleared his throat to make himself known. You stopped and turned around, covering your breasts when you saw Rick. “I-i thought… Sorry-“ He groaned and had a small grin on his face. “Don’t apologize.. I was enjoying the scene.” Your face felt hot as your cheeks turned a rosy pink.

You looked up, making eye contact as Rick walked closer to the edge of the pool. You wanted him so bad. “Rick..” He tilted his head as if he was asking, ‘what?’. “J-join me…?” You gulped nervously, scared he would think you’re disgusting. He smirked and quickly undressed down to his boxers. “Was hopin you’d ask me that” His voice was gravely as he slid into the cool water right next to you.

Both of you looked into each other’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hips, looking closely at your face looking for approval. He knew he didn’t need to ask when you moved closer to him, leaning into his touch. Your face felt like it was on fire. As you put your hands on the waistband of his boxers, you had a look of desperation in your eyes. It felt unfair that you were completely bare, and he still had these pathetic boxers on. “Take them off…” Rick smirked at your plea. “I ain’t gonna take them off without you askin’ nicely” You whined. You just wanted him to touch you and please you like you’ve been dreaming.

“Rick… please take them off..” You lowered your voice. He couldn’t resist how desperate you sounded. As he pulled down his boxers, your eyes immediately went to his cock once it was free. You bit your lip. You’ve had your fair share of experience, but his size was intimidating you. A knot started to form in your stomach the more you imagined him fucking you.

Rick lifted your face with his hand by your chin, making eye contact. “You want it, don’t ya?” You were too nervous to speak, you felt like you couldn’t form any sentence. You nodded. This was all Rick needed to move forward. He grabbed your hips as his lips pressed against yours. God, his lips were so soft just like you imagined.

Rick hummed against your lips, opening your mouth with his tongue. As your tongues wrestled, he slid a hand down to your clit. You broke the kiss by gasping. It has been years since you’ve been touched by anything but your own hands. Rick started rubbing your clit, teasing your hole at the same time. You whimpered, frustrated at the teasing. “R-rick please…” You pushed yourself into his hand. Rick grunted. “I’ve been waitin for this moment forever… ‘m gonna take my time with ya.” He kissed down your neck, biting lightly, leaving marks here and there. You moaned quietly, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

He slid two fingers in you, immediately thrusting them in and out at a fast pace. “O-oh my god..” You moaned louder, Rick smacked his lips against yours to muffle your moans. “You gotta be quiet.. people can still hear ya outside” He smirked as he left kisses on your jawline.

Your body started jerking as your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers. Rick curled his fingers, causing you to open your mouth ready to let out a loud moan before Rick slapped his hand over your mouth. He thrusted his fingers in and out faster than you could imagine. You grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin as you released yourself on his thick fingers.

He slid his fingers out as he turned you around, your breasts pressing against the cool wall of the pool. Rick grabbed your ass, you letting out a whine. “Tell me how bad ya want it..” He breathed into your ear, making you more aroused if that was possible at all. “S-so bad…” You whimpered. “Please… I’ve been wanting this for years… since the quarry..” This turned Rick on more. “I-I touch myself… imagining it’s you..” You confessed.

Rick kissed your neck, biting harshly. You moaned in pain and pleasure, that for sure would leave a mark. You felt Rick line up his hard, throbbing cock up against your entrance. You tensed up at this feeling. You were desperate. Rick slowly slid into you, you gripping onto the edge of the pool letting out a moan. “F-fuck!” Rick shushed you. His hands grabbed your hips, holding them so tightly but you didn’t care anymore.

“Mphm.. so fuckin tight for me..” He whispered in your ear as he picked up the pace. You threw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he continued kissing your neck. He moved one hand from your hips to your breasts, pinching your hard nipple. You whimpered at all these sensations.

Rick left kisses down your shoulders, pinching your nipple harder. You yelped out, causing Rick to groan. “Would ya shut up darlin… Don’t need everybody knowin all the pleasure im givin ya” You whimpered in protest, you wanted to make so many noises. It just felt too good. “Harder… p-please Rick.. harder and faster..” You begged him, and he answered your begs. Rick started grunting and letting out deep moans.

You started to shake under him, getting so close to your orgasm. Rick knew. He plastered kisses all over your neck and back, as he pushed you into the edge of the pool. Your breasts pushed into the wall. “I’m gonna.. ugh.. cum!” You whined out.

He bit your ear, groaning. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like ya been wantin to for years..” That was all you needed to release all over him, your walls clenching against his cock. This made his hips stutter, as he was also about to release. “Cum in me.. Please rick..” You whimpered as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Rick gripped onto you roughly, groaning loudly as he released his warm seed inside of your cunt. You moaned, breathing heavily. Rick pressed his chest against his back, putting his hands overtop yours as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy fuck…” You whispered, resulting in Rick letting out a quiet chuckle.

He placed gentle kisses on your cheek over and over, as you started blushing. “Let’s get ya cleaned up sweetheart” Rick picked you up and got out the pool, wrapping the towel around both of you. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your face into his neck. Rick carried you upstairs to the bathroom, setting you on the counter. “Bath or shower?” He took the towel off of you, waiting for a response. “Bath please.. and join me too ?” He nodded and smiled. He turned on the bath. Not too hot, not too cold.

Once it was full, he picked you up again and sat down with you in the tub. You cuddled up against his chest as he held you close to him. This was all you’ve ever wanted. You looked up at Rick, making eye contact because he was already looking at you, admiring your beauty. “I love you, Rick” Your face turned red, feeling nervous on what his response would be. Rick smiled slightly, taken aback by your words. He wasn’t mad though. “I love you too darlin” He placed a kiss on your forehead and rubbed your back. Both of you knew this wouldn’t just to be a one time thing. You’ve finally gotten everything you wanted in this fucked up world.

this is my first time writing smut i hope its not the worst thing ever 😭 id appreciate feedback and some ideas for future fics!!! any requests for rick, daryl, and negan whether its smut, fluff, angst, etc. ill appreciate anything

[aplaceinthedark]

ANYTHING > HUMAN

Summary: A friend calls on Noah to say goodbye

Word Count: 15.8k

CW: Main content warnings: Supernatural themes, Loss of parental figure/guardian, gun/weapon violence, mild mind-control, brainwashing, kidnapping, racism, Enemies to lovers to Enemies, Mind Fuckery (unreliable Narrator), attempted drowning, Bad People getting Thanos- Snapped, body disfiguration (third-degree? burns) House Fire, Character Death, Graphic Depiction of an Autopsy. Sexual content Warnings: Oral (Fem receiving), teasing, fingering, implied squirting, implied overstimulation, intentional marking (Noah likes to leave mementos), size kink if you squint, Protected PnV, Unprotected PnV, a position might be anatomically incorrect.

A/N: This is RPF, and thus contains real people, but events have been changed. Other than the Bad Omens crew, names and looks have been charged, and any likeness to actual real people is coincidental. I do not write real people's trauma in my fanfiction. If this does not sit well with you, then please press the back button and leave in peace.

Dividers by @astrumaur and @saradika-graphics

THREAT ENTITY DATABASE ENTRY

THREAT ID: P K LTE-2995-CHESHIREMORPH-PURPLE “ANYTHING > HUMAN”

AUTHORIZED RESPONSE LEVEL: 1 (Minimal Threat) 5 (Immediate Threat) N/A (Liquidated, File Archived)

DESCRIPTION: Subject was a Caucasian female approximately twenty-six (26) years of age and a Type Purple (Subtype Phase IV) Threat Entity. Subject once worked for the Universal Paranatural Alliance as a Security Level 4 PSYCHE Researcher for the Department of Ontokinetics.

LIQUIDATION PROCEDURES: Due to Concealment concerns, liquidation authorization at Response Level 5 was given on 8/14/24. Subject evaded all strike task forces for three months.

On 10/31/24, subject broke into ATT-5292-Templum-Alexandria. Director of Site Security and Strike Task Forces, Colonel Sumerian, signed off on a one man mission to eliminate the target, sending in STF Theta-777 Team Commander Agent SAMHAIN.

Subject successfully liquidated on 10/31/24 by Agent SAMHAIN.

>CONTINUE?

I dream in Hell and wake up screaming, wishing that I was someone else…

He twists and bucks against the hand that holds him under the water that devours him. He knows it isn’t really water, that it’s something much worse, but right now, that’s all it feels like. It’s something worse than the hoarfrost that coats his being. He normally enjoys the cold when he can wrap up in hoodies and blankets, but when he’s as naked as the day he was born, the cold isn’t very enjoyable. And this cold…

There’s no warmth that could banish this cold away.

The Empty, he had heard them call it. It didn’t feel empty. The… Not-Water pressed against his skin. There was no beginning, no end. Just… Not-Water. Normally he would have a better idea as to what he could describe what he was drowning in, but the cold and lack of oxygen was depriving his brain of any function other than live.

His lungs finally give up the fight and he gasps for air, but instead gets a mouthful of the Not-Water. Now he can finally think of a better descriptor for it: the Burning. Because the Burning spreads through his body like lava, slow and painful and unbearably hot, and it’s so heavy that it weighs him down, so he sinks into forever.

The Burning spreads through his veins, boiling the blood in them until it evaporates. He opens his mouth to scream in agony, but the vacuum of the realm steals the sound from his lungs. Any air he had left escapes in the bubbles that leave his mouth, and more Burning enters his lungs this time, collapsing them with a familiarity that he knows all too well.

He thrashes in the darkness, not content to die like this. He seeks out the entity that had pushed and held him under the surface so he can seek retribution; so he can grab a hold of them and either pull himself out or pull them in to suffer with him. Except there’s no hand to bite. It’s just nothingness above him; nothingness below him, nothingness around him. He’s all alone.

Only a single thought crosses his mind; Was this how she felt?

And that crystallizing clear thought finally makes him panic.

Noah opens his mouth to scream again, his body wrenching upwards hard enough that he feels like he might’ve pulled a muscle in his stomach. This time the sound travels. He opens his eyes and frantically casts his gaze around.

He’s no longer in the Empty. He’s in his home in Cooper’s Rock. And like the past several months, he’s alone.

He takes in a long, shaky breath that is thankfully free of liquid, but the air still burns as it goes down his raw throat. He collapses back onto his bed, cursing and rubbing his face. He must’ve been screaming or something like that in his sleep again.

Again. He’s had this nightmare for several months now. And it’s starting to drive him insane.

He’s startled when his phone rings, splitting the silence with its shrill tone. He kicks at the sweat-soaked sheets that are tangled and twisted around his naked legs, gives up when he only manages to get them down to his ankles. He grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.

Though he knows what the phone call has to be about when he sees the caller ID, he still snaps. “What?!” Like the caller had woken him up from a deep sleep. As if that were possible for him these days.

“There’s been a breach at the Site.”

Noah sighs at the tone of the Director Site Security’s voice. His nightmare is still haunting him when he asks, “It’s her, isn’t it?” with no preamble.

“I don’t know what manner of—”

His grip on the phone tightens as well as his free hand in the sheets. “You wouldn’t be calling me at three in the morning if it wasn’t her,” Noah snaps. He then lets out the tension that has formed in the past minute. It comes out as a huff. “Me and the team will be there in fifteen.”

“Make it ten.” The line goes dead.

Time to go to work.

Noah Sebastian does not take threats quietly. The last time he did, the man he called father was killed in the explosion that took his house. Since then, Noah jumped feet first into every Threat Engagement he was assigned to. He would not – could not – lose another loved one.

But he had never prepared to face the fact that a loved one might become one of those Threat Engagements.

The night shift had her confined to one wing of the library on Level 3 of the Site. The only reason they hadn’t completely rounded her up was due to the shield of ultraviolet light that encompassed her and a small section of the shelves. Any who attempted to breach the light was met with a harsh heat that melted through their Titan-Kevlar gloves. She wouldn’t take the shield down until they met her one demand.

And of course, her one demand was Noah.

What felt like the entire Site’s crew of Task Forces was on that level, and they all part like the sea when he passes through. He can feel their eyes on him as he’s briefed. He rolls his eyes before lighting his hand and letting it hover close to the blue-violet light. “It’s me,” he calls out. “I’m here, like you asked.”

The light flickers in acknowledgement, and he presses his hand to the shield. It goes right through. He peers behind him one last time at his partner. Nicholas nods. Noah then turns back around, putting his helmet on, and walks through the shield.

Noah unholsters his service pistol and loads it with FUSCHIA-grade bullets. Normally, he liked to have his long-range rifle, but it would be useless coming face to face with her. Just in case, he had strapped his katana to his back.

This place had always been peaceful for him, despite being in the middle of Site-6. He tries to think of a plan on how to take this Threat Entity out, but all he could think about was the irony of ending it where it all began.

Noah finally finds her pacing back and forth in front of a shelf. He holds up his pistol and flicks the safety off. The sound causes her to halt, her back facing him.

“Turn around. Slowly,” he says. The figure holds up her hands, almost as in a surrender gesture, as she slowly turns around.

“Hello, Noah.”

“Hey, Mab,” he says, exhaling her name.

He catches a flash of light in her eyes, but before she could open her mouth, he fires a warning shot. It doesn’t even graze her shoulder, but she doesn’t react. She didn’t even attempt to stop it, either by catching it mid-air or stopping it dead in its tracks. She probably doesn’t even think he has it in him to kill her.

She was wrong.

“It’s been a while,” Mab says softly.

Noah gives her a quick glance over. She’s wearing the black tactical dress uniform he last saw her in; a uniform similar to what he was currently wearing. The knee-high boots, fitted pants, and tac vest over a long-sleeve turtleneck doesn’t hide that she seems to be thinner than last time. Her bright red hair pulled into a bun does nothing but accent the shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t look nearly as bad as how she looked back when they first met, but it was close.

If he could take a gamble on what she was going through, it was that she was as tired as he was. Not physically tired; Type Purples never got tired like that. She had to be mentally exhausted; tired of playing the game.

Maybe Noah could be the one to end it for her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his pistol never lowering.

“I wanted to see you,” she says.

Internally, he rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just come over to the house if that’s all you wanted. You know, say hello to your old teammates? I’m pretty sure the cats miss you, too.”

He’s certain that the reason she hasn’t tried to show her face near their place, or Cooper’s Rock for that matter, was because of the uncertainty whether they might turn her in or not. And she has to know that he would do it in a heartbeat for what she did.

She makes a sound that confirms his theory. “Fine. Since you have me so well figured out, I came here to steal—”

“So what? You just decided to rejoin your old friends after what they did to you? Or are you starting a new cult since you killed the old one?” he asks bitterly.

Mab looks at him with outrage clearly written across her face. “I’m not stealing a book on behalf of that horrendous Serpent,” she hisses.

“Yeah, right. You really think the UPA would keep the Book of the Black in here? In an unrestricted section?’ Noah asks. Mab looks at him, shocked. “Oh, I know that’s what you would be looking for. It probably has Admin-level clearance after everything that went down.”

“Samhain, what’s your status?”

Matt’s voice in his commset was a welcome relief. He was probably worried about the sound of the gunshot.

Noah subvocalized back, “Crystal clear. Code Wraith.”

Matt’s answer was two small light-blips in the corner of Noah’s visor, and the small camera symbol designating that his helmet camera was broadcasting video feed to the higher-ups vanished. They’d be scrambling to turn it back on, which means he had ten minutes alone with Mab with no UPA hovering over the two of them.

He lowers his gun fully. Mab’s facial expression doesn't change, even as he lifts an empty, gloved hand out to her. “Come on, Firefly. It’s time to come home.”

The nickname only temporarily takes her off guard. Her eyes flick down to his outstretched hand and then back up to his visor. “It stopped being my home a while ago. We both know that.”

“Just… please, Mab. We can work something out if you would just turn yourself—”

“Turn myself into the people who want me dead?” she asks incredulously. “You and I both know that if I walk out of here with you, I’ll end up dead. Or worse, in a containment cell at the bottom of Site-1 with that thing for the rest of my life.”

I’m just trying to make this easier on you, Noah thinks as she takes in a deep breath to calm herself. He can hear the shake of it as she exhales, which makes him realize how close they are. A small part of him wishes he could comfort her like he used to, but he squashes the feeling immediately.

“Besides, I’m here to do the opposite.”

Noah lowers his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Noah, I can’t hide in Cooper’s Rock anymore. There’s only so much of the bubble left for the Spooks to comb over. I… I can’t stay,” she says, choking on the last word. Unlike him, she could never hide her emotions. Especially with him around.

“You were hiding in Cooper’s Rock this whole time? Where?” he asks. Her lips thin, but he continues. “They’re not watching. It’s just us, okay?’ Matt will delete the local storage before anyone can see this.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. And there’s others I need to protect,” she says.

His composure finally snaps at that. “Oh, you’ll protect your new buddies, but you won’t stay and protect us? Your family?” he shouts. He should keep his voice low, but his anger gets the best of him.

“What did the UPA tell you? That I killed all those people? That I went back to the Cult of Orobos after everything they did to me?” she asks. “The UPA went after me, Noah. They saw me as too much of a threat after I got shoved into the Empty. They were the ones who killed all those people in an attempt to kill me!”

Noah steels himself in case she goes Phase IV. “The UPA didn’t do that. Don’t try to manipulate me.”

Her face falls. “Really? You’ll believe them, but not me?’

“What does the UPA need to put the blame on you? Why would they lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The organization that has a history of lying to cover-up anomalies might be lying to cover up this anomaly?” she points at herself.

“Seriously, Mab? What are you trying to accomplish here? You wanted to see me; here I am.” He spreads his arms wide.

Hurt flashes across her face as her eyes flick between him and the area. “I’m not really seeing you,” she states. “Can’t you just take off your helmet?”

He knows he shouldn’t give in to her demands. The helmet was the only thing standing between her and him, the only thing stopping her from killing him instantly. He’s seen her do it, go into peoples’ minds and flick their light switch off. She might still love him, but what was stopping her from saving her own skin?

But he lets her get close to him. From this short distance, he can really see how hard the past several months have treated her. Her lilac-colored eyes don’t seem as bright as they used to be. Her skin seems pallid and sunken in. She really seems to be a shadow of her former self.

Her hands reach up and unbuckle the chin strap, and she lifts up the helmet. When it’s finally off his head, she lets it drop to the ground. He hears it hit with a dull thud as well as a crack as the visor breaks. Her fingers are soft against his skin as she pulls the cloth mask down to expose his face fully.

Steady…

Mab’s eyes scan Noah’s face, as if she was slowly memorizing his features one last time. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shine with unshed tears, and he hates how he can’t say that his aren’t the same. Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he can’t help the flutter of his eyelids before they close. He admits to himself that he missed her touch.

Steady…

“I’m so sorry.”

At those words, his eyes snap open. He sees her eyes flash. He can barely get out a shout before he’s blinded by a sharp stab of pain to the front of his brain, and his vision goes dark as his head fills with static.

The static leaves me in a catatonic peace. I want to finally sleep now.

She’s so thin.

That was the first thing Noah thought of when he could see all of her, which of course wasn’t a whole lot. And she’s tiny as well, probably a foot shorter than him. He couldn’t really tell all of this when she was up so high on the bookshelf.

He and Nicholas had heard a noise several minutes ago, and after losing a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, Noah had to go check. He had almost missed her at first, until he had the sense to look up. And there she was.

“Having fun up there?” he asked.

He knew he startled her. What he didn’t expect was that he did it so well that she would slip. He rushed to catch her. He was right; she did weigh nothing in his arms.

Then she opened her eyes.

Noah had been trained to not show emotions on the field, and he was glad of that. Because she had purple eyes. He was currently holding a Type Purple Threat Entity in his arms and for some reason, he wasn’t dead.

Yet.

“Hi, princess,” he said.

His words seemed to snap her out of her stupor, and she started trying to escape. He tried to maintain a tight grip on her, but it was like trying to grab water; she seemed to be able to slip out of his grasp every time he thought he had a sound hold on her.

It wasn’t until he had wrestled her to the ground, pinning her down with his full body weight, did he get his first real look at her. Besides her frail stature, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, nor cleaned herself in as long. Her violet eyes seemed to swim with tears.

“Lemme go!” she hissed with a hint of fear lacing her words.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna let someone who’s broken into a secure facility g—”

That’s when the strangeness happened. The room seemed to darken around them, like the edges of his vision were going black. He thought he was about to pass out until the darkness almost… consumed her. Then it just… slipped out of his hands. She materialized a few feet away from him, the light coming back to him.

Luckily, he was still wearing his helmet, otherwise the girl would’ve seen his jaw drop. They both stared at each other in shock for a few seconds; he could’ve sworn that she was just as shocked as he was. But she recovered faster than he did, and she darted off with a swish of her long, red hair.

“Hey!” Noah yelped, getting to his feet and running after her. He wasn’t fast enough though, and as quickly as she appeared in his life, she disappeared.

But it certainly wasn’t the last time he saw her.

The next time was six months later, and it pretty much started and ended the same. He was just getting off duty and was handing security over to the next shift. Clocking in these long hours was rough, but if he wanted to be a part of his own task force, he had to do them.

Just as he was ready to go to the Site barracks and take a nap, he turned the corner around a bookshelf and saw her.

He learned his lesson from last time, though. He was unaware that he was behind her, so he snuck up on her. He threw one hand over her mouth, stifling her scream in his glove, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He hauled her up, kicking and flailing, until he stumbled to an unoccupied room.

In the dim lighting, her eyes almost seemed to glow. He panicked for a second, because he had forgotten that she was a reality-bender and that she could probably warp him out of existence. But when that same light in her eyes died out, he realized something else.

She’s wasting away.

He felt something close to remorse for her, which is a really bad thing. There’s a reason why Type Purple Threat Anomalies are nicknamed Type Violent by Special GRAVE Agents.

Never talk to the target. Never look them in the eye. Never do anything that will allow yourself to humanize them. When the time comes to make the kill, you must be direct, forceful, and without mercy. Don’t do anything that will make that harder.

Except this anomaly seems like the polar opposite. She barely looks like she could hold herself up without collapsing.

He offered her an olive branch; a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, courtesy of his roommate. And despite the fact that she’s trapped in a room with someone who could most likely kill her or hand her over to authorities that could, she takes it.

“So, do you have a name?” Noah asked.

“Mab,” she answered, mouth still full.

Just Mab. It wasn’t even her real name. She couldn’t remember her life before five years ago; only flashes of a fire. She was brought to the Grey Library to recuperate, and in exchange for saving her life, she became an indentured servant to the Cult of Orobos. Their leader’s orders were the reason she was stealing from the Site-6 library.

Noah had had his own run-ins with the Cult, none of them pleasant. He knows they’re responsible for the death of his guardian when he was only fifteen. The UPA had standing orders to shoot them on sight. So that meant he’d violated two shoot-on-sight orders.

After the small interrogation, he offered to keep her in Cooper’s Rock, to save her from essentially killing herself to keep her “masters” happy. But the Cult has their claws too deep in her. Neither of them leaves that storage closet satisfied.

“Guess no more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for you,” Noah said, turning away from Mab.

He hadn’t even taken two steps when he was hit in the back of the head with something so hard, it knocked his helmet off. He whipped around, fury spitting from between his teeth. Her eyes met his, wide from shock and fear, and she turned and darted off. He looked down at the projectile.

A fucking book.

“So that went well,” his partner, Nicholas, joked from behind him.

Not too long after that meeting, she came to him this time. Mab’s just as hungry, but this time she was covered in bruises. She collapsed in his arms, and he had no choice but to bring her back to his dorm. Luckily the only one there was Nicholas, who just rolled with the fact that Noah was hiding a member of a terrorist organization in their cramped quarters.

“It’s only for tonight,” he told Nicholas. “I’ll figure out something in the morning.”

He had no idea how he was going to figure something out by tomorrow morning.

After she woke up and took a shower, he handed her a pair of Nicholas’ shorts and a shirt Noah hardly wore anymore: a simple white tee with a picture of Jesus Christ and Satan playing basketball. It swallowed her thin frame, and if it were anyone else, he would laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. But she looked so small and fragile he let it slide.

He learned that she’s a dreamer; she loves fantasy and fairy tales. She got her name from her favorite book. When he told her that he’s half-Sidhe Tumuli, an elven offshoot of the faeries, her whole face lit up. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only things he inherited from his long-dead mother was his tall figure, thick hair, and dark eyes.

As far as Noah was concerned, he might as well be nothing more than human.

He didn’t have to wait until morning to figure out what to do with her, because the Cult raided the Site in the middle of the night to bring her back.

He followed her screams as they dragged her back to the Grey. It’s the only thing that gave him direction, because the Grey is a maze; a seemingly infinite space filled with every book ever written, to be written, and not thought to be written. If Mab wasn’t screaming her head off, he would have gotten lost instantly.

When he found her again, she was strapped to a table, cocooned in a blanket of her shadows while everyone around her was dead. He picked her up and cradled her close, despite the darkness around her chilling him to the bone.

Noah took her back to baseline reality, back to absolute hell. He was forced to hand her over to Site authorities, and she was taken to Level 2 to Research and Containment. And he’s sad because he knows he’ll never see her again.

Except he does.

After almost five years, he’s finally the commander of his own Strike Task Force. Theta-777, otherwise known as “Bad Omens.” He still served Site-6, but the team traveled around the world so much he’s hardly ever there. But no matter how many of the other Sites he saw, he found no trace of Mab.

It’s after the team loses another PSYCHE consultant to a Threat Anomaly in China that he saw her. Just her file, but it's enough. It’s after he stalled long enough that a PSYCHE consultant was assigned to the team without his approval, and he went through their file.

There, on his computer, is her picture, along with her title: RESEARCHER MAB GREY, PSYCHE CONSULTANT OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ONTOKINETICS. They’d hidden her in Site-2B for the past two years, working as a glorified secretary in the NExUS Records. But under him, she’ll be a reality-bender working for the Department of Tactical Theology.

If he was a believer, he’d say that it was fate that brought her back to him.

Later that month, he was on his way back to the United States from the temporary Area set up in the Prefecture, wrapping up the Research and Engagement of the anomaly that got her predecessor to retire early. He headed to the team’s office, where the AMITY Ambassador of the team, Joakim, is debriefing her. He’s nearly knocked over by the sight of her.

Mab no longer looked like she was on Death’s door. She filled out the PSYCHE uniform of a black coat that’s a mix between a lab coat and trench coat, but she’s foregone the pencil skirt in favor of black slacks. She cut her thick red hair to shoulder length, but right now she had it in a high bun.

Noah went over to envelope her in a hug, but stopped when he saw her facial expression. He was reminded of the adage “if looks could kill” because he’s certain that she could make it a reality.

He grew more and more confused as she treated the others formally, but she barely gave him the time of day. He even looked into having her reassigned at one point. A team can’t function properly if team members can’t work together. But the others insist that he let her warm up to him.

And the High Command denied his request, anyway.

Noah just needed to know why she hated him, then he could work with her. It was only after their first time alone together that he made any sort of headway.

Noah never understood why everyone in the UPA hated Type Purples. How they were portrayed in seminars seemed too… unreal. That they could rewrite reality, become gods if they wanted to, seemed too drastic. And after spending the past three months with Mab, who was afraid of the dark, he knew that people around here had nothing to be afraid of.

But when Mab had to take a trip out to Site-1 in London, and he had to accompany her – standard protocol – he learned that everyone’s hatred for Type Purples ran deeper than he thought possible.

Mab hadn’t been thrilled when she found out that he was her security detail. At Site-1, she could barely shake him off. “I don’t need a babysitter, Noah,” she said.

She actually did.

At the meeting she was summoned to London for, she was practically attacked on all sides. Noah was shocked at how Mab was treated, but she just waved off the insults and continued on. He could barely concentrate on anything that wasn’t her.

And then the universe threw another loop at him.

At the same meeting, before it had even started, several members of STF Alpha-1, the “FANTOM” Force, had filed in. They were the most prestigious task force in the UPA, meant to be bodyguards and enactors of the Administrator Council. If they were there, then an Admin was nearby.

But what threw Noah for a loop was when their team leader threw his arms around Mab. And she responded in kind. She practically lit up when she saw him. The two practically made Noah feel like a third wheel.

“Oh, Oli, this is Noah,” Mab finally introduced him.

Oliver was shocked to see him, like he had thought that Mab had made Noah up. “Look at that, you do exist.”

Noah tried pressing Mab about it after the meeting, but she had basically shut down. She only said that they met at Site-2, and nothing else. He was going to prod her more about it, but they were interrupted.

It wasn’t until they were back in the sleeping quarters they had been given for the weekend did he finally get to talk again. “You wanna talk about what happened out there?” Noah asked, closing the door behind him. He started unbuttoning his BLACK jacket; hers was already tossed over the back of a chair.

Mab opened her mouth, but then hesitated. For several moments, she seemed to contemplate what she was going to say next, until she closed her mouth and only said one word: “No.”

The simplicity of the denial nearly caused him to see red. Instead, he snorted in a way that he knew would annoy the ice queen. “Whatever you say, Princess.” The only inclination that he got under her skin was the way her jaw clenched.

Fine. Let her be that way. It irked him something fierce, even if he wouldn’t admit it – to her or to himself.

Except now he couldn’t sit still to save his life, and the room is way too small to contain the tension between them. So instead of trying to talk it out like how normal adults would, he escaped into the bathroom to take a shower.

He shed the rest of his BLACK uniform. The ink etched down the front of his upper half is stark against the backdrop of the white tile behind him when he looked in the mirror. He stared at his reflection as the water heated up, until the steam fogged up the mirror.

Once in the shower, he let the hot water hit his back to try to ease the tension that plagued him since that morning. He should be worried about Administrators being in the same Site; should be worried that he’ll make a fool out of himself in front of the wrong people. But all he was worried about was how Oliver could Make Mab smile, when he couldn’t even get her to look at him.

His mind continued to race, which didn’t help the knot in between his shoulder blades. He shut off the water before he passed out from heat stroke or whatever it was called. He toweled off and pulled on a clean pair of joggers before heading back out into the room.

Mab also must’ve changed while he was in the bathroom, but that wasn’t what made his feet come to a screeching halt. She was now wearing her hair down, while a large shirt swallowed her frame. He knew that shirt. He thought he lost it between Engagements – it wasn’t unlike him to forget something in New Mexico or Japan – but looking at it now he remembered the last time he saw it.

“Nice shirt,” Noah said before he could catch it.

Mab looked up from her book like she was surprised he was still in the room. He caught her look catch on his naked chest before she looked down at her shirt. “Uh… okay? It’s from my time at the Center, I think.”

Her response made his blood heat up. “’You think’?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I don’t remember exactly where I got it.”

Noah didn’t believe her. There was no way Mab “Remembers Every Line From ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’” Grey forgot where she got a shirt.

His feet moved him faster than his brain could stop him, and the next thing he knew was his fingers had plucked the book from hers.

“Hey! What’re you—”

“What are you reading?” he asked, thumbing through the pages.

“None of your business! You’ll make me lose my—” she seethed, reaching out for it.

“Oooh, is it a spicy book?” he asked as he stepped backwards out of her reach. He started to take a closer look at the words on the pages. “’Even in the grey moonlight, her eyes were the deep blue of a September sky. He’d known them to be blue before, but now they were like two brilliantly lit univer—’ OW!”

He had been so caught up in humiliating her, he hadn’t noticed she had jumped off her bed and was not practically climbing him.

He held the book high above his head. “Give. It. Back!” she growled, reaching for it.

“No. Not until you tell me how you and Agent Sykes know each other,” he blurted out.

His words made her halt. She slowly slid down until her feet hit the floor. “Why? Why are you so pressed about him?” she asked. “We hung out for like a week at Site-2. That’s it.”

That is NOT it, he thought. Her eyes narrowed, and he thought he actually said it out loud. She then rolled her eyes. “Fine. We had sex one time, for the love of—”

“I knew it.” He grinned widely. Her eyes widened at the ferality of his tone. An acidic feeling churned in his gut at her confession.

Of course she hooked up with the commander of the most prestigious strike task force in all of the UPA.

Mab shoved away from him finally, her book long forgotten. “So what? It was one time,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

“Only one time?” Noah asked, his voice coming out low. He dropped the book onto her bed, and the soft thump it made startled her, like it was a gunshot.

He watched her throat bob nervously. “Yes… one time,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn���t mean anything, why’d you do it?” he asked. He didn’t know why he was having this conversation, let alone having it this close to her. She must’ve thought so as well, because she tried to take a step back. She glanced behind her before nervously turning back to face him.

He was vaguely aware that the back of her knees were pressed against her bed. One push and she could’ve been spread out for him. His hand twitched up, almost betraying his intrusive thoughts, but he reeled himself back in.

“Noah—”

“No, we’re going to settle this now,” he said, gripping her arm. Something in his brain yelled at him that this wasn’t the way to do this, but he chose to ignore it. “Why do you hate me, after everything that happened?”

She blinked twice. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “Ever since you saw that I was your Commander, you’ve been anything but respectful to me. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. After everything we’ve been through?”

Her head suddenly tilted. “What we’ve been through? We haven’t gone through anything. You might think you saved me by pulling me out of the Grey, but ever since then I’ve had to fend for myself in an organization that hates what I am,” she snapped. “You saw how they treated me at that meeting. Imagine that, but for the last five years.”

“Mab—”

“Some days I wondered if I really had escaped that Cult, because the UPA really likes to keep me on a leash as well. And at least in the Grey, the hand holding it didn’t want me dead!”

He watched a range of emotions cross her face. And then she delivered the stab to the gut. “Sometimes I wish you never rescued me! I wish you and I never met in the first place!”

Noah took a step back, whether it was from the hurt in her confession or to give her room to breathe, he couldn’t say. She swayed a little, like a reed in a sudden gust of wind, and he thought she was about to have a mental breakdown. But she straightened suddenly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She straightened the hem of her – his – shirt. She then spun on her heel, brushing past him to grab her shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need some air,” she snapped, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Mab, it’s not safe—” he managed to say, but he was cut off by the door slamming closed.

He stood there for a moment, her words pulsing through him. He stewed in the regret and anger at himself for cornering her until she snapped. But he didn’t go after her. He stayed in the dorm, letting the guilt trickle in.

He was worried, still. He called her cell every five minutes. It wasn’t until after midnight that his phone rings, and it's her calling him. It was practically pressed to his ear before the first note ended. “Hello?”

“Noah—”

“Mab, where the fuck are you?” he asked in a rush. “I called you seven fucking times.”

He heard her sigh, and there was a few moments pause. He hated that she wasn’t in front of him, because he couldn’t hear her over the phone. Did he scare her with his questions? Is she thinking about what to say? Is she going to leave?

Is she going to leave him?

“Mab, where are you?” Noah asked again, softer this time.

There was more silence, and he had to check his phone to make sure the line was still connected. He almost missed her answer, it was so quiet. “I don’t know—”

“What do you mean—” His voice rose without him meaning to, but he reigned himself back in. “Describe your surroundings, Mab. Details.”

“Noah, it’s dark, it’s raining, and I’m sure I’ve never been in this part of the Site before,” she said.

“Come on, Mab. Use that beautiful brain of yours,” he said, pulling on a hoodie. He booted up the tracking program on his phone and inputed Mab’s code while she went into minute detail.

“Alright, I’m coming. Just for the love of fuck, don’t move.”

“Noah—”

Three quick beeps interrupted her, and her location suddenly disappeared from his screen. He swore. She probably didn’t have time to charge her phone after they got back from being in meetings all day long. She could use his EVE tracker mode, but there was no way Site-1 didn’t have a few Reality Anchors floating around somewhere. Without her phone online, she was basically invisible.

He pulled on his shoes and strapped on some easily concealable weapons, even though they’re on Site grounds. He knew there was at least one person that would love to see Mab dead, and he wouldn’t risk the chance of that guy finding her.

He grabbed another hoodie and an umbrella, and made his way outside.

He shouldn’t be surprised that London was cold at this time of the year. He definitely wasn’t surprised that it was raining. He was more surprised that the logical and overthinking Mab Grey would storm off in the middle of a rainstorm.

How bad did she want to be away from him that she was willing to walk into this deluge rather than be in the same room as him?

Noah had the entire walk to think about what he could say. But the whole time, he told himself that he was only out here looking for her because he’s supposed to be protecting her. Not because he was scared he could lose her.

Thirty minutes later, he finally spied the reality bender. Curled up on a bench, absolutely soaking wet, and looking miserable.

“Well, look at that. You can actually listen to instructions.”

Goddammit Noah, you fucking idiot.

She peered up at him with the ghost of annoyance, but he could tell she’d been crying. He started to feel bad until she opened her mouth. “Don’t get used to it,” she mumbled, barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“You gonna sit there all night or are you gonna come with me?” he asked.

She thankfully stood up, though not before letting him wait a few more moments. When she stepped into the dry space underneath the umbrella, he handed her the extra hoodie. She pulled it on, and it enveloped her. It fell below mid-thigh on her, leaving her legs bare.

As they walked back to their dorm, he noticed how she was trying hard to avoid touching him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and he could almost feel the vibrations of her shivering form. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around her. He expected some resistance, but she melted into his side.

For a few moments, he let himself wonder what they might look like if someone were to pass them. Two lovers taking a leisurely stroll through the paths of Site-1? Or something else?

Back in their room, he expected her to say something. Instead, she quietly sat down in the chair where her BLACK coat had been thrown onto. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like, Noah?” Mab snapped. Her fingers fumbled over her shoelaces, either from being cold and stiff, or from pure frustration. It might be a combination of the two, as it looked like she just made it worse when he saw the knots that she formed.

He looked up at her face. It had scrunched up, and he could see how her eyes shone. “Mab.” His voice cut through to her.

“What?” she snapped. She didn’t look up at him.

“Would you just calm down for a second?” Noah asked.

“I’m fine, okay?” she said.

“That was a rhetorical question, Firefly,” he said, crossing the room towards her in two strides. He kneeled down in front of her and gently brushed her fingers out of the way. She tried to pull her foot out of his grasp, but he gripped her ankle firmly, keeping it in place.

“Noah, I can take care of myself,” she protested.

“I know you can, but I didn’t ask you to, did I?” He slid that shoe off and started working on untying the other.

When he was done, he looked up at her to see that her gaze was rooted firmly to the ground. “Hey. Mab, look at me.” He reached up to put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face up. Her violet eyes casted downward, still avoiding him.

“Look at me, Firefly,” he said again. He brushed her cheekbone with his thumb, which passed through a wet patch. “Firefly…”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of the hoodie.

Noah gently tugged her forward out of the chair and cradled her. The sound she let out as she clutched a fist in his hoodie felt like an arrow had pierced him.     

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her wet hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. If I had known where they casted you off to, I would’ve been there to guide you. And I can do that now, Mab, but you gotta let me in.” He kissed the crown of her head. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

She didn’t say anything. He let her shower and change into dry clothes, but she continued to wear his hoodie. He thought that it was a great start, that she’d warm up to him eventually, but when he settled down to finally sleep, she wordlessly crawled under the covers of his bed.

“Night, Mab,” he said, lips curling into a small smile.

“Good night, Noah,” she replied softly, barely audible, from her side of the bed.

Normally, Mab Grey was all sharp angles: sharp mind, sharp tongue; a habit learned when you’re an anomaly that worked for an organization that liquidates anomalies like you. But behind the curtain, she was all soft. Soft skin under Noah’s hands, soft breath against his feverish skin. He was the only one who got to see this side of her, and he reveled in it.

“Noah—” She breathed into the space between their mouths, before Noah encased her lips with his own and swallowed down the rest of her words.

They were always like this. A professional relationship at the Site, their feelings towards each other only known to those of Bad Omens they could trust. When it was just the two of them, they frantically tore at each other’s clothes. There hadn’t been a visit to her place that didn’t end up with the two having sex on some surface.

Mab straddled Noah’s hips as he leaned back on his hands. He wanted to touch her; let his fingers roam over every inch of her until she was like melted wax in his grasp. It took every ounce of his meager self-control to keep his hands to himself, but it was worth it to watch Mab lose it. And it doesn’t take long. Her fingers dug into the meat above his hips, and she rocked down against his hardening cock.

His hands moved to glide up the sides of her waist. When his fingers traced the skin they left behind, he could feel the goosebumps that had formed in their wake. She was tense above him, shuddering in anticipation. He trailed his hands back down, down until he could grab two handfuls of her ass over her shorts. He then forced her core to drag down over the front of his sweatpants, and the movement sent him over the moon, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull.

She gasped his name at the same time, and he mentally stowed the sound for another time. He moved only one hand up to curl around her cheek and the back of her head, and he licked into her mouth in a dominant kiss that he knew she would reciprocate.

A while ago, he had read about Type Purples in order to learn more about Mab. In that information, he read about Purple’s tendencies to use their powers to manipulate others for sex and love. He had brought it up to Mab once, back when they first started working together, but after the visceral reaction he had gotten from her, he never brought it up again.

A lot of other people brought it up instead. “You’ll wake up one day and realize she’s using you, son.” Noah never got over that; how it was said to him while Mab was standing right next to him. It had taken every ounce of training to not beat their faces into a bloody pulp.

Noah’s will was his own. He protected Mab because he wanted to.

Noah and Mab continued to kiss, heavily and messily, and he felt her fingers tugging at the band of his sweatpants. He pulled her hands away and searched blindly for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, sending her hair in every direction. He took a moment to admire the beauty of her tits in his face, before ducking his head and encasing one nipple between his lips. He swirled his tongue around it, and then sucked hard enough that her back arched. After having a little nibble, he hurriedly released it with a wet pop to do the same process to the other.

He didn’t stop until both of her tits had been worshiped enough; red from his lips and teeth, and she was a mess on his lap. She’d tugged at the short hairs at the back of his neck for some time now, and he was sure it stuck up all over the place.

Her skin tasted unholy, but all he could think of was how he had to have his mouth on her pussy in the next few seconds or he’d combust. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up off his lap. The loss of friction made her whine softly. “I know sweetheart I know,” he mumbled into her clavicle, pulling his legs out from under her. “Lie back, lemme taste you. Please.”

He let her go and she fell backwards. He couldn’t help but admire how her hair fanned out like flames licking the sheets below her. Her hands joined his as he pulled down her shorts. Even before he glanced back down, he could tell that she was wet and ready for him. He tore at her underwear with more urgency than he had with her shorts. Maybe he was under a spell, but he was sure it wasn’t her reality shaping powers.

Purple-Type Reality Bender or not, she was his goddess, and he would kneel at her altar for as long as he lived.

Noah threw her thighs over his shoulders, hooking his arms around them as he dug his fingers into her skin. He dove straight in, not even bothering to tease her with soft kisses to her inner thighs and outer lips. He barely even took a second to admire how pretty and perfect her pussy was. He wrapped his lips around the bud of her clit and sucked it in between his teeth, causing her to loudly whine above his head. He felt her fingers wind into his hair, and he moaned against her folds when she tugged at his roots.

He pulled away slightly to run the flat of his tongue up her slit, and she wore as she shuddered and grinded her pussy against his face. When he moved back up to her flit, he slowly rubbed at her entrance with a single finger, prodding it in up to the knuckle. When he crooked it up, her body bent like a bow, tensed to snap at any moment.

She swore as he circled her clit with his tongue, flicking it up and down. The hand not in his hair found its way to his bicep, and he felt a sharp pain that traveled down his body and caused his dick to twitch. His hips involuntarily sought friction by rutting against her bed.

Mab wasn’t very vocal when it came to dirty talking during sex, or talking at all. Noah had to learn her tells, but luckily they fucked so often that it didn’t take long. She wasn’t a swearer, nor a babbler. Her tells were all physical. So when he felt her thighs tense beneath his hand, and when her breathing picked up, he doubled down until her thighs caged his head and she came. Hard.

He drank it up like a man dying in Death Valley. He was a feral with his tongue, not stopping until he was sure she was about to come again. He groaned at the thought that he could suffocate between her legs, and as cliché as it sounded, he knew he’d die happy.

The vibration from his moan sent her into another climax, but he still didn’t stop until he consumed everything she gave him. Pretty soon, she was squirming from the stimulation and pulling him up by his hair. He reluctantly parted from her and rose to greet her with a grin that she would normally wipe off his face if she wasn’t so drunk off her orgasms.

“Speechless?” he asked, and she finally glared at him. “It’s a cute look for you.”

“Shut up,” she muttered. Her bare tits rose as she tried to draw in air.

While she was distracted, Noah quickly shed his sweats and boxers. He searched for a condom, fumbling with tearing the foil packaging until he gave up and tore it open with his teeth. After the rubber was rolled on, he crawled on top of Mab. Her breathing had nearly returned to normal.

He held himself up with one hand and then leaned down to kiss her. She hummed a sound as he slipped his tongue past her lips. He thought to himself that every part of her tastes amazing.

His hips rocked against hers, his cock running through the slickness between her thighs. Her breath hitches. “Not gonna last too much longer, sweetheart,” he said with a breathy groan. When he rutted against her again, she met him at the same pace. He wasn't even inside her yet and he could nearly cum right there and then.

He pulled back a bit and wrapped his fingers around her jaw as he said, “Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

They popped open as he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. He could never get enough of her eyes. Despite the color almost being obliterated by her dilated pupils, he could still see the flecks of sky blue interspersed amongst the lavender irises, like a violet starscape. My shooting star, he had once called her on the top of the townhouse as they watched a meteor shower. She didn’t hear him at the time, but he was okay with that. It could be just his little secret.

He had no idea how accurate that name was.

Noah held her jaw in an iron grip as he slowly entered her. He reveled in the feeling of her chest rising as she gasped; the way her eyes widened more. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes as she fluttered around him, and instead his breath came out as a deep rumble from somewhere in his chest.

He didn't break eye contact until he was flush with her, their hips pressed together snugly. He rested his forehead against hers, peering down at their bodies. He nearly blocked hers out with how big he was compared to her, and the feeling of being so much larger than her ignited another fire in his belly. Instead of giving into that fire, he kissed her again, slowly this time, giving her time to adjust.

Her patience though doesn’t let him stay still for long. “Noah,” she whimpered, her fingers flexing into his ribs as if to urge him to move.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said. “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

After taking a deep breath, he withdrew until he was almost out. He then hitched her legs up to where her thighs rested over his hips. He rocked back in with a sharp thrust and hit a spot in her that had her gasp aloud. The sound made him lose his composure. 

“You’re all mine,” he blurted out. “Say it.”

There was a pause after his words, and the silence nearly deafened him.  He knew he hadn't even said the L-Word yet, and here he is, claiming her as if she belonged to him. He just wanted to hear her say it, just so he knew that she was real.

“I’m yours.” Mab whispered. “I’ve always been yours.”

Noah thrusted again, and her hands sought out for something. They pulled at the sheets, the pillows under her head, finally curling under his arms and gripping his shoulders.  With every one of his thrusts, her nails sunk deeper and deeper into his back, until she tore at his skin and practically drew blood.

“You’re Mine.” He enunciated every word with a thrust that had her tits bouncing. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” 

“I'm… yours,” She gasped. “Oh, god - N-Noah-!”

“You’re so good for me,” he growled into her ear. “So fucking good around me. Fucking made for this cock, fucking made for me.” He rambled on. 

He looked down at where they connected again. The sight of her smooth, blank skin against his heavily decorated torso nearly doing him in. He grinded his teeth together so hard he could feel a muscle spasm in his cheek.  He focused on that so he wouldn’t blow his load before he cums. Except when he looked back up at her, he saw that she was looking as well, her lips forming a perfect “o”.

This had to end now or he’d end up embarrassing himself. He quickly pressed his thumb down on her clit, and luckily, with little encouragement, she came. She came with a cry that caused her to nearly lift off the bed. 

The noise, the feeling of her wrapping around himself, it was all too much for him. With a shudder and a groan, he emptied into the condom. His arms nearly gave out, but he caught himself before he fell on top of her. Catching his breath, he slipped out of her despite her protest. Fighting his body's natural habit to stay, he turned over to dispose of the condom and to grab something to clean themselves with. He wanted to do more, but the hand clinging onto his arm made collapse back onto the bed. 

She almost materialized on top of him. This kiss is nothing but soft; something to reassure him that she was thankful for him. It almost felt like a reminder that he's only human… well, half-human.

When they parted again, she laid her head on his chest, her body tucking into his side as he held her tightly to his warm, wide torso.  She whispered something into his skin, slick with sweat still cooling off, but when he made an inquiring noise that asked what it was she said, she pretended that she hadn’t said anything. He didn’t let on that he had heard her clearly. 

“You're mine, too,” she had whispered.

Noah watched as Mab fought against the cultist; she clawed against the hand around her throat, kicking her legs wildly. The cultist held her out as far as his arm would let him, but her feet still made contact with his legs. Still, he stood unphased. 

“Put her in,” the Serpent said, his black eyes cold and unyielding.

Noah tried to scream, tried to crawl his way to her to save her from whatever watery grave they were going to send her to. But his body, as torn up as it was, refused to move.  The most he could do was moan and reach his hand out for her. Despite the short distance between them, he couldn't do anything. 

He was going to watch Mab die, just like he watched Kennedy die.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah’s eyes met Mab’s, and the fear in them almost made him throw up.

The cultist tried to let her go, tried to drop her into the pool, but her grip on him was too great. He then tried to shove her in. The minute her skin made contact with the water, she let out a shriek that sounded more like it belonged to a mortally wounded animal. She certainly fought like one; the water of the pool flew everywhere as she thrashed.

Some of that black water hit Noah’s ravaged skin. He hissed at the icy burn, certain that frost formed where it made contact. 

The cultist then held Mab’s head down under the water with his free hand. After a while, the ripples she formed lessened until they stopped completely. Noah watched, horrified, as the cultist pulled his hands out of the water. They looked like they were completely frostbitten.

The serpent turned towards the Bad Omens. “Now, we can—”

There was a flash of violet in the corner of Noah’s eyes. Before the Serpent could finish whatever he was going to say, the pool erupted like a geyser, shooting up its contents as a figure flew out of it. 

Noah could barely describe what he was seeing. It was like looking through a two-dimensional hole in three-dimensional space, but the hole was in the shape of a humanoid woman. Where eyes would be, there instead were two galaxies, swirling clouds of blue and purple, combining in a cosmic force. When he looked through her, he could see stars dotting the expanse, some spinning around each other or tumbling to some far corner of space he couldn’t see.

The being then moved her hands, and suddenly the room exploded. 

Jolly threw himself over Noah at the same time Folio ducked and rolled against an overturned table.  Noah felt a great weight settle over him, but it had nothing to do with Jolly. It was like gravity was pulling and pushing him at the same time, with equal amounts of force, cementing him to his spot. 

Fighting this gravity, Noah managed to turn his head towards the center of the chaos. He was just in time to see the guards and cultists get vaporized by the Entity’s power.  The Serpent screamed as he was sucked into a black hole; an actual hole, held by the starry figure. The hole then imploded, sending another explosion through the room. 

And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Silence fell over the hall, leaving just his fire team and whatever just decimated the cult of Orobos. 

That’s when those violet galaxies turned onto him. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Folio lift his gun. He watched the figure glance over, and he knew he had to get in the middle. He somehow found the strength to move out from under Jolly, onto his feet, and in front of Folio before he was blinded in his right eye. He felt that raw power brush past his face, or maybe he was just feeling the skin boil and fuse with the neoprene mask. 

“NOAH! NOAH! NOAH!” 

Everything around him slowly dissolved, floating upward until it was only him and the god-shaped hole in front of him.  Fog permeated the outside of his vision, like it was creating a barrier between them and the rest of the world. Or maybe it was the figure who created it.

Noah…

He heard his name being spoken into his mind rather than out loud. “I know you’re in there,” he said, turning to face it. “You wouldn’t hurt us willingly.”

Noah. 

“Come on, Mab,” he said, holding his arms out. He slowly approached her.  “Come back to us.” 

The edges of the figure rippled at his words, like it was trying to reassemble itself into a form it might recognize. Noah didn’t stop until he was practically pressed against it, feeling the cold nothing radiating out of it. He tentatively placed his hands on its waist, and almost immediately his fingers turned purple. 

“Please, Mab,” he pleaded. “Come back to me.” 

Noah? 

Noah blinked at the sound of his name. He looked up and behind him towards the doorway, where Nicholas stood. 

“Anything?” Noah asked. Nicholas only shook his head. 

Noah looked down at his phone in his hand. The text screen was still pulled up.

Picking up some Thai and we can watch whatever you want to tonight. That OK?

Ok.

You OK Firefly?

I'm fine.

I know it's been a rough couple of days recently.

I'm OK.

Ok then… Be there in 15.

He had sent that message five minutes before he led the strike team to raid Mab’s place.

It had been a rough few days ever since they got back from the Grey. Noah had to undergo several surgeries to get himself back to normal, including surgery to repair the half of his face that had been burnt. Jolly had called him “Two Face” at one point. 

After the surgery and the anesthesia wore off, he woke up to what he thought was Hell. Jolly, Oliver, and another person had come into his recovery room to tell him what had happened. “She killed an entire strike team trying to bring her in for questioning,” Jolly had said. They weren’t there for questioning; they were there for an extermination. “She’s too dangerous to be out in the open anymore.” That doesn’t justify sending a drone to kill someone and any witnesses. 

Whatever Administrator he was (why else would someone from Alpha-1 be in the room?) debriefed Noah on what Mab had essentially become: a Phase V Reality-Bender, a myth come true. And she killed fifteen people to save her skin. The UPA Killed them!  

As he had walked through Mab’s place, he couldn’t help but notice how it had been scrubbed clean. Nothing of her had been left behind, not even a fingerprint. It was like she never lived here in the first place. When he went into her room, he knew it would be just like the rest of the place, but he still had to check. He scoured every inch to try and find something of her of them.

Nothing.

He had collapsed onto the mattress, the sheets gone. He pulled his helmet off and pulled the mask down before hanging his head in defeat. Half of his hair hung in front of his face; the other half would take months to grow back. And that’s where Nicholas had found him.

Noah’s thumbs shook as he typed out the message: Mab, we need to talk. But his blood boiled at the return message: 

THE NUMBER YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED. 

He threw his phone against the wall. It fell to the ground in several pieces, broken beyond repair. Next was his helmet; it put a large dent in the wall’s plaster. When he was about to put his fist through the wall, Nicholas’ hand materialized out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist mid-swing. “You just got that hand fixed,” Nicholas said. 

The anger in Noah's veins evaporated, and he collapsed to the floor. He let out an animalistic scream to vent whatever steam he had left. Mab was gone. 

He loved her, but she was gone.  He was too late.

Noah… 

He looked up at the mess he had made. A single photo had fluttered out of the inside of his helmet, out of the tiny nook he had tucked it into. “That way you’re always on my mind,” he had told her.

“Wow. Cheesy,” she had replied. What was in that photo, Noah?

Noah turned his head towards the voice that spoke from next to him. Mab sat on the edge of the roof, kicking her legs back and forth. It almost reminded him of times from long ago when they first met. 

“I still can’t believe that Cooper’s Rock has the exact same stars as the rest of the world,” Mab said, dreamily looking up at the night sky.

“What, you expected something else?”  Noah asked.

“It’s a Nexus field! They shouldn’t be able to replicate every single star as exact as the outside world! Yet everything…” 

As Mab went on, Noah could only focus on how her face reacted to the words coming out of her mouth. How her nose would scrunch up occasionally. How her lips would pout when she frowned. 

He could absolutely kiss those lips right now.

“… at least, that’s what Dustin told me.” She sighed. She looked down at him. “Uh, Noah? You alright?” 

“Er, yeah,” Noah coughed, catching himself. “Do you make it a habit to remember everything a guy tells you?”  Mab elbowed him in the arm. “When he's talking about my field, yes.”

“I thought he was the religion guy.”

“No! That's T.J.! Honestly, do you ever pay attention to a word I say?”

He does, actually. He knows Tobias is the Religion Guy, because he’s worked with him numerous times over the past two years. But he liked to tease her if it meant she was talking to him.  Better than how they were several months ago. 

He changed the subject. “Our next engagement will take us to the other hemisphere,” he said. “I could show you a whole other sky of stars.” 

The promise took her by surprise.  Her eyes widened, and thanks to the soft glow of the streetlamps below, he caught the tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks. 

And that’s when he got the thing he wanted the most from her: a smile, pure and dazzling. “I’d like that,” she said. 

no no no it’s too much no no

He tore his gaze away from her smile to look up at the sky, and at the same time a meteorite streaked across the night. It left behind a glittering trail of purple. 

He felt warm all over, like he was blushing or something. But the heat rose, and rose, until it was unbearable. A sound from behind him made him turn his gaze away from the sky. 

Everything was on fire. 

No, no no no no no… Not this.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah heard a scream as some of the roof caved in, and he sobbed.  His singed hands burned as he tried to wipe away his tears. He couldn’t do anything to save the man who raised him since—

Wait. Why were his hands burned? 

He heard another scream, much like the first but it was different than he remembered. He looked away from the fire and saw the flash of red as the figure from his nightmares fled the scene. 

It was like a dream where he was in his body, but not controlling it. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! He wants to scream.

He rushed towards the figure, his mind racing at the thought of seeing its face for the first time. Even though he knew who it was, thanks to the UPA declassifying the files—

Except a different scene unfolded before him. 

The Administrator in the hospital had told him that it was Mab that had caused the fire, killing his guardian and almost taking Noah with him. It was so easy for Noah to throw that love for her away, almost like he had been brainwashed. 

As he chased the figure, he saw that she wasn’t running away, she was being carried; she was unconscious. 

“Hold on! I’ll get you out!” He shouted as the girl screamed. His hands grabbed the flaming post, the adrenaline numbing the pain and giving him the strength to lift it. He then reached her, picked her up and helped her out.

This person carrying them, he’d seen them before. He was there when Mab was tossed into the Empty. A cultist of Orobos? What were they doing here?

His hands grabbed the redhead and pulled. “Let her go!” he screamed. Despite his lack of strength, he managed to pull her free. He clutched onto her until the cultist tore her away from him. 

Mab hadn’t set the fire. 

The cultist had. 

Mab didn’t kill his guardian. 

Noah’s head exploded in pain.  He screamed as it felt like his brain was short-circuiting and melting from the confusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop him from seeing the jumble of images melding together: 

Mab wrapped in shadow.

Mab drenched in rain.

Mad covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Mab made of nothing but night and stars.   

Mab emerged from a forest, young and naked, wide-eyed and confused as to who or what she was. 

“Who are you?” his 15-year-old self asked. 

“Ah… s-star…” She muttered, pointing behind her. Where Noah had been handing to check out the meteor. Her violet eyes glowed as she looked back at him. 

“NOW DO YOU REMEMBER?” she asked, but her voice sounded so much older.

Suddenly, he was back in the Grey, standing before the starry Entity. He was frozen to the spot as its galaxy eyes stared him down.

Noah felt tears falling down his face, suddenly unmarred. “I remember…”

The figure – Mab – cupped his face. It’s touch was bitingly cold, like the water from the pool; like the Burning Not-Water from his nightmare. The figure’s form flickered again, changing shape and form for a brief moment, like a slideshow: 

A figure wrapped in shadows. 

A figure drenched in rain. 

A figure wrapped in stars. 

A figure with pale skin, black hair, and brown eyes—

Wait.

The image of the mystery woman gave him enough clarity to wrench free from the Entity’s grasp. And with a sorrowful scream, Noah raised his service weapon and pulled the trigger.

Within the silence of this illusion, is there anything more than human?

Suddenly, everything rushes back to Noah with startling, painful clarity. The shock causes him to double over as Mab stumbles away from him. He dry heaves for a few seconds before hurriedly recuperating.

He looks up to see her shocked face. She’s holding her side where the bullet hit her. It hadn’t penetrated the uniform, he has the UPA to thank for that. But it did manage to tear her concentration away from him. 

“You fucking shot me,” she says incredulously. 

“Yeah, well, don’t try your mind shit on me,” he groans, standing up. “Or at least pay attention to the finger that’s on the trigger, just in case something like this happens again.”

She’s still incredulous and he would find the look comical if the situation were different. “After all that I just showed you, you still think I would hurt you.”

He shrugs, pulling his mask back over his nose. He can’t tell how long time has passed since she initiated that walk down memory lane.  For all he knows, the UPA is back to watching his every move.

He reaches down for his helmet, but it vanishes under his fingertips. He sighs and turns back to Mab. “Really? You do that now?” 

“Noah, listen to me,” she pleads. “I don't have much more time. I was serious when I said that I didn't kill all those operatives. I didn't kill anyone.” 

"Who's to say that you fabricated all those memories?” he says, drawing his katana. Her eyes widen as he leaps at her, but she's still able to throw up a shield so the blade bounces off harmlessly. He attacks again, and once more she blocks with the violet light at the last second. 

“Noah, please!" she pleads as he swings again and again. Her blocks are sloppy compared to her previous combat. It's almost like she's distracted, or her body can't keep up with what her mind wants. 

Eventually she comes around and blasts Noah backwards. He hits a shelf hard enough to lose grip on his katana, and he and the sword both hit the floor hard. 

As he pushes himself up, she walks up to him. He half expects a boot to connect with his face, but instead she stops a foot away from him. She crouches down into a squat, and she’s now level with him as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Her eyes are level with his, the black piercing his—

Wait. No, her eyes are all wrong. It’s like they’re bleeding purple down her face, draining the irises of their color. 

Maybe unknowing of her condition, Mab brushes the strands of his dark brown locks away that have fallen into his face off his sweaty brow. “This can only end one way, Noah; only one way to free us from this nightmare.” 

“Then do it already,” he says, lifting up his chin in stubborn defiance. 

She sighs. “I told you, I’m not a murderer, Noah.”

“Then who are you?”

His question catches her off-guard. “What?” she asks.

“You can't fool me anymore,” he says.

With a force that makes him dizzy with pain afterwards, he headbutts the Type Purple humanoid. With a curse, she falls backwards, giving him enough time to roll over and grab his gun. The two stand up quickly at the same time, but he aims the gun at her, much like how this all started. 

“Noah…”

“Do you trust me?” Noah asks.

She pauses, then smiles as she catches up to what he knows. “I always do.”

“Goodbye, Mab.”

And the gunshot echoes through Level 3. 

Noah drops the smoking gun, and it hits the floor at the same time the body does. He follows quickly after. 

It doesn't take long for the other task forces to flood the space now that Mab’s shield wasn’t preventing them from doing so. Noah watches them numbly as they do their job: Scan the area, test for EVE radiation, check for abnormal Hume readings. They only scan him long enough to make sure he’s physically alright, and he’s not under a cognition hazard, and they move on to the dead body. This process is familiar to him, as he’s done it himself.  It’s just part of what a GRAVE operative does.  

It's not until Matt and Nick hook their arms under his and help him onto his feet does he move. He turns away from the scene, not even looking back once.

“Noah—"

“It’s not Mab; not anymore,” Noah says curtly, and keeps walking.

There’s still more to do, but for him? 

It’s all over.

I never needed you to be anything more than human.

“And you're sure you killed her?" 

Noah swallows thickly, resting his head in the palm of his hand. He was dead tired. “Yes,” he replied.

“You're sure of—"

"I don't miss my shots. Check on service record,” Noah snaps, catching himself at the last second. "Sir." 

Noah hates debriefing interviews. It's a bunch of repetitive bullshit, just the interviewers asking the same five questions over and over again in hopes that he'll spill something he wasn't meant to. He can guess why they're coming down especially hard on him. Besides the relationship he had with Mab, there was the broadcasting hiccup along with no recoverable footage, they only had his word to go on.   

And of all people they could've pulled to interview him, they pulled the doctor that hated him the most. Dr. Altef hated Type Purples with an almost racist passion.  He hated Mab so much; he was the reason why Mab was transferred to Site-6. Noah was sure he would be here for hours still. 

“I’m not doubting your aim, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef says, thumbing through a folder thick with paper. Noah bristles at the title, the lack of one obviously a slant against him. “I'm doubting your… motives.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Noah asks, not caring that the man in front of him has more authority and more clearance than him and the rest of Bad Omens put together. 

“It’s no secret that you and LTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Violet were… involved with each other,” the director says, distaste dripping from his words, “despite the UPA rulings against team relationships.”

Noah feels a mix of anger and sorrows in his gut. Anger at the use of Mab’s entry name instead of her actual human name, and sorrow for the change of the first letter. L meant Liquidated, Liquidated meant exterminated. 

It meant she was dead. 

Noah had hoped that the person he killed would’ve turned back to its original form. But even hours later, it remained the same. He had shot Man. He had killed Mab. 

Talk about some kind of Greek tragedy… 

He reigns in his emotions before they could get the best of him. “So what, that bullet hole in the middle of her forehead just materialized out of nowhere?” he sneers. A second later, the thought of how Mab probably could materialize a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, but he keeps that thought to himself.

“We’re trying to get all the facts here, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef sighs in annoyance. 

“We haven’t been seeing each other since the L’Engle event,” Noah finally admits. “Last night was the first time I saw her since.”

“So you say,” Dr. Altef says. He tries to say more, and honestly risks getting his face bashed in, but a knock at the door of the interrogation room tears both of their attentions away. The director goes over to the door and talks briefly with whoever was on the other side. Meanwhile, Noah finishes his coffee, which has gone cold since the start of the interrogation.

Altef returns, looking slightly more smug.  Noah doesn’t like where this might be going. “What?” he asks.

“You’re coming with me,” Altef says. “Why? Where are we going?” Noah asks.

“To the medical ward on Level 2,” Altef says. Noah feels his body go cold as ice. "We're going to watch the autopsy.” 

Unfortunately for Noah, the UPA works fast.   

Not even twelve hours after a bullet was put in it, the corpse was ready for dissection. Noah wasn’t sure why he was being dragged to see this, nor why they were doing an autopsy in the first place. It was clear to see how she obviously died.

Died.

Before the interrogation, when he had been cleared to go home and sleep, he immediately had fallen face-first into his pillows, probably asleep before his face had even hit them. Not once was he interrupted by dreams. When he woke up later that morning, the realization of having a nightmare-free night hit him like a truck, and he broke down at the implication.

She was really gone.

This had to be some kind of punishment. Making him watch as they open and disassemble the body? That alone had to be its own kind of special hell.

Noah looks down from the raised platform he stands on, behind bulletproof glass. Two medical examiners had wheeled the covered body in and moved it to an examination table. They withdrew the white sheet, finally uncovering her.

Despite saying that they hadn’t done anything to her yet, they had already shaved her head of the copper hair that had made her so distinct from everyone else. Noah clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails in his palms, despite wearing gloves.

“Type Purple procedure,” Altef says from beside him. “Can’t be too careful.” Like the explanation was supposed to calm the anger slowly boiling inside of Noah.

“Let's get this over with,” the director says. Noah shoots him a glare from the corner of his eyes quickly, then schools his face back into one of indifference.

Noah’s fists clench even more as the examiners direct machinery into position, and the laser makes the first incision. They cut a precise line straight down the body, from the suprasternal notch down to her navel. The laser then split, going opposite ways and then back together to form flaps. The other arms of the machine pull back the skin and muscle. The whole process takes less than ten seconds.

Noah can tell something was wrong just by the examiner's stances. They had paused after looking inside, and they seemed confused as they poke around in the chest cavity for some time, talking to each other.

Dr. Altef gets impatient. “What’s the hold up?” he snaps.

The examiners ignore him, and take out some of the organs. Noah might’ve been an average student growing up, but even he knew that the organs looked… off. Discolored.

Finally, the examiners turn up to the two men peering down at them from the observation room. “We have a problem,” one says, their voice being piped through an intercom.

“What? What is it?” the director snaps. Noah fails to suppress his eye roll.

“This body has… clear signs of atrophy and necrosis. Severely. This body has been dead for a while.”

“I’d put it as being dead for at least a week,” the other examiner says.

Noah can���t help the hoot of laughter he lets out at the director’s incredulous face. “Are you saying that—” Dr. Altef sputters.

“We can run DNA tests, but I’m positive that this isn’t the body of our LTE-2995.”

As the director swears up a storm, Noah allows the smallest smirk he could make without getting noticed.

It wasn’t Mab’s body.

The changes had been superficial. Deep down, the body’s DNA betrayed the fact that it was the body of some random woman that just so happened to match the description of a corpse that had gone missing recently. Mab’s reality-bending powers never ceased to amaze Noah.

And so did her stealth abilities. The second he stepped back into his room after that disaster of a day, he could sense something was off. Usually he kept his room tidy, therefore his eyes immediately zoned in on what was off. A drawer, slightly opened, when he knew it had been shut before he left. An old shirt was missing, and in its place was a single violet tucked into a note.

The next three months were almost unbearable, as it took that long for the UPA to stop scrutinizing Noah’s every movement. After the investigation and he was cleared of any “helping KTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Purple in her break-in”, he took some long overdue time off. Thanks to some help from Matt, he basically disappeared from sight.

Now, under the disguise of visiting his home country, he thanks the truck driver for bringing him out to this small coastal village in western Ireland. He shells out twice the amount he had promised in thanks. He shoulders his duffel bag and turns the collar of his black trench coat up against the January wind, and walks through the town.

The locals tell him of a small cottage that had mysteriously appeared overnight, and the nice “witch” that soon occupied it. They point him in the direction, and indeed he eventually finds himself trekking down the path towards it. It has a clear line of vision all around it, so there was no way someone could sneak up on her.

The cottage also has a clear view of the ocean, but right now the weather has turned everything gray. Noah squints his eyes, as if he could see through the mists to his birthplace of Hy-Brasil, despite there still being a couple of years before the mists would part for that one day.

The cottage itself looks like something out of a fairy tale. Cobbled stone walls, but with a shingle roof. The windows are lined with intricate stained glass, and violets are blooming in the garden despite the weather. It looks exactly like something she would like.

Noah knocks on the door three times. The inside must be as small as it looks, because he can hear her scrambling towards the front. “Hold on! I’m coming, I’m com—” Several locks turn and the door opens, and the sole occupant stops mid-sentence when she sees him standing there.

“Hi Mab,” Noah says.

Mab Grey remains silent, almost like she’s having a hard time believing he was standing in front of her. She looks exactly like the last time he saw her; the real her. She’s wearing dark leggings and a thick gray sweater, letting her hair and eyes account for the lack of color.

“You’re here,” she whispers as she exhales.

Noah steps inside, ducking through the doorway. “Well, you extended the invitation,” he says, dropping his bag near the door.

Her lips curl into a coy smile. “Well, I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out,” she teases.

“Oh please, I knew exactly what you meant,” he shoots back, slowly crowding her backwards until her back hits the wall.

“Damn, I was hoping I was being clever,” she airily laughs, tilting her head back to stare directly into his eyes. Hers sparkle with happiness and anticipation.

“Really?’ he asks, leaning down. “I can wait for you at the bottom.” He kisses the space between her brows. “I can stay away if you want me to.” He kisses the tip of her nose. “I can wait for years if I have to.” He lightly pecks her lips. “Heaven knows I will never get over you,” he finishes quietly, lips hovering over hers.

“Noah…” she sighs.

“So no hard feelings?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “You shot me.”

“Mmmmm… If I’m thinking correctly, that wasn’t you, just a puppet,” he says. “But let me make it up to you?”

“I like the sound of that.” She smiles as he cups her face and finally kisses her.

After almost a year of being apart, they meet in a kiss that consumes the both of them. Mab surges up to meet him, standing on her tiptoes to try and make the distance less. Noah ducks down, his hands blindly seeking her thighs, long fingers wrapping around the back of them. He picks her up, wrapping her legs around his hips, and she wraps her arms around his neck to get closer to him, as if they weren’t already fused together into one being.

He pulls her away from the wall, and blindly carries her to the tiny bedroom. He tries to ease her down onto the bed, but she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him down. It doesn’t take long for them to shed their shirts, and when her offending piece of clothing is discarded, he wraps his lips around the peak of one breast, sucking until her nipple hardens and she squirms against him, letting out sweet whimpers. His fingers tease the other one, matching the motion of his tongue.

Her fingers thread through the hair on the back of his head and she gives a small tug; not enough to make his body react, but just enough to get his attention. He pulls away from her skin, looking up at her through his lashes. “I missed you,” he says. “I missed this.”

“Then show me how much you’ve missed me,” she says.

He grins devilishly at the challenge.

Noah moves away from Mab, kneeling at her feet. He takes one in his hand and kisses her ankle, trailing his lips along the skin of her leg until he gets close to her center. He bypasses it, kissing her hipbone instead. She lets out a huff, and he chuckles darkly.

“Someone’s needy,” he says. He kisses the soft swell of her tummy.

“Well, someone is being a tease,” she shoots back.

“Well, fine. I just wanted to play with my food for a bit,” he says with a mocking huff to match hers. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, running the backs of them along the sensitive skin. “But if you insist…” He yanks her leggings down, tugging her panties along with them.

Fuck. He really had missed her.

He slowly leans down, letting his tongue hang out as he watches her watch him. He licks the bundle of nerves until he sucks her clit between his lips. She lets out a sharp, loud noise, encouraging Noah to speed up his movements while keeping up his rhythm.

Her laboring breath picks up the pace, and he moves one of his hands to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing tiny circles around the bundle of nerves as he explores her entrance with his tongue. Her hips jerk at the new contact, and not before long she tenses and cums with a shudder and his name on her tongue.

He nips at the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs, willing red marks to appear so she can have bruises to remember him by. He only has a week until he has to go back to “hunting” her, and he plans on making the most of it.

“Noah…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks before licking her wet slit once to gather her release on his tongue.

She squeaks in surprise, hips jerking at the overstimulation. “Oh my god, get up here already.” She pulls on his hair, but he’s already crawling up to cover her with his body.

This kiss is practically bruising. Mab holds him down as their tongues fight for dominance. He tries to wrestle his pants down, but both of their patience is thin so he only manages to get them and his underwear down past the crease of his ass before he gives up. 

“Mab, hold on, let me—” 

“I wanna feel you. Now.” Her hand dips between them to take his length in hand, and he sighs against her lips.  His breath rate increases as her strokes increase. 

“Damn, you really did miss me,” she says, grinning.

“Play later,” he growls, taking her wrist in his hand. She doesn’t let go, so they both guide his cock to her entrance. They moan simultaneously as he slowly slides in. 

After a few thrusts, he feels the problem. His zipper is rubbing against him uncomfortably, making him wince. Mab must feel it too, because after a bit she pulls away and asks to stop.  She laughs as he frustratingly kicks his remaining clothes down his legs and throws them as if they personally offended him.

“God, I love you,” she says. 

Noah pauses, and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Noah crashes his lips back onto Mab’s, putting their mishap behind them.  It takes a few moments to get back into the mood, a few gropes and a few moans, but soon he’s sliding back in, causing her body to bend. And he has every intention to make her break. 

He braces his knees between her legs and pulls her up along with him.  “Noah, what—” she manages to get out before he quickly thrusts up, causing her words to choke off into a moan.  One of her legs wraps around him while her other keeps her up for support, but she has to wrap her arms around his neck as he pounds her into oblivion. 

“I love you,” he whispers lowly into the space of her neck below her ear.

He feels her pussy tighten at the words and it sends them both toppling over the edge. Mab clutches onto him as she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Her shoulders shake as he sinks down onto the bed.

They hold each other as if the other would dissipate it they let go. 

“Please… stay…” Mab sobs. 

“As always,” Noah replies.  

Featured Creatures: 

@shilohrosechicken, @comforting-madness, @ladyveronikawrites, @roley-poley-foley, @sitkowski

@deathblacksmoke, @darksigns-exe, @dominuslunae, @into-the-grey, @nojoyontheburn

@baddestomens, @lilhobgobbler, @hedonists

“Global Occult Coalition Casefiles” by DrClef, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/goc-hub-page. Licensed under CC-BY-SA

“GOC Codewords” by unknown author, from the SCP Sandbox Wiki. Source: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/collab:goc-codewords#. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. 

Content relating to the SCP Foundation is licensed under creative commons sharealike 3.0 and all concepts originated from https://scpwiki.com/ and its authors. “ANYTHING > HUMAN”, being derived from this content, is hereby also released under Creative commons Sharealike 3.0

An excerpt from “The Prox Transmissions” is included in this article. “The Prox Transmissions” (2016) was written and is owned by Dustin Bates and The Starset Society.

[dyadicjustice]

can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across. 

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”  

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?” 

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.” 

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.” 

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love. 

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds. 

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”

[melodymay-k1tty]

Hello...

Well, could you do a scenario where the S/O should take care of some drunk OC and they declare their love to her or something...? Well, actually that would be cool with a Fem!Reader, but do as you wish, it's your choice!🫠💕 Btw I would also admire if in Part 1 you could include Sabo and Corazon in particular, I would really like to see them in this situation lmao😵‍💫

SABO ★ CORAZON ★ SANJI ★ LAW: DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR S/O AFTER GETTING DRUNK.

A/N: Well, I'm new to this scenario thing, and I'm not that big a fan of requests, cuz I can't write about something if I don't feel it in my heart... But I think I can manage about it. So here it is. Thank you so much for all your love, care and support! 🤧🩷

Age Rating: +12

Content Warning: consumption of alcoholic drinks. kiss description. maybe a little angst.

Genres: fluffy. headcanons (scenario).

Characters: sabo x fem!reader. corazon x fem!reader. sanji x fem!reader. law x fem!reader.

Word Count: 2.2k

SABO (Being the user of Mera Mera no Mi🔥)

• You are a high-ranking officer in the Revolutionary Army, Sabo's right-hand. After a successful mission of the two of you in Dressrosa, he decided to invite you to drink something in a bar, which was located on an island nearby. You accepted.

• You're not a big fan of alcohol, but Sabo didn't know that. The blonde guy, on the other hand, was a big fan of alcoholic drinks, and used to consume it whenever he was successful in his missions (which is quite often).

• He sat at the counter bar after you two comes there, and you did the same. Sabo called for a waiter who came immediately. He placed his order, which was beer, and asked you to order yours.

“I'll have a non-alcoholic strawberry cocktail with condensed milk, please.” You talk while the waiter writes it down on his pad of paper.

“Alright, ma'am and sir. I will bring your order soon.” He speaks after withdrawing from there.

Sabo looked at you in a somewhat strange way. “You don’t drink alcohol?”

“No, I like sweet drinks more.” You speak while he stares at you seriously, but he soon opens a smile. “Cutie.” He smiles like a know-it-all.

You looked at him strangely, and he immediately retaliated. “I meant, you look like a cute little girl acting like that.” He makes fun of your face a little.

“Sabo...” You look at him with hate and you were ready to attack him. But the waiter interrupts them.

“Your order is almost ready. In the meantime, would you like to fill out this survey?” He asks while handing over a sheet with some questions.

“What is it about?” You ask. “Can't you read, little girl?” Sabo laughs and makes fun of your face some more. “It's a survey about couples, and here it also says that couples who respond will get a discount of up to 50% on the amount spent at the bar.” He says with his knowing smile.

“But we're not a cou...” Before you can finish your sentence, Sabo puts his hand over your mouth, preventing you from speaking. “Will we really get that discount?” He asks the waiter, with his usual smile.

“Of course, sir. Just complete the survey with your girlfriend, and you'll get 50% off. It's a data collection survey for an article that will be released on Valentine's Day, in the island's local newspaper.”

“I understand. I'll do it as soon as possible then.” Sabo speaks enthusiastically to the waiter who leaves. The blondie starts marking off some answers on the survey, like we're really dating.

You had already understood that Sabo was a cheapskate and didn't like to spend money on others. So you decided to just leave it down.

He finished marking the answers, and shortly after that, your drinks arrived.

You two started drinking, but Sabo got too carried away. He ordered more and more glasses of beer, one after another. Maybe he was thinking that 50% off could become 100%...

And when you least realized it, he was out of his mind. “Y/N, let's go home soon” he grumble drunkenly, collapsing on top of you.

His sleepy voice showed just how much alcohol had already knocked him out. You saw no option but to take him for home.

“Okay, just let me pay the bill first” Apparently, the account is left for you. But thinking on the bright side, at least a discount you would have.

Sabo couldn't even pay attention to what you said. You then placed him gently propped up in the chair, and got up to go pay the bill.

After that, you put him on your shoulders and left the bar with him.

“How heavy he is...” You complain while carrying he with difficulties.

He had a stupid smile on his face, he looked like a retard. You looked at him strangely.

“What it is?” You asked arching your eyebrow. Sabo acted strange after your question, he turned red and sparks started to come out of his logia body.

He smirks again, his cheeks getting redder.

“Y/N, I love you…” His stupid smile gave it all away. You were in shock and ended up letting go of him, letting him fall to the ground.

“AAUGH!” he lets out a groan of pain as he strokes his own head. “Hmph. Y/N, why are you so mean to me?” he says this as he gets up, and his drunken body begins to stagger.

“I'm sorry, Sabo...” You say as you help him up. “Y-you… Are you serious?” you widen your eyes.

“Y/N, I want to sleep with you today and always...” he closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep. You leaned against a bench, pulling Sabo with you, and make a phone call for Dragon, who went to get you and took you to your house.

You two went to your rooms, and you went to sleep thoughtfully.

The next day you woke up and went to the kitchen for breakfast, bumping into Sabo, who blushed violently when he saw you. But now, in an embarrassed way.

“H-hello, I-I'm sorry about what happened yesterday...” He speaks awkwardly. “It's okay, Sabo-kun...” You smile sweetly.

You two was in a compelling silent for a while. Until he decides to say something. “I think we need to talk… I need to clear something up.”

“Sure, what is it?” You looked fine on the outside, but on the inside, your heart was beating hard with fear of what he might say to you.

“Dragon told me everything. I know what I say to you in yesterday night, and about that... I need to tell you that it's really true.” Now he was staring at you. And again, sparks were shooting out of his body, his face was red and he was probably really fear of what you might say too.

“Sabo-kun...” You murmur.

“Okay, I understand that you might not feel the same about me. But I would like you to know that, although.” He says as him leave the kitchen, but you pull him by the arm.

“S-Sabo...” You look deep into his eyes, and he looks into yours. Your bright eyes never stopped looking at each other. “I love you too.” You said as you approached him. The blondie approached you too, shifting his gaze between your eyes and your lips.

He placed his big hand on your face, and kissed you passionately but calmly. Your lips glued to each other, were making your bodies approach too, and in a matter of moments, you and Sabo were glued and your kiss was getting even more intense and passionate.

“I am the happiest man in the world to know that, my little girl.” He speaks after parting with you, stroking your hair and smiling cutely at you. “But I love you more...”

Finally you could understand, that he didn't do the couple survey to get a discount, but because he loves you and, in fact, wanted you like his girlfriend.

CORAZON ♠️

• You were part of the Donquixote Pirates, led by the infamous Doflamingo. While you were still living in Spider Miles, the whole family was gathered at the table and having dinner, when you felt someone poke you under the table.

• You looked to the side, seeing Corazon's serene face disguise as he lit a cigarette. He had left a note on top of your thighs.

• You pocketed the note and politely left the table, getting Doflamingo's permission. You went to your room and read the note. On it was written “You said you wanted to get to know me better. We're going out to eat today, I know of a wonderful restaurant nearby. I hope you isn't full yet.” You opened a silly smile when you read the note, and ran to change your clothes, and soon to meet him discreetly outside. You climbed out your bedroom window and left, going to meet Corazon.

He was leaning against the wall outside the house. As always in silence, lighting his cigarette. When he realized you were there, he stared fixedly at you, and let his cigarette go out carelessly.

“Wh-what is?” You asked embarrassed as you crossed your legs because of your momentary shyness.

“Nothing” He answered coldly and walked away, and you followed him. You felt honored that you were the only person who knew Corazon could speak. It was like you were special.

You two finally arrived at the restaurant, beautifully decorated with artifacts of dragons and other ancient legends creatures. The food smelled divine.

“Hmm” You mutter at that delicious smell. “Maybe you really were right when you said this restaurant is wonderful, Corazon” You say smiling.

“You can be sure I don't make mistakes when it comes to food” He replied confidently and sat down at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with your company.

The waiter came to serve us with a menu in hand. “Good night, sir and ma'am. What will you want for today? Our menu is full of original and exclusive recipes only from here, but we also have traditional ones” He says as he places the menu on the table.

“I'll have the dragon meat in white sauce, with vegetables and all the extras. For a drink, I would like a red wine and a white wine” Corazon spoke without even thinking twice, making you speechless.

“Right, sir” The waiter takes your order. “And Ma'am, what will you want?” he asks you, while Corazon looks at you waiting for your answer.

“T-the same as him. But instead of wine, I would like a melon juice” You say with a little embarrassment, for not ordering something fancier.

“Alright, your order will arrive within 30 minutes” The waiter speaks after bowing and leaving.

You felt Corazon's heavy gaze on you. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks suspicious.

You were intimidated by his look, but you answered him. “I just wanted a friend. Sometimes I feel really lonely around here... And looking at Doffy's face really isn't one of the best hobbies” He looked convinced by your answer. "I understand. In that case, I'm sorry to tell you, but I can't be a friend.”

“N-no? Why?” You ask incredulously.

He gives a blank look and then lights his cigarette. “It's complicated to explain to you, but it's better that way. We can’t have any kind of bond.”

You give him a sad and downcast look. “I see, it's okay.”

And so, you talk about friendship ends there, until you two talk about the crew matters, and the food finally arrives.

“Hmm, wow! It smells delicious. I've never tasted dragon meat before. I thought they were extinct...” You say looking appetizingly at the food.

“Dragons are just hard to find, but they never went extinct” Corazon is as serious as ever as he begins to cut his meat and eat it. You could see a bright in his eyes as he tasted the meat, and the same happens to you.

After a few minutes, you realized that Corazon was acting strange. He'd started to get tipsy after drinking so many glasses of wine, and he'd even had a little whiskey too.

He got up abruptly, you ran to hold him when you saw that he had almost fallen to the ground. “C-corazon! Are you okay?" You ask worriedly as you hold in his shoulders.

His eyes were small and bloodshot, probably from the drunken effect of alcohol. “Y/N... I...” He tries to say something with difficulty.

“Please don't do that again!” You scold him. “You almost fell, you know how worried I was?” You ask angrily and as you look at him, you see that he is staring at you with twinkling eyes. He approached you slowly, when he finally pressed his lips to yours.

“Y/N, I… love you” He whispers after breaking away from the kiss. “But we can't be together, only for your own good” Tears start to fall from his eyes.

“W-what? What are you talking about, Cora-san?” you ask incredulously. “D-do you love me?” Your eyes widen. “And why are you saying that? We can not be together? What...?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds as the tears fall down his face. Until Corazon finally says something...

“I... I CAN'T!” He screams while crying. “I'm on a suicide mission, I'm going to die. I'm cheating on Doffy, Y/N” He keeps crying “I love you so much, and I don't know if you feel the same, but...”

“Ya, Corazon! I feel the same, I love you too!” You grab his shirt with your fingernails and speak with desperation.

Gently, he removes your hands from his shirt, and squeezes it affectionately. “I'm sorry, Y/N” He speaks with a look filled with sadness. “But I can't risk losing you or hurting you. We can't be together, and you can't get attached to me. Please… Just forget about it” He asks while stroking your chin with his thumb.

You start crying uncontrollably.

“I'm going to die... It's just a matter of time” He whispers sadly, which makes you cry even more, and hug him tightly, not wanting to leave him never ever.

He gently separates you from the embrace.

“But know that I will always love you, my sweet Y/N” Corazon finally smiles, a smile so big as the love you feel for him.

You will never accept your parting words.

SANJI 💐

(The rest I will continue later)

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

我的老师 - HRJ

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: smut, student!renjun, english teacher!reader, lowkey mfal!au but aged up

word count: 1514 words

warnings: (not your typical) student-teacher-relationship, reader is older then renjun, semi-public sex in a classroom, chinese words are thrown around, cheating (reader has a bf), reader needs a bit of convincing to get things started, but everyone is head over heels

a/n: everyone is of age! this is not meant to sexualize anything that shouldn't be sexualized! if it still makes you uncomfortable, don't read it! Also, lǎoshī （老师） means teacher and cào （肏） means fuck.

Since the first time the soles of your shoes crossed the line of the door frame, Renjun had a crush on you. Sure, it developed over time, intensifying with every words that made your lips move so beautifully, with every smile you sent at whomever just got an answer right, with every time you turned around to write something on the board which gave Renjun the opportunity to ogle your ass. But, yeah, if he's being honest, he wanted you from the first day.

Renjun's moral detector strikes the red area of the barometer continuously with an annoying siren sound. It's not like he's in high school anymore, he pays you for teaching him amongst other students, though it still has that forbidden student-teacher-vibe and that is what makes it even more interesting for him: It's wrong. Maybe not wrong per se, but it's not entirely right. Renjun knows he shouldn't think about you at night when it's only him, his hand and his hot erection throbbing in his boxers. But he does. He really can't help his thoughts wandering into the direction of your short skirts or tight pants that you tend to wear.

You're his English teacher, and maybe the fact that he's only had to deal with old men teaching him the subject for years before you showed up and messed with his head lead to the situation he finds himself in now, but who knows, honestly? Renjun only knows that he needs you, and it doesn't help that you're close to his age, nor that every word that leaves your mouth sounds sinful, even if you're only talking about grammar.

It's a shame that having a crush on his teacher, inevitably accompanied by the need to impress you, to be praised by you for getting an answer right, was the one thing that could motivate him to actually study, but that's just what happened. He kind of wishes you had taught him English in school instead of every Thursday at 4pm, but maybe it's better you didn't.

Thursday, 5:30 pm sharp, the lesson finds its end as you write down the homework exercises for next week and tell the students to have a nice rest of their day. Renjun, a plan in mind, takes his sweet time stuffing his belongings into his backpack. Today will be the day he finally shoots his shot.

The room empties quickly, everyone hurrying out to get to their next lesson, or home as soon as possible. You as well begin packing your bag, sighing before you turn to wipe the writings off the board. Renjun feels like this is his time.

"Lǎoshī," he addresses you, getting up from his seat in the first row to walk to the front, a hand coming up to ruffle through the short hair of the back of his head, and stand behind you. You jump slightly, surprised that you weren't alone in the room, and turn around to find Renjun standing directly in front of you.

"In English, please?" You tease, chuckling briefly, "what can I do for you?"

Renjun cracks a smile as well, trying to look as confident as possible, straightening his posture and puffing his chest out to appear tall and manly. Then, he clears his throat. "I have a question."

"Shoot," you answer, stepping aside to attend to your desk, sorting through sheets of paper. Renjun dislikes the way you stepped out of his personal space and follows you, leaning his ass against the edge of the desk.

"I was wondering, do you have a boyfriend?"

Your motions halt, your head ripping up to look at him shortly after. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Renjun repeats, smirking slightly.

"I don't think this is an appropriate question for you to ask-"

"Just answer the question," Renjun demands, peeling himself away from the desk and stepping towards you who backs away towards the board.

"I do," you say hesitantly, sending an anxious look over to the door that had been closed by a student on their way out. Renjun decides that he likes seeing you flustered like that.

"I'm better than him," Renjun responds, taking another step into your direction until your back bumps into the board behind you. "Let me show you."

"I can't, this is wrong-" you begin, but your breath hitches as Renjun reaches out to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes, widened and nervous, look into his, switching between his left and right eye.

"I know you want it too," Renjun says, his left hand meeting the board behind you to cage you in. His face comes closer to you, it's almost like he's towering over you. He's so close, he can feel your hammering heartbeat vibrating the air between both of your chests. "You never said you don't want it."

"Pervert," you breathe out with a smile, and something inside Renjun snaps. With a groan, almost sounding like a growl escapes his throat, his hands come up to your shoulders to turn you around, pressing your front against the board.

"See what you do to me?" Renjun asks, then presses his hips forwards, his evident errection pushing between the supple cheeks of your ass, and he's sure he just heard you gasp.

"You're my best student, Renjun. I should've known this was the reason," you say sarcastically with a snicker, but whimper as Renjun grinds against your ass.

"Don't act like you don't like my eyes on you," Renjun whispers into your ear, and he can feel your entire form shudder against his body. His hands grip the hem of your skirt to push it up, revealing your ass to his hungry eyes.

"Renjun-" you say, then finally, a moan rips from your throat as Renjun strokes his fingers over your panties.

"You're so wet for me, lǎoshī," Renjun comments, and catches the way you lean into his touch, pressing your ass back to feel more of his fingers against you. "cào."

"Renjun, w-we can't, but I want it so much. I always found you attractive, but-" you admit, a gasp following as Renjun's hand reaches forward to rub at your clit. Your confession is everything Renjun needed, his assumption proven correctly. "We can't, I'm your teacher."

"I can make you feel better than your boyfriend," Renjun mumbles, head feeling dizzy as he opens the button and fly of his pants, pushing his boxers down just far enough to free his cock that he then starts stroking over your panty-covered cunt. Your occupation is the least of his concerns right now, he needs you to beg for him. He needs you to tell him to make you forget about your boyfriend.

"Lǎoshī," Renjun gasps at your moans caused by his actions, "tell me..."

"I c-can't-, i-it's not right," you whine, and Renjun decides that you presumably need a bit more of convincing, so he yanks your panties to the side, immediately grabbing ahold of himself to drag his tip through your drenched folds. He shudders at his own action, having waited for so long to feel you, and hearing the heavenly sounds you let out because of no one else but him and him only makes it hard for him not to think 'fuck it' and simply push in.

"Oh God," you whimper, pushing your ass further back to be able to feel more of Renjun's cock enter you, who fights his hardest battle right now, iron grip on your hips tightening exponentially as his eyelids flutter and his eyes roll back.

"Say it, just say it," he forces the words to come out through grit teeth. He's at the verge of losing himself completely in the way you feel so, so warm around his tip already.

"Convince me," you say and it's all Renjun needs to snap his hips forward and sink balls deep into you.

From then on, everything is a bit of a blur. Renjun remembers fucking into you like his life depended on it, toying with your clit to make you finish around him at least once before asking if he could cum in you. He remembers thanking you, kissing you, and walking you out of the school building where you then got picked up by your boyfriend.

Honestly, it hurt his pride, crushed his heart a little, too, but at least he has this new thing to envision when he's alone. The day of your next class nears and Renjun finally pulls himself together and looks at last week's course work. He opens his book, the familiar sight of his short essay greeting him, but this time, the sheet of paper is marked. Right! You'd taken some of them home the week before and handed out the corrected versions last week. Too bad Renjun had been too occupied ogling you that he completely missed what is now metaphorically poking into his eyes.

Right there, next to the 97/100 grade marking, it says: Good job, as always. Come see me after class ;-), and then your number next to it.

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[satorisoup]

Are you writing for Sugawara? If yes, can you write something where Sugawara is the (fem!)Reader's (if you're okay with that?) crush. They're out with friends in an izakaya and she thinks he's flirting with someone else (bc she has zero self-confidence, and why would he be interested in her and so on). And obviously she's sad about it but later she goes outside for fresh air and he comes to find her, somehow admitting his feelings (this is so self indulgent, I'm sorry, I may be getting more drunk than I intended bc my crush is flirting with any girl but me). Or generally any hurt/comfort with Sugawara if you write for him.

Sorry for this weird request, feel free not to write it, if it doesn't resonate with you!

Have a nice weekend.

#SUGAWARAS UNEXPECTED CONFESSION

#A/N : fun fact suga was my first favorite when i started watching haikyuu. dont worry this request isn’t weird at all, dont apologize. hoping things get better for you!

#WARNINGS : f!reader. cursing. alcohol mentions. angstish to comfort. aged up.

tonight was supposed to be an evening to celebrate. to wash away the worries and stress from work. to overcome exhaustion and fatigue for a few hours. to “stop being a hermit and live a little!” as shoyo would say.

so here you are, sitting at a nice table in a popular izakaya spot, your friends surrounding you. cheer and laughter, pink dusted cheeks from the buzz of the alcohol becoming prominent amongst their faces.

and you couldn’t miss the way sugawara chuckled lightly at something asahi had said, the small glass in his hands held by his fingertips, lifting it to his lips as he took a sip.

sugawara was nothing short of all you wanted and more. a silly high school crush carried throughout the years and turned into something more. a burning passion and adornment for him, some might call it love. and you couldn’t really deny it. however, you never really got the chance to tell him either. you remained close friends, spending time together quite often which you were more than grateful for, and you weren’t one to throw it all away.

ice dancing in your neglected glass of “something fruity”, per your request, you watched it slowly melt.

sugawara and a few others stood up to walk to the bar, waving down the bartender to order another round, and you stayed sat in your seat.

your gaze from your cup lifted to glance at him, and honestly, you really wish you hadn’t looked.

there stood sugawara and a random girl who must’ve took it upon herself to come and introduce herself to him. her hair bounced with each step she took and her lips shone from the pink gloss she had on. and sugawara was talking back to her. that casual toothy smile that you’d been admiring for so long was grinning at her, and her hand came up to dance her fingers along his shoulder.

you shouldn’t of felt so fucking bothered. you were hot, sweating almost. maybe it was the few sips of alcohol, or maybe it was the saddened rage that burned in your heart. you silently stepped out of your chair, leaving your bag and heading to the entrance to take a step outside. fresh air.

“so, sugawara, are you single?”

“sorry, but i actually have my heart set on someone already.”

you stood with your back against the outside wall, gaze to the floor. sugawara was someone you desired. someone you loved. someone you had spent countless times thinking about before you went to sleep. but he wasn’t yours.

self doubts had filled your mind more than once, and now wasn’t an exception. you couldn’t help but think. maybe if your lips were shinier, maybe if your put more effort, maybe if you had just told him in highschool you could’ve faced the rejection then.

your eyes stayed trained to the floor, almost not noticing the sudden presence at your side.

“y/n? what are you doing out here?”

oh. the universe really didn’t like you today, you supposed.

“nothing, koshi. just needed some fresh air.” you replied.

“oh okay. well why don’t you come on back inside? you’ve barely touched your drink.” he said, and you looked up to catch his eyes. a soft smile grazed his lips and he gestured his hand to the door.

“i don’t know, i think i might just go home. im not feelin’ the best.” you lied through your teeth.

“are you sure? i mean it’s not the same without you, you know.”

why did he have to be so god damn sweet. he still displayed a little smile on his face and you really just had to wonder why. why was he bothering to get you to stay. why did he care.

“that girl in there seemed to like you. you know you dont have to do this suga. just go have fun.”

you really didn’t care what was coming out of your mouth or how stupid you sounded saying it. you just wanted to go.

“i turned that girl down. i told her i had my heart set on another. so yes, i do have to do this. because it’s you.”

you practically choked on nothing as your eyes darted to suga’s. he held that kind smile, a soft hand held out to you, beckoning you not to leave.

“what exactly are you saying suga…”

“im saying i denied her for you. you’re the one my hearts set on. so please, if it’s mutual, come with me inside.”

suga stared at you with pure sincerity, corners of his lips never once faulting.

maybe the universe noticed your shitty treatment, or maybe it just wanted to mess with you for a bit of time. but it finally, finally listened to your heart.

“well, it took you long enough, koshi.”