#i couldn't think of anything worth drawing

[tarufai]

you’re weird af for that all quiet on the western front art. did you even watch the movie? you realize real soldiers just like paul and kat died horrifically right. it’s totally insensitive and weird

you’re weird af for coming into my inbox and talking to me like that. it’s totally insensitive and weird to assume that love has never existed on the battlefield or that queer relationships have never been a part of any war. But especially the World Wars.

Why do you think gay men were blamed for the loss of the first World War in Germany by the political right? This entire essay by the International Encyclopedia of the First World War is worth reading, but I’m directly referencing this passage;

“In the eyes of many homosexual men the war also proved that homosexual love was entirely natural. Activists argued that the war not only entitled homosexual men to legal emancipation, but also demanded that their emotional and sexual lives be recognized as normal, even ideal in the context of war, by mainstream society. However, in the wake of defeat in 1918 there were widespread accusations, especially from the political right, that “enemies” at home had betrayed the army. Homosexuals were one of the groups targeted as culprits in the “stab-in-the-back” legend. In his pamphlet The Sexual Cruelties of Love-Crazy Men, conservative German journalist H. A. Preiss claimed that veterans had become so selfishly focused on their “abnormal sexual practices” that they were no longer willing to sacrifice for the fatherland.[70] Writers for Die Freundschaft (The Friendship), a newspaper that catered to WhK contributors, sought to combat accusations of a “stab in the back.” One writer, B. Eden, stressed that homosexuals were only exceptional in their goal to emancipate themselves from legal discrimination. Otherwise, they were committed to protecting the nation, as evidenced by their war experience.[71] ”

And why do you think San Francisco had one of the first established queer communities created during and after World War II? Why do you think there were enough gay men discharged from the military during the Second World War to establish what is considered the queer capital of the world?

Homosexuality is not an anomaly in war.

At first I wasn’t even going to reply to this ask, because I do understand the concern with bastardizing war stories for the purpose of fandom shipping, especially since so many war stories are based on real people, but these aren’t real people. The very real lived experience of veterans is not something to speculate about, but this is a fictional story that happens to take place in a real war.

And I felt like this ask was implying that no love has ever formed on any front lines, which is so untrue. 

The part that queer people have played in wars is not only integral to military history, but also queer history. The increased visibility of homosexuality and the subsequent activism after the first world war is a direct result of the queer relationships that were able to form during the war, and to erase or minimize the existence of those relationships is a huge disservice to all queer veterans. What’s more, that increased visibility is part of the reason that homosexuals and transgender people were ever targeted by the nazi party in the first place. Queer activism was only starting to gain real traction when the Second World War was brewing, and that’s part of the reason why the backlash was so severe.

No harm no foul if you see Kat and Paul has having a platonic relationship, most people do and it certainly doesn’t make their friendship any less important or integral to the story of All Quiet on the Western Front, but my frustration with this ask doesn’t really have anything to do with them. I don’t even want to defend myself or anything, but the human relationships formed during war has been one of my special interests since I was a teenager. I’ve read countless books written by veterans, seen the shows, seen the movies, I’m not new to war stories. I know very well how horrific war is. That is part of what made the relationships formed during them so significant and so unique. There’s a desperate sort of tenderness to them that always blurs the line between something romantic and platonic and familial (in a found-family kind of way), and for this fictional story, I figure there’s no harm in exploring the different nuances to a relationship like that. I don’t think that’s insensitive of me. I’m not trying to sterilize life in the trenches, or the inherent trauma of war. I’m not trying to make light of it. But romantic relationships are formed in war. It’s so weird of you to tell me what I can and can’t draw fanart of.

Again, I didn’t want to answer this ask because it’s not going to change my stance either way, but I really felt like the insistence that real soldiers couldn’t have formed meaningful and possibly romantic relationships needed to be addressed.

Also. This is the gay blog where I draw gay art. Don’t tell me the gay art I’ve drawn is weird af. Good god.

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[ssahotchnerr]

I hope you meant it to be dropped here 🥺

So, about jealous Y/n: I had been thinking about this after seeing the episode where Beth (that runner-woman?) appears. I thought about the scene, with "y/n" either getting to know he was handed a paper with a number

Or maybe Aaron and "y/n" had been running together and Beth approaches without any care and reader just is like: 🤨 watching the interaction, lol

knowing you

🤭 cw; JEALOUS fem bau!reader, teasing banter (hehe r and aaron are sooo in love), suggestion/sex allusions (i'm blushing), based off of aaron and beth's first interaction in 7x10 wc; 1.3k

"Okay, okay." You panted, coming to a stop. You directed your voice forward, loud enough for Aaron to hear you, a few feet ahead. You resumed walking, slowly, hands on your hips. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked as he met you halfway, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "Can't keep up?"

"I can keep up jus' fine." You insisted, still catching your breath. The afternoon breeze blew into your face, cooling the sheer layer of sweat that had collected. "Just... not for a prolonged amount of time. There's a," Another staggered breath, "difference."

"Is there?" He asked humorously. His chest rose up and down, regulating his own breathing as well. "I can easily go another mile or two.

"Fantastic. I'm so happy for you." You quipped sarcastically, causing him to laugh and a smile of your own pulling at your lips. "And that's why you're the one participating in the triathlon. Not me."

"You know..." He began proposing in a light tone of voice, eyebrows raised wittingly. "There's still time for you to sign up."

"You know, you're funny." You bantered back, a pained expression pulling onto your face at the mere thought. You shook your head, "I think my time is better spent cheering you on from the sidelines, along with the others. And then reviving you afterwards."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. All banter aside, he switched tactics, softening to a sweet sincereness. "I appreciate you accompanying me. Seriously. You know you don't have to run with me, although you do inspire me to persistent. Gotta impress you, keep you interested."

"Please, as if there's anything you could do to cause me to become uninterested." You poked a finger at his chest. "And if running means I get to spend an extra hour with you, I'll gladly accept. Besides, there's something in it for me too. Makes it all worth it."

"And what's that?"

You looked around, spotting a park vendor supplying drinks, playfully brushing his question aside. "Want a water?"

The warm glint in his eyes lingered, admirably amused. One that read: you were the most difficult person he'd ever met, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Sure, sweetheart."

"I'll grab it," you began walking, "You stay here. Catch your breath."

Aaron grabbed your hand the moment you had stepped a foot away, smoothly drawing you back with just an equally suave grin. Once in reach, he placed his lips onto yours, interrupting your growing smile.

Your nose scrunched when the two of you parted, "You're all sweaty."

"That's never been a problem before." His smirk returned, the wet cowlicks draped over his forehead bringing a multitude of images to come to mind.

This is why you ran with him. You'd never deprive yourself the hot visual, one you'd never get tired of. The overexertion, the sweat, the defined athletic wear clinging onto his body, the heavy breathing too.

You playfully rolled your eyes, granting him another kiss before you trailed off. You steadied your breathing again, in attempt to slow your heart rate a second time.

Retrieving the waters couldn't have taken you more than five minutes: waiting in a small line, supplying cash, issuing a thank you. But when you turned back towards Aaron, your feet already moving to their own accord, you stopped short - suddenly. As he wasn't alone.

He was talking to some woman - brunette, in workout clothes of her own. Her backside was facing you, so you couldn't see any specific features; to determine who she was, a familiar face or not.

You tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of jealousy filling your body, drawing the conclusion that she wasn't an old friend rather quickly. It started from the bottom of your stomach, crawling up your spine, spreading widely to your limbs.

Could it be harmless? Sure, that's what you were telling yourself, until the woman in question handed him a small piece of paper. She began to retreat - finally - causing a breath of relief to escape you, until Aaron calls after her.

When she turns, you're able to see her face. She’s cute, all smiles and outwardly confident. She responds to whatever he said, follows it with a laugh, before continuing her jog. 

You bit your lip, returning to Aaron with a bit more urgency, your ponytail gliding swiftly between your shoulder blades.

"Here," You handed Aaron his water, your gaze moving past him and continuing to watch her leave. As if she can feel your stare, she looks back. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn she gave you a cunning smirk.

Your jaw clenched, nothing but that red-hot jealousy overtaking you. It blocks out all of your surroundings - Aaron's going on about something, but you don't hear him. He's muted, fuzzy, far away. You don't realize he's talking to you until he says your name, with a tad more volume.

You startle, blinking, "Sorry, what?"

"I said, do you want to go again? Or we can take a slow, evenly-paced walk back." His lips turned upwards humorously, taking a drink. "More your speed."

He's attempting to resume the ongoing, fun banter to draw your focus elsewhere, knowing you.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, nobody." He shrugged, securing the cap. "She just, er, handed me this." He explained carefully, holding up a small piece of paper.

He did it quickly; again, making it as nonchalant as possible. But even at the heightened speed you're able to see her number scrawled across the surface.

You immediately impede forward-

"Sweetheart," Just as he expected - he grabs your arm, holding you back from any impending confrontation you were set on.

"She gave you her number?" You looked at him, perplexed. The audacity. "Did you see the way she looked at me? She probably saw us kiss and yet-"

"I know, I know." He comforted, his voice a deep contrast compared to yours, hardening the more you spoke. He can practically feel you vibrating in fury. "Hey, it's okay. I'm discarding it, of course." He crumbled it in his fist, "Have zero need for it."

"But that doesn't excuse what she just did." You try to look past him again, but he uses his body to shield your view. "And I don't like it. Not at all."

"You're right, it doesn't, but it's okay." Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering his next sentence into your skin. "I'm yours. Nothing changes that."

"Damn right you are," you huffed, crossing your arms. Despite the distance (she's almost long gone by now), you're at the ready to grab Aaron, to kiss him fiercely if she ever so lightly takes a peek back.

"Forget about it, and I don't mean that in a dismissive way. Look at me when I say this," He tossed the paper in the nearby trash, grabbing ahold of your shoulders instead. "I'm uninterested. Unfazed. Utterly in love with you and greatly anticipating showing you how much once we're in the privacy of home. Preferably in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards."

He manages to pry a smile out of you, a blush forming at your cheeks, although it doesn't dissolve your pout just yet. "But..."

"But what?" He asked gently as he releases his hold, swiping his thumb across your cheek soothingly.

"What if she can run faster than me." You mumbled pitifully. You said so half jokingly, half seriously.

Aaron laughed warmly, spanning an arm over your shoulders and pulling you directly to his chest. "I highly doubt that."

"You promise?"

"With every ounce of me."

[d0rothydraws]

"Your eyes lit up when you seen my hand. It's dangerous to reveal what you like so easily."

content: f!reader, hand kink, blindfold, mating press, cum play, dirty talk, choking,

w/c: 3k

Ao3: Here

a/n: This is so depraved. I was messing with him last night and he said that line and then the blindfold one and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Buckle up princess

You were laying on the couch as Sylus was cleaning his gun. You were trying to read, for a change. Pick up an old hobby yadda yadda. And you were doing well, it was interesting enough until you became heavily distracted. You tried to not make it obvious. You didn't want to stare too long to catch his attention. But little did you know, you already had his attention at the first glance.

"Something on your mind, sweetie?" Sylus' voice was like ice through your veins. Invigorating but so sudden you almost flinched. "You keep staring." He said, not hiding the smirk as he continued to use the cloth to rub against his gun. The way his long fingers tensed as the gun repositioned, how his thumb brushed against the side every few minuets.

Your silence was telling as you tightened your grip on your book, readjusting your position on the couch slightly before looking back into the pages blankly. "I can see you moving your hand in my peripheral. It's distracting." You lied. His smirk grew as he leaned back slightly, his hand still lazily cleaning the weapon.

"Keep lying and you'll grow wrinkles."

"You sound like a mother." You snorted as you turned the page in an effort to act like you had been reading for the last thirty minuets.

"Fine, I would hate to distract you." He said in a mocking tone as he sat down the gun, moving to the couch as he sat on the edge. You moved your feet to his lap, stretching out on him. He moved to turn on the tv, putting on some old movie.

In a move to supposedly distract you less, you were even more distracted as his hand rested on your leg, tracing patterns and shapes idly. He could feel your leg twitch once in a while as you took a deep breath. You wondered how long you could keep up the charade.

"You haven't turned the page in 20 minutes." He said, glancing at you as he met your eyes over the book. "I'll tell you what. You tell me what's on your mind, and I won't bully you for it. Deal?" He said with a half laugh, those damn fingers still trailing the inside of your leg.

"I somehow don't believe you." You mutter before finally closing the book and setting it aside. Your eye glanced at his hand for a second too long before a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Your eyes lit up when you seen my hand. It's dangerous to reveal what you like so easily." His voice had a playful tone to it, his eyes locking on yours. "Anything to say for yourself, kitten?"

"Can you blame me? You have nice hands," You said bluntly, sitting up against the arm of the couch as you crossed your arms. Sylus, not expecting you to be so casual about it, had the faintest look of surprise in his eye before his normal smug look returning.

"So you have a thing for my hands, hm?" He said "Why don't we take this a step further." He said before standing, holding a hand out to you. You felt your heart in your throat as you took his hand in yours letting him lead you to the bedroom.

"Sit. I'm going to look for something. But while I'm gone, undress." He said sternly with a smirk on his face, drawing out the last word. You obliged, not knowing what he was planning but you knew it would be worth it. It's always worth it when it him.

As he returned he was holding a thick silk ribbon. His eyes looked over your naked body as if you were his prey before stopping in front of you. His hand moved to cup your chin, making you look up at him. You shivered as you felt the ribbon tickle your neck.

"Very good kitten, you can follow simple instructions. I'm proud of you." He said in a sarcastic tone that made your cheeks burn. "Since you love my hands so much, we're going to heighten your senses so you can feel exactly what they're going to do to you."

As he moved the silk around your eyes, darkness enveloped your sight. In moments, you understood what he meant. His scent was stronger. The sound of his voice stronger. His touch..

You felt as he guided you to lay on the bed, the mattress soft around your body as you sighed slightly. The sound of familiar clothes falling made your ears perk as you tried to listen to where he was. Soon there was no question as you felt the bed dip, the brush of his leg against yours. He was over you, you could tell by how strong his scent was. How heat practically radiated from him with each arms on the side of your body holding him above you as his lips moved to your ear.

"Can you feel it? This is only the beginning." He whispered as his lips moved over your shoulder. Hands moved to brush hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. The moment was fleeting as his hand went southward, cupping your breast.

You knew his hands well, but feeling them like this was a different experience. His hands were rough, the mark of his life long fight for survival. His decades of using weapons, fighting. You could feel every callous in his fingertips as they sunk into the soft flesh of your chest. His hands were massive, everything about him was big but it was even more noticeable when you could only go off feeling.

Your eyes widened under the silk band, still as dark as ever as you felt his tongue against your other breast. Your mouth opened in a gasp as your nipple was brought past his teeth, pulling gently at the nub that hardened instantly. As his hand bounced and felt up your one breast, his lips and mouth worked the other. Every touch, kiss, bite, it sent pleasure through your body. You felt as if your body was in an abyss, only able to feel and hear him.

You didn't know how long passed. Time didn't exist anymore. He pulled back his lips, your nipple stretching slightly before he released you from his mouth. His hands moved lower, thumbs brushing the curve of your ribcage as he looked down at you, enjoying the look of your parted lips, the way your cheeks burned under the blindfold.

One hand rested on the curve of your waist as you felt the other one move back up, drawing fingers over the length of your neck as if he knew the answer to his next question.

"Tell me, kitten." He said, his voice next to your ear suddenly making your breath catch. His words echoing in the abyss of your mind. "Where do you want my hands next?" He knew the answer. But he wanted to hear you say it. Hear the breathiness in your voice as you responded.

"My neck." You breathed, your own voice sounding so loud in your head. "I want to feel them on my neck." You couldn't stop the shakiness of your words, how needy you sounded. Your mouth was watering and yet felt so dry at the same time.

"Good kitten." He purred, the sound moving down your spine as your felt both of his hands graze your neck. His thumbs brushed the pulse point, his fingers circling gently around the entirety of your neck. "Your heart is beating so fast for me." He whispered as he gently applied pressure. The palms of his hand pressing just right into your neck.

One of his hands moved from your neck, thumb trailing your chin as the other repositioned to continue to apply pressure. He was always careful to not hurt you. Especially when dealing with such a vital part of your being. His thumb pressed against the bottom of your lip, your mouth opening slightly as a reaction. One that he was very pleased with.

Sylus' hand on your neck held you with a firm grip, feeling your pulse against his fingers as your breath started to strain. And even as you began to struggle to breathe, you flicked your tongue out over the thumb at the edge of your lips. You heard him take a sharp breath before pushing his thumb against your tongue. His grip on your neck released slowly, the oxygen entering your lungs almost hurt as you took a deep breath before pulling his fingers deeper into your mouth.

"Want a taste?" He said as he felt your tongue brush against his fingers. His eyes watched your lips as his fingers disappeared past your lips. Your teeth grazed his rough skin, making him groan softly.

His legs pushed your knees apart as his other hand trailed down your stomach and past your hips. You moan was muffled by his hand as his fingers suddenly pressed against your sex, your back arching into him as your mouth opened more. You could hear how wet you had become just from the touches he had given you. Your body welcomed his fingers as two entered you, your moans growing louder as his hand moved out of your mouth. His now wet fingers trailing down your chin, past your neck and to your chest again leaving a trail that made you shiver.

"Maybe I should keep you like this." He breathed, voice growing huskier as he watched you wither under him. Clenching around his fingers as he moved them slow. He wanted you to feel every curve, every inch of his fingers inside you. And as his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad adding much wanted stimulation, you cried out, head arching back. As you felt your body start to reach it's peak, the movement stopped and suddenly you were empty. You whined, gasping as you started to sit up in protest when he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your hand with one hand.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetie." He said, his lips brushing over yours, breath hot against your mouth as his hand flexed against your wrists. You felt the wetness of the other hand trail down the insides of your thighs making your legs shake. His kiss was deep, stealing the breath from your lungs. Teeth pulled at your lip before his tongue moved against yours. You kissed back just as eagerly as you arched against his hold on you, moaning as you felt him only just push you back down onto the bed.

His fingers pushed back inside you, his kisses was getting hungrier as you moved your hips against his hand. He pulled back with a growl, panting softly. "That's it kitten. Fuck the hand you love so much. Tell me sweetie, how often do you think about them?"

Your moan echoed as you felt his fingers curl, a third finger making you arch against him as you felt yourself stretch around the thick fingers.

"Every day." You answered, your voice sounded foreign to your ears. Your head turned as you moaned crying out as he stopped moving his fingers making you thrust yourself against them. "Especially when you wear rings. Or use your gun." His teeth nipped at your ear as his knees spread your legs farther apart as you fucked yourself on his fingers. You were close again. And you were praying to any god that would listen that he would let you cum.

None of them answered though as his hand pulled away again. Frustration was beginning to build as you cried out, whimpering as you tried to follow his hand with your hips, feeling so empty without him inside you.

"You've been doing so good kitten. Don't misbehave now." He teased with a soft chuckle as you found the hand on your lips. You could smell your own scent as you coated his fingers that pushed into your mouth. You moaned around him, your own taste making you blush. "Maybe I should let you pick out some rings for me, then. Or perhaps a new pair of gloves. I notice you tend to blush when I wear the leather ones." He said, his voice tense as you cleaned his fingers.

Distracted by the feeling of your own taste, fingers in your mouth, lips on your ear and hands still pinned above your head, you failed to register the feeling of his cock against your thigh. Not until you felt him begin to enter you, your body feeling like it was being shocked with electricity as you heard his groan against your ear. His hand left your mouth, trailing down again to your throat as he once again wrapped around you but didn't apply pressure. Not yet.

He let you feel every inch of him as he pushed his hips deeper and deeper. His cock stretching you out as your legs shook. You felt him throb inside you, twitch as you clenched around him. And then, as he started to slowly thrust, his hips moving slowly as the room filled with the sound of sex, then he applied that much craved pressure.

Every pore, every atom in your body craved him. He wasn't a want. He was a need. As he pulled out, before he could thrust back in you moved your legs, using your body to gain momentum as you slid down the bed a few inches. catching him off guard, his hand holding your wrists loosened as you forced him deeper into you. Putting yourself at an angle where your legs were nearly above your head, yourself on display. You heard a breathy groan, his breath becoming heavy, strained as the hand on your throat tightened.

"Fuck." He whispered, thrusting back into you. A hand moved to the back of your thigh, pushing your legs farther as he started to fuck you harder. "You're a slut, you know that?" He growled, his hand moving from your throat to your chin as he kissed you roughly, the angle pinning you to the bed completely as he fucked you as deep as he could.

Your body twitched as you screamed in pleasure against the kiss. Your entire body swam with pleasure as you felt him fuck into you as if his life depended on it. His thrusts started to become uneven, his moans heavier as he broke the kiss, biting your lip before he pulled away.

"I'm going to fill you up, sweetie. That's what you want, isn't it?" He said, moaning into your neck. "Then I'm going to make you fuck my hand again."

His words pushed you over the edge as you cried out, your body shaking as you felt yourself clench around him as you released, the coil growing in your core snapping. Sylus moaned, feeling you clamp around him which in turn made him cum deep inside you. He fucked you through both of your orgasms, your legs going numb as you moaned and twitched, your hand curling in his hair as you pulled him into a needy kiss.

Slowly he pulled out, breaking the kiss as he watched as his cum leaked out of you. He continued to hold your legs over your head as like he promised, his fingers entered you, pushing his cum back inside with a thick wet sound. You moaned, gasping. He let your hands moved over his body, hearing your moan as you blindly touched his arms, palms moving over his biceps. Moving to his chest your nails and fingers touched him making him moan faintly. You felt your pussy clamp around his fingers, you felt his cum ooze out of you more as he growled softly.

"Keep doing that and I'll have to fill you up again." He growled and you whimpered gasping. Your breath heavy as you felt your body overwhelmed by sensations. His thumb pushed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you as you were spiraled into another orgasm.

Your body arched off the bed as you cried out his name, body shaking as the wave crashed over you. His hand didn't stop, continuing until you were done twitching before he pulled his hand away, slowly helping you put your legs back down on the bed. He pulled you close against him, his fingers once again at your lips as you cleaned the mixture of fluids off of his hand for one last time.

"Keep your eyes closed, let your eyes adjust first." He said softly as he reached to untie the blindfold slowly. His voice warm like a blanket over your numb body. As the silk fell you could see the reflection of oranges and shadows against the inside of your eyelids. You slowly blinked your eyes open, quickly finding his looking down at you. Such a warm expression compared to the things he just did to you.

His lips gently pressed against yours, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing against your lip. As he pulled away his nose brushed against yours, looking into your eyes.

"Later, feel free to use my card to buy some new rings for me. I do quite like your taste." He said as he watched you blush and then he chuckled. "Oh, you thought I was kidding? No, sweetie. I want to give you even more of a reason to be captivated by my hands."

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[the-modern-typewriter]

Do you still taking ideas for writing?

Can I request a fantasy setting Villain that takes interest in the Fantasy Hero (his nemesis)'s younger brother? Like 'you are more interesting than your dumbass of brother and his hero party? Perhaps trying to become his Evil Mentor?

"Look, if you want to use me to get at my brother-"

"-I want to use you in many ways, gorgeous. Your brother doesn't come into it."

The protagonist's mouth clicked shut. Heat pooled, treacherously, in the pit of his stomach and tightened his trousers at the many mental images that rushed him at that.

The villain looked a man very good at using things, after all.

It was a heavy thing, having a prophesied hero for a brother. Not that it was a thing worth talking about. Thinking about. Oh, you're the one free of the responsibility of saving everyone and everything? Why are you whining? There was just no point. Everything that he did was petty by sheer comparison. Inconsequential. Nothing.

Except that kissing the villain did not feel inconsequential. He never felt inconsequential when the villain's clever eyes raked across his body, like he was a fine wine to be tasted, a masterpiece to be savoured, ultimately worth something more than his connections. Interesting, alluring, in and of himself.

Ridiculous.

It was so clearly a trap. It was true he hadn't realised at first, but now...

The villain stepped closer, trailing his cool fingers along the stubborn curve of the protagonist's jaw.

"Does it shock you to know I find you infinitely more fascinating?" the villain murmured.

"It would, if I believed it."

"Your brother is a good heart wrapped in power. I'll give him that. You though..." The villain wet his lips, and it would have been convincing if the protagonist didn't know better. He had to know better. He totally did know better.

"Me?" he prompted, a little breathless. His heart raced.

"You're clever. You see the world for what it truly is. You can tweak its strings like you're playing an instrument. Your brother would do anything for you."

"So said the ransom note."

"So said anyone with a brain," the villain said. "You're worth anything. Everything."

"Enough to surrender? Enough to not kill my brother?"

"Enough to offer you the world, when he is inevitably dead and gone."

"Well, now it just sounds like you think I'm a traitor."

The villain laughed. Low, velvet. "I know you won't betray him. Don't get me wrong, there was a brief moment when I convinced myself otherwise. I told me wanting you was logical. A part of the plan."

The villain's hands dragged down, gripping his hips, drawing his flush.

"I have many plans. Still, I want you. I find reasons to have you in them all."

The protagonist swallowed. "Spoken like a true snake." Yet, like any sunk in the fangs of any true and great snake, he was charmed. Venom-addled.

He was inconsequential. It did not matter if he was charmed. It did not have to mean anything.

"You are powerful in your own right," the villain said. "You do not need fate to gild you. You shine enough on your own."

"Did you practice that in the mirror?"

The villain huffed and kissed him hard, backing him up against the shabby, age-spotted glass of the protagonist's quarters. He dipped hot hands exploring beneath the waist-band of the protagonist's trousers, and his hunger would have convinced another man. The way he clawed and clutched and caressed.

"I could train you," the vilain said. "Show you everything you're truly capable of. How much stronger you are than all of them."

"And wield me as a weapon against my blood?"

"Yours is a lot of potential to go waste."

"It's mine to waste, alas."

The villain bit him up for that, but even that was good. A claiming. A wanting. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had talked to him about something entirely unrelated to his brother or his band of chosen heroes. World-saviours. Fate-makers. And he...he what?

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

"You must want more," the villain said. "Brilliant thing like you. I know you do, or you would have pushed me away already."

Maybe, in the darkest parts of him, he did.

He drew the villain closer to him, kissed him soundly, with the profound gratitude of being alive, of mattering to someone or some thing even if it was probably manipulation.

"Maybe I just want you," he said, too honestly. "Screw destiny. Screw everything else."

"Preferably not everything else. Preferably just me."

The protagonist laughed and hated himself for it.

"Screw you," he said, and did.

When it was over, when it was all done, he lay there in the moonlight with the villain's limbs tangled around him. And he wanted - damningly he wanted nothing more. Just him. What did he care for mentors and destines and power, when there was him? His kisses, his interest when the protagonist talked, his utter seeming conviction that the protagonist was a man worth all the stars aligning.

Maybe that was what saved him. That lack of ambition. That driving hunger. That everything in him that wasn't his brother, dumb and glorious and passionate enough to actually fight.

Maybe that was ruined him, as he looked down at his perfect monster, and got up and walked away.

He would not be used.

However much he wanted to be.

[zorrasucia]

“okay, slow down, you’d never done this until 5 minutes ago” with virgin carmy 🧎🏼‍♀️

Hello, Anon! 💜

Of course! This takes place in his Copenhagen era. Thank you for allowing me to continue my ongoing campaign for Virgin!Carmy 😌 I hope you like it!

"I didn't expect you to cook," you said, watching Carmy plate pasta with ease, a healthy serving of parmesan cheese on top. "Thought you'd be sick of it at the end of the day. It smells delicious, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled shyly as he sat in front of you, the boat swaying a little. "Wanted to make you something from home."

You didn't know what to expect when Terry arranged for you to meet up with her new golden boy, Carmy, but this was feeling more and more like a blind date. Weirdly enough, you didn't mind her meddling this time.

"Where's home?" you asked.

"Chicago. You?"

"I don't even know where my home is anymore. Before Copenhagen, I was in London for a long while. And I haven't been to visit Aunt Terry in months..."

Carmy arched an eyebrow but didn't ask.

"She's my godmother, Chef Terry, not my actual aunt. I don't usually tell people about it, don't want to make her look bad," you shrugged, something about Carmy made it so easy to open up. "For whatever it's worth, I tried to stay away from cooking and baking and everything, I really did. I just couldn't."

"I get it. Why desserts though?" he asked.

"There's something freeing about them," you bit your lip, trying to put it into words. "You know how they're described, right? It's always decadent, confection, guilty pleasure - things like that. You can be creative."

When you looked up, Carmy was smiling - he looked younger and softer.

"I like that. Sounds nice."

"It is," you smiled back and took a forkful of spaghetti. It was delicious. "Oh, this is incredible," you hummed.

Carmy beamed.

While you dried the dishes, you caught a glimpse of one of Carmy's drawings.

"You make these?"

He looked up from the sink and flushed. "Helps me remember details," he explained shyly, avoiding your gaze.

You learned he had notebooks full of vegetables and dishes, diagrams for plating and cooking. You were surprised to find one of the pastries you had been working on perfecting there too, notes scribbled on the side. Your fingernails traced the lines carefully.

"You can have it," he offered.

"Really?"

He had an adoring, boyish look on his face and you melted inside.

"Yeah," he said, tearing out the page and giving it to you.

"Thanks," you said and without thinking, leaned in to kiss him.

It was quick, a gentle peck. As soon as you parted, you realized you wanted more - you both did.

"Can you- Would you do that again?" Carmy asked.

You tilted your head, moving slowly, relishing the moment right before the kiss, the way his lips parted slightly in anticipation. When you pressed your lips to his again, you took your time, let him cup your face and caress your waist as your tongue touched his lower lip.

When you parted, he looked relieved - that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"I didn't think we would do anything like this tonight," you said, your voice breathy from the kisses Carmy was leaving on your neck and collarbone.

You had spent the last half hour making out on his bed, slowly losing layers of clothing. Your blouse and trousers were on the floor, along with his jeans and t-shirt. His right hand was on your breast, caressing your nipple through the fabric of your sports bra, your right hand was palming his cock through his boxers.

"Neither did I," he exhaled into your skin, his thumb hooking on the elastic of your panties. "It's good though?"

He looked up at you for confirmation.

"I- uh-" you hesitated.

"Shit," Carmy froze, starting to withdraw from you.

"No, wait, Carmy," you grabbed his wrist before he could get away. "It's great. You're great. It's just, I've been busy so I didn't- It's a little hairy down there is what I'm trying to say," you said awkwardly, your fingers intertwined with his on your hip, trying to convey your meaning.

Carmy tilted his head, confused. "Okay... Something wrong?"

"I don't know if you're, uh, used to girls that shave it all or- I don't know. Men can be assholes about body hair," you said, a little defensively.

"I'm not used to anything," Carmy said, chuckling nervously. "I like what you look like."

"Oh," you smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

You nodded, getting rid of your bra, while he tugged down your underwear.

Carmy got close, his right hand moving to cup your pussy, carding his fingers through the hair, caressing. It made you hum.

"Want to taste you," he whispered.

"Yes," you squeezed his bicep, encouraging him.

"Just- Shit. I think I might be bad at it," he said, his eyes suddenly looked vulnerable.

"Evil ex told you that?" you asked gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never done it," he confessed. "Don't want to fuck it up with you."

"Carmy," you touched his chest, tracing soothing patterns, calming him. "You said you wanted a taste, right?" he nodded. "There's no way you can fuck that up. If you make me feel good, that's great but I don't need it to be perfect, okay?"

He kissed you, slow and soft - thank you. Then, deep and full of lust - I want you.

He made his way down your body, licking and nipping at skin, stopping between your legs. You opened them wider for him to settle. He took a good look at you, fingers touching your outer lips with care.

"Beautiful," he exhaled and it tickled you in the most delicious way. You shivered.

He started giving you long, vertical licks, tracing the contour of your folds, almost like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. You moaned low. It was good. There was no rhythm to it but was making you wet and restless.

"Mhmm," you encouraged him, carding your fingers through his curls.

Tracing the lines of you and listening to your breathing, he found your clit. After a couple of his licks were followed by sharp inhales he decided to stay there, kissing and licking, becoming frantic, quickly addicted to the sound of your pleasure.

"Oh! Fuck. Okay, slow down, you’d never done this until five minutes ago," you pulled on his hair, trying to keep his tongue from completely undoing you.

"Shit. That bad?" Carmy asked, sitting up.

"Too fast," you tried to catch your breath. "Too fast."

"Fuck, sorry," he soothed the skin of your thighs and your hips.

"It's- You found the spot. That's good. Just- take your time with it," you explained. "Let me savor it."

He chuckled, your play on words reminding him that he had tasted you and then some.

"Okay," he kissed the valley between your thigh and your hip, soft and sensual, like he was trying it out.

You smiled fondly, watching him slowly kiss his way back to your pussy, open-mouthed, gentle. A needy sound caught in the back of your throat when he finally got close to where you wanted him.

Carmy's eyes widened.

"Oh. Got it," he mumbled, realizing that half the fun was making you wait for it.

He tortured you, carefully finding every place that gave you pleasure. Then, he built up a rhythm that had you writhing on the sheets, fighting the grip he had on your hips, trying to fuck his face, and he paused.

"I've made a monster," you complained, panting and caressing his face - shiny with his sweat and your arousal.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Can't believe you're letting me do this."

You exhaled and giggled giddily. "Can't believe you're enjoying this so much."

"Mhmm," Carmy nuzzled the inside of your thigh, his roman nose tracing zigzags while you caught your breath.

When he started again, he was a little rougher - sucking harder than he had dared so far, hoisting your legs above his shoulders. You moaned low and squeezed your breast, looking for something to keep you grounded. Carmy caught your movements and rushed to replace your hand with his, humming in approval as you intertwined your fingers. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He stopped for a second.

"Eyes on me," he growled.

And he kept on devouring you.

You struggled to keep eye contact with how vehemently he was sucking on your pussy, lewd noises coming from his mouth. He was making you gasp for breath and grab desperately at the bedsheets underneath.

You were vaguely aware of the mattress shaking - was Carmy grinding into it? You didn't check or ask any further questions - he was humming in delight against your pussy, lips closed around your clit and eyes fixed on you. He arched his eyebrows. Now? You nodded eagerly.

"Please, Carmy," you keened.

He kept sucking on you, his grip on your breast and thigh getting forceful enough to bruise as you reached your high. You came with a needy sound, something between a whine and an exhale, legs shaking and hips grinding towards his face.

You regained your bearings just in time to see Carmy humping the mattress desperately, drowning gravelly moans into your thigh as he came too.

"Fuck," you sighed, your fingers soothing Carmy's scalp, probably sore from you pulling on it hard all that time. "Oh, my God. Carmy..."

"Sorry. Shit, sorry," he panted, his sticky cheek resting on your hip.

"Are you seriously apologizing for making me cum?" you giggled.

"I couldn't hold it back any longer," he explained.

You didn't tell him how hot it was to see him like that, completely lost in wanting you, cumming in his boxers because he liked eating you out that much. He wouldn't believe it.

So instead you said: "Guess that means we'll have to see each other again. So I can repay the favor."

[moonchildstyles]

rosemary for halloween?👀

wordcount: 4k+

—————

Harry frowned at his reflection. 

While he loved (Y/N) more than anything, and would do anything for her, he wondered if he finally found limitations to that philosophy. 

Because dressing up like a sailor just to match with her for a Halloween party was beginning to look like the line he needed to draw in the sand. The ascot was bad enough, he doubted the hat that was looming on the bed behind him was going to make this outfit any better. 

The familiar sound of perfume being sprayed from the bathroom told Harry he didn't have much time left to fiddle with his costume before (Y/N) would appear to fawn over him and make him change his mind. In an impulse move, he attempted to tug off the ascot around his neck and hide it away in a pocket she could see. 

All hope was lost just as (Y/N) emerged from the bathroom in a plume of sparkles and sea salt. Her hair was styled full of pearls and glimmering sea glass clips, matching the shifting blue and purple iridescent glitter spread across her eyelids. There weren't many places on her body that weren't imbued with a sparkling sheen, giving the effect of shimmering mermaid skin. Her top was little more than a decorated bralette cinched in a thick band around her ribs, emulating a pair of scallop shells studded with pearls and shards of sea glass. Her high waisted bottoms were a tight fit around her hips and thighs before fanning out after her knees, mimicking that of a mermaid's tail. The material was a swirl of pearly threads, shifting with pinks and purples, teals and bioluminescent greens. Her bag for the night—the purchase that inspired the costume—was a golden seashell. 

Harry, distracted by the sight of the swathes of skin she had on display—a strip of her soft stomach, the slope of her neck and sparkling décolletage, her pretty, manicured hands—didn't catch the way her entire face lit up when she saw him. 

"You look so cute, honey!" she bubbled, rushing towards him with her hands reaching out towards his collar. 

(Y/N) preened over him, a bright smile on her glossy lips. The ascot he attempted to rip off was smoothed down, his shirt straightened, and the epaulettes on his shoulders patted down. 

He wanted so badly to keep up the attitude he gained while looking in the mirror, but not a shred of it remained when she smiled at him like that. 

"Y'like it?" he murmured, his own lips creeping into a short curl. 

"I love it!" She beamed up at him with her hands going stationary on the planes of his chest. "I know you weren't sure about it, but I'm so happy we match. Thank you." 

Moving on instinct, he lent down and pressed his lips to hers, uncaring about the glitter that would no doubt transfer to his own skin. 

"'M happy we match too," he smiled against her skin, the tip of his nose knocking against her own, "I don't think anyone's going to be looking at me, anyway. Not when 'm standing next to you." 

Her grin turned giddy, only widening when Harry encouraged her to twirl before him. "Do you like it?! I think I put on too much body glitter, but I can't go back now." 

He shook his head. "'S perfect. Look like a real mermaid. Y'would have lured me right to the sea, no doubt." 

She keened under his attention, canting her head with a flutter of her lashes. "I couldn't do that, though—I wouldn't want to hurt you." 

"I'd learn how to breathe underwater, then," he answered simply. He would find any solution if it meant he could be with her. 

Her answering laugh was enough to have him eager to wear any and every silly costume she wanted. This reaction was always going to be worth wearing an ascot and sailor's cap. 

"You're sweet, H," she crooned, surging to her tiptoes to share another kiss. He chased after her when she pulled away, drawing one more kiss from her before she made a step away towards her closet. "Are you ready to go?" 

Harry answered with a nod, hoping she didn't notice the hat missing from the top of his head. 

"Perfect!" she chirped, "I need to put my shoes on, and then we can go!" 

Just short of breathing a sigh of relief, Harry figured himself to be in the clear by the time she slinked into her closet. 

Until, of course, she called out to him. "Oh, and don't forget your hat!" 

He wanted so badly to frown, to groan and tell her he didn't want to wear the hat. But none of that came out. Only a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

There was a time in his life that he never thought he would have anyone that would want to spend these kinds of nights with him, let alone in a planned out matching outfit. Even if it felt a bit silly, there wasn't a single bone in his body that was going to say no to something like this.

"I won't, peach." 

—————

Despite the sweat beginning to slick his palm, Harry didn't pull his hand out from (Y/N)'s. 

While he was growing more used to the idea of large and loud crowds of people—especially crowds that knew him and made a point to say hello when he walked by—but there was still much more progress to be made in that department. Sabrina's Halloween party was one of his bigger trials, that was for sure. (Y/N) was his only anchor, her hold on his hand being the only thing that kept him from running through an obsessive cycle of spying all exits and attempting to scan each face around him for anyone suspicious. 

Though, tonight, it was a bit hard to see from scanning the room, if only to get a view of all of the costumes and decorations around them. Sabrina's annual halloween party was something Harry had only recently learned about, but (Y/N)'s excited descriptions made the space as familiar to him as his own. As she promised, faux cobwebs were stretched across walls and stuffed in corners. Streamers and metallic fringe hung from doorways, the visages of classic horror tropes were scattered on the walls, including decals of blood spatters that Harry made a point not to look at for too long. Everything was orange and purple, black all throughout. Music played throughout the space, though it was decidedly softer than most of his experiences when it came to house parties. 

Harry saw many familiar faces among the party goers, though more often than not they were disguised in costumes and altering makeup. There were plenty of Barbies, and angels, a few fairies and sexy iterations of mundane professions all throughout, being broken up by even more silly costumes. Video game and movie characters stuck out in iconic silhouettes. Many couples and friends were in matching costumes like the one he was in (though there weren't any other mermaids and sailors as far as he could see). More than a few lent into the season with spooky costumes, fake blood and weapons at their sides. Those were not Harry's favorite. 

Especially not when he felt a little flush when he saw the liberal use of blood on some costumes.

There was no way Harry was going to be peeling himself away from (Y/N)'s side. Even if he was beginning to feel a little like a potted plant while he listened to her converse with her friends. 

"But, you don't mind, right, H?" 

Blinking back to earth, Harry saw (Y/N) looking up at him with an affectionate smile and a familiar face from his days of sitting in at the bakery looking at him expectantly. His mouth fell into a gape as he attempted to find the answer to a question he wasn't listening to. 

"Um," he started, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, "Sorry, what?" 

(Y/N) didn't look all that surprised to realize he hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation. "You like the costumes, right?" 

"Oh, yeah." He automatically nodded, looking at (Y/N)'s friend. "They were her idea."

A laugh bubbled from the woman, a joke Harry hadn't heard before now coming into play. (Y/N)'s hand pulsed around his own, her smile bright as she gazed up at him. 

"Next year, I'll have to see if he'll be the mermaid," (Y/N) laughed, her nose scrunching while her friend joined in. 

In the back of his mind, Harry was sure he should have tuned back in when the chattering started up once more, but he just couldn't. Was there ever going to be a time when he wasn't completely enamored, just short of being brought to his knees, when she muttered something so innocent like plans for the future? Was that ever not going to steal his breath? The idea of having a future and stability and someone for the rest of his life? 

(At least, he hoped (Y/N) would be with him for the rest of his life. He'd just have to scrounge up the courage to ask her one day).

Soon enough, (Y/N)'s friend bid a short goodbye, promising to see them around the party, before they were left to meander around. 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to look at my makeup, if you want to come," she said, looking up at him with a soft smile, "Unless you want to go get a drink or something." 

He didn't have to think before he was shaking his head. "I'll go with you." 

(Y/N) turned with that pretty smile on her face as she led him through the partygoers, taking a seemingly familiar route towards the restroom. Sabrina and others spotted (Y/N) as they passed, saying hello with glassy eyes and praising her costume in slurred comments. Every slowed step while she engaged in the short conversation, she never left him out, immediately pointing out that they went together. 

Harry was sure a flush was beginning to creep up his neck by the time the third person stopped them.

Lucky for them, by the time they successfully reached the restroom, it was empty. Slipping inside, Harry shut the door behind them. It was a small bathroom, leaving little room between them while (Y/N) turned towards the mirror. 

In the quiet of the restroom, Harry felt his lungs finally expand to capacity. It wasn't hard being at (Y/N)'s side while she was a social butterfly, but it was exhausting trying to remind himself everything was okay when there were so many people around them. He'd learn one day; his body would catch up one day. That's what (Y/N) told him, anyway. 

"You doing okay?" she asked, catching his eye in the mirror while she scraped a rogue glitter away from the corner of her eye. 

"Yeah," he muttered, nodding his head. "Jus'... a lot still, I think." 

"I know. We don't have to stay too much longer, though. I just want to hang out with Sabrina a little bit, and then we'll be free." 

"'S okay," he shook his head, his fingers a knot behind his back, "We don't have to leave until y'want. I'll be fine." 

Abandoning the reflection, (Y/N) turned towards Harry with a cant to her head. Her features were made of soft lines and affectionate eyes. "It's no fun if you're not having a good time, H." 

"I am, I am," he insisted, even if the deep breath he took in wasn't all that convincing. "Halloween is fun." 

At this, she couldn't help but to let out a bubbling laugh. "Is it?" she teased, crossing the short space between them to wrap his middle in her arms. His body moved on instinct, draping his arms around her shoulders. "If you have to say it like that, I have a feeling it's not really true." 

He could feel his expression loosening as he gazed down at her. If this were another life, and he were a sailor out on the sea, it would only take a glimpse of her between the waves to have him swimming out into the unknown. Though that was what he figured his real life was like anyway; she was the lighthouse that guided him to a new shore, away from everything he knew before. Now, here he was, at someone's home on Halloween night in a sailor's costume. And he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. 

"I jus' like being with you, peach," he admitted, "If you're happy, so am I." 

"You're gonna make me cry," she laughed, eyes shimmering like her eyeshadow, "I really do want to go home soon, though. This outfit isn't as comfortable as I want it to be." 

A pinch appeared between his brows. He knew the corset-like fit of her top was what she wanted, but he'd worried about how well she was going to be able to breathe. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hands beginning to frantically trace around her form. 

"I'm okay, honey," she assured, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the point of his chin, "I think I'm just ready for some pajamas." 

He could work with that. He could make sure they were safe and comfortable at home soon; if he was fast enough, he might even be able to throw her pj's into the dryer while she takes off her makeup, leaving them warm for her once she was ready. 

"'M ready whenever y'are, peach." 

This time, when she raised to the tips of her toes, she met his lips with her own. It was a short kiss, hidden away from the rest of the world, but still more than enough to draw his heart into pounding against his ribs. 

This kiss was urging him to take back his earlier words. He should have told her he wanted to head home immediately. 

—————

"Oh my god, did you put these in the dryer?" 

Harry couldn't contain the smile stretching across his face when he heard (Y/N)'s shout from her bedroom. He didn't respond when he heard feet padding across the floor, coming right towards where he was tucked into the cushions of her sofa. 

Still with her mermaid hair and makeup on, she now had on a light purple crewneck and teal blue sweats. She wanted to stay within the spirit of her costume for when children would inevitably knock on the door for candy, but Harry could see she was much more comfortable in her new clothes. 

"Harry," she crooned, looking to him with softened features. Warm, pumpkin lighting filled her home, candlelight flickering over the glitter pasted to her skin. 

"(Y/N)," he said, parroting her affectionate tone. 

"You're so sweet, honey. Thank you." She crawled atop his lap as she spoke, fitting her knees on either side of his hips. 

He moved instinctively, his hands landing on her waist while she looped her own around his neck. Looking up at her, Harry let a smile bloom over his lips, a warmth bubbling under his skin. 

"Do y'feel better?" he asked, running his hands over the curve of her waist, "More comfortable?" 

"Much," she affirmed, pursing her lips to dot a kiss on the bridge of his nose. The sparkle in her eyes rivaled that of the flecks sticking to her skin when she pulled away. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. It was more hectic than I thought, but it means a lot that you came anyway." 

Harry's smile turned shy at her praise. It was still a very hard thing to hear these kinds of sentiments directed to him. The honey of (Y/N)'s voice made it just a touch easier to take, at least. 

"I know 'm not very fun at these things, so thank you for staying with me." Shifting to bar his arms around her middle, Harry pulled her into a hug as he perched his cheek on her shoulder, nose skimming the column of her neck. 

(Y/N) slid her fingers into the curling locks on the back of his head, threading through the waves in comforting trails. "It'll get easier, H. You're already doing so much better than you think." 

A flickering silence settled over the room. "Thank you," he murmured into her neck, "I want to keep getting better. With you."

In that moment, Harry was brought back to a motel room. He was sitting on a much stiffer, mustier sofa with darker thoughts clouding his brain. But he still had (Y/N) in his arms, reassuring him that he could—and would—get better. That she was right there with him, would be right there as long as he needed her. 

He held her tighter at the memory. 

She didn't make any move to pull away, letting Harry get his fill of her before eventually peeling away to gaze up at her. 

"You're still alright with me spending the night?" Despite posing the question, he didn't think he would have an easy time getting out of this spot even if she said no.

"Of course—who else is going to protect me on Halloween night?" 

She spoke with a teasing smile, canting her head with a slight pout puffing her lips. This was one of those moments he had to remind himself that he wasn't occupying his previous life—this was nothing more than a joke, something flirty that (Y/N) said to draw an affectionate reaction out of him. There was nothing real, nothing coming to get her in the middle of the night. 

A short smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I think I can manage that, peach." 

She must have sensed the brief hesitation, causing her to push a soft kiss to the curled corner of his mouth. 

"If you start some popcorn, I’ll pick a movie for us?" she offered. 

He responded with a quiet nod, pulsing his hands on her waist before she climbed off of him. He left her on the couch as he started towards her kitchen, the ghost of her warmth clinging to his front. Keeping an ear out, he rooted through her cabinets in search of a packet of popcorn—a snack she seemingly always had on hand, though he hadn't caught her indulging in the kernels more than once in the last months. 

A ring of the doorbell succeeded by muffled giggles had Harry's muscles bunching for a split second. It's Halloween, he reminded himself. Of course there were going to be people at the door, and (Y/N) wasn't going to hesitate with swinging it open. 

Old habits die hard, even the ones that were already in the process of being buried. 

Hurriedly shoving the packet into the microwave with numbers punched into the pad, Harry moved across the kitchen. Peeking around the threshold, he had a clear view of (Y/N) with a large bowl in one hand as she answered the door. 

The giggling grew louder as she pulled open the door. From the angle she was standing before the threshold, he had a view of her smiling profile as she took in the little critters at her stoop. The children, flanked by parents standing a few feet away, all smiled brightly up at the mermaid before them. 

"Trick or treat!" 

"Wow, look at you guys!" (Y/N) cheered, balancing the candy bowl on her hip, "You look amazing! Such cute costumes!" 

"I'm not cute, I'm a zombie," one of the children contradicted, a lisp in his voice. 

(Y/N)'s smile only grew wider, before she fell into a shocked character. "Woah, you are really scary. I don't have any brains, will candy do?" 

Harry was vaguely aware of the way the children cheered for her, the giggles and smiles filling the doorway as she handed out bundles of candy, but he only had eyes on the mermaid. 

He doubted she even knew just how fearless she was. More than once, he'd heard her describe herself as shy, boring even. Never doing anything new, sticking to her routine. She had no idea what kind of effort Harry would have had to exert to do this simple task she did so easily. 

She had no idea just how special she was in the most mundane ways. He would never run out of things to admire about her. He was sure. 

Waving goodbye to the children and their parents, (Y/N) shut and locked the door behind her. It was then that she caught eyes right on her. 

"They were cute, don't you think?" she chattered, unwitting of the fact that he could barely recount any of the details of any of the trick-or-treaters or their costumes. 

"Yeah," he agreed anyway, a dreamy haze smoked around his voice, "Really cute." 

Before she could offer a response, the microwave beeped. The fragrance of buttery popcorn scented through her home, drawing him away from the entryway. He made quick work of emptying the packet into a pastel pink bowl, rushing to head back to her side out on the sofa. 

Curled up, legs under her bottom with a pumpkin-printed throw blanket across her lap, (Y/N) flicked through her chosen streaming service on her television. It wasn't until he was seated at her side, his peach lifting up the edge of the blanket to allow him to slide in next to her, that he saw what she was looking for.

True to the season, he was looking through a section of Halloween movies. Though, not quite the kind he was sure was playing in many other houses in the neighborhood. 

"I know it's not really scary, but I was thinking Scooby-Doo might be fun to watch tonight," she muttered, looking through the various classic movies available for streaming. One Harry remembered watching as a child caught his eye.

Definitely a better option than the home invasion or slasher films he never really found the appeal of.

He moved to overlap her legs over his thighs, spreading her warmth across the side of his body. "That sounds better than anything scary." 

Moving to pick through the popcorn bowl settled on his lap, Harry saw from the corner of his eye the way (Y/N) turned her attention to him. 

Her eyes were impossibly soft, tracing over the planes of his face. She canted her head as she looked at him, just enough so that the light caught the glitter on her face. He wasn't sure what she saw when she looked at him like that, but whatever it was enough to draw her closer to his side. 

"H—" 

Before she could finish whatever it was that she was going to share, the doorbell rang. She hesitated before removing the blanket from her lap. 

"I'll be right back," she murmured, "You pick. 

A soft kiss was pressed to his cheek, just where his dimple devoted his skin. 

Remote in hand, Harry absently scrolled through the title cards though he was listening instead to the giggling conversation happening at the door. 

The sound of her voice soundtracked the beats of his heart. He heard the way she bubbled to these children, playing along to whatever tricks they pulled for the treats in question. He could still feel the press of her lips against his cheek, the warmth a point of clarity as he sunk into the amber-tinted moment that was his own life. Never would he have thought he would ever find himself in a place like this.

"I'm already starting to run out of candy," (Y/N) exclaimed as she made her way back to the couch, "I'm probably giving out too much, but I feel bad if I don't give out, like, handfuls." 

(Y/N) slid back into her spot, as natural as breathing. Entirely fearless, always. 

"You're so sweet, peach," he breathed, much too heavy an answer for something so simple. 

Though it was entirely worth the smile she gifted him. 

Harry wasn't sure if he was ever going to be a huge fan of Halloween, but he could see why others enjoyed it. Especially if these breezy nights went on like this. 

—————

happy (late) halloween everyone! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own, please send them in!!

[theplumsoldier]

sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

[birdmenmanga]

no I know exactly what you're talking about. I think one of the big reasons that kekkaishi stuck out to me so much when I was reading it in middle school was that... the characters were asian... and actually LOOKED asian. like yeah it's manga and super stylized and abstract most of the time that things like race aren't even getting conveyed at all because you just know from context that the characters are asian but it just struck me so much that someone out there thought the flat profile with the rounded nose and features was worth depicting with such care and consistency, and on a main character no less (gen also has this kind of profile, and tokine to some degree as well)

I think you're quite accurate in saying that it's an early Tanabe thing too, because like... how do I say this. her early oneshots, especially the ones leaning into the horror genre, and has these almost off-puttingly realistic proportions.

proto yoshimori... you are so realistic.

I think it's obvious that she drew from life quite a lot in her early times... these are not features that art school busts have, if you catch my drift. even though kekkaishi is already far more stylized than, say, the kekkaishi one-shot, I do think this specific profile is one of the holdovers from that early era of art, and it got lost somewhere between the end of kekkaishi and whenever shuumatu happened. nearly none of that remains in birdmen, and even though kaihen is also having this heavy oriental vibe we don't really see it in the same way there either which makes me a little sad </3

I feel like this is the profile you're talking about! left is from LOST PRINCESS and right is from F is for Fake! if I had to guess, I'd say lost princess came before the kekkaishi one-shot, and f is for fake was probably drawn some time during the serialization of kekkaishi, based solely on the artstyle.

anyways I'm sorry for this info dump I just. also feel strongly about this topic lol

sometimes I'll be reading ashihara hinako and she'll hit me with this early-ish tanabe-esque profile view like

I say early-ish and tanabe-esque bc it reminds me of kekkaishi more than anything. I doubt this is a signature thing for her, realistically, but for me it is. I remember watching the kekkaishi anime on Netflix (the original audio wasn't available, so I had to watch the English dub lmao), and I thought this kind of profile was weird and I didn't like it much. now I love it. I really love it

and now idk . I'm overwhelmed. I'm so glad tanabe sensei is still alive and creating art. I'm so upset ashihara sensei took her own life. I love them both so much.

[thebluester2020]

[TWST] Kinktober Day 23: "Bullying"

Summary: You've witnessed it once. Leona's intelligence was shocking but...if you were gonna get him to tutor you, Leona was definitely going to make you work for it.

Warning(s): Bully!Leona, Mean!Leona, Leona teases the reader a lot in this one and is generally just mean ngl.

Side Note(s): I know that Leona is generally a sweet dude/extremely sarcastic on a good day but the idea of him being rude just gets me going dude.

You hated adored the way Leona smirked that infuriating smirk as you humped his thigh inside his bedroom, his hand propped up on the side of his face as he watched your little display with a keen eye. Like a king watching his entertainment for the night, silently judging whether or not they were good at what they did.

You quietly gasped when Leona's hand went to rest on the side of your thigh. "C'mon...it's like you don't want help on your tests. Speed up." He said with that alluringly deep purr in his voice, your blush only increasing at his words. You wanted to wipe that sly smirk right off his handsome face and say something anything that would have an ounce of a chance of shaking his pride and making him lose the control he had over you right now. But you couldn't, you needed help on your tests and after exhausting your other options, this was the last one you could turn to!

Your were willing to take your chances, and the second he offered you doing...this for him in exchange for him helping you study. You took it all too willingly.

The prince clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes. "With this pace, I'll fall asleep." He grumbled before he suddenly bucked his leg upwards, the shocking stimulation to clit nearly making you fall forward onto the beastman with a sharp moan. You shot a half-hearted glare at him, shakily raising yourself back up as you struggled more and more to keep your pace. "Y-You're...a-always asleep...lazy lion." You mouthed off.

His brow rose as his ears perked to your words.

You couldn't help yourself when you unconsciously clenched at the way a certain...glint in his eye was becoming more and more obvious, like a cat whose pupils began to dilate when it spotted something it wanted to hunt or torture a little for fun. And as Leona's hand lazily dragged up to rest on your waist, you were more than certain that your words may have erupted his usually dormant hunting instinct. "Gettin' mouthy aren't you?" He grumbled before he bucked his thigh once more.

He smirked at how you struggled to keep yourself upward, the scent of your arousal growing more potent by the minute, especially with how he began to draw circles in your thigh. Originally, Leona had simply thought of you as another herbivore amongst the crowd, not interesting nor worth his time to play around with. But...when you came to him practically begging on your knees for him to tutor you, well, how was he supposed to resist messing around with you a little? "You willingly walked into the mouth of a lion, the least you could do is be entertaining when asking me to waste my time tutoring you." He sighed.

His smirk grew when he spotted the dark patch beginning to form on his pants. "Then again...I don't think you want to do much studyin' now, do ya?"

Slowly, his mind disappeared under your skirt before he trailed your skin with a featherlight touch, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he eventually reached your clothed pussy, teasing you with the tip of his claw for a moment before eventually flipping up your skirt to your hidden prize, his tongue running over his lips at the delicious sight. When one of your hands left his shoulder to try and hide yourself, he grabbed your wrist with a growl. "With such a boring performance so far...you should be thanking me that a prince is aiding you." He tsked.

"Now, let me see what you're hidin'..." He then hooked a finger around the band of your panties before slowly tugging them down to see your pussy. Yet as he continued to tease your skin, his cock straining harder against his pants with how you twitched at his touch, and how your slick continued to pool at the center of your panties.

He wanted to fuck you, badly.

And you did as well, your breath labored as if you had been running a marathon with how much you were aching for Leona to do something, anything other than tease you to hell and back. So, you slowly ceased your movements to lean back a little, using your index and middle finger to part your lower lips with a nervous gulp. "P-Please..." You whispered. "Touch me—"

He smirked at your plea. "Hm..." He hummed as he finger moved closer and closer to where you ached for him most. An excited glint shined in your eyes, your mind racing with the eager thought of Leona touching you until...he harshly pinched your thigh. "Tch, as if." He nearly growled out before he bucked his thighs in a silent order for you to resume moving. "Y' think that this is about you?" He bucked his thigh again, the feeling of the flexed muscle bumping against your clit making you gasp and squirm like a wanton thing in heat as you struggled to regain your balance without the influx of pleasure constantly throwing you off.

"This is about you convincing me to help you study herbivore, and right now? You're not doing a good job." He continued to harshly talk down on you before his finger swiftly found your clit, immediately beginning to rub your cunt fiercely whilst he mockingly laughed at the way your hands flew to his shoulders for stabilization.

He then leaned into your ear. "I'll tell what you are doing good at though," He grumbled. "Being a slut." You squinted your eyes closed as your thighs clenched around the beastman's thigh, broken moans and needy whines falling from his lips as you quickly felt your orgasm beginning to approach. "...N-Not true—fuckkk..." You tried to retort. Leona laughed at how you interrupted yourself with your own words.

Clearly, it had to be true.

He knew that studying much less getting any sort of help with your work was the very last thing on your mind. No, you were only focused on cumming, something that he shouldn't have even allowed with how you were making him do all the work! But...seeing as you were being so entertaining to him at this moment...

He decided to be lenient.

"C-Cumming..." You moaned, Leona's fingers speeding up in their ministrations before you threw your head back suddenly to release a loud wail. The force of your orgasm threatened to knock you into unconsciousness as your hips pressed further down onto Leona's thigh, you barely managed a few more weak bucks before you had started to whine in overstimulation. Mercifully, Leona took his hand away from your clit. He raised his fingers to his face, playing with your slick by stretching his index and middle finger a little before his eyes dragged over to your hazy ones.

"Well?" He brought his fingers closer to your lips. Without another word from the prince, you shyly took his fingers into your mouth. "So obedient," He hummed in amusement. "I suppose I've been convinced to help you with your little studies..." He chuckled when your eyes gained a look of hope within them.

"R-Really?" You gasped. "T-Then...I need help on—"

"I'll be the one to tell you what you need help on." He grumbled. "I think your first lesson should be..." He slipped his fingers from your lips before they were already at work of teasing your cunt. "...how to use this cute pussy to please my cock."

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Quiet Signals

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: A week after poetry night, Jenna and Y/N grow closer, leading to a movie night. After a bit of trouble at the theater and a quiet late-night diner, Y/N is left wondering if there's more to their connection than just friendship.

Word Count: 889

The following week at The Daily Grind, I was caught up in my usual routine when Jenna strolled in, her presence immediately drawing my attention. She smiled warmly, and I tried to play it cool, returning her smile with only a slight flush creeping into my cheeks.

"Slick, got a minute to talk?" Jenna asked, casually leaning against the counter with an easy smile.

She glanced at the menu momentarily, then looked up at me with a mischievous glint. "You know what? I think I'll switch it up today. How's that caramel macchiato? Any good?"

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Going off script, huh? Yeah, it's a solid choice, one of my favorites, actually."

Jenna grinned. "Then I'll take your word for it. Caramel macchiato, please."

As I made her drink, I couldn't help but tease, "Didn't take you for the adventurous type when it comes to coffee."

She shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Hey, you gotta keep life interesting, right? Plus, you make it sound like it's worth the risk."

I chuckled as I finished up, handing her the cup. "No pressure, but I might judge you based on whether you like it."

Jenna took a sip, her eyes lighting up immediately. "Okay, not bad, Slick. You might just know what you're talking about."

I smirked. "Told you. My recommendations are gold."

She laughed, and before I knew it, we found ourselves in a quiet corner of the café, conversation flowing as easily as ever.

"Read anything good lately?" Jenna asked, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her cup.

I grinned, glad she asked. "Yeah, actually. I just finished House of Leaves. Have you read it?"

Jenna's eyes widened, her interest clearly piqued. "House of Leaves? Oh man, that book is a trip. It's one of those stories that just... stick with you. What did you think?"

I leaned forward a little, warming to the topic. "It's honestly one of the most unsettling things I've ever read. The house keeps shifting like it's alive, and the endless hallways that shouldn't exist... It's like a labyrinth that traps your mind as much as the characters."

Jenna nodded eagerly, her voice dropping slightly. "And the way it's written, with all the different footnotes and stories within stories... it feels like you're falling down the rabbit hole along with the characters."

"Exactly!" I said, feeling the excitement rise in my chest. "It's not just the story; it's how the book is physically laid out. The text starts spiraling or shrinking, and you feel claustrophobic like the walls are closing in on you."

Jenna smiled, clearly impressed. "It plays with your sense of reality. You're constantly questioning what's real and what's not. It's like the book becomes this haunted object you're holding."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I had to put it down a couple times just to clear my head. It really messes with you in a way no other book does."

Jenna's gaze was thoughtful as she sipped her drink. "I think the scariest part is that the horror isn't always in your face. It's subtle, creeping in through the cracks. That whole idea of a house being bigger on the inside than the outside? That freaked me out more than any monster ever could."

I nodded. "Right? It's the idea that something's not quite right, but you can't put your finger on it. That lingering sense of unease stays with you, even after you've finished reading."

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a smile playing on her lips. "You know, not a lot of people appreciate horror like that. It's all about tension and atmosphere, not just the jump scares."

I laughed softly. "Yeah, it's rare to find someone who gets that."

She tilted her head slightly. "Guess we're both a little obsessed with that eerie, psychological side of things, huh?"

"Looks like it," I replied, smiling. "We've got good taste."

Jenna smiled and nodded, taking another sip of her coffee.

"You know, speaking of that kind of slow-building tension, there's this movie I've been meaning to check out. The Hollow Reflection is coming out soon—it's kind of a psychological thriller. I've been dying to see it," I said, absentmindedly stirring my drink.

Jenna raised an eyebrow, leaning forward a little. "The Hollow Reflection, huh? What's it about?"

I shrugged, trying to remember the trailer I'd seen. "It's one of those films where you can't tell if the main character is losing their mind or if there's really something haunting them. A lot of creeping dread, weird symbolism, and by the end, you're just as confused and terrified as the characters."

Jenna's eyes lit up. "That sounds like my kind of movie. I love films that mess with your head like that. Maybe I'll tag along if you're going."

I blinked, caught off guard by her suggestion. "Wait, are you serious?"

She smirked, setting her cup down on the table. "Yeah, I've been meaning to see other actors' acting methods in horror movies. Seems like the perfect excuse."

I hesitated, still trying to wrap my head around that Jenna wanted to hang out with me outside the café. "Are you sure? I mean, wouldn't it be weird for you to go with—"

Jenna cut me off with a laugh, shaking her head. "Y/N, relax. I'm just a person who likes horror movies, too. Besides, it could be fun."

I nodded slowly, a grin tugging at my lips. "Yeah, okay. That actually sounds like a lot of fun."

We sat there for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. It wasn't a date. It was just a casual hangout. Although there were implications, that this could be something more made my stomach flip.

Jenna stood to leave as she grabbed her bag from the back of her chair. She gave me a playful wave. "See you soon, Slick. And don't forget about that movie."

I watched her walk out of the café, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside me. There was something in the air—something new. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew one thing: I was looking forward to that movie night.

A few days passed, and the anticipation of movie night made me jittery. Whenever I thought about it, I had to shake the thought from my head to stay focused. It wasn't just the movie—I couldn't stop replaying our conversation in the café, Jenna's smile, her playful teasing. There was something... different about it.

On the night of the movie, I was already at the theater, standing in front of the giant neon sign that flickered "Now Showing. The Hollow Reflection." My hands were stuffed in my hoodie pockets as I shifted on my feet, nerves buzzing like live wires under my skin.

I rechecked my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It was just a movie. Not a big deal. Not a date. But then again…

"Hey, Slick."

Her voice cut through my anxious thoughts, and I spun around, spotting Jenna walking toward me. She looked effortlessly cool in a leather jacket and ripped jeans.

I smiled, feeling some of the tension drain from my body. "Woah! You're on time. Impressive."I smirked, lightly elbowing her arm.

She rolled her eyes, smirking as she came to stand beside me. "I'm punctual when I wanna be. Ready for some mind-bending horror?"

"Born ready," I replied, my voice coming out steadier than I felt inside.

Luckily, this theater was unpopular, so few people were there. We made our way into the theater, grabbed our tickets, grabbed some snacks, and found our seats toward the back, right in the middle of the row. The theater was dimly lit, the smell of popcorn filling the air. The excitement from the other moviegoers hummed softly around us. I couldn't shake the feeling that this night was more significant than it seemed.

As the trailers played, I found myself glancing at Jenna from the corner of my eye. She was focused on the screen, but there was this subtle energy between us as if we knew something had hung in the air.

Then the movie started.

The slow-building dread and tense atmosphere immediately set the tone. The psychological twists began creeping in early, and before I knew it, I was fully immersed in the story. Jenna leaned forward, completely engrossed. Occasionally, she'd make a small comment under her breath or give me a quick glance when a particularly creepy moment happened. I couldn't help but grin.

About halfway through, the movie hit a particularly intense scene—the main character was trapped in an abandoned building, the lights flickering ominously. The tension was almost unbearable, and I could feel Jenna tense beside me. I could hear her breath hitch as something moved in the shadows on the screen, the sound design making it even creepier.

The cool night air wrapped around us as Jenna and I stepped out of the theater. It should have been a peaceful moment, but I noticed a group of three guys hanging near the concession stand, their eyes lingering a little too long on Jenna.

One of them, a guy in a worn leather jacket, smirked as we passed. "Hey, isn't that Jenna Ortega?" he said to his buddies. He took a few steps forward, grinning at her. "You should come hang out with us."

Jenna gave a polite smile, clearly used to this kind of attention, "Hey, Thank you for the offer, but I'm exhausted, and I need to get home to get some rest." she continued walking. I could sense the shift in her posture, though—she was uncomfortable. I stuck closer to her side, hoping the guy would take the hint.

But, of course, he didn't. "Come on, don't be like that!" he called after us, voice rising as he moved closer. "We're just trying to be friendly."

Jenna's smile faded, and I could feel her tensing up beside me. The other two guys chuckled behind him, watching the whole scene like it was a show.

That's when I stepped between Jenna and the guy, blocking his path. "She's not interested," I said firmly. "Leave her alone."

Surprised for a second, the guy stopped before his expression turned sour. "What's your problem?" he snapped, glaring down at me. "We're just talking to her."

"No," I said, standing my ground. "You're bothering her. Back off."

Before things could escalate, one of the theater staff came over, noticing the commotion. "Hey, is there a problem here?" he asked, his voice calm but authoritative.

The leather Jacket guy sneered but didn't say anything. The theater employee stepped forward, pulling out his phone. "If you don't leave now, I'll call the police."

The guy looked like he wanted to say something, but after a tense moment, he scoffed and turned to his friends. "Whatever, man. Let's get out of here."

As the three of them walked off, grumbling, the employee nodded at me. "You two okay?"

I nodded, feeling the adrenaline still rushing through me. "Yeah, we're fine. Thanks for stepping in."

Jenna touched my arm gently, her voice soft. "You didn't have to do that."

I turned to her, my heart still racing. "Yeah, I did. I'm not going to let anyone treat you like that."

Jenna smiled, a warmth in her eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I mean it."

As we exited the theater, I noticed two familiar figures waiting by the exit—Jenna's bodyguards. They straightened up when they saw us approach.

"Hey, Jenna," Greg, the shorter and more talkative one, greeted her with a nod. "Everything okay?"

Jenna smiled at them. "Yeah, all good. We had a great time until some jerks bothered us on the way out, but Y/N stepped in."

Will, the taller and more serious one, frowned slightly, his gaze flicking between Jenna and me. "What happened?"

I was about to brush it off, but Jenna jumped in. "Some guys trying to hit on me. Y/N got in between the leader following me and the theater staff taking care of the rest."

Greg grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Slick here playing the hero, huh? Nice work."

I felt my ears heat up, trying to laugh it off. 'Aw man, even her guards are catching on,' I thought.

Jenna smiled and turned to me, clearly amused by the whole situation. "I told Will and Greg to stay outside tonight. I wanted a normal night out. But I guess I could've at least let Will trail us."

Will's brow furrowed, looking mildly frustrated. "Next time, just send us a text or call if something like this happens again."

Jenna shrugged. "Agreed. But no need to worry now; it's in the past, and Y/N had my back."

Greg gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for the Backup, Y/N; we appreciate it."

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It's the sensible thing to do. I don't tolerate bullies or jerks of any caliber."

Will's expression softened slightly, and he gave me a nod. "Good to know. Thanks for stepping in."

As we walked toward the street, Jenna turned to me, her eyes bright with excitement. "Hey, do you want to grab a quick bite? There's this diner I love that is not too far from here. It's called "The Velvet Spoon."

I blinked, a bit surprised by the suggestion. "Uh, yeah, sure. I didn't realize you were still hungry."

She laughed, "Well, the popcorn didn't exactly fill me up. Plus, you've gotta check out this spot. Best secret diner in L.A."

"Secret, huh? I could go for a bite. I'll just catch the bus—"

Jenna cut me off, shaking her head. "You're not taking the bus. I've got my car. I'll give you a ride."

I paused for a moment. "I don't live far, and honestly, I didn't want to lose my parking spot at my apartment. Parking's a nightmare over there."

Jenna smiled knowingly. "I get it. City parking is its own level of hell. But don't worry, I'll drop you off later. You just have to see this place. It's worth it."

I didn't argue further. I wouldn't turn down a ride in Jenna Ortega's car. I followed her toward the parking lot; her sleek black car awaited us. The guards, Will and Greg, were already by the vehicle, giving us space but keeping an eye out. I climbed into the passenger seat, the car's leather interior far fancier than anything I was used to.

Jenna started the engine, the car purring to life as we pulled out of the lot. She shot me a quick smile. "So, have you at least heard of the name anywhere on the internet?"

"Nope, I don't think I've ever heard a place like that before."

"Good. People are doing well keeping the secret, then." Jenna explained. "It's got this super diverse menu, something for everyone. Breakfast all day, burgers, vegan stuff—whatever you're in the mood for."

"Sounds like heaven," I said, already imagining the food. "How'd you find it?"

"I used to come here all the time when I was younger, especially after shoots. The staff is super friendly, and the vibe is chill, despite who you might see there."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "Who might I see?"

She grinned but didn't give any more details, leaving me hanging. We made small talk during the drive—about the movie, the rude guys from earlier, and Jenna's favorite spots in the city. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself laughing and chatting easily with her.

Before long, we pulled up to the diner. The neon sign flickered above, casting a warm glow over the front of the building. It looked like a fancy, retro-style joint from the outside, where you might expect to see velvet ropes and a waiting list.

"Wow," I said, glancing up at the sign. "This place looks… fancy. Am I underdressed?"

Jenna laughed, waving off my concern. "Don't worry. It just looks fancy on the outside. Inside, it's got this old-school, 60s diner vibe. You'll love it."

I stepped out of the car, Will and Greg already holding the door open. Jenna thanked them with a nod, and they hung back by the entrance as we walked inside. As soon as we stepped through the door, I was hit by the warm, nostalgic feeling of an old-timey diner. The red leather booths, checkered floors, and neon signs on the walls made the place look like it had stayed the same since the 60s. It was like stepping into a time capsule.

"Whoa," I whispered to myself. "This place is seriously retro."

Jenna smiled, clearly amused by my reaction. "Told you it's got charm."

As we walked toward our booth, my eyes darted around the room. Then, it hit me. The people sitting at the booths weren't just regular diners. They were celebrities—faces I recognized immediately. A-listers. My jaw almost dropped when I spotted actors like Zendaya, Timothée Chalamet, and even Florence Pugh casually eating at tables like this. It must have been their regular hangout spot.

I leaned over to Jenna, whispering, "Um, are those…?"

Jenna smirked. "Yep. Welcome to Hollywood's secret diner."

I tried to play it cool, but inside, I was freaking out. I was used to being around celebrities, but not all at once! Seeing all these big shot stars in this diner made me envious, 'I wish they were in The Daily Grind in these sorts of numbers.' The fact that Jenna was also one of them suddenly felt surreal.

We slid into a booth, and I tried to focus on the menu. Jenna laughed softly at my reaction but didn't make a big deal out of it, which I appreciated. Instead, we dove into a conversation. Jenna grinned as she flipped open the menu, her eyes lighting up as she pointed to a section near the top. "Okay, first things first—you have to try the pancakes here. They're ridiculously fluffy. I swear, they could probably double as pillows."

I chuckled, glancing at the menu. "Pancakes? At night? What a rebel, Ms. Ortega."

"Trust me," Jenna said, nodding enthusiastically. "This place has breakfast all day, and the pancakes are like a secret weapon. I always get them with their maple butter syrup. It's life-changing."

I skimmed over the menu, intrigued. "Maple butter syrup, huh? That sounds… dangerous."

"It is, but in the best way," she replied, leaning back in her seat. "They also have this burger that's a mix between a classic diner burger and something you'd get at a gourmet spot. It's called the 'Hollywood Hustler,' and it's got this bacon jam that I could eat by the spoonful."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Okay, gourmet pancakes and burgers. This place already sounds like it's on another level."

Jenna flipped to another menu page and pointed to a dessert section. "But honestly, if you're still hungry after that, the milkshakes are killer. They've got these over-the-top flavors, like peanut butter and strawberry cheesecake. And everything here is just… comforting. It's why I love this place."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing around the diner. "It definitely has that vibe, like one of those hidden gems you wouldn't expect."

Jenna nodded, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah, it's been around forever. It started as this little hole-in-the-wall joint in the 60s, just serving basic diner food. But over the years, it became a hotspot for actors and musicians who wanted a spot to hang out."

I looked around at the nostalgic décor, the retro booths, and the neon lights. "Makes sense. It feels like a time capsule."

"It really is," Jenna agreed. "They've kept the same décor since day one. I like it because it's not pretentious or flashy—it's just good food, good vibes, and no pressure. Even though some of the biggest names in Hollywood come through here, it still feels like a little secret hideaway."

I scanned the menu again, impressed by the variety. "Okay, I think I'm sold. But the real question is, do I go for pancakes or that burger?"

Jenna smirked, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "Why not both? Pancakes for the soul, burger for the stomach."

I laughed, feeling entirely at ease in the moment. "I think I like the way you think."

Jenna's eyes sparkled. "It's all about balance, Slick. You'll thank me later."

As Jenna continued to enthusiastically point out more items on the menu—everything from her favorite fries with truffle aioli to a buttermilk chicken sandwich that, according to her, "hits different"—I couldn't help but notice how blissfully happy she seemed. It was like watching a kid in a candy store, her eyes wide with excitement, the soft hum of the diner's retro vibe only amplifying the joy radiating from her. Every time she mentioned a dish, it was as if she were sharing a personal victory, proud and delighted just to be here.

I glanced over the menu, nodding along to what Jenna was saying, but my attention drifted. There was something magnetic about seeing her like this; she was so carefree and genuinely excited. I wasn't sure why, but it caught me off guard in the best way. Her enthusiasm felt contagious, making me want to experience this place through her eyes. She wasn't the famous Jenna Ortega here—she was just Jenna, enjoying a quiet night out, sharing one of her favorite spots with someone she trusted.

The buzz of the diner's ambiance faded into the background for a moment. My thoughts swirled as I watched her, caught up in her energy. It was rare to see someone so genuinely excited about the little things, and I found myself smiling, almost lost in the simplicity of the moment. How could someone who lived in the whirlwind of Hollywood seem so grounded, so at peace in a place like this?

Suddenly, I realized I had zoned out. Jenna's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts.

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" She was smiling, her head tilted slightly. "What's up? You spaced out for a second there."

I blinked, sitting up straighter, feeling my cheeks flush. "Oh, sorry. I was just… admiring your childlike enthusiasm about this place."

Jenna raised an eyebrow, her smile softening into something more curious. "Really? I thought you were getting bored with my diner ramblings."

I shook my head, feeling a little shy about being so honest. "No, it's not that at all. It's just that you're so excited about being here. It's kind of refreshing to see. You're like a kid in a candy store, Jenna."

She laughed softly, her eyes brightening even more. "I just love sharing things like this. I guess when you're used to so much… I don't know… noise, finding a place like this is grounding. It reminds me of when things were simpler, you know?"

I nodded, feeling the truth in her words. "Yeah, I get that."

Jenna smiled, reaching for her water glass, and I couldn't help but admire how at ease she seemed. "I'm glad you're here, Y/N. I wanted to share this with you."

Her words hit me in a way I hadn't expected. I felt a warmth in my chest, which made me feel like this might not be just a casual dinner with a friend. There was something more to this moment, something more to Jenna's need to share this part of her world with me.

"Me too," I replied quietly, and for a moment, we just smiled at each other across the table.

The waiter arrived to take our orders, and after some back and forth, I settled on Jenna's recommendation: pancakes with that famous maple butter syrup and a side of truffle fries. Jenna ordered her usual, which was the Hollywood Hustler burger with truffle aloi fries.

Once the waiter left, I leaned back in the booth, stealing another glance at her. She seemed so light, so free, sitting here under the soft diner lights, tapping her fingers against the table to the beat of the music playing in the background.

As the night went on, we fell into our usual easy conversation—laughing, teasing, and sharing stories—but it felt slightly different tonight. Maybe it was the nostalgia of the diner, or maybe it was Jenna's openness, but there was something about this place, this moment, that made everything feel… closer.

As Jenna pulled up in front of my apartment, the soft hum of the car's engine slowly faded. I unbuckled my seatbelt, still buzzing from the diner, from Jenna's energy and how effortlessly the night had unraveled into something unexpectedly perfect.

"Thanks again, Jenna, for tonight. It was… it was nice." I turned to her, meaning every word.

Jenna smiled, reaching over to give me a hug. "Of course, Slick. I needed this as much as you did."

I opened the car door, stepping onto the sidewalk, and just as Jenna was about to say something, she froze, her eyes widening.

"Oh. My. God!"

I whipped my head toward the building, alarmed. "What? What's wrong?"

Jenna pointed toward my apartment window with all the enthusiasm of a fan girl. "It's him!"

I followed her gaze, only to see Mr. Noodles perched on the windowsill, his paw pressed against the glass as he meowed. His tiny mouth moved in exaggerated yowls, clearly demanding attention.

"Mr. Noodles?" I raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned.

Jenna, however, had no such hesitation. "It's him, Y/N! Oh my god, I'm obsessed." She practically squealed, already making hand gestures, the usual pspsps sound that usually beckoned any cat.

I burst out laughing, my earlier calm completely thrown off. "You're fangirling… over my cat?"

"He's a star!" Jenna exclaimed, leaning across the seat. "Look at him! He's confidently taking center stage." She turned to me with wide, pleading eyes. "Can I meet him? Please?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. "Okay, okay, sure. Come on up, but only if you're comfortable. It's just Mr. Noodles, though, not some celebrity cat."

Jenna grinned. "Please, Y/N. I'd love to meet the gentleman who's stolen my heart tonight."

We both laughed as we walked up to my apartment. I opened the door, and Mr. Noodles wasted no time, strutting over like he owned the place, 'which he did in all fairness,' immediately rubbing up against Jenna's legs.

"Oh my god, he's even cuter in person," Jenna cooed, crouching down to pet him. Mr. Noodles practically melted under her touch, sprawled out on the floor, purring like an engine. "You, sir, are a charmer." Jenna cooed.

An hour passed as we sat on the couch. Jenna had settled in, legs folded, Mr. Noodles curled up against her. I launched into a story about one of the celebrity bodyguards who frequented The Daily Grind. This particular bodyguard worked for a famous actor who was a regular at the café, and he was known for being extremely over-the-top when it came to protecting his client.

"So, this guy is like six feet tall, built like a tank," I started, setting the scene. "One day, a group of tourists sat nearby, trying to get pictures of his client. You could tell they were trying to be sneaky but were about as subtle as a neon sign."

Jenna leaned in, already smiling in anticipation. "Oh no, what happened?"

I chuckled. "Well, the bodyguard noticed, of course, and instead of just asking them to stop, he walks over, grabs a tiny spoon from their clients' cappuccinos, and holds it up to his ear like a phone. Then, in the deepest, most serious voice ever, he goes, 'Yeah, hello, police? I have a Code Flash Photo here. Unauthorized photos in progress.'"

Jenna's eyes widened as she burst into laughter, covering her mouth. "No way! Did they stop?"

"Oh, they panicked," I continued, laughing with her. "The tourists practically threw their phones back into their bags and bolted out of the café. Meanwhile, the actor didn't even notice anything was happening."

Jenna shook her head, grinning. "That's too funny!" I need to hire that guy just for the entertainment."

Before we could dive into another story, though, a loud voice interrupted the moment.

"Ken! You won't believe what kind of party we were just at!"

I froze, immediately recognizing the familiar voices of my brothers. Marcus and Caleb ran into the living room, out of breath from running.

"Please tell me it wasn't another one of Marcus's weird gym parties," I muttered.

Caleb, always a bit quieter and the more reserved of the two, smiled sheepishly. "Actually, it wasn't anything wild this time. It was a Sweet 16 party for one of our college buddies' daughters."

Marcus, ever the instigator, grinned and leaned on the doorframe. "Yeah, can you believe that? The guy's a serious family man now, but he was a party legend back in the day."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Wait, so you two went to a Sweet 16? No wild parties this time?"

Caleb shook his head, laughing softly. "Nope, nothing wild. We stuck with our friends from college, and now most of them are family men. We didn't party hard; it was pretty tame. There were a lot of kids, and we mostly hung out by the snacks."

Marcus chimed in with a smirk. "Yup, no wild parties for us anymore. We're practically saints now."

Jenna smiled playfully, glancing between the two of them. "Saints, huh? I'll have to take your word for it… for now."

But before I could steer the conversation away from whatever embarrassing stories my brothers were about to unleash, Marcus clapped his hands together, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey, wait a minute! You're the Jenna Ortega! Y/N has been gushing over."

My heart basically dropped and crashed into a million pieces. "Don't you have something better to do!?" I yelled, throwing a pillow in their direction. Caleb chimed, "Y/N, why didn't you tell us we were having guests. We need to introduce ourselves."

I groaned inwardly as Marcus stepped forward, practically bowing as he introduced himself. "Marcus L/N, professional gym rat and Ken's favorite brother."

Caleb followed suit, though his introduction was more reserved. "Caleb, L/N. I'm the Quieter brother."

Jenna smiled warmly at them, but I knew that was just the beginning.

Marcus, never one to miss an opportunity, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me. "So, Y/N, did you tell Jenna how prone you are to spilling things on yourself when we were kids?"

Jenna's eyes sparkled as she turned to me, clearly intrigued. "Oh, really?"

"Marcus…" I warned, but it was too late.

"Yup! She'd knock over everything. Once, she spilled an entire Liter of soda all over herself at a family reunion. We thought she would slip and fall, but instead, she just stood there like a drenched statue."

Jenna, laughing so hard she had to hold her sides, added, "Oh, this is perfect. She spilled sugar all over herself when we first met."

Both my brothers stared at me in mock surprise. "Ken! You never told us that part of the story!" Caleb teased.

Mr. Noodles wasn't assisting in comforting me, as he was lapping up all the attention from Jenna away from me. At the same time, I was relentlessly being embarrassed by Marcus and Caleb. 'True to their word, they were gonna embarrass me. I'll have to repay them somehow.'  

It wasn't until 2:40 a.m. that I noticed Jenna yawning, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry. I had such a great night, but I think it's time I head home before I fall asleep on your couch."

I nodded, then scolded my brothers with a playful glare.  "Okay, okay, enough roasting me. Leave the girl alone already. She needs to sleep."

Jenna laughed softly and whispered yelled. Don't worry; I'll see you guys again soon. I'm sure there are plenty more embarrassing stories to hear."

My brothers waved her off with mischievous grins as she stood up, stretching. "We'll hold you to that!" I blinked, still processing her words. She's coming back? My mind raced with the idea of a "next time," but before I could dwell on it, Jenna bent down to scratch Mr. Noodles' chin.

"Thanks for letting me spoil you with all my attention tonight, Mr. Noodles," she cooed, her voice soft as she petted him. He responded with a loud purr, rubbing his head against her hand before trotting back toward the living room where my brothers were still lounging.

"Traitor," I muttered under my breath, but I couldn't help but smile.

As Jenna's guards opened the car doors, she turned back to me, a soft smile on her lips. Before leaving, she stepped forward, pulling me into a warm hug. It wasn't just a friendly hug; it lingered, her arms wrapped around me with a closeness that made my heart skip a beat. I hugged her back, trying to keep my cool, but my pulse was racing. 'Damn, my heart. Hopefully, she can't feel it beating out my chest.'

"You know, Y/N, I had a really great time tonight. You're... different. And I mean that in a good way." 

Her words made my heart stutter, and before I could even think of a response, Jenna gave me a lingering glance—one that told me she wasn't just talking about our friendship. It was the kind of look that left you standing frozen, wondering if everything you've been feeling was suddenly becoming real.

"I'll see you soon, Slick," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that sent shivers down my spine. She gave me a small, meaningful smile before finally stepping back and climbing into the car.

I stood there, replaying her words and the hug over and over in my mind as the car began to drive off. My thoughts were racing, her look, her tone, and the way she said "different"—it all hit me at once like a wave.

As I watched the car disappear around the corner, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, my heart pounding against my chest. Tonight was unexpected… The way she spoke, the way she hugged me, and the way she looked at me—it was more than just a fun night out.

Jenna was interested. Really interested.

And as I walked back inside, the realization hit me. This was the start of something more than I ever expected.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 15: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 6)

Summary: You finally catch a fish. Afterwards, you have a nice dinner with Soap and then do a little stargazing after, which turns into anything but stargazing.

Word Count: 14,875

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, smut, p in v, fluff, slightly rough smut, unprotected sex, sexual language, slight male masturbation, developing feels

A/N: Look at that word count… this is a long one. Lots of good stuff though! Also the drawing in this chapter is one that I did! Anyone, sorry for the wait, and please enjoy!!

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Bitter Allies • Part 15

Your options for clothing is beginning to really run thin. With Soap having destroyed one pair, and the bear shitting on the other, you only had two left. One was hanging out on the porch to dry, and the other wasn't the best for wading into the water. They didn't roll up very well, so you opt to wear the shorts you sleep in instead.

The sleep shorts weren't ideal either, but at least the shortened length would keep them out of the water, and they were dry. And now that you're back into some dry clothing, you can continue your fishing.

While you're back out in the water, watching carefully for what will hopefully be the last fish you try to catch, Soap is back on short making a fire. Every now and then, your gaze drifts from watching the water to check on the progress he's made. At least that's what you tell yourself you're checking on. You're not looking at him just because you want to look at him.

Though you have to admit, your moment from early was still fresh in your mind. As was the dream, your kiss from last night, and your little hookup a few nights back.

Thinking about each encounter made you angry with yourself but also made your heart leap in your chest. You liked it far more than you should, and with this last moment of weakness between you, you found that you didn't want to stop. Even now, after clearing your head, you almost regret listening to him. Part of you wishes you ignored him and kept going. Consequences be damned. It was almost like you were starting to fall for...

No! Absolutely not!

You physically recoil at that thought. You could not be falling for Soap MacTavish. You could not be starting to have feelings for this man. This guy who's caused you nothing but anguish during your entire time with the 141. That could not be what was happening.

But then what else could explain it? Soap seemed to think the whole reason that you slept with each other in the first place was because of stress. Stress couldn't be causing the continued make out sessions though. You didn't really feel stressed anymore. At least not because of Soap. Things had been great within the past twenty four hours.

So then were you really starting to fall for the Scot?

Sighing softly to yourself, you try to force those thoughts out of your head. Just tonight and then two more days. Maybe once you got out of the woods those feelings were go away.

"Oi! Lass! Catch anything yet?!"

You jolt a bit as Soap's voice reaches your ears, heart hammering in your chest now. You take a deep breath to settle your poor heart and then turn to look back at him, trying to act like he hadn't just startled you.

"No! And I won't with all your shouting!" You yell back.

There was no fish around anyway. Not big ones worth catching at least. You turn back to look at the water, debating if you should move and try somewhere else or keeping trying where you were.

"You want some help?" Soap asks, and when you look back at him, he's walked closer to the shoreline.

Huffing softly, you drop your stance and putting a hand on your hip. "I think I'm alright for now."

Soap shrugs a bit, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll be right back then. Gonna run inside and get something."

You watch as he retreats back towards the cabin, only looking away once he's up the steps. Sighing softly, you turn back to the water, continuing to play the waiting game.

Not a minute later, you hear the cabin door open back up and can make out the sounds of him getting close once again. You don't think too much of it when you can no longer hear him, but after about ten seconds, you begin to feel as though you're being watched.

Frowning, you turn back around to try and figure out why you're feeling that way, only to find Soap seated at a tree close to where you were. He was still a good few feet away, but he's close enough for you to notice the black journal in his lap and a pencil in his hand.

"What are you doing?" You ask curiously, brows furrowing.

"Drawing." He says simply, not taking his eyes off the page.

It makes you shift nervously. You try to ignore him, turning your attention back to the water. After only a few seconds though, you quickly figure out you can't just ignore him, and you turn back to look at him.

"Why?" You venture further, catching him at a moment where he's looking up and out towards whatever it is he's drawing. It seems to just be the lake, but you can't really tell.

"Why not?" Soap shrugs, his eyes staying up a second longer before going back to his sketch. "I'm done making the fire. Just trying to pass the time while I wait on your ass to catch a fish so we can start cooking."

You glare a little at him for that.

"Shouldn't you be watching the fire?" You glance towards where the little blaze is going. "You know so we don't set the woods and our housing on fire?"

Soap waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, still not looking up at you. "It's not gonna escape that pit. Besides it's like five meters away. I can keep an eye on it and draw." He argues.

You keep watching him, lips pursed together nervously. It crossed your mind he might be drawing you, but you didn't want to ask him if he was. He probably wasn't anyway. Why on earth would he draw you? It wasn't like he...

"You gonna just stand there staring at me or are you gonna catch a fish?" Soap asks, making you snap out of your daze instantly.

Your face flushes hot, heart skipping a beat as your eyes meet his. Oh god. You'd just been standing there... staring at him.

"I—I wasn't staring." You stammer, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and your fluster only deepens. "I wasn't!" You insist a bit too quickly, your voice pitching higher in embarrassment. "I just... got lost in thought, that's all."

"Thinking about what?" He asks, raising a brow, which makes your face burn hotter if that was even possible. You quickly turn to try and hide your blush, but you're sure he's already noticed.

"Nothing." You answer shortly. Why did you care if he was drawing you? It was keeping him quiet and away from you, so it didn't really matter.

Soap laughs softly from his spot. He doesn't add anything else, and after a moment of silence, you assume he's gone back to his sketching, though you stubbornly refuse to glance back and confirm. Your attention returns fully to the water, focusing on the little ripples on the surface as you steady yourself.

Now that you're standing still, the fish begin to reappear, swimming cautiously around your legs. You keep your breathing shallow, body unmoving as you wait. After what feels like an eternity, one of a decent size glides lazily toward you. Your heart skips in excitement, but you keep your composure, not daring to move just yet and risk scaring it off.

The fish swims closer, and the closer it gets, the more your heart hammers in your chest. You hold your breath, raising your spear ever so slightly. Remembering Soap's advice, you adjust your aim—just a little lower than your instinct tells you.

Then, in a swift motion, you snap the spear down, piercing the water's calm surface. At first, you can't tell if you've gotten anything, but then your spear starts to jerk, making you hold it tighter. The fish wriggles and thrashes against the spear, but you've got it.

"Oh my God! Soap! I got one! I did it!" You shout, your voice breaking with excitement. "Quick! Come here! I got one!"

You press down harder on the spear, driving it deeper into the mud beneath the water to ensure the fish won't escape. From behind, you hear a splash as Soap jumps in and charges through the water, closing the distance between you in seconds. His hand instinctively finds its place at the small of your back as he comes up beside you.

"You finally got one?" He asks, a little breathless from the sprint over.

You nod eagerly, feeling the fish tug and jerk at the end of your spear. "Yes! I got one! Hurry, grab it before it gets away!"

Soap chuckles, and you feel a playful pinch at your hip. You're so focused on not losing the fish though you hardly even notice it. "I don't think it's going anywhere, hen." He reassures you as he bends down to reach into the water to get it. His hand wraps around the flailing fish, the other grasping your spear shaft.

"Let up on the spear. I got 'em. He's not going anywhere." He tells you. As he holds onto the fish with one hand, his other hand helps guide the spear up, lifting it just enough to pull it out of the water.

"Are you sure you got it?" You ask, resisting just a little bit at first. You wanted to be absolutely sure he had your fish.

Soap glances up at you from his crouched down position, and instead of answering you with words, he stands, hauling the fish up out of the water with him. You gasp a little in surprise, watching it thrashing around a little before settling. It was a pretty impressive fish, or at least you thought so. To a fisherman it probably wasn't anything too excited or even that big. But for your first time catching a fish, you were thrilled.

"Oh my God! I caught that?!" You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt just slightly.

Soap's grinning too, chuckling softly as he glances between the fish and your beaming face. "Yeah, you did. Not too bad for a first timer." He praises, turning the fish a little to inspect it. The movement makes the fish squirm, its scales flashing under the sunlight as it struggles.

"It's huge! It looked smaller in the water." You say, looking it over as Soap turns it. You can't help but admire how the scales shimmer with iridescent greens and silvers, the white underbelly glistening in contrast. It looks similar to the others you'd been catching earlier.

Soap scoffs playfully. "Huge? Let's not get too carried away now." He chuckles, and you shoot him a glare, which only widens his grin. "But hey, for a first timer, I'd say it's a pretty decent catch." He adds, forearm flexing as the fish gives a sudden, powerful thrash. It's almost as if the fish is protesting his words and proving you were right.

You smirk, folding your arms across your chest as Soap regains control of the fish. "Don't ruin this for me, MacTavish. I'm allowed to be excited—I've been out here for hours."

Soap chuckles lightly and gives you a half smirk. "Alright, I'll shut up." He concedes, still chuckling softly as he turns and starts making his way back towards the shoreline.

You follow after him with a smile, still silently celebrating to yourself. It was going to be so much more satisfying to eat all the fish later knowing you were going to be eating one you caught yourself. You couldn't wait to get them over the fire.

"Hey States." Soap calls back to you after a few seconds, pulling you out of your thoughts and making you glance up at him. He still walking, only glancing over his shoulder slightly. "You did good. This is a really nice catch."

You pause for just a second, his praise taking a moment to process. When it does though, a warm feeling settles over you. "Thanks." You say softly, surprised that him saying something like that meant so much to you. Maybe it was because Soap never gave you compliments.

"So do you wanna kill it?" Soap asks as you walk onto the slightly sandy shore, pulling you rather abruptly from the high you'd been on.

"What?" You ask, looking back at him in surprise. "Do.. do I have to?" You frown. You'd been hoping, since he'd killed all the other fish, he'd just finish off this one off too. For whatever reason, it made you squeamish to think about killing it.

"Well, no." Soap says, immediately easing your anxiety about that. "I'll kill it if you don't want to. Just thought since you'd caught it and everything, you'd want to finish the job." He shrugs, looking back over at you again, almost like he waiting to see if you'd to change your mind.

You shake your head though. "No. I can't. I'm gonna feel so bad." Sure, you were responsible for catching it, and you were going to eat it, but for whatever reason, it was hard for you to kill innocent animals.

Soap gives you a look, but he quickly gets to work on getting his knife out to end the fish. "So you can kill people for a living but not a fish?" He questions, poking the knife through the gills and making a quick and clean cut. You have to look away when he does it. It still makes you uneasy.

"It's different when it's animals." You frown, risking a glance back to see if he was done. He was, and he was just tucking his knife back into his pocket. The fish was now still, blood dripping out of it where Soap made the cut.

"Don't go on missions with Ghost then." He mutters, tipping the fish upside down to let the fish bleed out better. It wouldn't take that long or at least the others didn't.

Soap's words pique your interest. You're well aware of how Ghost is. He's a very "do whatever it takes to get the job done" kind of guy. The way Soap says it though makes you think he's got a story.

"Why not?" You venture, tilting your head slightly. It's a gesture that makes Soap want to spare you, and you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes.

"Let's just say... he has no problem with shooting anything that might compromise him."

As vague as he's being, you understand pretty well. You know Price has given you the advice to shoot a dog if it was going to bark and alert others to your presence. Ghost most definitely stood by that principle. Honestly he was probably the one who told Price that in the first place.

You can't help but make a face at the thought of having to shoot an animal. "That... that sounds like him." You nod, leaving the conversation at that. You were just going to be sad if you kept talking about it.

"So... When can we get cooking?" You change the topic to something more appealing.

The second your mind goes back to food, you instantly get hungry. Your stomach makes this a well known fact too as it lets out a low and long rumble. It's been at least two hours since you decided to go fishing, and you're starving at this point.

Soap laughs as your stomach growls, his eyes flicking down as if he expected to see if rolling like it did in the cartoons. "We can start right now. Sounds like you won't make it much longer if we don't." He teases, an almost playful smirk tugging at his lips as he pinches your side lightly.

You swat his hand away as he pinches you and glare at him, which only makes him chuckle. "You gotta learn how to keep your hands to yourself." You huff as you follow behind him.

"Says the woman who can't seem to keep her hands off me." He laughs, glancing over his shoulder at you and raising a brow.

Your eyes widen at his words, and your cheeks start to burn a little. "Oh shut the fuck up. You act like you aren't equally as bad. If not worse!"

Soap huffs softly at your accusation as he places now the now fully bled out fish one of the logs in the stack of wood he's collected. "So you're not denying it?"

You freeze for just a moment, realizing in horror that you aren't. Has your whole dynamic with Soap really changed that much? Your mind struggles to come up with something to say back. You can't just deny it now that he's pointed it out.

So you deflect. You let out a groan and roll your eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?" You grumble, trying to sound indifferent, though the heat in your cheeks gives you away.

Soap just keeps smirking at you. "Aye, but I'm starting to think you like it." He answers cheekily as he wipes his hands off on his pants.

"Absolutely not." You shoot that down fast. "I'm only trying to be nice to you so you don't burn my fish."

"What makes you think I'm cooking your fish for you?" Soap huffs. "I caught most of them. Hell I even prepped all them while you were out there splashing around in the water. You can at least cook your own damn fish."

He picks up his fishing spear from the ground as he talks and works one of the fish onto the stick. It was the biggest fish too, but you weren't going to argue. He did technically catch it, and he ate a lot more than you did anyway.

"Fine. I can probably cook a fish better than you anyway." You shrug, walking over to grab one of the pre-prepped fish from the little pan Soap has placed them in.

"You wanna cook them all then?" He asks, offering the stick with his fish on it over to you.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away before taking your own fish and working it gently onto the your stick. "Just cook your own damn fish, Soap." You sigh, moving to the opposite side of the fire to cook your own fish.

You don't look back up at him, your eyes focused on making sure your fish doesn't burn to a crisp, but Soap smiles over at you through the fire.

***

You watch as the flames gently lick up over the fish, cooking the outsides to a slightly browned colored. It shouldn't take too long for the fish to cook, maybe only about ten minutes. It's already dripping juice down onto the burning logs though and the smell is incredible. It's the best thing you've smelled in years, and it's making your mouth water.

Time is passing by so slowly though. The longer you watch the fish cook, the more your stomach seems to feel like it's cramping up. You're about ready to just take it off the fire and risk eating it raw, but the last thing you want to do is give yourself food poisoning and have to wait it out for the rest of the few days you're here.

You watch as another drop leaves the fish and sizzles on some of the coals. In response, stomach lets off a particularly loud and long growl, one that makes Soap peak up over the fire at you.

"You hanging in there, States?" He asks, a slight chuckle in his voice.

You let out a low grunt in response, eyes fixed hungrily on the fish that's still not ready. "Barely," you mutter, frustration lacing your voice. Soap chuckles again, only adding to your annoyance. "It's taking forever." You grumble, and with a sigh, you flip the fish over, to cook the other side a little more.

"Mine's done."

Your head snaps up at that, disbelief etched across your face. Across the fire, Soap's wearing a smug grin as he pulls his fish off the flames and inspects it. You squint, trying to get a better look, but from where you're sitting, you can't tell if it's actually cooked or if he's just messing with you.

"How the hell is yours done already? We started at the same time!" You pout, unable to hide the hint of envy in your voice.

Soap huffs, that irritatingly self-satisfied grin never leaving his face. "Because I know what I'm doing." He replies matter-of-factly.

He glances down at his fish with a contented sigh. "Oh, this is gonna taste so good." He mumbles, and you watch as he begins blowing on it to cool it off.

You roll your eyes and slump back down, watching as your stubborn fish continues to sizzle over the flames. "Shut up, Soap." You mumble, the words almost drowned out by the grumbling of your empty stomach.

"Need some help?" He offers, that same infuriatingly amused tone coloring his voice. It only makes you bristle further.

"No." You snap, sharper than you intended. "Stop being an ass."

Soap's brows lift slightly, taken aback by your sudden outburst. A few minutes ago, you'd been lighthearted and playful, but now— He sighs softly, shoulders relaxing. "Alright, alright." The teasing drops from his voice, replaced by something gentler. "I was just messin'. No need to get all hangry on me."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare before dropping your gaze back to the fish, your irritation simmering low. "I'm not hangry."

"Uh-huh. Sure sounds like it." He murmurs, but his tone has shifted—more genuine, less needling. "C'mere, States. I've got hot coals over here. They'll cook your fish faster."

You hesitate, glancing over at him. You're still not happy with him, but you're also so hungry. You'd do almost anything to get your damn fish to cook faster so you can eat. Reluctantly, you sigh and stand up, walking over to where he's sitting.

When you settle beside him, Soap shifts slightly, carefully laying his own stick with the cooked fish against a log. Once it's balanced, he scoots closer to you, his thigh brushing against yours. The feeling makes your heart jump despite the previous frustration you were feeling towards him just a moment prior.

"Here, put the fish right above these coals." Soap instructs, his voice low. He points with one hand and gently adjusts your stick with the other. His fingers curl over yours as he guides it into place. Instead of focusing on where your fish is being placed by the coals, your eyes stay glued to where his hand lays over yours.

"There. It'll be done in no time." He says softly, his hand dropping away and resting back in his lap.

You shift your gaze back to your fish, noticing how much more intense the fire feels over here. The heat that radiates off the coals feels hotter and almost makes your cheeks burn.

While you're focused on your fish, you feel Soap shift back away from you for a second. When you look, you can see he's reached back over to get his fish. The sight of it, browned, charred, ready to eat, instantly makes your stomach growl again, and you catch Soap glance over at you, a little frown creasing his forehead.

Then, without a word, he nudges you gently. "Here." He says, holding out his perfectly cooked fish to you. "Eat this."

You blink, surprised. "What? But... you already—"

"I'll eat yours when it's done." He interrupts, his voice unusually gentle. "Go on, take it. You're starving, and I don't want you passing out on me or anything."

You look between him and the fish, a small frown forming on your lips. It was such a sweet gesture, and so uncharacteristic of him. You glance up to meet his eyes, finding they were already looking back at you, his gaze tender and warm.

When you still don't make a move to take the fish from him, his features soften even more. "States, either take the damn fish, or I'm gonna make you take it." He warns lightly, and you can tell he's not mad, but he's being serious.

His threat puts you at ease, and you smile. That was more like the Soap you knew. "Thanks." You murmur quietly, accepting the stick as he reaches over to grab yours in exchange.

The second the fish is in your hands, saliva starts to pool in your mouth. You don't waste any time, bringing it to your lips and taking a big, eager bite. The moment the warm, flaky fish hits your tongue, it's as if every sense lights up at once. It's not perfectly seasoned or delicately prepared—it's slightly charred on the edges and a little tough to bite off and chew. But after a week of bland MREs and tasteless food, this is the best thing you've eaten in your entire life.

A slight smoky flavor from the fire lingers on your tongue, and the little bit of salt you added before is just barely noticeable. You take a second bit and hum quietly in appreciation, barely able to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Soap watches you for a moment, a soft and pleasant expression on his face. "Better?" He asks quietly.

You nod, still in the middle of chewing, eyes closed as you savor your current bite. "Yeah... thanks, Soap." You say mutter after a bit, feeling your earlier anger melt instantly. Maybe you were just hangry.

"No problem, hen." He murmurs sweetly, his gaze returning to the fish cooking on the coals and turning it over.

You glance back over at him, watching the side of his face. The flames cast an orangish glow to his cheeks and shadows to his jawline. It's strange how different he looks in this moment—maybe it's the firelight, or maybe it's just how at ease he seems, sitting beside you.

An unfamiliar warmth settles deeper in your chest, wrapping around your heart, filling you with a lightness you haven't felt in... you don't even know how long. It radiates through you, down to your fingertips and the tips of your toes, making you feel almost weightless.

You blink, suddenly aware of how much you enjoy being around Soap—how much you've come to look forward to these moments. The banter, the teasing, the soft simple moments like this one. The way he looks at you sometimes with something unspoken that you can't quite put your finger on.

You take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself, to shake off the warmth spreading through you, but it's no use. Being around Soap just... feels good. Better than you expected. Better than you'd let yourself admit until now.

He glances over, catching your gaze for a second, and a small smile tugs at his lips. "You alright, hen?" He asks, his tone light but laced with a quiet concern.

You nod quickly, looking away as your heart skips a beat. "Yeah, I'm good." You manage to say, though your voice sounds breathy.

Soap watches you a moment longer before going back to tending to the fish, seemingly unaware of the shift happening inside you. But you're aware. So painfully aware of how close he's sitting, of the warmth of his leg brushing against yours, of the subtle comfort that his presence brings. You can't shake the feeling that something's changed between you—you know something has. Something you can't quite name, but it's there, and it's only growing.

"There!" Soap's voice pulls your attention back to him. "All done. Told ya they'd cook faster over here." He smiles, blowing gently on the fish. He glances back to you as he does, noticing the barely touched fish, only sporting two bites, on the stick in your lap.

"How's the fish, lass? It looks like you've hardly touched it." He frowns. Knowing how hungry you were a moment before, he's a little surprised the entire thing wasn't completely gone by now.

You look back down at your fish, smiling a little. "It's really good. I'm just trying to make it last." You lift it back up to your lips to take another bite then, which makes Soap relax a bit.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." He says softly, turning his over to look for a good place to dig in. He tries to take a small bite but immediately withdrawals, making a face. "Ah, way too fucking hot yet. Just burnt my tongue."

Without thinking, you hold out the fish you'd been eating to him. "Wanna take a bite?" You ask, it taking you a moment to realize what you were doing. By the time you do, it's far too late to take it back.

Soap looks at you with an amused sparkle in his eye and he laughs. "Nah, I don't wanna get your cooties." He teases lightly, making you roll your eyes at him despite the smile making your cheeks burn.

"Soap we've had sex and you've kissed me how many times now? You definitely have my cooties already. More aren't gonna hurt you." You tease right back. It makes him laugh harder, and he even throws his head back a little as he does.

"I guess I can't argue with that." He says as he comes down from his laughter. "Alright, give it here then."

He motions for you to hand the fish over, so you hold it out for him to take. Instead of just taking it from you though, he grabs around your hand and brings the fish up to his lips.

As he takes a bite, his eyes flick up to meet yours, locking as his teeth slowly sink in. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him, eyes widened just the slightest. And Soap knows what it's doing to you. You see the corner of his lips twitch up into a smirk as he leans back, chewing slowly.

Your mind is scrambling for something to say to break this new tension that's formed. A tension that's not helping you sort through your newly discovered feelings.

"You.. you like it?" You find yourself saying, watching as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and sucks the juices off.

"Not a five star meal, but the best bloody thing I've had in a while." He chuckles. "We should have done this day one."

That makes you giggle a bit, and you relax slightly as you go back to eating peacefully. "I think I probably would have drown you in the lake if we went near it day one." You point out, remembering how absolutely angry he'd made you during the flight over and the walk to the cabin.

Soap laughs softly, attempting once more to eat his own fish and taking a tentative bite out of it. "I could see you trying." He says as he takes a small bite, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"Try? I totally could." You huff. You've never been allowed to spar each other before, Price wouldn't let you since he was worried you two would end up seriously hurting each other, but you feel like you can take him.

Soap huffs back and shakes his head. "States, you weigh nothing to me. I'm practically double your weight. Plus I'm taller than you. In water, I'm gonna win." He shrugs, taking another bite of his fish.

You scoff at him, wanting to argue, but he made a decent point. He'd have the advantage in water. "So you're saying on land I'd kick your ass then?" You raise your brow at him.

Soap gives you a side glance, then huffs through his nose and shakes his head, dismissing you easily. "Hell no. I'd beat you on land too. Without a doubt."

You roll your eyes. "You underestimate me. I could so pin you if we sparred." You say, with maybe a little too much confidence.

Soap pauses a moment, as if thinking, and then shrugs. "Alright. Let's spar then." He says, quickly catching your attention.

"What? Like right now?" You frown.

"Yeah, right now. Let's settle it."

"Oh..." You purse your lips together. Sure you were confident that you could take Soap in a sparring match, but maybe not in the middle of the woods. Or without mats. And definitely not with all the sexual tension between you lately.

"Maybe not right now." You say slowly. "We're eating, and I'm hungry. And tired." You shift a little where you're sitting, giving a half-hearted shrug. "It just wouldn't be a fair match."

You notice Soap beginning to grin as soon as the excuse leaves your lips. "Yeah, sure. Alright." He chuckles softly, leaving it at that as he settles back down to finish his fish.

***

The rest of the evening is spent cooking and eating the fish you caught. It was the most satisfying meal you've had since arriving to the cabin. It was going to be hard to go back to eating the MREs for the remaining few days, but there was also the potential to go out fishing again tomorrow. And hopefully you'd be quicker at catching them then.

By the time you're both done eating, the sun has almost set completely over the horizon. It's getting dark out, the only light coming from the moon and the fire that was still burning bright but slowly turning into only embers.

You sigh softly, your stomach feeling like it was ready to burst. "I ate way too much." You chuckle, resting a hand on your now protruding belly. "That was the best meal ever though."

Soap laughs softly as he finishes piling up all your scraps and utensils off to the side to be cleaned up later. "You ready to turn in for the night then, lass?" He asks, standing by the fire and looking down at you.

You hum softly in thought but then shake your head. "No. I think I want to stay out here a little longer. Disgust a bit before bed."

You really hadn't gotten the chance to enjoy the night air since you arrived. There was always something that kept you inside almost as soon as the sun began to set. It was such a peaceful night tonight too. You want to enjoy it and the bonfire a while longer.

Soap nods a little, and you watch as he goes back to the wood pile. "I'll put another log on for you then." He says, looking over the few pieces of wood that remained.

"Thanks." You smile, watching as he picks out a log and carries it over to the fire. He tries to place it gently as not to make the entire log pile collapse, but it's a vein effort since the second he sets it down, everything falls over, causing a bunch of sparks to flare up into the air.

You follow the trail of sparks up a little ways, far enough that your attention gets pulled to the sky. Above you, the stars are just starting to come out, and they're already so much brighter than what you'd ever see on base.

"Wow..." You breathe softly. "I never noticed all the stars you can see out here."

Soap looks up towards the sky as well, humming pleasantly. "It's pretty." He mumbles, and there's a brief of moment of silence that falls between you as you both admire the twinkling lights.

You almost forget where you are for a moment until Soap breaks the silence. "I can go grab a blanket and lay it out. That way you can lay down and not have to crane your neck to see." He offers.

You look back at him, warmth filling your chest at the sweet offer. You're starting to get used to this side of Soap.

"Yeah." You smile. "That'd be nice."

"Alright. I'll be back in a second." With that, he's off, walking back towards the cabin.

You watch his figure retreat until he disappears inside. Once he's out of sight, your gaze drops to watching the fire, a soft sigh leaving your lips. You find yourself hoping that he'll want to stay and star gaze with you for bit.

Before you can overthink too much about that thought, you hear the cabin door open and slam shut as Soap makes his way back over to you. In his arms, he carries the blanket from his sleeping roll. It was really the only blanket you had, but the fact he was willing to use it just so you could stargaze was a sweet concept.

"Where do you want it?" He asks once he's within ear shot from you. You're a little unprepared for his question and quickly start to glance around for an open spot to lay the blanket out.

"Oh.. uh.. maybe just right over here by the fire?" You motion to a somewhat cleared off area that's just a little ways away from the fire. You know the second you move away from the flames that you're gonna start getting cold, but hopefully you'll still be close enough to stay warm. 

Soap gets right to work on laying out the blanket where you've requested it to go, unfolding it and making sure it lays flat. When he's done, he stands up and motions down at it.

"There you go." He says simply as you get up and move to blanket. Kicking your shoes off, you step onto it and sit down.

"Thanks." You hum softly, moving around a bit to get comfortable.

Soap watches you a moment, still standing off to the side of the blanket. "It's not a problem, lass." He shrugs dismissively. "Just bring the blanket in when you're done. And put the fire out." He adds, making you instantly look back up at him.

"You're not staying?" You frown, disappointment settling heavily in your chest.

Soap pauses, almost like he was surprised you'd ask that. "Uh.. yeah. I was just gonna go in..." He says slowly. "Did... did you want me to stay?" He asks hesitantly, uncertain.

"Well... yeah." You answer him softly. Your voice sounds so much more vulnerable than you expected it to be. "I want you to stay. Or I wouldn't mind the company at least. You know in case the bear comes back or something."

You're rambling a little, which just makes Soap smile. He looks down towards his feet as he does and then starts kick his shoes off too.

"Alright. I guess I can watch the sky with you for a little while." He agrees, instantly making any nerves you had die off.

"Great." You sigh softly, smiling as he settles onto the blanket beside you, leaving a modest space as he lays back.

You lay back on the blanket too, already able to feel the cool ground quickly seeping through the blanket and into your backside. If you had the thermal liner, it'd be much better, but you don't feel like getting up to get it.

A silence settles between you as both your gazes fixate on the stars above you. Even though the stars were the whole reason you were out here still in the first place, you find your attention is more focused on the man next to you.

"Did you ever stargaze back in Scotland?" You find yourself asking, keeping your eyes on the sky.

"Maybe a bit?" Soap replies, and you can hear the rustle of his shoulders moving against the blanket as he shrugs. "I mean the stars in Scotland are beautiful. But I don't think I ever did something like this." He explains. "What about you?"

"Not really." You chuckle. "It's impossible to really get stars like this in the city. Even out in the country they aren't too bright. But I dated a guy once who took me stargazing before. Really it was just to make out though. I don't think he really intended on looking for constellations."

Soap hums softly. "I can't believe you had a guy who wanted to date you." He mutters.

You shoot him a glare and wack his chest, which makes Soap laugh. "Ass." You grumble, though you're smiling too. "I'll have you know I had a lot of suitors back in America."

"What was wrong with them?" He adds, making you wind up to hit his chest again. He flinches and holds his hands up defensively. "I'm only kidding!" He says through his laughter. "I don't doubt you had a lot of guys lined up to date you."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not." You huff despite the smile on your face. You settle back down into your spot, listening as Soap does the same. It seems like he's closer now.

"I'm being serious." He confirms. "You're an attractive woman, States. Lots of guys like you. Hell, there's a lot of idiots back on base who have crushes on you."

You raise your brows in surprise. "Really?" You've never paid much attention to things like that before, or at least no one's ever made it obvious.

"Yeah, really. Gets annoying, honestly. You know how many guys outside our task force have asked me if you're single or if I can set them up with you?" He scoffs at the end, almost like just thinking about it was as annoying as the real thing.

"Do I even want to know what you've told them?" No guy had ever asked you out, so you're sure the things he said weren't very nice. There was no way Soap had played the knight in shining armor trying to protect you.

"Told 'em you were a bitch. That you were psychotic, smelled bad, snored in your sleep. Lots of stuff." He shrugs, as if saying those things wasn't a big deal. You have to admit though that it hurt to hear him admit that.

"No wonder I had no idea anyone was interested." You mutter, the hurt coming through in your tone a little despite you trying to hide it. You hear Soap's head shift as he looks over at you, but you keep your gaze on the sky.

"You wouldn't have wanted to date those men anyway, States. All of them just wanted in your pants. I wasn't gonna just let them use you like that."

You pause, taking in what he said. "Why would you do that? I thought you didn't like me."

Soap scoffs softly. "I didn't. But I'm not a total asshole. You're still part of my team, and I'm not about to let some horny pricks hurt you. That's my job." He tries to say it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You roll your eyes, but there was something sweet about the whole thing. You couldn't really be upset with him for scaring off men like that, but still. It still hurt he said those things.

"Lucky me." You sigh, trying to push past it. It makes Soap chuckle softly, but he can still tell you're unhappy.

Soap looks back up at the sky, a brief silence settling before you. After a few seconds, he breaks it.

"You know, now I'm gonna have to start telling them other things to ward them off." He says, making you glance over at him.

"Why's that?" You venture curiously.

Soap seems to hesitant a second before he answers. "Well... cause you're really not that half bad. I mean you're still kinda annoying, but you're not too bad either."

As back handed as it sounded, it was one of the nicest things Soap has ever said to you. You find yourself smiling and almost swooning over those words.

"You're not so bad either, Soap." You mumble back, watching as a smile settles on his face too. Your gaze returns to the stars then, and you feel a sense of peace and contentment settle over you.

You lay there in silence for maybe a minute longer before you turn to look at Soap once more. "Did you finish your drawing from earlier?" You ask.

"Ehh, mostly. I didn't have time to finish the scenery." He says, his gaze staying fixed on the sky.

You hum softly, trying to work up the courage to ask to see it. You're not sure why, but it feels so personal to ask about seeing his artwork.

"Can I see it?" You finally ask in a soft voice, glancing back over to Soap. He looks back at you, almost seeming hesitant.

"You really want to?" He asks slowly, and you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously. "Ok. Yeah, sure." He nods.

Sitting up, he leans over towards where he last placed the book last, balanced on the wooden log he'd been sitting at earlier. "I'm not sure how well you'll be able to see it." He adds as he grabs it.

He makes a good point, it's now almost completely dark aside from the fire and a little light from the moon. You're hoping though that you're close enough to the fire to see most of the picture.

"That's alright. I still wanna see it." You tell him, sitting up and watching as he flips through a few pages to look for it. You wonder what else he's drawn since being here.

As soon as he finds it, he starts to scoot closer to you. "Here. This is what I was able to get done."

He hands the book over to you, and you take it from him. You have to angle the book a certain way towards the fire to see it, but the image slowly becomes illuminated.

It was a drawing of you. Out in the middle of the lake, spear in hand. The background isn't finished at all or even sketched out. The main focus of the drawing was you. And given the amount of time Soap had, which you assume hadn't been long, there was an impressive amount of detail.

Your heart skips in your chest as you study the image. Your cheeks are burning a little, but you can't help but smile. So he had been drawing you after all.

"You drew me?" You ask softly, eyes not leaving the page.

Next to you, Soap smiles a little. If you'd looked, you would have seen that his own cheeks were slightly pink. Though it could have just been the orange glow from the fire.

"Yeah. You were such a good model cause you were standing out there for so long." He jokes.

You huff softly and glare over at him. "I had a feeling you were drawing me." You grumble, turning your attention back to the drawing and studying more of the image. "It's really nice though. You must have sketched this in like five minutes."

Soap shrugs a little. "This took me longer than five minutes. I was working on it earlier. It's a little sloppy compared to some of my other drawings."

You glance back over at him. "Can I see the others?" You ask, and he chuckles a little before shrugging.

"Go ahead." He nods, and you start to slowly flip through his sketch book, looking over all the sketches he's done in the past five days.

A lot of them are sketches of the cabin and the lake. Some are half finished, others are very detailed. He's also drawn a few animals  and a few things from inside of the cabin, like the wood stove and a half finished sketch of what looks like your dining area.

As you look them over, a little breeze picks up, making you shiver. It was starting to get very cold out, and despite the fire being close by still, you were getting a little chilly.

Soap hears you shiver and looks up from watching you flip through the book. "Cold?" He asks, and you nod.

"Just a little." You admit, trying to shrug it off.

His eyes drift down to your practically bare legs, hardly covered by the pajama shorts you were wearing. "You know, pants would help." He teases, making you shake your head.

"You mean the pants that are damp still because you tackled me in the water earlier?" You raise an eyebrow at him, which makes him laugh.

"Ah. Right. Well, come here then." He says softly, his voice dipping lower as he shifts closer to you.

Before you can even react, his arm slides around your back, guiding you firmly into his side. You feel the warmth of his body almost immediately, seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and you stiffen for just a second as he adjusts his hold. His hand settles at the curve of your waist, fingers pressing gently into your side, not pulling you in too tight, but enough that your back is now pressed to his chest and side a bit.

You can feel his every breath and every flex of his muscles with every subtle movement he makes. You glance up at him, wide-eyed, but Soap's already looking back down at you.

"Better?" He murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that seems to vibrate right through you. His leg shifts then, brushing lightly against yours, and you're hyper-aware of how solid and strong his body feels beside you. Every point of contact—his arm around you, the slight pressure of his thigh against your knee, the way his breath is practically on you neck—sends a subtle shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold air.

"Uh..." You can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can focus on is how close he is. The heat radiating off him, his scent— it's all making your head spin just a little.

Your heart hammers harder in your chest, the steady thump-thump-thump of it so loud you're sure he can hear it. You swallow, trying to clear the sudden dryness in your throat. "Yeah. Better." You finally manage to say, the words coming out quieter than you intend.

He gives you a small, almost satisfied smile, the corners of his mouth curving up just slightly. "Good."

You try to focus your attention back on the book, but it's pointless. You can't concentrate on the thing to save your life. You're doing everything you can to calm your heart down before it beats out of your chest. Just to play along, you absentmindedly turn to the next page of the sketch book, but you have no idea what's actually on the page.

Then his thumb starts to brush against your hip, and the simple motion sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch. Your heart pounds so loudly in your ears, and you're struggling to keep your breathing from increasing.

Soap shifts again, his thigh now fully against yours. He's so warm, like a living heater, though at this point it's hard to tell if you're warm from his body heat or something else.

Then you notice it. The fast thumps against your back. His heart hammering away in his own chest at the same rate that yours is. He's having the same reaction as you are. If you listen, you can hear him trying to control his breathing too. The sound is too choppy to be natural.

Knowing he's feeling the same way calms your own nerves immensely. Slowly, your body relaxes against his, and you begin to cuddle in closer to him. You tilt your head towards his just the slightest bit, and Soap presses his cheek down onto the top of your head.

You hear Soap exhale softly, like he's releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction more, the motion sending a fresh wave of warmth through your entire body. His fingers splay out across your side, the tips brushing lightly against your ribs, making your pulse flutter wildly.

Your eyes slowly close, the sketch book forgotten in your lap. You let yourself fully relax into Soap and soak up this feeling. You know it's attraction, or at least part of it is. You've felt this before with other men, but there's still something more there. Your body feels electric when he holds you like this. You've never felt that way before.

"States.."

Your name leaves Soap's lips, making your heart flutter up into your throat. You carefully tilt your head up, eyes meeting Soap's slowly. Once they do, it feels like you can't breathe. His eyes are so heavy with emotion you can't even think.

His hand, cold but gentle, touches your cheek. It's such a shocking contrast that it reminds you to breathe. He cups your jaw, keeping your head tilted up towards him, though you weren't planning on looking away.

"Oh, fuck it..."

He mumbles it so softly you're sure you wouldn't have heard him if you'd been a fraction of an inch further from him. Even if you hadn't, his actions spoke for him.

He closes whatever distance was between you fast. The first brush of his lips against yours is tentative, almost testing. They're soft, warmer than his hands, and the touch is light enough that you barely feel it at first.

Your lips make a soft, almost inaudible popping sound as they part. You're left with just a ghostly feeling of where his lips were and his  warm breath against them from his labored breathing as he gages your reaction.

You feel numb almost. Definitely like you're floating. Then a rush of emotion surges through you—excitement, confusion, desire, everything all at once. You feel a flush spread across your cheeks, a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling nearby. You don't know what to say, don't know how to put into words what's racing through your head. So instead, you take a deep breath, steady yourself, and lean in.

This time, you're the one to close the distance. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, and your lips press against his, firmer than his first kiss, your eyes sliding shut as the world tilts on its axis. Soap stiffens for a heartbeat, a small, almost inaudible gasp escaping him. But then you feel him relax, his whole body seeming to melt against yours as he returns the kiss, his mouth moving slowly, carefully, against yours. There's still a hint of that same hesitation, but it's fading with every second.

You pull back an inch, just enough to catch your breath, and when you open your eyes, you find Soap staring down at you. His pupils are blown wide, dark with an intensity that takes your breath away. His lips are slightly parted, his breathing ragged, and the way he's looking at you sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

"This ok?" He asks breathily, his hand still gripping your jaw. He's nervous, you realize.

You give him a smile and gently move your fingers to the base of his hairline. His eyes struggle to not roll back as you play with the short hairs there.

"More than ok." You assure him, putting a light pressure on the back of his head and pulling his lips back down to yours. When they meet this time, Soap is smiling, and he almost seems to sigh against your lips.

You exchange a few more tender kisses but then something shifts. His hand on your waist starts to tighten, pulling you closer, and his lips press more firmly against yours, drawing in a quiet gasp from you.

The sound seems to spur him on. Soap's hand leaves your cheek to slip back into your hair, his fingers threading through it as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. Your own hands move to his shoulders, going between gripping them and cupping the sides of his neck. It's like every nerve ending in your body lights up the moment your lips touch, the sensation so intense it's almost dizzying.

You can feel the roughness of his stubble scrape lightly against your skin as his lips part against yours, coaxing your mouth open. The first slide of his tongue is a shock—a gentle, seeking motion that sends a thrill racing down your spine. You make a small sound, something between a whimper and a sigh, and Soap responds instantly. His tongue slips into your mouth, the taste of him invading your senses, and you find yourself pressing closer, desperate to feel more of him.

There's a soft, wet sound as his tongue tangles with yours, a quiet pop as he pulls back only to kiss you again, harder this time. His fingers tighten in your hair, his other hand moving from your waist to grip your hip, pulling you up into his lap. The motion sends a wave of heat crashing through you, your body arching slightly into his, and you gasp again, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you deeper.

Your hands move without thinking, sliding down to feel the hard muscle of his chest. From there, one hand slides up to the back of his neck again, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension in his muscles. Your other hand fists his shirt, knuckles brushing against the hard plane of his chest as you try to anchor yourself. It's overwhelming, the way he's kissing you—so intense, so utterly consuming. Every time you think you've caught your breath, he shifts, tilts his head, and the kiss changes, becomes something even deeper, more insistent.

You shift your hips slightly, wiggling down more into his lap. You slide right down onto a hard lump, and the feeling of it against your thigh and pelvis is unmistakable.

Soap makes a low sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, and the vibration of it against your lips sends another shudder through you. His hands move again, one sliding down your back, pressing you even closer against him, the other cupping the back of your head, holding you in place as if he can't bear the thought of you pulling away. You're not sure if you even could if you tried.

You feel his teeth graze your lower lip, a light nip that has you gasping into his mouth. He pulls back just enough to murmur something, the words lost, and then he's kissing you again, harder, fiercer, like he's trying to pour every unsaid word, every hidden feeling into the press of his lips.

It's not just a kiss. It's like a release of something that's been building for so long, something you've both been holding back without even realizing it. And now that the dam's broken, there's no stopping it. Soap's kisses are relentless, almost desperate, and you can feel your heart pounding so hard it's a wonder it hasn't burst right out of your chest.

You can't help it—you let out a small, breathless moan, and Soap freezes for just a second. His lips hover over yours, his breath mingling with yours as he stares up at you, eyes dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

"States..." He whispers, voice rough and thick. He swallows, his gaze flicking down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "You—"

Whatever he was going to say is lost as you lean up, capturing his mouth again. This time, you're the one pushing, deepening the kiss, your tongue sliding against his, tasting and teasing, drawing out another one of those low, rumbling sounds from deep in his chest. Soap's hand tightens in your hair, his arm wrapping fully around your waist, holding you so close you can feel the steady thud of his heart against your chest.

And then he's kissing you back with renewed intensity, the hand on your waist sliding down to your hip, fingers digging into your ass and making you gasp. He uses the leverage to pull you down harder against his bulge, and you're not sure if it's him or you, but your hips start rocking against him, bring a delicious friction to both of you.

It's dizzying, overwhelming, and yet you can't get enough. Your fingers slip up into his hair, tugging gently, and Soap groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil and flex, the restraint in the way his hands hold you, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. He's staring at you, eyes wide and almost wild, his chest heaving with every breath.

"Fuck, States..." He whispers, voice hoarse and raw, and the sound of it sends another shiver through you and a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

The way he's looking at you—like he's on the verge of losing control—makes your pulse skip, the intensity of it stealing your breath. His chest rises and falls rapidly, every breath a visible struggle to calm himself. But you can tell he's not calm. Not even close.

You can feel the tremor in his hands where they still hold you, the way his fingers dig in a little too tightly, like he's trying to ground himself.

"Soap..." You murmur his name softly, almost in a daze, watching as his eyes trail your body. He's barely holding back. You want him. Desperately. Every nerve in your body is singing for him to touch you, to keep going.

Soap's gaze flickers back up to yours. "I want this," he breathes, his voice low, strained. "I want you. So damn bad, States." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion.

You carefully bring your hand up to cup his cheek and brush your thumb against his rough stubble. His eyes flutter shut at the tough, and he leans into your hand. 

"I want you too..." You breathe.

Soap's eyes open slowly, and when he looks at you, there's something vulnerable in his gaze. He swallows thickly, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but hesitates. Whatever it is, he decides against it, his brow furrowing slightly before he just leans forward and captures your lips in a fierce kiss. It's almost like he's pouring all his unspoken words into it, the intensity of his grip on you saying everything he can't.

You mirror his sudden urgency for a moment, but then your hand comes up to gently cup his face, thumb brushing his cheek to slow him down. "Soap... wait..."

He pauses immediately, pulling back just enough to look up at you, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. His chest is still heaving, breaths mingling with yours, but he stays still, waiting for you to continue.

"If we keep going, I want to do it slow. Not like the first time." You say gently, making his concern gaze soften quickly.

He leans in again, placing a few delicate kisses along your jaw, making his way to your ear. "Then let me take my time, aye?" He whispers, deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut as he dips his head, mouth hovering just over the sensitive skin beneath your ear. His lips brush softly against your pulse, his wet tongue darting out and licking a small strip. "I want to feel every inch of you." He whispers, his voice deep and husky, making you whimper.

He starts to kiss at your pulse point, teeth dragging against the sensitive skin. "Wanna hear every sound you make... every little gasp and moan..." He trails off, his tone almost ragged now, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check. "Want to know exactly what makes you lose your mind, hen."

A breathless whine escapes you at his words, and you moan out his name. Not his callsign, his name.

"John..." You breathe, and his mouth stills, his lips hovering just over your skin. You feel his gaze on you, intense and searing, and when you force your eyes open, you find his face so close.

"S-sorry... just sli-"

"Say it again." He cuts you off.

"What?" You ask slowly, brows furrowed just a little.

"Say my name again." He elaborates, eyes growing heavy as he stares at you.

Hesitantly, you do as he asks. "John." You whisper.

His breath stutters, and for a moment, he just looks at you, something intense and almost awed flickering in his gaze. Then, with a soft groan, he dips his head, capturing your lips again in a slow, languid kiss that's completely different from the ones before. This isn't rushed or frantic; it's deliberate, controlled, as if he's savoring every second, every slide of his mouth against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips once more, and you part for him instantly, welcoming him in. He explores your mouth with a tenderness that has your heart skipping, each caress of his tongue sending pleasure zipping through you.

Your hips start to find a natural rhythm by themselves, rubbing against the warm hard lump that's been pressing up into you this entire time. Every gentle grind draws a soft but heavy, muffled sound from him, a deep, throaty hum from deep in his chest.

"God, States..." He breathes, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and the sight sends another wave of heat crashing through you. "I want to take my time, but fuck... you're making it so hard."

"I thought that was the whole point." You joke, a little grin forming on your lips. Soap looks confused for a moment but then a look of understanding crosses his face.

"You know what I'm talking about." He chuckles, shaking his head. His lips return to your neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses along your pulse point.

Your eyes flutter shut and you giggle softly, hands moving down to grip his shoulders. As amazing as his lips felt on your neck, you push him away. Soap looks up at you with heavy eyes, and you slide your hands down to his chest and gently start pushing him back to lay down. He stiffens up a little as you try, unsure of what you were doing.

"Let me, okay? Just... let me." You tell him softly, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate slightly. His muscles starts to relax under your fingertips, and he lets you push him back against the blanket. His eyes are fixated on yours the whole way down, hands sliding down your sides to settle on your hips and thighs.

Your heart is pounding as you stare down at him. He looks so good under you. You never believed in a million years that Soap would ever be nice to you let along let you be on top of him like this. You always imagined the only time he'd ever be under you was if you beat him in sparring. And he wouldn't be looking at you the way he is now.

There's something intoxicating about the way he watches you—like you're the only thing that exists for him right now. You shift your hips a little, adjusting your position just slightly so that you're more centered on his bulge. That movement alone makes his grip on your hips tighten significantly, and once you start grinding, he's a goner. The contact draws a low, rough sound from him, something between a growl and a groan, his head tipping back against the blanket.

"Fuck..." He breathes, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. His grip flexes, a barely restrained tremor running through his fingers. When his eyes open again, they're trained on where your hips meet. "Christ, States. You're killing me here." He growls out, his accent much thicker now.

You giggle softly, relishing in this power you have over him. "You're very impatient."

Soap rolls his eyes, his hands roaming your thighs a little as he continues to watch. "You would be too if a bonnie lass was grindin' on your dick." His hands drift to the hem of your shorts, giving them a gentle tug. "Now, how about we get these off you, hen."

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest, but you nod and rise up on your knees, letting him peel them down. His knuckles brushing against you as he goes, the sensation making heat pool between your legs.

He only manages to get them down to your mid thigh before he stops abruptly. "Oh hell's fucking bells..." He groans, his voice is little more than a husky rasp. "You just had to wear those, huh?"

You glance down at yourself, forgetting what you were even wearing. When your eyes settle on the delicate red lace of your underwear, heat rushes to your cheeks. It's the same pair Soap had grabbed when you'd been forced to repack your things. This wasn't something you picked out for him—hadn't even thought for a second you'd be here with him right now.

"I-I didn't plan this." You stutter, embarrassment creeping into your voice. "I just grabbed whatever was clean."

Soap hums softly, almost like he wasn't even fully listening to you. His gaze was on the red lacy pattern, thumbs tracing the hemline. "Doesn't matter." He mumbles. "These are staying on though. Gonna ruin 'em."

You can't help but scoff at him for that. "What's up with you and wanting to ruin my clothes?" You huff, stumbling forward just a little as Soap reaches around you to start undoing his pants. You hear the sound of the button and zipper coming undone and then feel Soap shuffling under you to pull them down.

"Less clothes you have, the better." He replies cheekily, his hands moving to your hips now that his pants are down. You know he's taken his underwear down too because you can feel his member's tip on your butt cheek, painting it with precum. "Hop off a second and get those shorts off. Leave the underwear on."

He gives your hip a little pat, and you do as he asks, swinging your leg off him and working them down your legs. "I like these, so play nice with them." You tell him, meaning to look at his face, but the some movement draws your focus.

You gasp softly, eyes focusing on where his hand is slowly stroking himself. He's completely hard, his shaft glistening from where his hand has smeared the precum. You feel dizzy from the sudden rush of arousal that hits you.

Soap grins as he watches your face, his stokes getting a little quicker and making a lewd wet sound with each stroke. "If I ruin them I'll buy you more." He promises, a smirk in his tone as he releases his member. "Now come here." He motions with his head for you to straddle him once more.

"You better." You grumble half heartedly, feeling dazed still from the image of him stroking himself. It only makes Soap chuckle.

Moving back over to him, you place your hands on his chest to help yourself balance as you swing your leg back over him. Soap takes your hips, guiding you back to hover over his member. You move your underwear aside for him, and he does the rest, his own hand guiding his member to your entrance.

He rubs it against you a little bit, trying to find your opening. Once it catches, he pushes up, and you wince a little as his bulbous tip starts to penetrate you. You hum a little when he suddenly pops inside, and Soap pauses, his thumb rubbing against your hip to try and sooth you.

"You alright?" He asks, his eyes struggling to look up at you instead of where his member is disappearing into you.

"Yeah." You nod. "I'm good. Just gotta go slow."

Soap hums softly, relaxing his hips to let you take over. "Take your time, hen. We've got all the time in the world right now." Even despite his sweet words, his gaze is heavy.

You sit up a little bit more to get a better angle to help him slide in. The new angle works wonders, and as you lift and lower yourself onto him, you take him a little deeper each time.

Every time you sink lower, Soap's breathing starts to pick up. His eyes are focused on where you're connected, his jaw tense and his hands beginning to grip your hips. By the time you're fully seated on him, he looks like he's barely hanging on.

"Fuck..." He groans, his head falling back as you pause to adjust to him. "You're squeezin' me so tight, States. Gonna make me blow before we even get started." He chuckles breathily.

You smile down at him. "Want me to climb off for a moment so you can gather yourself?" You ask, teasing attempting to lift your hips.

You don't make it an inch up before Soap slams you back down. "Do you fucking dare." He all but growls, making you giggle again. "Start moving. Otherwise I'm flipping us." He threatens.

You roll your eyes, but his threat gets you moving. You start grinding your hips, setting a slow and smooth rhythm. It feels nice, and Soap seems to be enjoying it too. His eyes fall shut after the first few rocks, and he a soft groan leaves his lips.

After a little while, you switch up the angle, leaning forward a bit and placing your hands on Soap's chest once more. This angle makes him brush against a whole different spot inside you, pulling a moan from your lips.

Soap's eyes snap open instantly as the sound leaves your lips, and your eyes lock together. You keep rocking gently, his hands pushing and pulling at your hips to help with the motion. His gaze is so intense, and the feeling of his member and rough pubic hairs against your clit are pushing you towards the edge already.

Your body starts to shake and you squeeze your eyes shut as the burning in your clit intensifies. "Fuck... Soap..." You whisper, panting softly as your gentle rocks turn a little more desperate.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, his voice deep and accent thick. "Almost there States, just keep rocking those pretty hips."

He coaxes you, his hips now moving under yours, thrusting along with each movement you make.

You moan again, arms growing weak, which forces you to lean down onto your elbows, closer to Soap. His lips on your throat the second you're within reach, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, hands still digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Come on, lass. You can do it. Give me one. I'm right behind ya." He groans against your throat, his hips starting to snap up.

That's all it takes. You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the coil of pleasure tightens almost painfully low in your belly. Your entire body tenses, each thrust from Soap pushing you closer and closer until you can't hold it anymore. Your entire body tenses and then relaxes as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A choked cry tears from your throat as you shatter around him, your body arching against his as an orgasm rips through you.

"Ahhh! John—! I'm.. I'm-" His name spills from your lips in a broken sob as your whole body pulses with pleasure. At the same time, Soap starts to snap up into you a little hard, drawing even more cries out of your lips.

It's overwhelming, mind-numbing, and all you can do is gasp and writhe atop him, every nerve ending alight as his hips continue to ram up into you.

You can hear Soap panting under you, his breath hitching every time your walls convulse around him. "Fucking hell. That's it States... that's it..." Soap pants, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clench and flutter around him.

"Fuck! I'm gonna come!" His voice is strangled, almost hoarse. His thrusts turn into stuttering jerks as he nears his own release. "Don't stop, States! Fuck I'm so close..."

You take over, hips grinding almost wildly against him. You're starting to get overstimulated, but you don't care. You want to get him off.

"Come on, Johnny... come for me." You say through gasps, gripping his shoulders tightly as you watch his face twist into pleasure.

Soap groans loudly, his hips jerking up suddenly. He buries himself as deep as he can go, your name leaving your lips in a strangled groan. "Fuck! (Y/n)! I-I gonna.. I-"

His whole body tenses beneath you, a low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest as he spills inside you. You can feel each thick of rope shoot up into you, his length twitching and throbbing as he empties himself.

Then his hips fall back down against the blanket, and you collapse on top of him, burying your face into the side of his neck. He throws an arm around you, and for a moment, neither of you move, both caught in the aftershocks, riding out the last shivers of pleasure together.

"God, States..." He murmurs breathlessly, his fingers lazily tracing soothing patterns on your lower back. His chest heaves beneath yours, both of you still panting, bodies slick with sweat and utterly spent. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender against your flushed skin. "Y'alright, hen?" He asks gently, voice hoarse with exhaustion.

You manage a weak nod, smiling against his neck. "Yeah... I'm good." You whisper, voice still trembling a little. "Really good."

He huffs a small, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Glad you enjoyed yourself." He sighs, sounding content.

You hum gently in response, a small smile on your lips. The two of you stay like that for a while, legs tangled and wrapped up in each other's arms. His thumb continues its lazy circles along your spine, and you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the warmth and feeling of his heart beat becoming steady under your fingers.

Then he shifts slightly, and you hear him huff a breathy chuckle. "So much for stargazin', huh?" He teases softly, his voice laced with a playful warmth.

You snort. "Yeah, you're just as bad as the last guy who wanted to go stargazing with me." You can't help but grin, remembering your story from earlier. "Guess I'll never to be able to stargaze."

"Eh, we'll just have to make sure you're on the bottom next time." He replies cheekily, a grin spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but pause. "Next time?" You echo, face turning a little more serious.

Soap gazes up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Well let's be honest, there's been a lot of sexual tension between us lately. And with the history we have of having tension with each other, I'm sure there will be more."

You huff softly. "Almost sounds like you're hoping there will be more tension."

Soap grins at you. "I wouldn't mind it if it meant a pretty lass like you will bounce on my lap." He teases, reaching down to pinch your butt.

You blush a little at his words and then jolt in surprise as he pinches you, a little squeak leaving your lips. The movement makes both  of you moan in discomfort, bodies still very sensitive. Once the overstimulation settles, you look back down at him.

"So... you would want to do this again?" You ask slowly, curiously.

Soap's grin softens, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Aye... I, uh, wouldn't mind it," he mutters, gaze dropping. "This. Us." He swallows, hesitating. "It's... nice. I wouldn't mind spending more time with you."

His voice is quiet, almost tentative, and you find yourself staring at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his words. It's rare to see him like this, so unsure and a little shy.

"Yeah... I wouldn't mind that either." You smile down at him, your words seeming to make him relax.

Soap smiles back at up you, his mouth opening to say something, but a shiver from you makes him pause. Now that you've come down from the high of having sex, the cool night air is beginning to bite at your sweat slicked skin. His brows furrow a bit, and he takes in the feeling of the goose pimpled skin of your thighs.

"Getting cold, lass?" He murmurs.

"Yeah... just a little." You admit, your shaky voice betraying you.

He hums thoughtfully and gives your hip a gentle squeeze. "Let's head inside then, yeah? Don't want you freezin' out here." He chuckles, rubbing your legs softly to try and warm you up a little.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You chuckle, only now realizing that it's pitch black out. The fire has died down significantly, leaving only the moonlight. 

You place your hands on Soap's chest and sit up, entire body feeling heavy. Your legs especially feel weak as you move them under you to lift yourself off him.

Your slow movements make Soap chuckle softly, his hands moving to your hips to help you up. "Legs feeling a little weak there?" He grins, helping to lift you off his cock.

There's a soft pop as his cock slips out of you, and you wince at the odd sensation. Your entire space between your legs was sticky and sore.

"Maybe." You huff softly, even as you rely on Soap to help move you off him. He just rolls his eyes and hands you your shorts.

Once you're seated beside him, you try to clean yourself up best you can before moving your underwear back into place. Meanwhile, Soap is fixing himself up too. He's tucked himself back into his underwear, pulled his pants back up, and stood up.

He looks down at you, watching as you put your shorts back on. "Head on in, lass." He tells you softly once they're on. "I'll clean up out here, put the fire out. You head inside and clean up."

"I can help." You offer, making him smile as he holds out a hand to help you up. You take it gratefully, letting him pull you to your feet. "I can get the water to put out the fire."

Soap watches you take two wobbly steps and then laughs softly. "No, it's alright, hen." He insists, grabbing your wrist to stop you. "Besides, by the time I'm done here you might have just made it to the steps." He teases, noticing your slowed pace.

He's greatly exaggerating your speed. You're not that slow, but you get the feeling he's not gonna let you help. You're afraid his next move was gonna be carrying you inside, so you cave.

"Alright." You sigh. "I'll head in. See you in a bit." You chuckle, making your way back to the cabin.

Soap watching you leave, a grin on his face as he takes a moment to admire your little post sex waddle. "Be in in a minute!" He calls after you before getting to work.

It doesn't take you nearly as long to get to the cabin as Soap seemed to imply. Once inside, the first thing you do is change out of your soiled red panties and try to freshen up a little better. Then you get a fire going in the wood stove and peak out the window to see how Soap was doing. By the time you look, the fire is out, and he's on his way back.

Moving to your bed, which is still right next to his, you wait for him come in. A second or so later, the door opens and slams shut, and his heavy footfalls come to the bedroom.

He steps into the room and shuts the door, glancing over at you and smiling a bit. The blanket you were laying on earlier is rolled up and under his arm.

"Surprised to see you made it into bed." He jokes, dropping the roll onto your cot before moving back to the door to kick his shoes off.

You huff softly, taking the roll from him as he drops it off. "We're gonna have to go a lot more rounds if the goal is to paralyze me." You mumble, unfolding the blanket and trying to spreading it out over the cots.

Soap hums deeply from the door way, glancing back at you. "Don't tempt me, States. I'll take you again right now."

Your heart jumps in your chest. His words excite you way too much. "I just put on fresh underwear. You can wait till morning." You joke, which makes him laugh.

"First thing it is then." He chuckles, starting to get himself ready for bed. Which really just involved him stripping down to nothing but his underwear. You watch as he pulls his shirt off over his head.

"You waiting on me?" He asks, glancing back over as you once it was off. He noticed that you hadn't laid down yet.

You shrug a little. "Yeah, pretty much. I've gotten used to hearing you snore at night. Can't sleep without it now."

That makes Soap scoff as he tosses his shirt on the floor. "I don't snore." He claims, undoing his pants, stepping out of them, and kicking them aside. "You're the one who snores."

You roll your eyes, watching as he walks over to you. "I'll ask Ghost when we get back. He'll agree with me that you snore." You shoot back, shrinking away just a touch as he hovers over you a bit.

There's an amused grin on his face as he takes your chin gently. "Brat." He mutters, surprising you by placing a quick peck to your lips. You hadn't been expecting that at all.

Feeling flustered, your gaze drops as you try to collect yourself, though you quickly become distracted. You've never noticed it before, but Soap's chest is littered with scars. It makes sense given his profession, but the red firelight from the stove seems to accent them more.

"Wow..." You breathe, absentmindedly reaching out to trace one. "You've got so many." You whisper, making Soap drop his hand from your chin and look down at where your fingertips traced along a long white scar on his ribs.

"Yeah." He mutters. "My job is... pretty dangerous I guess." He shrugs, continuing to watch your fingers roam without stopping them.

"Are they all from your time in the service?" You ask, looking back up at him. You've only collected a few from your time in the army. Your only non-service related scar was one on your knee from falling off your bike as a kid.

Soap shrugs a little. "Most of them. Not all of them though." He answers you, stepping away from your touch to crawl over you and onto his cod. Your bed squeaks its horrid melody as he does, and you wince at the grading sound.

Once he's settled on his cot, and once it's silent, you look back at him. The firelight illuminates just one section of his face, showing off the long jagged scar on his chin. Gently, you reach out and touch it, making Soap quickly meet your gaze.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask softly, thumb tracing the faded silver-white line.

Soap seems to tense the second you touch it, his gaze locked onto your face. When the question leaves your lips, he sighs and takes your hand, moving it away from his face.

"It's a long story, hen." He sighs, his hand holding yours in his lap. He stares down at it instead of looking at you.

"We've got all night." You reason, which makes his lips twitch the slightest bit into a smile.

"It's also a sad one." He adds, his deep voice just above a whisper. It makes you pause, and you quickly notice the slumped posture he has suddenly.

"I'm a very empathetic person." You add softly, which makes him laugh softly. "But we also don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You add.

Soap is silent for a moment, almost as if he's debating if he wants to talk or not. After a few minute long seconds, he finally sighs. "My... my childhood wasn't the best, States..."

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll @thepowers-kat-be

[livinghostly]

hey there, sunshine — suguru geto x reader

a/n: not in love w this !! but couldn't get the idea out of my brain when i was trying to sleep. was also intended to be for choso but got too ooc sooooo wc: 2.3k yet another date didn't work out for you, and your roommate bears the burden of listening to all your complaints. he also may or may not have a crush on you. fluff/humor

the soft orange of the painted sky poured through your blinds, slipping through the cracks and almost deliberately shining down on your eyes that just barely peeked beneath your comforter. your curtains waved back and forth with the fan, soft whirrs that once lulled you to sleep now drawing you from your slumber with a ragged groan. far gone was the fulfillment of your soothing dreams, your memories running farther and farther away as you tried to recall them and sink yourself back into that peace of mind.

you screwed your eyes shut in defense from the harsh rays of the sun, huffing in the warmth of your pillow before lifting your head and sandwiching yourself against the mattress. your fists squeezed the pillowcase with irritation, pulling as hard as you could manage to encase you in the comfort of your bed. 

the birds chirped in unison, chattering as they built a nest on the apartment balcony your roommate refused to relocate (he called himself a humanitarian, but you were sure part of him refrained because he knew it bothered you). the slight creaks of your rotating fan were becoming more noticeable even as you tried to calm yourself back to sleep. you were uncomfortably warm now, the frustration culminating beneath your comforter and suffocating the air.

buzz.

your phone, shaking itself to life with a notification. you sighed.

buzz.

buzz.

you thrashed the bedsheets away from you, your pillows and plushies cocooning in your blankets landing on the ground with a soft thump. the palm of your hand slammed against the hollow wood of your bedside table in a blind rage, desperately scouring your clutter in an attempt to locate your phone.

finally, you dug your nails into the rubber case and snagged it from the charger with a thwack. you rolled over to your side, squinting at the sunlight as you turned it on. three new messages, and an aspiring text bubble all from one person.

080-7766-5289

hey 

good morning

would you want to get coffee with me?

the pondering text bubble finally popped, and your phone vibrated again.

maybe some breakfast too?

your groggy eyes glanced at the time. 8:23am. you barely had a chance to think through the onslaught of messages. the unrelenting number belonged to a guy you’d met at the bar last week, who was sweet enough for you to trade numbers with. last night had been your first date, a simple dinner and a movie.

unfortunately for him, you felt a better connection to the movie that night than to him. he was strangely stiff when you were around, answering any questions with caution that made you feel like an intruder for asking. comments and questions of his own were dry and anything but open-ended, his punctuation hanging in the stale air while you worked overtime to keep the conversation going.

it really didn’t seem worth it.

you shut off your phone and placed it on the table again, taking a deep breath. all at once, the scent of brewed coffee beans and pancakes wafted in from the kitchen. your stomach rumbled in response, mouth slightly watering as you came to terms with just how hungry you were.

you pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet along the plush carpet of the apartment. sluggishly, you ran your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame what mess it made of itself. it was cooler in the open loft, the windows propped open, welcoming the dewey air and various chattering of wild critters. those damn birds. 

your roommate, suguru, was in the kitchen, his back to you as he worked his magic on the stovetop in front of him. his red apron was tied into neat bows wrapped around his neck and his waist– the words ‘kiss the cook’ plastered in bold font on the front of it with puckered lips, a gag gift from gojo last christmas that he had now worn to the point of the ends being frayed and stained with various ingredients. 

he was wearing a black t-shirt that squeezed the tightness of his muscles, tense and working diligently as he flipped a pancake. his black basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist– surely thrown on haphazardly as he woke up –and he donned a pair of mismatched neon-striped socks. truly, a sight reserved for you, and only you.

on the island behind him, two steaming cups of coffee were presented next to empty plates. the pink one was yours, the black one was his. your utensils had a few extra napkins stuffed underneath them.

you make a mess one time and he can’t let it go.

he acknowledged your presence with a soft hum, before turning his head and offering a small smile. it was soft and captivating, just as he was. his charm washed over you as his gaze followed every part of your figure, raising a curious eyebrow at the sight of you missing a sock. nothing he hadn’t seen before, in fact, he’d seen you much worse and much more grumpy.

“good morning,” he said, his voice a low rumble. he met your tired eyes, taking in the delicate hues that warmed his skin. your eyebrows were still pinched together as you recovered from the confusion and discomfort of your untimely awakening. “rough night?”

“rough everything,” you huffed, grabbing your coffee and shuffling next to him. you hoisted yourself up to sit next to the stack of pancakes he’d created and leaned your head against the cabinets. 

suguru watched carefully as you took a sip of your coffee, a sense of pride fluttered in his stomach when a content smile graced your lips. his motions came to a slow stop as he stared you down. you paid him no mind as you wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth and basked in the taste again, then kept it close to your chest as you licked the sweetness off your lips. 

after many months, he’d refined your coffee blend to your ideal taste. pestering you each time if you liked it enough, or what he could improve on to make sure that his handiwork was no less than perfect in your eyes. he reveled in the way you adored his cooking, putting pieces of himself– his adoration, compassion, and sentiment –into his creations and curating your taste closer to his own. 

his grip on the spatula loosened, nearly slipping out of his hand and bringing him back to reality. 

suguru cleared his throat and resumed his task, sliding an additional pancake onto the tower, slowly but surely resembling the one of pisa. he kept his head low with a merciless blush refusing to back down. you didn’t notice. “did it not go well?”

“it was… fine, i guess.” you sighed, beginning to zone out as you stared down a picture frame hanging not too far away.

it was you and suguru, one of the first few nights you had finally gotten comfortable being around him and he’d invited you to meet his friends. more so, he begged you to come out of your room and gave you no room for escape when he sandwiched you between himself and the couch’s armrest. shoko took the photo, stealthily enough you didn’t realize it existed until you saw it hanging in the hallway.

suguru’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he looked at you. (gojo told him he looked goofy with that expression. lovestruck didn’t ‘suit’ him.) you couldn’t stop laughing at one of his many sly comments he’d whisper to you, covering your face as you cackled and peeked through them to get a look at him. his stare made your face burn hot and you kept it covered until gojo managed to grab everyone’s attention, like he always did.

it felt so long ago when suguru existed as your shy, withdrawn roommate who would stare at you with, seemingly, a dull interest when you spoke to him. despite his staring, he was always polite and considerate of your needs, your time, your privacy. he invited you to the food he’d make, setting aside extra servings for you. if you had already eaten, they’d go in the fridge with a sticky note on it.

then he was recording your shows, buying your snacks, anything he got for himself he seemed to get one for you as well, in a different color. it all came with ease, drawing you into his routines like he had his own gravitational pull and you were stuck in his orbit.

as he’d gotten to know you, he learned how spiteful you were to any form of change. you hated it when your go-to brands changed their packaging, when your restaurants were out of your preferred foods, or when your route to work was partially under construction. but you adjusted, without contest, to suguru’s rituals like it was nothing at all.

“i don’t know. maybe i’m being mean, but he was so, like, hard to talk to,” you shrugged. “it is so tiring to be the one doing all the talking.”

suguru doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“and then he texted me good morning. in what world are we in the good-morning-text phase?” you pouted, looking at him. “so weird. i barely know him.”

“and he asked me out for coffee. and breakfast. why would i do that?” suguru’s gaze flutters over you as you take a sip from your mug, his eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip in thought afterward. he chooses to stay quiet, inviting you to ramble for as long as you pleased, as long as he would be the one to hear your voice. “i don’t think i have the brainpower for either of those things and carrying an entire conversation on my back. it’s not even 9 in the morning.”

he turned the stovetop off, taking the pan over to the sink to wash. the mixing bowl and other utensils were taken care of earlier and already set aside on the drying rack, always so tidy.

“so, not well,” suguru concluded, his lips turning into a smirk. he teased, “i won’t get to meet him?”

“no, never. but also i got a free dinner and a movie out of it. so, something went right...” 

he chuckled. the one thing men are good for, you’d told him before. in that way, he really wasn’t any different from the rest of your roster. he supplied you with food and outings, and wouldn’t dream of you paying for them, paying no mind to the way you’d protest and nearly brawl at the register. 

suguru never met any of your dates, you’d disappear into the night– or days on end, not allowing them the gratification of crossing the threshold of your apartment.

he began to separate the pancakes onto your respective plates and set a small bowl of sliced fruit between them for you to share. he cleared his throat. “on to the next, then?” 

“maybe… i don’t know. the thought of going out and all the dates is just so exhausting.”

suguru hummed again. a man of few words. he liked the idea of you staying in– staying home, with him. he honestly wasn’t sure how many horrible date stories he could handle, you could do so much better. you deserved better, and he could give it to you.

he twirled his fork as you slipped behind him, gently caressing his back as you passed. a warm trail remained in the absence of your hand, burning into his skin before dissipating into nothing more than a longing to reel back into your embrace again. “are you still interested in that bodega that just opened up? i don’t want to exhaust you.”

“no, that's not…” you paused, slipping into your stool, mouth agape as you found your words. “it’s different, with you, you know. it’s easy.”

“i’m easy?”

it was too early in the morning for his games. you sputtered. “no– stop! that’s not what i’m saying.”

suguru chuckled. “we don’t have to call it a date, you know, if it makes it easier.”

“what?” you blinked, then narrowing your eyes at him. the sun from the loft brightened his toffee-colored eyes that bored into you expectantly, though not bothering to repeat himself. he’d rather watch you squirm while he kept that stupid grin on his face. “do you think you’re making me feel better?”

the gentle glow of his skin was unmatched to anything, or anyone, you’ve seen. his hair was unbrushed, the slight curls framing the sides of his face and tickling underneath his chin. he was always elegant. and pretty. unfortunately, he was just as aware as you were.

he shrugged half-heartedly, taking note of the way your fingers bounced your fork in the air as you stared. “don’t worry if you don’t want to go.”

“i do want to go.”

“so, it’s a date, then.”

suguru took a quick bite of his pancakes, poorly hiding his taunting grin with stuffed cheeks. maybe later he would feel guilty, making you all flustered so soon after waking up, drowsiness anchoring your posture against the stool. but, for now, with you in front of him, he found himself giddy as he toyed with your reactions.

“you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?” you opted for taking a sip of your coffee, an anxious whisper in the shell of your ear warning you that you were going to embarrass yourself by chewing with your mouth full. as if he hadn't seen it before. it was hard to avoid his stare, to escape the painful position he put you in. was he serious?

you mumbled into your mug, “you hang out with gojo too much. is he gonna tag along, too?”

(gojo, the master of getting anything he wanted, any time, anywhere, no matter what.)

“it hurt's me, that you're thinking about him at a time like this.”

he smiled, more genuine this time. you watched him carefully, catching the nervous twitch of his fingertips he combated with a melodic thrum against the island. you considered how sincere his tone was, his gentle demeanor somehow becoming more soft as his playfulness subsided. 

"let me take you out."

you blinked, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. "to... the bodega?"

suguru laughed. "of course. i was thinking of a few different places, though."

"as in more dates?" you poked in his direction with your fork. he nodded. "who says we make it past one?"

"why not? we've already made it to our 'good morning' and 'eating breakfast together' phase."

[kj-yikes]

5. Alone

(on ao3 here)

"You went in there, alone, after I explicitly asked you not to!" Supergirl is fuming. She towers over Lena, hands on her hips and chest heaving, her brow furrowed. Most people would be intimidated, even scared of Supergirl's wrath. Lena is just annoyed.

"No, you said you wanted to be there when we caught him. I didn't catch him, and I didn't intend to. I needed information, and I got it. Mission accomplished." Lena crosses her arms and taps her fingers across her bicep as she watches Supergirl's face. It shifts from exasperation, to sadness, to desperation, before setting back on the more comfortable emotion of fury.

"You have your secrets, Supergirl, I have mine. I thought we agreed on this." Lena looks up at Supergirl expectantly.

"Not anymore," Kara whispers.

"Oh?" Lena steps forward, inching into what is left of Kara's personal space. Her face is close enough to Kara's to feel warm breath on her lips. It is tempting, sweet. Her lips ghost against Kara's, barely brushing them as she says, "Are you sure about that?"

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Lena thinks Kara will finally do it, will finally admit the one thing that keeps them in this endless cycle.

Kara's eyes flick quickly down to Lena's mouth, but don't linger. Blue eyes pierce through her, searching. Lena quirks an eyebrow challengingly.

"No," Kara admits softly, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from Lena's face. Lena has to swallow down a sob at the abrupt gentleness. She will not break. "But I don't think we're ready for that."

It's the same argument, over and over. Lena's not sure she can have it again.

Lena instinctually leans forward slightly as Supergirl steps back, walking backwards towards the balcony. She's about to push off from the balcony and fly away when Lena's voice cuts through the silence.

"Do you love me?"

Kara drops her arms from where they were raised above her head in preparation for takeoff. She sighs, wiping a hand over her face and staring out over the city. "Yes, Lena. I love you. More than anything," Kara whispers. It's the first time Lena's heard those exact words from Kara, but instead of filling her with joy, they fill her with white-hot anger.

"Then why do we keep doing this?"

"Because—" Kara breaks off as she turns back to Lena, heat rising to her face again. Her hands clench at her sides. As she tries again, her voice is lower, gravelly. "Because I cannot lose you again, Lena. I can't do it."

"You're already losing me," Lena challenges. "You say you love me, but you get angry at me for doing exactly what you would do if you were in my situation." Lena walks behind her desk and starts shuffling papers around, organizing them into tidy piles.

Kara stands speechless by the balcony.

"You died, Lena. Do you understand that? For two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, your heart stopped." Kara whispers, choking back tears. Lena looks up, and it feels like an arrow through her heart when a lone tear escapes and rolls down Kara's cheek. "You died, and I couldn't do anything but watch."

Lena is as still as a statue, arms crossed as she pointedly looks out the window.

"I died. And now I'm here. Medical miracles." Lena says sarcastically.

"Medical miracles," Kara lets out a bitter laugh. "When will you understand that nothing is worth you charging in recklessly and risking your life? Not to me."

Lena whirls around to face Kara, eyes positively flaming with anger. "You do it every day, Kara. Every day. And yet you get mad at me when I do the same. I know that I might lose you, but that doesn't stop me from lov—"

Lena shuts her mouth suddenly, but it's too late.

Kara advances toward Lena, legs striding confidently forward. Lena has no choice but to yield, to step backwards until she's pressed against the wall.

Blue eyes linger on Lena's scarlet red lips. It's like a magnet drawing Lena in, closer and closer, until…

As Kara's lips brush against hers, Lena asks, "Do you love me enough to risk losing me again?"

Kara freezes.

"I'm not going to stop. It's the right thing to do. It's my choice, and it's what I want to do."

"He will kill you, Lena." The break in Kara's voice is echoed in Lena's chest.

"He'll try to kill me either way," Lena bites back. "I need to stop him."

"No, Lena." Kara grabs her shoulders and squeezes. "We need to stop him." She grabs Lena's chin and lifts it so Lena can't do anything but stare into those beautiful sapphire eyes. "And we can't do that if you're dead."

Kara's hand on her chin is setting fireworks off in Lena's chest. She pushes on Kara's arm stretched between them until it drops to Kara's side.

No. Kara won't win this fight with her misplaced concern. Lena's already been through this. She found out that Kara is Supergirl. She found out, and she still chooses every day to place her fragile heart in Kara's hands, even though she knows the risks. It's the great tragedy of her life: to love someone who will choose others over herself, who will choose danger instead of keeping herself safe for the woman she loves, every time. But Kara wouldn't be Kara if she wasn't risking her life to save others. Lena has accepted this. Why couldn't Kara do the same?

Lena takes a deep breath. "You can either choose to love me as I am, or you can leave."

There's a long pause. Kara's eyes are full of longing, heartbreak, fear, adoration. Finally, she steps forward and pulls Lena into a tight embrace. Lena doesn't want to, but she melts into the feeling of Kara's strong arms around her. She runs her hands across Kara's muscular back, gripping her desperately but unable to find purchase on the sleek supersuit fabric.

Kara buries her face in Lena's neck. "Lena, I'm not asking you to stop. I'm just asking you to be more careful. Catching Lex shouldn't be at the cost of you."

Lena sighs. "It shouldn't be at the cost of you either."

They stand there, clinging desperately to each other, neither wanting to pull away.

"Okay."

Lena pulls her head back slightly to look up at Kara. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. If you promise to stop running into danger without a plan, I'll be more careful too."

"I had a plan—" Lena argues immediately, pulling away. Kara puts up a placating hand.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. You're right." Kara entwines their fingers. "Let's talk about our plans, together, and see how we can help each other. Okay?"

It's the first time that Kara has offered to work together, and it's the first time that Lena has felt a glimmer of hope about their relationship in a long time. She studies Kara, praying that the stubborn Kryptonian will make good on her promise.

"All right," Lena says. "Where do we start?"

[melodic-haze]

Personally how touched starved do you think Arlecchino and Furina are? Like one has been alone for 500 years and the other killed her best friend and probably doesn’t think she deserves love.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Arlecchino x Reader, Furina x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Oh I think they'd be VERY fucking touch starved, except the two are like. On two different sides of the scale

On one end, you've got Furina. On the other end, you've got Arlecchino. What they're on a scale of? How "vocal" they would be in terms of it

Furina would be on the VERY vocal side, and by that I mean she WILL monologue to you about how she needs your touch or else she will PERISH from a lack of you-contact

Furina puts the back of her hand on her forehead, "My beloved wants to leave me be! Oh, you torture me..."

"Babe, I'm literally only going to get a glass of water."

"You forget my domain over the element!" She moves to throw herself onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck and causing you to laugh as you caught her, "I can satisfy your needs easily!"

"At that rate I'll be better off taking a shower!"

"It gets the job done!"

But she's not vocal for no reason :((( 500 years spent in self-isolation in order to save her people takes a HUGE toll on you so the moment Furina had realised that she doesn't have to do the whole song and dance all over again, she just can't help the want—the need—to basically be attached to you

It's not just because she wants to make up for lost time after FINALLY being able to do so, but also because she's scared that one day it'll all just go poof and disappear in a distant dream. She doesn't speak of her troubles until either she decides it herself that she should or one of the members of her Salon Solitaire (Crabaletta lol) decides to conk her for it

Sometimes she'll ask if she's being a pain in the ass bc she IS aware that she's constantly wanting for you to at LEAST be near her which. If you say she is then I need to sit you down personally and slap you in NOT a fun way

Meanwhile, Arlecchino on the other hand, is VERY quiet about it. She won't say anything, nevermind doing anything. She'd restrict herself from clinging onto you as much as she'd like to

You were a vision to her, a lovely sight to see and a lovely voice to hear as you recounted your day's events. Even when you did something so mundane, something that isn't necessarily something special, Arlecchino still looked at you with such adoration.

She almost didn't notice her hand inching closer towards yours from her warm daze.

Almost.

Before she could draw it back unnoticed, however, you turned your head at just the right (or wrong) time.

"Arlecchino? Is there.. something wrong?"

..She shakes her head instead of admitting her desires, "No, my apologies, darling. I was rather captivated by your tale. Do tell me more about your friend's predicament."

And so you do, but you couldn't help but notice the longing look in her eyes.

It takes a while before she starts warming up to the idea of letting herself actually do SOMETHING. And that'll take a lot of time, patience and encouragement from her❗️❗️❗️ But trust when I say it's worth it bc she practically treats you with so much more affection and devotion than the literal archon she serves HAHA

She doesn't thinks she deserves to show physical affection, to touch you, to truly worship you and your body in every way she can—not when she has the power to hurt you, not when she's killed off the person she had cherished the most all those years ago :(

You gotta reassure her that everything's okay and that you won't disappear bc once you've done that? She's SO TOUCHY she will NOT go through the day without havign some form of contact with you

She won't do it as much in work though she has a reputation she wants to keep lmao