#i don’t take a hard stance on these things

[arabella0001]

afternoon training with husband kakashi

cn: fluff, husband, kids, suggestive

You were in the garden of your home, surrounded by the flowers Kakashi had let you choose after moving out of his house—not long before the wedding, or the baby you two had together.

After putting her down for her afternoon sleep, at least, hoping she’d sleep—you tiptoed out, grabbed your bag of training supplies, and stepped outside.

A year of staying home, taking care of your baby, had changed your body. You’d gained weight, of course, and while you knew it was normal, insecurity had started creeping in. You needed to get back on track, at least for your health.

After your first set, exhaustion hit quickly—your body wasn’t used to this anymore. You didn’t notice Kakashi watching from a distance, likely having finished his Hokage duties earlier than you expected.

He worked hard for the three of you, always trying not to leave you alone for too long. That thought alone made your heart melt.

You were so focused that you didn’t hear him approach until he grabbed you from behind, arms securely wrapped around your waist, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered—

"Oh? My wife’s sneaking out to train without me? I feel betrayed?"

You yelped, instinctively leaning into his embrace, his warmth settling over you.

"Kakashi—you scared me! You’re home already?"

"Mmmhm," he hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "Need a partner? I could use some training."

You smiled. "Yeah, but you’d beat me in no time. I’m not as good as before."

He waved a hand dismissively and shifted into a sparring stance. "Don’t insult my wife like that."

Chuckling, you threw the first strike. Of course, he dodged it effortlessly. You managed to keep your composure—maybe because you didn’t want him to see how weak you’d become. But everything had an end. Kakashi swept your legs from under you, sending you falling—only for him to catch you. Except, in your attempt to regain balance, you pulled him down with you, and he yelped, eyes widening.

"Catching me off guard, huh?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow, now hovering over you.

"Oh, please. You already won," you pouted playfully, though deep down, frustration lingered. But with his body pressed against yours, warmth spread across your cheeks.

He closed the distance, kissing you through his mask—knowing exactly how much you loved that. It was meant to be innocent. Or so you thought. But Kakashi was a calculated man. He had already taken in the sight of your curves, the way your swollen breasts were perfectly framed in your training clothes.

‘If I knew you’d be wearing that to train, I would’ve left the office sooner.’ he murmur into your mouth.

The kiss deepened, pulling a soft moan from you. His mask was gone in an instant, lips crashing against yours with a low groan. His grin widened at the sight of your flustered expression before he suddenly lifted you off the ground. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands settling firmly on your ass.

"Tell me," he said, eyes lustful yet gentle.

"What?" Your thoughts were already foggy, overwhelmed by how effortlessly he unraveled you.

"Don’t play dumb. I know something’s on your mind, darling." His gaze softened, shifting between your eyes and lips.

You hesitated before finally admitting, "It’s just… my body isn’t the same. I feel different. Weaker. I know it’s normal, but still..." You trailed off, avoiding his eyes.

"Y/N, look at me."

You did, and he was already searching for you, like he always did.

"You are the strongest person I know," he said firmly. "Your body has done extraordinary things, That’s way more impressive than any fight." He pulled you closer, his hold grounding you. "You were beautiful before, and you’re just as beautiful now." He paused for a beat, voice dropping. "and if you're worried about your body, don't be. I think about it all the time. In a very respectful, totally appropriate way, of course."

His breath ghosted over your ear, making yours hitch, heat pooling between your legs.

"But—" you try to reason, but he shoots you a playful glance.

"You’re still you. And that’s all I’ll ever need." he says, making you let a small gasp, emotions bubbling in your chest.

"I love you," you whispered, sincerity shining in your gaze. "For always being here for me."

"I know," he smirked. "Sometimes more than I deserve."

You nudged him. "Stop that."

He cut you off with a soft, "I love you too." Then, in a way that drove you absolutely insane, he kissed the tip of your nose.

"So… do you still want to train?" His grin was impossible to miss, barely concealing his true intentions. "Our baby’s asleep, right?"

"Yes…" You bit your lip. "I guess I can spare some time. I mean, it’s stress relief from work, right?" You teased.

He chuckled, voice low. "More than that."

And with that, he carried you inside, both of you exchanging looks filled with nothing but love and desire—each wondering how you got so damn lucky.

[berryhatfingers]

@constelationprize ‘s tags add so well to this conversation.

Also, she was faced with intense racism and sexism (I forget if Tetsuji’s racism and  misogyny were only addressed in the EC or also in the books, but at the very least the team’s sexism is on-page in the books) in the abusive cult that is the Ravens. She fought so hard to making starting line, and she got to know this sixteen year old boy who shadowed her every chance he could. All the gossip said he slept with the five for his spot on the line, and Jean never said a peep to disagree, shit was messy and she knew that, but also as stated above Kevin and Jean did their damndest to hide Riko’s depravity, and Tetsuji made Riko’s tactics making it to the court Jean’s problem (aka abused him further for it).

Putting all that down for a second.

You know what I was (and am) appalled by?

Followed by four Paragraphs of Jean spiraling before we get

Abby and Jean do not have Neil and Andrew’s dynamic for a “where’s your responsibility” which even incredibly socially inept and poor compassion Neil knew was a fucked up thing to say. Abby Is a fully fledged adult, in a position of immense power at the time this takes place, and directly blames the victim here.

The point of the Foxes was to give people another chance, to give them the choice to change their circumstances. Abby just watched Neil have to go to the FBI to get out from under his father and even then Neil knew he had to conceal the main branch. Jean is a human trafficking victim who has been owned and abused for 5 years knowing that leaving The Nest was a death sentence. And at this point, despite his ownership having been taken by Ichirou, he hasn’t been barred from being on the Raven team; Tetsuji and Riko are still in play.

Whatever your takes on Jean’s mental state here, Abby belittles and shames Jean in chapter 4 of TSC in a way that frankly reprehensible. She is supposed to be a role model and at least somewhat adjusted person. And yet she said that. This woman is supposed to be Betsy’s best friend, and I’m sorry, but as many ethical lines as Betsy ignores I sincerely doubt she would not give Abby an earful for this. Abby might feel bad, it could have been her saying it all wrong, whatever, She Said It. She can also be not defined and have her entire personhood dissected like I’ve super minimally done here to prove my point.

But no one’s talking about Abby, instead Thea is being held to a standard we don’t hold a single other character to (except maybe the USC cast?). Thea’s not above reproach, no one’s claiming she is, but y’all get on her character like she drugged and physically assaulted multiple characters. Andrew the love interest of the originally trilogy did that. We don’t know much of anything about Thea beyond her super limited page time, but as a reminder “Ravens graduated; they didn’t leave” applies to her.

Also, peeps, the rest of the exchange with Thea? Jean is lying and hiding the truth from here in the TSC scene. The “old tricks” line is her trying to guess what could possibly have resulted in such brutality. Did she handle it great? No. But she’s allowed to be imperfect, especially while so ignorant and misled while also still brainwashed. Like lowkey, I don’t know who can come out of that scene without seeing how much Jean and Thea care for each other. Their mutual care is devastating in the way Nora shows it to us: Thea clumsily trying to reach out and understand, while Jean tries to protect her from truths, even while triggered.

Also, transparency, up until the Nora clear-up post and TSC I did not like Thea, and honestly for a bit after both a well, I had to examine and deconstruct my opinion of her, and also acknowledge and own the misogynoir present in the stances I’d held, I was what I am sitting here complaining about. But y’all we can change our minds, we can check in with ourselves. I’m not even a Thea fan at this point, I’m just neutral on her. But I also need us to remember she is (and correctly me if I’m wrong here) the only character in the OG trilogy with dark skin. Food for thought.

Okay one more thought then I’ll shut up. I’ve heard it talked about (I haven’t fact checked) that the Thea hate on Twitter being so intense was what prompted the ���not grooming” post, but also that Nora cut a lot of Thea content from TGR because of it. Like y’all, that is HATRED, you don’t have to like every character but like Damn.

here’s the thing about thea calling it jeans “old tricks.” we’re given more than ample clues to fill in the blanks. jean refused to let anyone else in the nest know he was raped. he and kevin painstakingly covered up after riko because they were too proud to let anyone in on the abuse they faced. thea has no reason to suspect assault— ive said it before, but there’s no crime unless jean speaks up.

i see the claim that jeremy knew it was statutory rape so thea should have, but jeremy is in california, from california, born & raised. the age of consent is 18, as opposed to 16 in west virginia. jeremy is operating under a different legal framework. but look at the scene as a whole: it’s not important that jeremy believes it was statutory rape, because that accusation leads to jeans revelation that he never consented. it may not have been statutory under west virginia law, but it was rape. thea and jean have never had that conversation, and if jean has it his way they never will.

thea looks at jean and she has no reason to see a victim, but every reason to see a teenager she cares about making bad decisions that hurt him. jean himself tells her they were just mistakes. that’s how her “old tricks” sentence comes across. she’s tired. it sets her apart from the rest of the ravens— that’s far more compassion than any of the current line up gave him.

[halovianarchives]

misunderstandings ft. childe

inspo: “I know you don’t like labels, so will you be my married-person-thing?”

it's hard to be in love with someone who's so obvious that they like you back but refuse to admit it. unfortunately, that's the situation childe has with you. everyone could see the love and affection in your eyes whenever you see the ginger male. but no matter hard they try to make you admit that you like him, you shut your mouth and change the subject.

well, you have had admitted it quietly in your friend's ear once but maybe too loudly because childe's ear perked up when you said his name. you immediately changed the subject right away.

"name? did you say my name?" childe asked as you tried to play off your flustered look,

"no? i was talking about albedo's sister. i mean, it's amazing how hes able to work around her. because um... children! i meant to say children not "childe". you have selective hearing! thats what you have." you spluttered up as amber whispered in your ear,

"good save."

he smiled hoping not in an awkward way and said, "ohh! thats what you mean."

that was so not what you meant and sadly, it's gotten so obvious even the subject of your affection noticed. it's not that hard to notice. even though, your state of denial does annoy him when he tries to court you like a peacock, he does like the chase. but the real question is, is he the prey or the predator in the situation?

you noticed that childe has been... not himself? not at all, in a bad way, of course but it's interesting that your boyfriend is acting like he has fallen in love all over again. do you have to worry about how his eyes only glimmer around you? maybe, but his eyes are pretty. speaking of the devil, he just texted you.

\\ 🍊: name

\\ 🍊: i need to talk to you rq

\\ 🍊: pls 🥲

he's so silly sometimes. you remember when he barely used emojis when you first began being friends. but as your relationship grew, he started to adapt how you texted. it's cute.

\\ 🍓: call?

\\ 🍊: ummm no. come to my house.

\\ 🍓: rn? it's like 7 😭😭

\\ 🍊: yes... well no 😞

\\ 🍊: you know what im coming over rn

\\ 🍓: RN?

\\ 🍊: yes.

what just happened?

---

childe arrived at your doorstep, out of breath. it was cold. too cold and it was snowing. he loves the cold and his favorite memories with you was building a snowman and a snow woman together with teucer. teucer isn't really picky with people but he approves of you a lot. childe remember how happy you were when he told you that his little brother likes to hang out with you. despite it all, he still has the balls to confess and ask you out. or if you don't like labels. thats fine. if he's able to relax in your warmth somehow, he'd be content. no dating? it's okay. he will wait for you. he slipped into his pocket, looking for his phone, texting you.

\\ 🍊: pls open your door.

\\ 🍊: it's too cold and you know i can handle the cold

\\ 🍊: name pls

\\ 🍊: berry berry pls

the door opened wide, the warmth of your apartment escaping to the chilled breeze. he was bundled up in different layers. one hand has his phone the other was buried in his pocket. you were confused. he would be confused too if he was you. he was guessing what kind of thoughts ran in your mind like why you are here out of breath? wouldnt you be sick? while you welcomed him into the apartment, closing the door behind him and helping childe take off one or two layers of clothes. once he was warmed up and comfortable, you asked him, "did you run here? we live 2 hours away from each other. why didn't you take your car? why couldn't just call?"

he nodded off your questions. he looked up at you and you looked kind of pissed and annoyed. "okay, i will answer that if you just listen to me."

your stance changed from closed off to open, you crossed your arms though. "okay?"

"okay. um, i wanted to do this in a nicer and different setting. it'd would be much better than this and i promise i'll do it in a different way too." he looked at you again for approval. your hand moved in a circular motion, signaling him to get to the point. "well, i like you and i think you like me too. i know you don't really like those labels of being-" he fakes quoted with his fingers. " 'together'. but would you be my significant-married-person-thing with me? if you don't, it's fine."

after he got that off his chest, he sighed deeply. he waited for your response. half hoping that he didn't get rejected by you just now. but all he heard was laughing. nervously, he looked at you again. "what?"

"i thought we were together." you sat next to him, trying to snifle your laughs. he could see the tears outlining your eyes. instictively, he wiped off a tear off your face.

you watched how your words finally were processed in childe's brain and you could vividly see a lightbulb light up just now. "what?"

"i thought we were dating already."

"when did you think that???"

"well, in like highschool or middle school, when we were sleeping on my bed for one of our saturday sleepovers. you said, 'name, i want to be together with you forever.' and i replied with, 'i'd like that.'"

childe's face morphed, "but i didn't ask you officially. you knew i liked you from the start???"

"only because i thought we were dating from the start. gosh, my boyfriend is so stupid."

BOYFRIEND?? VGBHJMAKLS;VPNEF L YAYY WHOOSH BOYFRIEND... wait a minute. "if we are dating, why did you ignore me at school and become flustered?"

"good question. i don't remember."

"WHAT???"

"i'm just kidding, childe. also were you dreaming because the only time that happened was like highschool. i feel like we shouldve had a chat about this."

"you think??"

"im sorry childe. here's your apology gift." you pecked his lips. he melted instantly.

"don't you think... this makes you forgiven."

"oh how dare i think that! so... do you want to watch tangled again?"

"yes."

[dearweirdme]

What is Jimin's obsession with being all over Jungkook in very obviously fanservice-type ways? Especially when 9 times out of 10, Jungkook looks annoyed or disinterested in him. It comes off as super strange and almost inappropriate. I actually am shocked JK and Jimin are still friends, with the way things have gone down over the years. It may be cute and genuine to Jikookers, but I truly don't understand that take.

Their recent show was even weirder to me, because neither of them looked like they really deep down gave a crap about doing the show. So many of the interactions seemed really fake. Idk I can never tell how much control the company has over them.

And tbh, I'm surprised they keep resigning with them. especially JK and Tae. I feel like BTS's popularity is slowly going down anyways and that they could probably easily leave the company and go do whatever they want. Is it just for the money that they're staying? I feel like all of us fans are more upset by the company's mistreatment then they are. Considering they resign every time.

It comes across as either Jungkook has no or very little control over what he can say and do (hence him rarely publicly supporting Tae's work, doing cheesy and fake reality shows soon before enlistment, etc etc) OR he does have control and he just let's the company spout their bullshit and continue doing sketchy things. Which I wouldn't understand.

Like, I obviously know that Taekook can't just openly be in a relationship, but I just wonder how the company keeps getting away with the Jikook fanservice crap and the mistreatment. Especially if Tae or Jungkook made issue of it.

Hi anon!

Your ask has been sitting in my inbox for quite some time now, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to respond, because I was kinda done with the amount of toxicity I was seeing. And I think your ask contains a lot of that. However, I cannot let go of this particular part.

‘I feel like all of us fans are more upset by the company’s mistreatment then they are.’ I feel this leads you to a path of resenting them for not responding to their own trauma and difficulties the way you would like them to. It’s their battle, not yours. Just because you choose to fight for them, doesn’t mean you get to expect a certain outcome.

Getting out of a contract is extremely difficult. If that weren’t the case we would know of many a case where a group or an artist left. We know the abuse that takes place within Kpop. More and more signs of it come out every day. Idols don’t take that just for the money. They take it because the contracts they signed when they were kids (without proper advisors) holds them there. Resigning is different though, but also still complicated probably.

Contract conversations are difficult. I believe they have the power to not resign and get out, but I also recognize that even not resigning will come with difficulties.. especially when it comes to their group contract. You have to consider the possibility of Hybe owning the rights to BTS’s name and stuff surrounding that. That means they are able to use it even when members don’t resign. I think Hybe intents to keep them all. Not only are they all still very popular and profitable, it would not look good on Hybe to lose them. That gives them leverage, and perhaps they’ll be able to negotiate great deals (budget, freedom, etc). It will tell us a whole lot if some of them decide to not sign on because of that.

I don’t expect Tae to sign his individual contract with Hybe, but if he were to do so, I would still support him. I’d think he has a reason for doing so and I trust his judgement when it comes to his life.

Jk has no real power within Hybe. No idol does. Hybe will have no problem throwing any one of their idols under the bus if it suits them.

I always feel that it’s so important for us fans to realize that we basically know nothing. We have thoughts, we have theories, we see certain things go wrong or be off, but we don’t know what lies beyond those things. It’s important to talk about the things that are wrong, nothing will change if we ignore the bad parts. But personally I always keep in mind that my knowledge of things means absolutely nothing in comparison to that of Tae, Jk and the others themselves.

[rosetheocto]

this was funnier in my head i think (and only like 5 people on here will get it)

the people have spoken

I love and hate that this became a thing cuz The Chip Server didn’t want to hear another Stolas yapping session and would rather listen to Thick of It. this shouldn’t be as funny to me as it is :P

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[starry-eyer]

hotd never fails to disappoint

[fanaroff]

DP x DC: Downed Danny Prompt

The Justice League are enlisted/hired by the GIW to capture and contain a dangerous ecto-entity. With the media blackout of Amity Park, the JL only have Constance’s input on these types of creatures. Since dangerous beings of the Infinite Realms, ones with intent on destruction, are the ones known to leave the Realms, the JL believe the GIW and begin to work with them on a plan.

The GIW have a ghost contained as bait. A big white creature covered in fur and ice, not unlike descriptions of yeti. It growls and howls at anyone that happens to come near or make eye contact. It speaks in what seems to be a mix of Esperanto and static. What is understood from it tends to be along the lines of “destroy you if you-“ before whatever is said is lost to ear-splitting static.

The creature is all claws and danger and does little to make the JL think that the entity they are after is not a villain. It only makes it seem more likely.

With a trap set far north, above any human civilization that could get caught in the crossfire, and following the tracking path the entity seems to be taking (following the bait), they wait to enact their plan. Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton work with them to create the weapons and containment unit that can burst on with the press of a button.

When the entity appears, the JL do not expect it to look like a child. At least, not this much. All lanky limbs and awkward posture, it almost seems the perfect image of a teenager. Until one notices… the uncanniness. Bright, wild, green eyes that reminds Batman of one of his sons. Untamed white hair that drifts without a breeze. Claws. Fangs. It’s not human.

It barks something that strange screeching mixed language at them. It’s angry and has spotted the bait. It says the same thing, this time it’s hands light up green. Demanding. Its stance changes. It’s looking for a fight.

The yeti says something back that seems to only anger the entity further. Its fangs seems to grow longer, nails sharper, eyes brighter, and it aims a hand in the general direction of those present, outside of the yeti.

This is “Phantom.” The ecto-entity the GIW have been after for its destruction on the living plane for years. The one that seems hundreds of years old with pottery and paintings and crafts backing up the claim. It needs to be stopped. So the JL don’t hesitate.

The skill sets of ghosts were explained early on, so each member is ready with a Fenton-made weapon. Phantom’s eyes only harden when they aim them towards him.

Rather than immediately fight, like they assumed it would do, it flies straight towards the yeti. And suddenly, it’s falling.

None of the JL took the shot, but one of the Fenton’s (bundled in ghost proof arctic gear and holding the strongest hitting weapons), did.

Phantom goes down, hard.

The yeti flips out, growling and pulling at the exit chains that bind it. It’s making horrible, gut wrenching sounds and pulling towards the downed ghost until the binds break and it’s leaping towards it. The GIW slam on the ghost shield containment unit and the two are trapped together.

It’s only when the yeti is making mournful cries, holding a small shape as close as it can, green spilling and staining the white, white snow does the JL think that maybe, just maybe, they fucked up. That they should have done more research rather than blindly trust a group that convinced them that they only have humanity’s best interest.

*Feel free to use or add to it. I may make a full detailed one-shot of it soon too

[misswynters]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 Part One

pairing. ambessa x reader x sevika

warnings. kissing, sparring and kissing, touching, neck kisses, pet names (darling)

wc. i have no idea (i went overboard)

synopsis. You were sent on a mission to train sevika for an underground tournament, by non other than the tyrant herself, Ambessa Merdarda.

a/n. there needs to be more of these because i am in need. i keep making part twos because im indecisive also let me know if there’s any misspelling

note. it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

Sweat clung to your brow as you stepped into the training room, its atmosphere oppressive and bathed in a dim crimson glow. The walls, which were made of steel, echoed with every movement. Scuffed mats covered sections of the concrete floor, marked by years of punishment from brutal sparring matches. Ambient heat radiated from flickering red lights overhead, casting jagged shadows that seemed to ripple with every movement. It wasn’t an ideal space for training, but Zaun didn’t do luxury, and neither did Ambessa.

Ambessa’s voice rang out from the elevated platform at the far end of the room, her piercing gaze fixed on the two of you. “Again,” she ordered, her tone sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “Don’t hold back this time. You’re wasting my time if you’re not going to make her bleed.”

Resentment prickled under your skin, but you bit your tongue. Ambessa’s presence had been the only thing keeping you in this hell of an assignment. Training Sevika for an underground tournament had sounded ridiculous when the offer first came to you. Why would a battle maiden brute like her need anyone’s help. But Ambessa had insisted, claiming your expertise was “essential” to Zaun’s victory. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Sevika stood in front of you, her large frame coiled with tension. Her metal arm glinted under the lights as her breathing stayed steady. Her gaze looked betrayed with annoyance. She wasn’t thrilled about being told what to do, let alone by you. The feeling was mutual. “You ready for another bruising, princess?” Sevika taunted, cracking her knuckles.

Rolling your eyes, you dropped into a fighting stance. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your metal arm isn’t the only thing out of commission.”

Her grin was predatory. “Such big words for someone so small.”

The session resumed with a flurry of blows. Sevika lunged first, her movements quick despite her size. You ducked under her swing, your fist connecting with her side. The impact barely fazed her, but it was enough to get her attention. She retaliated with a sweeping kick, forcing you to leap back to avoid losing your footing. The clash of flesh and metal echoed in the room as the two of you exchanged blows, your mutual irritation fueling every strike.

Sevika was too strong to take head-on. So you relied on precision and agility, darting around her strikes and aiming for weak spots. But Sevika wasn’t stupid. She adapted quickly, her strikes coming faster and more calculated. Her metal fist grazed your ribs at one point, and the shock of it made you stumble.

“Getting tired already, sweetheart?” she sneered, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm.

“Hardly,” you shot back, charging at her with renewed energy.

Your next strike caught her off guard. A perfectly timed uppercut sent her stumbling backward. You didn’t stop, delivering a swift kick to her midsection that knocked her off balance. She hit the ground hard, her body slamming against the concrete with a grunt. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Stay down,” you said, wiping your hands on your pants.

But Sevika didn’t stay down. With a growl, she lunged at you like a wild animal. Her strength caught you off guard, and before you could react, she had you pinned to the cold floor. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you gasped as her full weight pressed against you.

Sevika’s metal hand gripped both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. Her other hand rested on your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place. You struggled, but her strength was overwhelming.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” she panted, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto your cheek, and the heat of her body seeped into yours.

“Let me up,” you growled, glaring at her.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she leaned closer, her face mere inches from yours. “Now why would i do that? You look good down there.”

Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was from exertion. “You’re enjoying this wayyyy too much.”

“Maybe,” Sevika admitted, her voice a husky whisper. “But I think you are too.” Her chest heaved with every breath, the fabric of her tank top clinging to her damp skin. The scent of sweat and iron filled the air, mingling with something deeper, something unspoken. Her gray eyes bore into yours, challenging you, daring you to say something, to do something. But neither of you moved. The world outside the training room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in this heat of a moment.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” Sevika muttered, her voice softer now. “Almost makes me want to keep you around.”

“Almost?” you shot back, your voice tight. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Her smirk widened. “You can try, but you wouldn’t succeed.”

Ambessa’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “Enough!” she barked, her tone sharp and commanding. “If you two are done flirting, we have a tournament to prepare for.”

Ambessa’s voice thundered through the training room before either of you had the chance to speak. “What in the hell is going on here?” Her presence filled the room instantly, her commanding tone freezing both you and Sevika in place.

Her boots clanged against the concrete as she strode forward, her towering frame illuminated by the dim red glow. Dressed in training gear, Ambessa looked more like a war goddess than a general with her broad shoulders and powerful arms on full display. A simple black sports bra wrapped tightly around her chest as her glistened abs catch the faint light.

“Off,” she barked, her sharp gaze locking on Sevika.

Sevika, who rarely flinched at anything, hesitated for a split second before pulling back. Her expression was tight with frustration, but she obeyed, releasing your wrists and standing. The loss of her warmth was immediate as the cold floor pressed against your back.

Ambessa stepped in without missing a beat, gripping Sevika’s arm and pulling her upright effortlessly. “Do you think this is some kind of game?” Her voice was low, dangerous, as she squared off with Sevika.

Sevika yanked her arm back, her jaw tightening. “She hit me. I hit her back.”

“You pinned her like a street brawler,” Ambessa snapped, her voice cutting through the charged air. “This isn’t some tavern scuffle. You’re supposed to be training, not rolling around like a fool.”

“She’s the one who pushed me,” Sevika shot back, her chest heaving as she stepped closer. The heat in her gaze didn’t waver, and the muscles in her arms flexed with tension.

Still lying on the ground, you watched the two women square off, rooted in place by the sheer energy between them. Ambessa’s imposing frame radiated authority, her dark eyes blazing, while Sevika bristled like a cornered beast, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Pushed you?” Ambessa’s voice dropped to a near growl. She took another step forward, her tone mocking. “What are you, a child? You’re supposed to be stronger than this.”

“Maybe if you didn’t bark orders from a balcony, you’d see how this fight actually went,” Sevika bit back, her voice dripping with venom. Her muscles tensed beneath the fabric of her tank top, the strain of holding back her frustration evident in every line of her body.

Ambessa’s laugh was sharp and humorless, cutting through the suffocating air. “Careful, Sevika. You’re one poorly thrown punch away from losing that metal arm.”

Sevika’s lips twisted into a snarl, her voice rising as she stepped into Ambessa’s space. “And you’re one more order away from learning I don’t take kindly to being treated like a damn pawn.”

Every word exchanged felt like a spark, each one igniting the fire between them further. You remained where you were, watching from the ground as the red lights painted their figures like some living, breathing battle scene.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze narrowing. “You think this is about you?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with dangerous intent. She took a step closer, the heat from her body palpable even from where you lay. “You’re nothing without me. You wouldn’t have that arm, that strength, or this opportunity. So don’t test me, Sevika.”

For a moment, Sevika didn’t respond, her jaw tight as her gaze flickered to the floor before locking onto Ambessa again. Then, like a wave breaking, the anger in her expression shifted into something more intimate replacing it.

“Nothing without you?” Sevika’s voice dropped, her tone low and measured, sending a shiver down your spine. “You think you own me because you gave me this?” She raised her metal arm, flexing it deliberately. “Don’t fool yourself. I’ve earned every inch of what I am.”

Ambessa didn’t back down, stepping even closer until their chests were nearly brushing. “Then prove it. Because right now, all I see is someone too stubborn to recognize when they’re being tested.”

The air between them shifted. Their breathing was heavy, their bodies so close you swore you could see the tension vibrating between them. Ambessa’s hand raised slightly, and for a second, you thought she might push Sevika, or worse, strike her. But her fingers caught the strap of Sevika’s tank top instead, her grip firm.

“You talk about earning it,” Ambessa said, her voice softer now, her words dripping with sharpness. “But have you earned this?”

Sevika didn’t flinch, though her chest rose and fell faster, her gray eyes locked onto Ambessa’s dark ones. “I’ve earned more than you think,” she said, her voice just as quiet, though there was a slight tremor. The aggression in Sevika’s stance softened, though her muscles remained taut, her body coiled and ready. Ambessa’s imposing presence didn’t falter, but the edge in her gaze dulled ever so slightly.

“You’re reckless,” Ambessa murmured, her fingers still resting against Sevika’s shirt.

“Tyrant bitch,” Sevika shot back, though there was no bite to her words.

They were so close now, their tension-filled standoff transforming into something you couldn’t quite name. You should’ve looked away, should’ve gotten up and interrupted, but you couldn’t. The sight of them, Ambessa’s glistening abs under the red lights and Sevika’s tank top clinging to her damp skin. It was mesmerizing.

The sparring session between Ambessa and Sevika had turned into a spectacle of raw power and dominance. The two women circled each other, muscles taut and glistening under the red light as they calculated their next moves. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, the charged atmosphere making it impossible to look away.

Sevika lunged first, her movements swift. Ambessa parried with ease, her stature and experience giving her the upper hand. The clash of their bodies reverberated through the room, their strength evenly matched, though Ambessa carried herself with an effortless grace that only came from years of battle.

Whereas, you sat on the couch in the corner with your legs crossed and your hands gripping the cushion tightly as you watched. The intensity between them was magnetic, and you felt heat creeping up your neck as you took it all in. The way Ambessa’s muscles shifted with every movement, the sheer power in her strikes. It was impossible not to admire her.

Sevika grunted as Ambessa caught her wrist mid-strike, twisting her arm behind her back in one fluid motion. “You’re too easy to predict,” Ambessa said, her voice low and laced with authority.

Sevika growled, twisting to free herself, but Ambessa didn’t let go. Instead, she pinned Sevika’s arms together, holding them in place with one hand. The strength in that single motion was enough to make your jaw drop. You could see the flex of her biceps, the veins on her forearm standing out as she kept Sevika completely immobilized.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks flush. It wasn’t just the display of power that made your stomach flip, it was the way Ambessa looked doing it. She was in complete control, her eyes burning with determination.

Ambessa leaned in close, her lips brushing against Sevika’s ear. Whatever she whispered was too quiet for you to hear, but the way Sevika’s ears turned pink told you enough. Sevika was blushing. Their breathing was labored, their chests pressed against each other in a way that blurred the lines between aggression and intimacy. They were similar in height and strength that it was hard to tell who had the upper hand, though Ambessa’s control of the situation made it clear she was the dominant one.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to the scene in front of you. The way they moved, the tension between them. it was impossible not to feel flustered. Your eyes flicked to Ambessa’s back, the muscles there flexing as she held Sevika in place, and then to Sevika’s jaw, clenched tightly in frustration.

And then, with a sharp motion, Ambessa threw Sevika to the ground. The impact echoed through the room, but before Sevika could recover, Ambessa straddled her waist, pinning her completely. Her hands pressed into the concrete on either side of Sevika’s head, caging her in.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Ambessa’s gaze was piercing, and Sevika’s was equally defiant, though there was a flicker of something soft beneath her frustration. The proximity between them was almost suffocating, their breaths mingling as they stared each other down.

From your spot on the couch, you felt a pang of jealousy twist in your chest. You hated to admit it, but the sight of them like this: with Ambessa in complete control and Sevika pinned beneath her. You couldn’t deny what it made you feel. You were indecisive, whether you wanted to be in Ambessa’s place or Sevika’s.

Ambessa finally broke the moment, her head turning slightly in your direction. “Darling,” she called, her voice smooth and inviting.

Your heart skipped a beat. She rarely used that tone with you, and when she did, it always made your pulse race. You stood hesitantly, your legs feeling weak as you approached them.

“C’mere,” Ambessa said again, her eyes darkening as she watched you. You obeyed without question, moving closer until you were kneeling beside the two women. Ambessa shifted her attention back to Sevika for a moment, her thumb brushing against Sevika’s jawline before she finally let go of her. Sevika sat up slightly, her breathing still heavy as she stared at Ambessa, her lips parted as though she wanted to a near whisper. "Do you want her?"

The question hit you like a shit ton of bricks. Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "What? No, I-"

Ambessa tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Come on. there’s no need lie," she said, her voice soft but dangerous. "I've seen the way you look at her."

It’s true i-" you started, but your words caught in your throat as Ambessa leaned closer, her hand coming up to cup your chin.

"You can deny it all you want," she murmured, her thumb brushing against your lower lip. "But I already know the truth." Behind her, Sevika shifted, her eyes narrowing as she watched the interaction. Her gaze flicked between you and Ambessa, her jaw tightening as though she was trying to figure out what to make of the situation.

Ambessa's lips curved into a knowing smile as she let go of your chin, her hand moving to rest on your shoulder instead. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said, her tone almost teasing now. "Desire is a natural thing."

You felt your cheeks heat up, unsure of how to respond. Ambessa's gaze was unrelenting, and the weight of both her and Sevika's attention made your head spin.

"Still," Ambessa continued, her voice taking on a more serious edge, "you should know where your loyalties lie." Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded slowly. With the inability to tear your eyes away from her. The room was silent for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Sevika finally stood, brushing herself off and crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at the two of you.

Ambessa smirked, leaning back slightly but still keeping her hand on your shoulder. "Oh, I'm counting on it," she said, her tone dripping with confidence.

As the two women exchanged another charged look, you couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of something bigger than yourself. And yet, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

Ambessa stood there, towering over both you and Sevika, her sharp gaze locked on Sevika's defiant stance. The tension between them was thick, electric, but then something shifted in Ambessa's expression. A sly smirk curved her lips, and before anyone could react, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Sevika's.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was intense, fiery, and utterly captivating. Sevika's eyes widened in surprise at first, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she matched Ambessa's energy, their mouths moving against each other with such a desire that made your heart pound. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight. The sound of their labored breaths and the faint growls of dominance filled the room. They kissed as if they were trying to conquer one another, neither willing to back down. Sevika's hand shot up, gripping the back of Ambessa's neck, her fingers curling into her short hair. While Ambessa's large hands found Sevika's waist, pulling her closer.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched, your mind racing. It was undeniably hot. You clenched your fists in your lap, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly as you continued to observe the exchange.

Ambessa's teeth caught Sevika's lower lip, tugging it slightly before she pulled back just enough to smirk. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice husky and breathless.

"Not even close," Sevika growled, surging forward to capture her lips again, this time with even more hunger.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. The two women before you were locked in a battle of dominance, their bodies pressed so tightly together that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. The red light from the room cast their silhouettes in an almost ethereal glow, accentuating the muscles in their arms and shoulders as they held each other.

You felt a pang of longing in your chest, wishing you could be part of that. Your eyes drifted to Sevika's lips. You imagined her pressing her lips against your neck. And then your gaze moved to Ambessa's hands, the thought of them holding you like that making your stomach flip.

You didn't realize you were pouting until Ambessa pulled back slightly from Sevika, her eyes flicking toward you. She chuckled lowly, her voice thick with amusement. "What's wrong, darling?" she teased, the pet name rolling off her tongue like silk.

You quickly looked away, embarrassed that she'd caught you. "Nothing," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

"Nothing, hm?" Ambessa stepped closer, leaving Sevika standing there looking both frustrated and dazed. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your cheek before trailing down to rest against your back. "I don't think I believe you."

Sevika, still breathing heavily, smirked as she noticed your reaction. "Looks like someone wants in on the fun," she said, her tone teasing but her eyes were dark. Your heart skipped a beat as Ambessa's hand pressed more firmly against your back, guiding you to your feet. "Join us.” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, letting her lead you exactly where you wanted to be. Right inbetween the two of them. Her hand stayed firm against your back, her touch grounding yet electrifying.

"You've been watching like you want something," Ambessa murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. "Well?"

"I..." You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words the mix of desire and anticipation swirling inside you.

"Shy now?" Sevika teased, stepping closer until her chest was nearly brushing against your back. She reached out, her calloused fingers tilting your chin up so you had to look at her. "Don't be."

The proximity of both women was overwhelming, their sheer size making you feel small and delicate in comparison. Ambessa's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against her chest while Sevika's fingers trailed along your jawline.

"You're trembling," Ambessa noted with a smirk, her voice a low rumble against your back. "Are we making you nervous, darling?"

"I-i’m not nervous," you managed to say, though your voice betrayed you.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest and into your body. "Good," she said. "Because we're just getting started."

Before you could respond, Ambessa leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and intoxicating. Her hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly against her as her lips moved against yours with expert precision.

You barely had time to process the kiss before Sevika's lips found the curve of your neck, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The combination of their touches was almost too much to handle, and yet you craved more.

Ambessa pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked down at you. "Sevika," she said, her tone carrying a hint of command.

Sevika hummed in response, her lips still pressed against your neck.

"I think you want more," Ambessa said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked between you and Sevika.

Sevika smirked, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. "Then we shouldn't disappoint," she said, her voice low and full of promise.

As they both closed in on you, you couldn't help but feel excitement. Being caught between these two powerful women, their attention focused entirely on you, was a dream come true. And as their lips and hands began explored every inch of your body, you couldn’t resist.

THE NEXT PART

taglist. @blckbny @themostlesbianever @galaxydreamer468 @mpenguin7 @mvistl @dollstry @abitchnamedtia @ab2ysw1fe @lizzy222y @lexi2000 @sevslut @yer-boiiii @jayden-prentiss @humbledaylily556 @desnaa

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[pucksandpower]

Hall Pass

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Carlos Sainz x ex!Reader

Summary: Carlos’ desire to fantasize about other women leads you straight into his teammate’s arms (or in which your boyfriend chooses a famous actress as his hall pass while you decide on someone much closer to home)

The hotel suite is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. You sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, your fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on the duvet cover. Across the room, Carlos leans against the ornate writing desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a pensive look on his face.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and measured. “We need to talk.”

You look up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s on your mind?”

He shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking ... about us. About our relationship.”

Your heart skips a beat, a knot forming in your stomach. “Oh? And what have you been thinking?”

Carlos takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before settling back on you. “I love you, Y/N. I do. But ... I can’t help feeling like we’re stuck in a rut.”

You furrow your brow, confusion and hurt mingling in your chest. “A rut? What do you mean?”

“It’s just ...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “We’ve been together for so long, and it’s been great. But don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You stand up, taking a step towards him. “Carlos, are you saying you want to break up?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just ... I had an idea.”

“An idea?” You repeat, your voice laced with skepticism.

Carlos nods, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. “What if we each got a hall pass?”

You blink, taken aback. “A hall pass? Like ... permission to sleep with someone else?”

“Exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers. “But not just anyone. We each choose one person, and if we ever happen to meet them and the opportunity arises, we’re allowed to go for it. No hard feelings, no guilt.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words. “Let me get this straight. You want us to choose people we can cheat on each other with, guilt-free?”

Carlos winces at your phrasing. “It’s not cheating if we both agree to it. Think of it as ... spicing things up. Adding a little excitement to our relationship.”

You cross your arms, mirroring his earlier stance. “And you think this will solve our supposed ‘rut’?”

He shrugs, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “It could be fun. Just imagine the thrill of knowing we both have this secret possibility out there.”

You shake your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “I can’t believe you’re seriously suggesting this.”

“Come on, mi amor,” Carlos coaxes, taking a step towards you. “It’s not like anything will actually happen. We’ll probably never even meet the people we choose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is the fantasy, the excitement,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “It’s like ... buying a lottery ticket. You know you probably won’t win, but the possibility is thrilling.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering his words. Part of you wants to shut down this ridiculous idea immediately, but another part is intrigued by the challenge. “And you really think this will help our relationship?”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I do. It’ll add a spark, keep things interesting.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“So ... is that a yes?” Carlos asks, hope evident in his voice.

After a long moment, you nod slowly. “Fine. But we set some ground rules first.”

Carlos grins, clapping his hands together. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

You hold up a finger. “Rule number one: we tell each other who we choose. No secrets.”

“Agreed,” Carlos says quickly.

“Rule number two: if anything ever does happen, we tell each other immediately.”

Carlos nods. “Absolutely. Honesty is key.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. So ... who’s your choice?”

Carlos’ grin widens. “Margot Robbie.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Margot Robbie?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “What? She’s gorgeous, talented, and there’s practically zero chance I’ll ever meet her, let alone have the opportunity to sleep with her.”

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Well, at least you’re being realistic about your chances.”

Carlos chuckles. “Exactly. It’s the perfect choice. Exciting, but safe.” He leans forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What about you? Who’s your hall pass going to be?”

You pause, pretending to consider your options carefully. In truth, you’ve already made your decision, a plan forming in your mind. “Well,” you say slowly, “I think I’ll choose ... Charles.”

Carlos’ brow furrows in confusion. “Charles? What Charles?”

You allow a small smirk to play across your lips. “Charles Leclerc.”

The color drains from Carlos’ face as realization dawns. “Charles ... Leclerc? My teammate, Charles Leclerc?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “That’s the one.”

Carlos sputters, his earlier confidence evaporating. “But-but you can’t choose him!”

“Why not?” You ask, your voice sweet. “He fits all the criteria. He’s attractive, talented, and exciting.”

“But he’s my teammate!” Carlos exclaims, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “You see him all the time!”

You shrug, echoing his earlier nonchalance. “So? You’re the one who wanted to add some excitement to our relationship.”

Carlos paces back and forth, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by panic. “This isn’t what I meant! I chose someone I’ll never meet. You chose someone you could literally bump into tomorrow!”

“Carlos,” you say, your voice taking on a patronizing tone, “are you saying you don’t trust me?”

He stops pacing, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Of course I trust you. It’s just ... it’s Charles!”

You take a step towards him, your expression hardening. “Let me ask you something. Did you really think this through when you suggested it? Or were you just hoping for a free pass to fantasize about other women without feeling guilty?”

Carlos opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find a response. “I ... that’s not ... I didn’t mean ...”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. You’d get to keep me while indulging in your little fantasies about Margot Robbie or whoever else catches your eye.”

“Mi amor, please,” Carlos pleads, reaching for your hand. “That’s not what this was about at all.”

You pull away from his grasp, shaking your head. “No? Then what was it about? Because it sure as hell wasn’t about improving our relationship.”

He runs his hands over his face, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I just ... I thought it would be fun. A little harmless fantasy to spice things up.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve certainly spiced things up now.”

Carlos looks at you, desperation in his eyes. “Can we just ... can we forget this whole thing? Pretend I never suggested it?”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh no, Carlos. You don’t get to backtrack now. You wanted a hall pass? You’ve got one.”

“Please,” he begs, reaching for you again. “I was being stupid. I don’t want this.”

You step back, avoiding his touch. “Too late. What was it you said? No hard feelings, no guilt?”

Carlos’ face crumples. “I didn’t think ... I never imagined you’d choose someone like Charles.”

“Maybe you should have,” you snap. “Maybe you should have considered how I’d feel about you wanting permission to sleep with other women.”

He hangs his head, shame written across his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. Can we please just talk about this?”

You shake your head, moving towards the door of the suite. “I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”

Carlos’ head snaps up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

You grab your purse from the nearby chair, slinging it over your shoulder. “Out. I need some air.”

“Y/N, wait!” Carlos calls, his voice rising in desperation. “You can’t ... you’re not going to ...”

You turn back to face him, your hand on the doorknob. “Going to what, Carlos? Use my hall pass? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, but not like this. Not with Charles!”

“Why not?” You challenge. “He’s attractive, available, and conveniently located just down the hall. Isn’t that exciting?”

Carlos’ face contorts with a mixture of anger and fear. “You wouldn’t. You’re just trying to teach me a lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I? Are you willing to bet on that?”

He takes a step towards you, his voice pleading. “Mi amor, please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

You open the door, pausing in the threshold. “You know, Carlos, you were right about one thing. This definitely isn’t boring anymore.”

As you step into the hallway, you hear Carlos’ voice rising behind you. “Y/N! Come back! We need to talk about this!”

You let the door swing shut behind you, cutting off his desperate pleas. As you walk down the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished floor, a small smile plays across your lips.

You have no intention of actually going to Charles’ room, of course. But Carlos doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew in his own jealousy and insecurity for a while. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before suggesting something so foolish.

As you reach the elevator, you can still hear Carlos’ muffled shouts echoing from your suite. You press the button for the lobby, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Part of you feels guilty for causing him such distress, but a larger part feels justified in your actions. He needed to understand the consequences of his thoughtless suggestion.

As the elevator doors slide closed, you let out a long breath. It’s going to be a long night, but perhaps this will be the wake-up call your relationship needed. Not in the way Carlos had intended, but in a way that forces you both to confront the real issues lurking beneath the surface.

The elevator begins its descent, carrying you away from the drama upstairs and towards an uncertain future. One thing’s for sure — your relationship will never be the same after tonight. Whether that’s for better or worse remains to be seen.

***

The hotel bar is a sanctuary of soft lighting and hushed conversations. You sit perched on a high stool, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to quiet the storm of emotions raging inside you. The bartender, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, keeps glancing your way, clearly sensing your distress but respectfully maintaining his distance.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he speaks.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

You look up, startled, to find Charles Leclerc standing beside you, concern etched across his handsome features. For a moment, you’re struck by the irony of the situation.

“Charles,” you manage, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just ... needed some air.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. “At the bar? Must be some very alcoholic air.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “Caught me. Mind if I buy you a drink to keep my secret?”

Charles slides onto the stool next to you, a warm smile playing across his lips. “Only if you let me buy the next round and tell me what’s really going on.”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s ... complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Charles says softly, signaling the bartender. “And I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

As the bartender sets a Moscow Mule in front of Charles, you take a deep breath. “Carlos and I had a fight.”

Charles nods, his expression neutral. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, you’re going to love this. He suggested we each get a hall pass.”

Charles’ brow furrows in confusion. “A hall pass? Like in school?”

“No,” you explain, taking a sip of your wine. “A relationship hall pass. Permission to sleep with one chosen person if the opportunity ever arose.”

Charles’ eyes widen in surprise. “He suggested that? Really?”

You nod, feeling a fresh wave of anger wash over you. “He thought it would ‘spice things up’. Add some excitement to our relationship.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Charles asks carefully, studying your face.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly? I felt ... hurt. Betrayed. Like I wasn’t enough for him anymore.”

Charles reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand over yours. “Y/N, you’re more than enough. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

You look up, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you. That ... means a lot.”

He squeezes your hand before pulling away, taking a sip of his drink. “So, what happened next?”

You feel a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I agreed.”

Charles nearly chokes on his drink. “You did?”

You nod, unable to suppress a small chuckle at his reaction. “I did. But not for the reasons Carlos wanted.”

“Oh?” Charles leans in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“Well,” you say, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “Carlos chose Margot Robbie as his hall pass.”

Charles snorts. “Of course he did.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “So when it was my turn to choose ... I picked you.”

For a moment, Charles is speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he manages to sputter, “Me? You chose me?”

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I did. You should have seen Carlos’ face. He was furious.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, looking both flattered and bewildered. “I ... wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him quickly. “I didn’t choose you because I actually intended to ... you know. I chose you to teach Carlos a lesson.”

Charles nods slowly, processing this information. “And did he learn his lesson?”

You shrug, finishing off your wine. “I don’t know. I left him screaming in our hotel room.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, his voice full of concern. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You deserve better.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Do I? Sometimes I wonder ...”

Charles reaches out again, this time cupping your cheek gently. “Listen to me. You are an incredible woman. You’re smart, funny, beautiful ... any man would be lucky to have you. And if Carlos can’t see that, if he’s willing to risk losing you over some stupid fantasy, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the wine. “Charles ...”

He leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “If you were with me, I would treat you like the queen you deserve to be. I would never even think about another woman, let alone ask for permission to be with one.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Charles, I ... we can’t ...”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Why not? You have a hall pass, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of emotions clouding your judgment. “That’s not ... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Charles sighs, dropping his hand from your face. “I know. And I would never want to be the reason you and Carlos break up. But Y/N, you have to know ... I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You have?”

He nods, a rueful smile on his face. “How could I not? You’re amazing. But you were with Carlos, and I respected that. I still do. But seeing you hurt like this ... it kills me.”

You feel tears spilling down your cheeks now, unable to hold them back any longer. “I don’t know what to do. I love Carlos, but after tonight ... I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.”

Charles pulls you into a gentle hug, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. “It’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. “I just ... I feel so lost.”

He strokes your hair softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

You pull back slightly, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Always. But Y/N ... I want you to know that if you ever decide you want more than friendship, I’m here. I would never hurt you the way Carlos has.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and fear. “Charles, I ...”

He shakes his head, placing a finger gently on your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you are, of the electricity crackling between you. “I should ... I should probably go.”

Charles nods, but makes no move to let you go. “Probably. But do you want to?”

You bite your lip, torn between desire and duty. “I ... I don’t know.”

He leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispers, “Come up to my room. We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk or watch a movie. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You shiver at his closeness, your resolve weakening. “Charles, I ... what if someone sees us?”

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Let them see. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to have friends, to seek comfort when you’re hurting.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But looking into Charles’ eyes, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s go.”

Charles stands, offering you his hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you towards the elevators. As you walk, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you, but Charles’ steady presence beside you helps you keep your head high.

In the elevator, you stand close together, the air thick with unspoken tension. Charles’ thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

“Charles,” you say softly as the elevator begins to ascend. “I need you to know ... I’m not using you to get back at Carlos. Whatever happens tonight, it’s because I want it to.”

He turns to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek once more. “I know. And I want you to know that whatever happens or doesn’t happen, tonight doesn’t change anything. I’ll still be here for you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time since your fight with Carlos. “Thank you.”

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at Charles’ floor. He leads you down the hallway to his suite, fumbling slightly with the key card before pushing the door open.

As you step inside, you’re struck by how different it feels from the suite you share with Carlos. Where your room is cluttered with both of your belongings, evidence of your life together, Charles’ suite is neat and minimalist. It feels like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Charles closes the door behind you, leaning against it as he watches you take in the room. “So,” he says softly, “what now?”

You turn to face him, suddenly feeling nervous. “I ... I don’t know. This is all happening so fast.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow. Why don’t we sit down, maybe order some room service? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel a rush of affection for him, grateful for his patience and understanding. “That sounds nice.”

Charles moves to the phone, quickly ordering a selection of snacks and another bottle of wine. As he hangs up, he turns back to you with a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered your favorite.”

You blink in surprise. “You know my favorite wine?”

He shrugs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I pay attention.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. How many times had you had to remind Carlos of your preferences?

As you settle onto the plush sofa, Charles takes a seat beside you, close but not touching. “Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that you’re in control here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and desire. “I know. And I appreciate that, Charles. But ...”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “But I think I want to kiss you.”

Charles’ eyes widen, a look of surprise and joy spreading across his face. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Charles is still, as if he can’t believe this is happening. Then, with a small groan, he responds, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

As you lose yourself in the sensation of Charles’ lips on yours, his strong arms pulling you closer, you feel a sense of rightness settle over you. You know that there will be consequences to face tomorrow, difficult conversations to be had. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything else and simply feel.

When you finally pull apart, both breathing heavily, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “Me too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. “Now ... now we take things one step at a time. I can’t make any promises, Charles. I need to sort things out with Carlos, figure out what I really want.”

He nods, understanding and a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I know. And I’ll respect whatever decision you make. Just know that I’m here, Y/N. Whatever you need.”

You lean in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

As you settle back into his arms, feeling safe and cared for in a way you haven’t in a long time, you know that whatever the future holds, this night has changed everything. And for the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, a sliver landing directly on the warming skin of your face. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you realize you’re not in your own bed. As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself nestled in Charles’ arms, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek.

For a moment, panic flares in your chest as you try to piece together the events of the night before. But as memories flood back, you relax, remembering that while you and Charles shared kisses and conversation, nothing more intimate transpired.

Charles shifts beside you, his arms tightening slightly as he wakes. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You tilt your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Good morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess, surprised by the sense of calm that settles over you. “Better than I expected, actually.”

Charles nods, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad. I was worried you might regret ... well, everything.”

You shake your head, sitting up slightly to meet his gaze. “I don’t regret anything. Last night ... it made a lot of things clear for me.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity and hope warring in his expression. “Oh? What kind of things?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. “I think ... I think I want to be with you. Not just for a hall pass, not just for one night. I want to see where this could go between us.”

Charles’ face lights up, joy radiating from every feature. But then, just as quickly, concern clouds his expression. “Y/N, as much as I want that — and believe me, I do — what about Carlos?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I need to end things with him. Properly. What he did, suggesting that hall pass ... it was just a symptom of bigger problems in our relationship. I see that now.”

Charles nods slowly, sitting up beside you. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to make any rash decisions because of one fight.”

You turn to face him fully, taking his hands in yours. “I’m sure. Last night, talking with you, being with you ... it made me realize what I’ve been missing. The respect, the understanding, the way you actually listen to me. I want that. I want you.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, but there’s still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. But ... are you sure you want to do this now? Maybe you should take some time, think things through.”

You shake your head, determination setting in. “No, I need to do this now. If I wait, I’ll just be living a lie. Carlos deserves to know the truth, and I ... I want to start this — us — with a clean slate.”

Charles squeezes your hands gently. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m not letting you face Carlos alone.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze steadily. “I mean I’m coming with you when you break up with him. I know Carlos, and I know he’s not going to take this well. I want to be there to support you.”

“Charles,” you protest weakly, “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be messy enough without you there.”

He shakes his head firmly. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. More than that, I’m insisting. We’re in this together now. Let me be there for you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his support. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Charles leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always. Now, why don’t we get cleaned up and face this together?”

An hour later, freshly showered and steeled for the confrontation ahead, you stand outside the door to your suite with Charles by your side. Your hand trembles slightly as you raise it to knock.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, catching your hand in his. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here with you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the door. For a long moment, there’s silence. Then, just as you’re about to knock again, the door flies open.

Carlos stands there, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. His gaze flicks between you and Charles, confusion quickly morphing into anger.

“What the hell is this?” He demands, his voice rough.

You step forward, trying to keep your voice calm. “We need to talk.”

He laughs bitterly, throwing the door wider. “Oh, now you want to talk? After disappearing all night? Come on in, let’s have a nice chat.”

As you and Charles enter the suite, you can’t help but notice the state of disarray. Empty bottles litter the coffee table, and it’s clear Carlos hasn’t slept.

“Have a nice night?” Carlos spits, slamming the door behind you.

You flinch at the sound, but stand your ground. “I’m sorry for leaving like that. But we need to discuss what happened.”

He rounds on you, anger blazing in his eyes. “What’s there to discuss? You used your fucking hall pass, didn’t you? With him?” He jabs a finger at Charles, who remains calm but alert beside you.

“No, Carlos, I didn’t,” you say firmly. “Charles and I talked, that’s all.”

Carlos scoffs, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Oh, you expect me to believe that? You disappear all night, then show up with him in the morning, and I’m supposed to think nothing happened?”

Charles steps forward, his voice level. “She’s telling you the truth. Nothing happened between us last night.”

Carlos whirls on him, fury contorting his features. “Stay out of this, Leclerc. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you at his possessive tone. “That’s just it. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

The room goes deathly silent as your words hang in the air. Carlos stares at you, shock replacing anger for a moment before his face hardens again.

“What did you just say?” He growls.

You stand tall, drawing strength from Charles’ presence beside you. “I said I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

For a moment, Carlos looks like you’ve physically struck him. Then, with a roar of rage, he sweeps his arm across the nearest surface, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the floor.

“You fucking bitch!” He shouts, advancing on you. “You sleep with my teammate and then have the audacity to break up with me?”

Charles steps between you and Carlos, his voice low and dangerous. “Back off. Now.”

Carlos sneers at him. “Oh, defending your new whore, are you? How noble.”

You push past Charles, anger overriding your fear. “That’s enough! I told you, I didn’t sleep with Charles. But even if I had, it would have been my right. You’re the one who suggested this stupid hall pass in the first place!”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Oh, so this is my fault now? I suggest a little harmless fantasy to spice things up, and you use it as an excuse to cheat on me?”

“It wasn’t harmless!” You shout back. “It was hurtful and disrespectful. Did you ever stop to think how it would make me feel, knowing you wanted permission to sleep with other women?”

Carlos runs his hands through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “It wasn’t about that! It was just a game, a fantasy!”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. “That’s the problem. Our relationship isn’t a game. It’s not something to be risked on a whim. And the fact that you don’t understand that ... it just proves we’re not right for each other anymore.”

Carlos’ anger seems to deflate, replaced by a desperate pleading. “Y/N, please. We can work this out. I’m sorry about the hall pass thing, okay? I was an idiot. But don’t throw away everything we have over one stupid mistake.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back. “It’s not just about the hall pass. It’s about everything. The way you take me for granted, the way you never really listen to me. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone who respects me, who values me.”

Carlos’ gaze flicks to Charles, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And you think he’s that someone? My teammate? My friend?”

Charles steps forward, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But Y/N is right — she deserves better. And I want to be the one to give her that.”

For a moment, you think Carlos might lunge at Charles. But then, to your surprise, he crumples, sinking onto the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“How long?” He asks, his voice muffled.

You move closer, but stop short of touching him. “How long what?”

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. “How long have you two been ... feeling this way about each other?”

You exchange a glance with Charles before answering. “Honestly? I didn’t realize how I felt about Charles until last night. When he was there for me, really listening and supporting me ... it made me see what I’ve been missing.”

Carlos nods slowly, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “And you, Charles? How long have you been in love with my girlfriend?”

Charles takes a deep breath, meeting Carlos’ gaze steadily. “A while. But Carlos, I swear to you, nothing ever happened between us until last night. And even then, we didn’t sleep together. I respect you too much for that.”

Carlos laughs humorlessly. “Respect me? You’re stealing my girlfriend and you talk about respect?”

You feel a flare of irritation at his words. “He’s not stealing me. I’m not a possession. I’m making my own choice.”

Carlos stands abruptly, moving to the window and staring out at the city below. For a long moment, silence reigns in the room. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, defeated.

“Get out. Both of you. I can’t ... I can’t look at either of you right now.”

You take a step towards him, your heart aching despite everything. “Carlos ...”

He whirls around, his eyes flashing. “I said get out! Take your things and go. I’ll have the rest sent to you.”

You nod slowly, knowing that pushing further will only make things worse. As you move around the room, gathering your essential belongings, you feel a profound sadness settling over you. This is the end of a significant chapter in your life, and despite your certainty that it’s the right decision, it still hurts.

Charles waits by the door, a silent, supportive presence. When you’ve finished packing a small bag, you join him, pausing at the threshold to look back at Carlos one last time.

“I’m sorry it ended this way,” you say softly. “I hope ... I hope someday you can forgive us.”

Carlos doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn to look at you. With a heavy sigh, you step into the hallway, Charles close behind you.

As the door clicks shut, you lean against the wall, suddenly feeling drained. Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his warmth. “I will be. It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”

You look up at him, managing a small smile despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. “Together. I like the sound of that.”

***

The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the curtains of Charles’ hotel suite, casting a golden light across the room. You sit on the plush sofa, your legs tucked beneath you, a glass of Prosecco cradled in your hands. Across from you, Charles leans against the minibar, his own glass in hand, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you.

“What?” You ask, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks under his intense gaze.

Charles shakes his head, his smile widening. “Nothing. I just ... I can’t believe you’re really here. With me.”

You take a sip of your Prosecco, savoring the crisp, bubbly taste. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself. But I’m glad I am.”

Charles moves to join you on the sofa, settling in close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “How are you feeling? After everything that happened with Carlos ...”

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. “Honestly? I feel ... lighter. Like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted.”

Charles nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad. But I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. If you need time, space ...”

You cut him off by placing your hand gently on his arm. “I appreciate that. But I’ve had years of space with Carlos. What I want now is to be here, with you.”

His eyes light up at your words, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulls back, you can’t help but smile at the joy radiating from him.

“You know,” you say, taking another sip of your Prosecco, “I have to admit, I was surprised when you ordered this.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “The Prosecco? Why?”

You shrug, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Carlos always insisted on ordering Spanish cava. He said it was better. I never had the heart to tell him I preferred Prosecco.”

Charles looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding. He never noticed?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I mean, I drank it, of course. But ... I don’t know. It just never seemed important enough to make a fuss over.”

Charles sets his glass down on the coffee table, turning to face you fully. “Y/N, listen to me. Your preferences, your likes and dislikes — they’re important. They matter. You matter.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that has escaped. “It’s the truth. And for the record, I’ve known you preferred Prosecco since that team dinner in Monza two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You remember that?”

Charles nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Of course. You lit up when they brought out the Prosecco. Your whole face changed. I’ve never seen someone so happy over a glass of bubbly.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “I can’t believe you noticed that.”

“I notice everything about you,” Charles says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I always have.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “Like what?”

Charles’ thumb traces gentle circles on your skin as he speaks. “Like how you always twist your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Or how you bite your lip to hide your smile when you’re trying not to laugh at one of the guys’ bad jokes.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, touched by his attention to detail. “What else?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I know you have a secret stash of gummy bears in your purse for long flights. And that you always hum Dancing Queen under your breath when you’re in a good mood.”

You gasp in mock horror. “Charles Leclerc, have you been spying on me?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Not spying. Just ... paying attention. Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat at the tenderness in his gaze. “It’s more than okay. It’s ... it’s wonderful.”

Charles leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re wonderful. And you deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates every little thing about you.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When you pull back, you’re both a little breathless.

“Charles,” you murmur, “I think I’m falling for you.”

His face lights up with joy. “That’s good, because I’ve already fallen for you.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in years. “Oh really? When did that happen?”

Charles pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm, probably around the time you yelled at that journalist for asking me stupid questions after my DNF in Canada.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, I forgot about that. I was so embarrassed afterwards.”

He gently pries your hands away, his eyes shining with admiration. “Don’t be. It was amazing. No one’s ever defended me like that before.”

You shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “He was being an ass. You didn’t deserve that after the race you had.”

Charles pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See? That’s what I mean. You care. Deeply and fiercely. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You snuggle into his side, reveling in the warmth and safety of his embrace. “You know, it’s funny. I always thought I was happy with Carlos. But being here with you ... it’s making me realize how much I was missing.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Like what?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one thing, this. Just sitting and talking, really talking. With Carlos, it always felt like we were just going through the motions, you know? Like we were playing the roles of the perfect couple without really connecting.”

Charles nods, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that. It’s easy to fall into patterns, to stop really seeing each other.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “And it’s not just the big things. It’s the little stuff too. Like ...” You pause, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Oh! Like the flowers.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Flowers?”

You sit up, turning to face him. “Yeah. Carlos always sent me these huge bouquets of red roses. Which, don’t get me wrong, were beautiful. But ...”

“But they’re not your favorite,” Charles finishes for you.

You blink in surprise. “How did you know that?”

He grins, looking a bit bashful. “Remember that charity gala in Milan last year? You spent at least ten minutes gushing over the centerpieces.”

You gasp, the memory flooding back. “The peonies! Oh my god, Charles, how do you remember these things?”

He shrugs, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Like I said, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you.”

You feel your heart swell with affection. “Well, Mr. Attentive, what else have you noticed about me?”

Charles pretends to think hard, tapping his chin dramatically. “Let’s see ... I know you prefer your coffee with just a splash of milk, no sugar. You always double-knot your shoelaces before a run. Oh, and you have a secret obsession with cheesy 80s power ballads.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Okay, now I know you’re making things up. There’s no way you could know about my power ballad addiction.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh really? So if I were to start singing Total Eclipse of the Heart, you wouldn’t immediately join in?”

Your jaw drops. “How ... how did you ...”

Charles grins triumphantly. “Team karaoke night in Singapore. You thought everyone was too drunk to remember, but I wasn’t as far gone as I let on.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

He gently pries your hands away, his expression soft and sincere. “Hey, no hiding. I loved it. You were so free, so happy. It was beautiful to watch.”

You feel tears prickling at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. “Charles ...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that have escaped. “Y/N, I want you to know that I see you. All of you. The good, the bad, the silly, the serious. And I love every part of it.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “I’m starting to see you too, Charles. And I ... I think I might be falling in love with what I see.”

His face lights up with joy, and he pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless and grinning.

“So,” Charles says, his voice low and husky, “what do you say we order some room service? I’m thinking ... chocolate lava cake for dessert?”

You gasp in delight. “How did you know that’s my favorite?”

He winks, reaching for the room service menu. “I told you, mon cœur. I pay attention.”

As Charles calls down to place the order, you lean back against the sofa, a contented smile playing on your lips. You can’t help but marvel at how different this feels from your relationship with Carlos. With Charles, you feel seen, heard, understood in a way you never have before.

When he hangs up the phone and rejoins you on the sofa, you curl into his side, feeling perfectly at home in his arms. As the night deepens around you, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen kisses, you know that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. With Charles, you’re not just being loved — you’re being cherished, appreciated for every little thing that makes you who you are.

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms later that night, the taste of chocolate and Prosecco still lingering on your lips, you can’t help but feel that you’ve finally found where you truly belong.

***

Carlos stands at the edge of the pit lane, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. You and Charles are huddled together by the Ferrari garage, laughing and talking animatedly. The sight sends a sharp pang through Carlos’ chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and regret swirling in his gut.

He watches as Charles leans in, whispering something in your ear that makes you throw your head back in laughter. Carlos grits his teeth, remembering a time when he was the one to make you laugh like that.

“They look happy, don’t they?” A voice says beside him.

Carlos turns to see Lando standing there, a sympathetic look on his face. “What do you want?” Carlos growls, not in the mood for conversation.

Lando holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking on you, mate. I know this can’t be easy to watch.”

Carlos scoffs, turning his attention back to you and Charles. “I’m fine. It’s not like I care what she does anymore.”

Even as he says the words, Carlos knows they’re a lie. He does care. He cares so much it feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

He watches as Charles pulls out a small package from his pocket, handing it to you with a flourish. Your eyes light up as you unwrap it, revealing what looks like a bag of candy.

“What’s that about?” Carlos mutters, more to himself than to Lando.

Lando squints, trying to get a better look. “Looks like ... gummy bears? Huh, I didn’t know Y/N liked those.”

Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She doesn’t,” he says automatically. But even as the words leave his mouth, he sees the way you’re beaming at Charles, popping a gummy bear into your mouth with evident delight.

“You sure about that?” Lando asks, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos doesn’t respond, his mind racing. How had he never known you liked gummy bears? Had you ever mentioned it? Had he ever bothered to ask?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laughter again. Charles is holding out his phone, showing you something on the screen. As you lean in to look, Charles’ arm slips around your waist, pulling you close.

Carlos feels his hands clench into fists at his sides. He wants to look away, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from the scene.

“You know,” Lando says carefully, “maybe you should talk to them. Clear the air.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently. “There’s nothing to talk about. She made her choice.”

Lando sighs. “Look, mate, I know you’re hurting. But-”

“But nothing,” Carlos snaps. “Just drop it.”

Lando holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m here if you need to talk, though.”

As Lando walks away, Carlos continues to watch you and Charles. He sees the way Charles’ hand rests on the small of your back, the way you lean into him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, Charles looks up, his eyes meeting Carlos’ across the paddock. For a moment, they just stare at each other, an unspoken tension crackling between them. Then, to Carlos’ surprise, Charles says something to you and starts making his way over.

Carlos straightens, steeling himself for the confrontation. As Charles approaches, he can see you watching anxiously from a distance.

“Carlos,” Charles says, his voice cautious. “Can we talk?”

Carlos crosses his arms, his jaw clenched. “What’s there to talk about?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this situation is ... complicated. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Hurt me? You stole my girlfriend. How did you think that was going to make me feel?”

Charles shakes his head. “I didn’t steal anyone. Y/N made her own choice.”

“Right,” Carlos spits. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I won’t deny that I had feelings for Y/N for a long time. But I never acted on them while you were together. Never.”

Carlos scoffs. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Carlos, please,” Charles says, his voice softening. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But can’t you see how happy she is?”

Carlos’ eyes flick back to you, standing by the garage and watching them anxiously. He hates to admit it, but you do look happy. Happier than he can remember seeing you in a long time.

“She was happy with me,” Carlos insists, but the words sound hollow even to his own ears.

Charles gives him a sad smile. “Was she? Really? Because from what she’s told me, there were a lot of things you never noticed about her.”

Carlos feels a flare of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Charles says carefully, “that sometimes we take the people we love for granted. We stop seeing them, really seeing them.”

Carlos wants to argue, to defend himself, but he finds the words sticking in his throat. Because deep down, he knows Charles is right.

“Did you know,” Charles continues, his voice gentle, “that her favorite flowers are pink peonies? Not red roses?”

Carlos blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

Charles nods. “Or that she prefers Prosecco to cava? Or that she has a secret addiction to 80s power ballads?”

With each revelation, Carlos feels like he’s being hit with a fresh wave of regret. How had he missed all of these things? How had he failed to notice what made you, you?

“I ...” Carlos starts, then stops, unsure of what to say.

Charles puts a hand on his shoulder, the gesture surprisingly kind given the circumstances. “I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I want you to understand. Y/N deserves to be with someone who sees her, who appreciates every little thing about her.”

Carlos nods slowly, the fight draining out of him. “And that someone is you?”

Charles smiles softly. “I hope so. I’m certainly trying to be.”

They stand in silence for a moment, both looking over at you. You’re still watching them anxiously, clearly worried about what they might be saying to each other.

Finally, Carlos speaks, his voice rough with emotion. “Just ... just promise me you’ll treat her right. Better than I did.”

Charles nods solemnly. “I promise. With everything I have.”

As Charles turns to walk back to you, Carlos calls out, “Charles?”

Charles pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Carlos says quietly. “For loving her the way she deserves.”

Charles gives him a small, understanding smile before continuing on his way. Carlos watches as he returns to you, sees the way your face lights up as Charles pulls you into a comforting embrace.

As he turns to walk away, Carlos feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him. There’s still pain, still regret, but there’s also a glimmer of something else. Something that feels a lot like acceptance.

He realizes now that he had taken you for granted, had failed to see the beautiful, complex person you truly were. And while it hurts to admit it, he knows that Charles sees all of that and more.

As he makes his way back to his own garage, Carlos makes a silent promise to himself. To pay more attention, to really see the people in his life. Because he never wants to make the same mistake again, never wants to lose someone else because he failed to appreciate them.

And as he glances back one last time, seeing you and Charles walking hand-in-hand, laughing and lost in your own world, Carlos feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

It’s not easy, and it still hurts, but he knows now that this is how it should be. You deserve to be with someone who knows you, truly knows you, inside and out.

And as much as it pains him to admit it, that someone isn’t him. It’s Charles.

With a deep breath, Carlos turns away, ready to face whatever comes next. He’s lost you, but in doing so, he’s gained a valuable lesson. One he won’t soon forget.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[kooyabooya]

INSIGHT

m reader x gaeul // 17k words

It’s not much to unpack: the findings or purpose one pursues. You know this. Everybody’s different, and that’s not limited to the sex - it also accounts for the experiences and connections you make with someone, exploring the limitless possibilities of what or who you want in your life. You’ve been told that the ‘one’ might be out there and have yet to realize it. No one could ever really pin it down to one reason. 

But what’s there to overreact about? You’re a hopeless romantic. 

Okay. To backtrack on the hopeless romantic thing, that’s not entirely true; you’re on the eve of something big here, and the intuition is approaching that conclusion by the second. 

None of this should be that easy from the get-go. Delving into casual conversation to the nice meals and then the eventual ditziness finds you and her on the bed of fucking each other’s brains out until one of you is practically paralyzed from the waist down. That’s the essential beauty of it, right? The hints and signals are right in front of your face; all it takes is a simple notice of interest that can lead anyone to think if they feel the same way. 

You’re not entirely sure, but taking this date with a grain of salt was the best course of action to follow. Besides, it’s too early to delude yourself into thinking about a future with Gaeul. 

(Though, it’s worth noting: 

She never coined it to be a date; said that it was too direct on the nose. In all fairness, you just needed a plus one to tag along with you. It could’ve been anybody else, but Gaeul was the first person to come to mind. You and her have similar interests - a point of connection strong enough to expand on. She didn’t mind keeping you company, and the fact that she was willing to circles your mind far longer than it should’ve.) 

Which brings you to here: standing in front of a timely art piece that looks to be dated from the 1600s. Or- at least that’s what the plaque says on the bottom left corner of the frame. However, you also feel like the people in the room with you are also playing their role like they do in those typical romance movies or serial dramas. You also begin to wonder if people go to an art museum in their free time just to look at fine pieces curated by people who have an obsession for old pictures or to dress up to match the aesthetic and pretend that they know what the hell they’re talking about. 

Given how you’ve dressed up for the occasion, they’d probably be right.

Gaeul herself matches the look so well. Her stilettos are one thing, but the bright-colored skirt along with her high socks are doing wonders for highlighting her legs, with her old-fashioned pink top that looks to be from the Victorian era simply bolsters the elegance past your personal rating scale. She’s also got her slightly-thick-rimmed glasses and the low braided ponytail wrapped in a small bow at the end. You can’t deny it, she’s gorgeous. The kind of girl that’s hard to come by and you’ve struck yourself out of the ballpark by getting her here. She walks at a pace, her strut consistent and punctuated with the way her feet are carrying her. It doesn’t help with the fact that you keep thinking about how you’d hold her hanging ponytail when her head is between your legs, or how she’d let you take off her socks with solely your teeth and show that you do more than just run your mouth. You stand behind her by a few inches and just watch that amazing side profile of hers, molded and chiseled by God himself. 

Her eyes stay fixed on the piece in front of her. Blinking. Examining. You resist the urge to stand behind her and bury your nose in the back of her head. 

You look away for a second only to hear her sigh, and watch as her arms cross over her middle. The stance alone can tell you that she’s the kind of girl that will do damage to you whether you like it or not. 

“I don’t know,” says Gaeul, looking left to notice you approach her left side, pointing her lips back to the art piece as you give it a fraction of your attention - staring at Gaeul with the corner of your eyes, thinking of all the ideas your hands could have on her pretty face, her small hands, lifting her by the waist when she hugs you. “This isn’t the actual ‘Starry Night’ painting, is it?” 

You laugh, because the question itself was supposed to be rhetorical. “No, it is. Not a replica. The real thing.” 

“No, but look,” Gaeul slips her hand around your arm and pulls you closer while she points out to the painting again with her finger. You’ve had crushes on girls throughout high school and college, but there’s a sense of a pull here that’s different from the rest. “This is something that you would do, hm?” 

You lean more closely at the painting and feel her face rest along the line of your upper arm. The picture itself was a mix of these yellow circles over a blue canvas - you think - has to do something about admiring the view that nature presents, which explains the artist’s approach with the usage of the abnormal brushstrokes. “Right.” You get the underlying appeal of the painting’s message, that’s for sure. 

Gaeul giggles, humming a sound too elegant and pretty for its own sake. You’re playing it cool as best you can. It’s a lot to keep track of her sparkling eyes so full of you within them that you’re nervous to even speak a coherent sentence. She looks dangerously good in her outfit: hugging the curves, the collars and ends of her sleeves dancing in these wavy, coquettish lines. That hint of lace she’s wearing is also cute - only for it to be outshined by her exposed collarbones and neck. 

(So, you might be insane here. Try acting differently about it all you want. It’s no use.)

Gaeul then looks at the art piece adjacent to the right - twists her head behind, eyeing the walkway, her gaze now matching yours, cocking her head to the side with her lips pursed. 

“Hmm?” she hums, innocently. There’s a minute tug at the corners of her mouth, a small smile. Her teeth start to peek under her upper lip. 

You’re holding your breath here for a second or two longer. 

“Uh, I didn’t say anything,” you tell her, pulling your lips inward to hide your returning smirk. 

Before you and her move to the next room, you’ve deduced that a woman like Gaeul is no mere anomaly. She is intangible, quixotic, reserved, sensible, and the kind of person who doesn’t let anyone get too close for her comfort. There’s a motivation to be seen with her, the way that her grin and shrug of her singular shoulder gives you the implication that she’s into you. Your gaze goes inquisitive when she’s sashaying timidly further and further away from your sight. 

–

Let’s take a step back here - go to the drawing board, make a new page. There’s substantial progress here. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have your input solicited. 

Gaeul looks through her handbag, pulls out various items, puts on hand cream and retouches the makeup on her face. You’re on the other end of the table, watching her, listening to the guy nearby do a fantastic take of Take Five on the saxophone with flying colors. Gaeul’s also waving her head from side to side, closing her eyes with a soft smile spread across her lips implying that she likes the music. 

As for the art museum trip itself, you don’t take anything away from what you were supposed to look at and write down - probably because the focus shifted from taking notes to getting a conversation going with Gaeul whenever she was curious about a certain piece or at least your interpretation of what work itself. One of the other pieces that you and her take notice of was from your courses that you don’t remember learning a mere inkling about. A piece from the romanticism era revolved around these two lovers, one of them being madly in love while the other is still trying to figure out their feelings and desires, or vice versa; it may be unappealing for your outlook in artistry, but once you saw the meaning behind the paintbrush and use of strokes, the feeling hits too close to home. 

“From this artwork, what do you want us to take away from it,” someone probably asked back then - the same kind of question that earns a few eye rolls and those heavy sighs used to hide the bubbling frustration within, gets a good number of people scratching the back of their head - though nobody answers it right away unless it’s the professor. 

“Well, that’s not for me to decide,” the professor answers, earning a subtle nod of the head by her, the way the shade of her hair shimmers in the room and how it flows at the turn of her head, glimpses of her skin for you to admire once she has nothing left to say, almost like she was speaking those words to you - waiting for your answer. “The personal interpretation of the painting has to be discovered on your own.” 

In a way, he has a valid point. He’s knowledgeable enough to know what he preaches. He’s passionate about this course alone and it really could take a simple business pitch with a pen to get on board with what he’s selling. 

You have an idea of what message he’s trying to get across, but maybe you’ve got it all mixed up in between still. 

–

The groove of discovery isn’t a straightforward, linear path. Some days your understanding is there, and other times it’s all up in the air; you’re stopping by a food truck near some plaza in the early hours of the evening off the gut feeling that it just feels right; you also find yourself staring at her wide eyes when she gets the first taste of those potato chips she convinced you to buy, wiping a corner of her lips with her tongue. 

It’s almost too good to be true, honestly, that she’s sitting next to you at a park bench as the sky above is painted in these hues of purple and orange to reflect off the sunset, her appearance mimicking royalty and you - her knight in shining armor. She looks up to the sky before offering you her bag of chips, the tilt of her head and how she blinks is so - unbelievably enchanting like she’s unintentionally guilt-tripping you even though you’ve done nothing wrong at all. You take up on her offer, keep a mental note of how she’s so attentive in the way that your hands move and the way that your lips punctuate each letter and phrase so eloquently. Her bottom lip is pulled back into her mouth, holding the foil in her fingers so delicately. 

You can easily tell. She’s enamored; she keeps hitting your arm lightly and plays along with your inside jokes; there’s also that smirk she does in embarrassment and tries to hide away from but you’re still staring at her anyway. 

She stays close to you. Comfortable. Exactly the way you want her to be. You could kiss here right and now and she might be okay with it. You’ll try it eventually, because why not? 

Later, Gaeul walks slightly ahead of you, turns around, and takes your hands in hers, standing on her tiptoes to somewhat match your height. “I’m curious about your eyes, how they look,” she says, not that she meant for it to be embarrassing, but something that she’s noticed the first time and now she can’t ignore it. “They’re enchanting.” 

“Your smile,” you say back. She flashes that exact smile, wearing it with pride. “I like when you smile that way.” 

“My smile is always like this.” 

You sweep her off her feet and twirl yourself around. A finger pulls some of her hair behind her ear, grazing a thumb across her temple, careful enough to not ruin the surface. 

Gaeul looks up. Her head leans into the touch of your hand, inviting. 

This is where it all starts; a genesis of sorts: you drink in the sight of how she is right now, half-lidded eyes, her hands slipping behind to the back of your neck, pulling you in; you, leaning into her body, hands sliding and dipping to the curves where she wants you to hold, keep her in your grasp and unravel her bit by bit; it’s fine to be skeptical, figuring out something new is all part of the learning process. 

You turn your imagination into a reality when you finally kiss her. 

The pull of her into you elicits this gentle hum rumbling within her lips. Given how her fingertips were clawing into your scalp for a second there, she didn’t even put up a fight to begin with. 

The realization of losing her also sets in for a quick moment, the silence alone holding out for longer than it initially should. She continues to blink, teeth capturing the upper profile of her lip just slightly. You might be a bit too forward, but you’re waiting to see what she thinks before you consider dialing it back. 

“That’s not fair-” she stutters, tongue to the inside of her cheek, laughing and then tapping your shoulder soon after. “Normally, I- I’d hold out until we got a little farther with how things are currently.” You also notice that she’s not opting to be let go from your touch, or give you this look of confusion with wide-open eyes or a hand covering her mouth. Her fingertip traces along her lips, internalizing what had just happened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been wanting to do that since the second you saw me earlier. ‘Cause if you were, then I’m in really deeper shit than I expected.” 

“Might be right,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m not the kind of person to half-ass things. Not my style.” 

“Troublesome,” Gaeul whispers across your lips. You steal a kiss from her again, and this time she gives you a shocked expression. “Hey, again-” 

You’re laughing, rightfully so. She’s pulled into your arms as you spin her around - hearing her laugh also when she’s cradling your head, bringing her back down to earth only for her to kiss you the next second, with more force and tongue. She doesn’t stop there. She keeps on kissing, prompting you to give a fair fight. It’s free reign for her - first, the cheek, then the line of your jaw, and the spot where your chin and neck meet that sends your mind reeling. 

Gaeul then takes one more kiss before the bus makes its eventual stop, pulling you by the wrist to get inside and take one of the seats at the end of the car, away from whoever might take notice. From there she picks up where she left off; her legs are swung over yours, her fingers keep your head in place as she’s placing these sweaty kisses all over your face once more, causing you to rope her in and slide a hand underneath her shirt to her chest. 

“Putting the effort where it counts, huh?” she says when you shift her hips closer to yours. Her giggles are also so pretty that it matches the hot blush colored across her face. 

You look over to the rest of the bus, take into account that there was one other person on the opposite end towards the front with their back turned. “Did you have any other place in mind where you want me to do this?” 

“No,” Gaeul responds with an absorbed smirk. “Not at all, I like what you’re doing so far,” she’s telling you, upholding with a press of her forehead against yours. “It’s riling me up a bit, actually.” 

“Oh? That so?” 

Gaeul nods, leaning in for a much softer peck this time, wiping a wisp of your hair. “Don’t be shy, keep going.” 

You blink twice at the surprising request, figuring out how to handle this situation - let alone what to say or even do at this point. All of that doesn’t matter when all she wants is you. One second later you’re kissing her again - with much more force through every passing press of your lips until the only thing that she can manage is to tilt her chin up and keep on receiving. Two more pecks couldn’t hurt, and she’s giggling when her hand’s patting your chin, kissing her palm to return the favor. 

“How am I doing now?” You ask her again, pressing another kiss to her neck right where the pulse courses rapidly underneath. 

Gaeul’s breaths here are dragged out and unshackled; you’re already thinking ahead of what she’ll sound like when she’s reduced to a moaning mess asking for more. She’s on track there but it’ll take a little bit. She nods - and holds your head at bay, “Okay.” That first response is controlled, feeling out the situation. “Okay,” she repeats, her teeth are peeking out across that pretty little mouth of hers. The hum in her throat drops an octave: “you’re doing really good.” 

Like you needed any other form of implication; the way that she’s playfully scratching your scalp, eagerly leaning for another kiss, this is good stuff you’re doing. Stay in the pocket with her, and continue doing those same things. 

You have to hear that sound from her again. No. You need to hear that sound come out of that sweet mouth, as you slide your hand between her closed legs - pull her closer, closer - and get her within your reach once your palm slips beneath her skirt, feel the sudden hook of her arms around your neck keep her in place. She presses her legs together, trying to maintain the heat in her panties once your fingertips get their first touches. Gaeul hums into your lips, encouraging you, and gives the go-ahead as she opens the space wider in the middle of her thighs for you to capture - her body much rucked up against yours, trying so hard to not come loose. You’ll double down on the reassurance, that’s for sure. 

“Fingers, your fingers,” Gaeul grits, hissing; she’s unraveling. “Holy fuck-” 

Her fingers are well wrapped to the nape of your neck. You can see her brows furrowed together - the lines of her face crinkling; only for them to disappear entirely, relaxed. She forgets about reality for a moment when you slot your lips perfectly with hers, sinking two of your fingers right down the knuckle of her sopping cunt. You watch as she looks down, lips parted to an ‘o’ shape. 

“Fuck, that’s-” she’s babbling, putting her mouth back up with yours - forcing down a moan into your throat, trying to figure out the next thing to say. “Forget what I said, that’s amazing.” 

She pulls her in close as much as possible, hips bucking and jerking when your fingers glide gently between her folds, at the slit. It’s worth noting that the gentler your strokes are, the worse it is for her - so you keep the pace slow for now, waste as much time as you can, dip a finger inside, and focus on the graveled breathing by her through every passing second. 

“You like that, hm?” You’re telling her. “Gotta say, you’re fucking wet.” 

Gaeul tenses her shoulders. “I know,” she whispers, thighs closing around your hand. You’re kissing her again - open tongue and head tilted back when you bring another digit into play - her moans are hot, curling your fingers inside and pressing at the clit to keep her from thinking straight, pressing at the hottest point in her body until Gaeul eventually buries herself in your neck, stifling her whimpers when she’s cumming all over your fingers. 

“Wow,” you say, breathlessly, smiling as she leans up gingerly to put a kiss to your chin, a job well done.

“Yeah,” mumbles Gaeul. “Yeah.” 

You look over to see the person sitting on the opposite end of the car, their back still turned and hunched over; you take that as a hint that they’re probably knocked out cold. Gaeul’s fingers pull your gaze back into her, her face hot pink. She’s got this lazy smile spread on her lips, breathing with her hand palmed to your cheek, eyes dazed and out of focus. 

You then decide that you can’t help yourself anymore. Laying her down on the seat and eating her pussy out right here. You can’t stop thinking about it, looking up as her upper half crumbles while she cums on your face. She can try to make you stop if her brain isn’t partly mush, can try all she wants to stop you kissing from down her waist and into her thighs or wrapping your fingers around her legs once you’ve got your mouth clamped to her cunt like it’s nothing - you’ve got her laid back and relaxed, hands sliding south past her middle, thinking of all the pretty noises that you can squeeze from that heavenly voice of hers - Gaeul looks up once her hands meet yours at her hips, unwilling to let you go. 

You smile at her before you’re biting your lips without thinking twice. 

The way that she says your name too, does something to your brain, man. She needs you. 

You almost feel bad to be the one asking for permission first: 

“If I eat you out right here, Gaeul. Promise me that you’ll be quiet?” 

Gaeul’s mouth drops, before twisting into a devilish grin. 

She looks over to the same person you were looking at, lip captured by her teeth. “Worth a try,” she answers, still coming down from her high. Her eyes stay on you. The lust one can get is dangerously intoxicating - it may not look good on others, besides her - the shade of hot pink, her little swollen lips, the way that she has to use her fingernail to bite down. But her hand gently clutches your wrist. “Would you be nice if I said to go easy on me?” 

You snort at the question, only because her pleading eyes sell the whole deal to you anyway. 

“Asking a lot from me here, darling. No guarantees,” you tell her and descend between her spread legs. 

–

You keep spacing out since then: of her, the grip of her fingers deep in your hair; grinding her hips against your face as she’s trying to not yelp or shriek to not wake the poor guy sleeping - now completely giddy and well-relieved. She tried to crush your skull from the tongue fucking you were doing to her just ten or so minutes ago. Not to mention the cursing, it’s hard to believe she can say stuff like that. 

She also tells how thoughtful you are walking her back to her place; you know the area well enough to make your way back. You tell her that it’s nothing if anything, it was just more time to spend with you. 

Gaeul smiles at that, fixing up her hair like anyone would to keep her hands moving. Her eyes shoot towards the ground before they flashback up at you, which she’ll admit is a bit awkward for her standards. You can’t stop staring at her; she’s that pretty. It’d be worth preaching about for the rest of your life if it ever came to that. 

She hands you her phone and you’re doing the same -  a simple transaction. The subtle question of ‘it’s okay to call you on this, right?’ rolls off your teeth so easily to where Gaeul gives you a nod to answer. There’s a little bit of wiggle room to grow - filling in the gaps with details as we go - things that will be logged in eventually all with time. 

“I’ll be as blunt as possible: I want something fun,” she tells you as if she already had the general idea swirling around your head. Her fingers are fiddling with the zipper of your jacket. As if she wanted to say it differently but ended up with that. A lifeline or rope for you to hold on to - aware that the threads are tearing just a bit, but you’ll grab it anyway because you can. “I’ll bite at whatever you throw at me. Who knows, maybe I’ll do the same to even the odds.” 

Slapping a title or caption to this doesn’t always end well - if you’re gonna be honest, it’s impossible to tell whether or not it’ll go the way you hoped for. 

“You sure?” you’re asking, smiling. Since that’s the kind of trap that you were hoping to fall into anyway. In the face of love, you’ve always found yourself folding right at the first hurdle. 

Especially adding onto the fact that you and Gaeul have known each other to a slight degree; through mutuals, to be more specific. That’s one of the weird things that life can work with: instilling these thoughts about someone and telling them things knowing that it could all go wrong down the line; Gaeul rests her forearms on your shoulders, lets her fingers dance along the back of your head, and nod again with a yeah, you’re already infatuating to me as it already is. It’s so bad, she’s never dressed like this before when you’ve seen her with Liz or Wonyoung for that matter. Her chest and collarbones are out in the open air for you to mark up without remorse, tilting her head back with an arched eyebrow and sly smirk, don’t test me, because believe me, I’m gonna ruin your life from here on out. 

You may as well be far gone from the start. 

–

“It’s not that important,” you’re telling Gaeul over on FaceTime, tossing your phone onto the mattress and stretching out your limbs. Gaeul on the other end, groans in annoyance, though her voice is composed, playful. “I think we’re just stuck on a few things from what it looks like.” 

“But this project with Yujin is also one you mentioned a while back to me,” Gaeul responds, forehead filling the phone screen to check what you were doing, but all she sees is the ceiling. “What are you guys trying to achieve again?” 

“What would you do if you were assigned to discover a brand new constellation or galaxy all by yourself? You ask. “Spoiler alert: it’s a lot harder than it sounds.” 

“Maybe next time you should bring me to the observatory, that way I can see what it is you’re looking for,” Gaeul says with a lovely hum and laughs at the end of it.

She’s so cute when she’s playful; her voice alone is enough to make your brain chemistry go haywire. 

“Well, uh- you know Yujin,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “This is important to her. I honestly think that she’s trying to compartmentalize everyone that’s involved, which is a bit of an overreaction I think.” 

Gaeul then sighs, as if she too, is frustrated. “She’s a hard worker. From the outside looking in, maybe she just needs somebody to make her life interesting. Do you know what I mean? I think she’s sex deprived.” 

“You-” and you scrunch your nose, trying to hide a genuine laugh because you’ve been trying to say something along those lines to Yujin for god knows how long, and Gaeul flat-out said it in a matter of days. “You’re not wrong.” You then see her put the phone down facing up on the nightstand. “Her timetable is very slim, so I get why she can’t afford to have any distractions.” 

“Someone like her should always make time for sex.” 

“Are you always this forward?” 

“Not always, might be just for you.” 

“Consider me lucky,” you muse, tongue to the inside of your bottom lip. 

“You boys think of nothing else besides getting between a girl’s legs, huh?

Gaeuls face returns to the screen and all you give her is a pull of your lips inward. She nods when you don’t say anything, proving her suspicions right. You set her off to the side while you keep doing a separate thing to keep yourself occupied while she does the same. While you’re tending to your notes, you imagine Gaeul to be walking around her room; sitting on her bed, or moving to the bathroom or kitchen - keeping a close eye and ear on you and your voice because she’s got a fix on a few interests of yours that outweighs her own. She watches while you give her a few glances here and there. Staying on task was going to be difficult. You text her your address to pass the information without giving a reason as to why. You probably fucked up in that regard. You might’ve. 

(She puts a heart icon on the message to send your mind for a loop, telling you to think of it lightly; hey, show me what’s on the shelf behind you, see if you make your bed in the morning - and you’re carrying a conversation with her for more than an hour or so. She’s asking different kinds of questions; the ones that are along the lines of: How come you don’t have a roommate with you, where do you go for groceries, what’s the distance between your place and mine? The curiosity grows to uncover the mystery, you think. She’s laughing when you flash a look at her on the screen before you carry on with whatever task you are doing, acting all candidly when the both of you know well that you’re doing everything to not press the ‘end call’ button.)

“Wait,” Gaeul breathes, leaning closer through the phone screen. “Didn’t you offer to show me what you were working on over some food?” 

You’re side-eyeing away, hiding a smile. “I did mention that at the beginning but, yeah.” 

“Shoot, okay,” she huffs, dropping her face so that you only see the top of her head, pulling your lips inward to hide the smile. “How bout this: lace or no lace?” 

“Woah.” You freeze. “Hang on now.”

“Do you want me to explain it to you?” You could feel the slow-burning rush of heat spread across your cheeks. The phone screen flashes in your hand, and she chuckles. “Easy, cowboy. I know you want to jump the gun with me, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts before I do anything else.” 

You’re picturing it once she’s managed to break you, bending down to slip her panties back on, stretching the ends until she lets go and the fabric slaps along her skin. She can’t see it, but your mind goes under. When Gaeul presents it so innocently in the way that it is, it’s hard to believe that she’s able to bend your ego with a few simple words and actions. 

“The image of lace - on your body? I wouldn’t share that with anyone else.” 

She rolls her eyes, and hums a sing-song tone to tease you. “Alright, don’t tell me you’re getting hard just at the thought of that.” You drop your jaw and that earns you a deadpan. “Would you mind if I surprise you with a color of my choice?” 

“You know my color. Well- I don’t think too much of the color. I’m easy to impress,” you reply, nonchalant. 

“Oh, I can take my time with the color. It’s just a matter of how long you can hold out.” She’s not posing it as a threat, but the low tone in the delivery is enough to instill a small fear in the back of your mind. 

“Pfft, that doesn’t scare me.” 

“We’ll see about that. When do you want me to come?” she asks, genuinely. 

You make eye contact with her to ensure she’s serious. 

“I mean,” you start. The more your mouth freezes, the more embarrassing it gets. “Whenever you can. If you’re free.” 

Here, Gaeul tilts her head, confident smirk and tongue to her cheek. “Maybe my punishment is to make you wait. I don’t like the dry response and straight face on top of it. That’s not your look.” 

“What do you even achieve out of doing that?” you ask. “You’re holding me out from-” 

“Yes, you’ll get between my legs again like last time. But I think you can give me more than that, which I’m sure about. Make me scream until I lose my voice or I somehow lose the ability to walk. Does that sound good to you?” 

Part of you likes the fact that she’s got no filter; speaking her mind whenever it feels right.

“Sounds like a test to me,” you muse, taking the challenge head-on. You’re not the kind to back away, let alone have any reason to impress her. You’ll prove your point again when the time is right. 

“Give me twenty minutes,” she says to you. The information comes as need to know, anticipatory. You’re teasing her to get here faster: come to my place sooner and we can skip the boring exposition and do more interesting stuff together. “I promise not to keep you waiting.”

–

The time ticks a lot faster and when you realize it, three or four knocks are sounding off on your right. A scuffle of your socks, a swing of the door later, and voila: Gaeul’s in the middle of your doorway, reflecting the same head tilt you’re giving her before she leans forward for a few kisses. It’s real-life b-roll footage, the snapshots and captured moments of love that everyone longs for in some way or another; you’re living in it. 

“Mhm,” she hums, arms well wrapped around your neck with wrists stacked. She smells good, her body lighter than usual, letting you pull her closer because she knows you will. “Looks like somebody missed me.” 

“Uh uh,” you breathe, laughing in the open space of your mouths, shuffling into the apartment some more, stumbling. Gaeul’s keeping her attire easy with a pair of baggy bottoms that’ll slip so easily out of her legs once you get her to stop moving- 

“I’ll have you know that I thought long and hard about what to wear,” adds Gaeul, standing still and taking her sneakers off one foot at a time, her hair pooling from one side to the other. “But then it hit me, why not just keep it casual?” 

“Explains the comfy combo,” you’re telling her. You don’t even realize the bag brandished on her shoulder. “Is that-” 

“Exactly what it looks like. I don’t have anything tomorrow, so I figured I’d use my downtime more wisely.” 

This is fun. Sure, it’s the playful banter, mixed in with the flirting. You’re using every self-restraint you’ve got in your head to not pin her over on the couch and put her hips against yours. 

You simply can’t help it. The law of attraction that’s taking place: you like her, and it can’t get any more complicated than that. You’re positive that she feels the same way - to some extent. She rubs the neckbone at the nape, twiddles the ends of your hair. The smile she has is infectious, watches as your eyes wander across the lines of her face, almost like you discovered fire. Gaeul’s lips then fall flat, nodding. This is the second or third time you’re seeing her exclusively, each one more exciting than the last. 

“Hungry?” 

Gaeul shakes her head, “Hm, kinda.” 

“You’re in luck,” you beam. “I was gonna whip something up anyway.” 

“Aw, how thoughtful.” She tells you when you’re setting her down, walking over to the dining table with her setting her bag down, following not too far behind. While you’re getting yourself situated, she takes the time to let her head look and observe all the things organized on your shelves and tables, a peek into the inner workings of what makes you tick. You could feel her gaze on you once you’ve got yourself situated at the stove and she finally settles down at the kitchen island, opposite from you with a front-row seat. 

You throw a towel on your shoulder, playing the measly bartender part loosely. “Water?” 

Gaeul blinks, hums a noise serving as a yes. 

“This is just for starters,” you tell her, sliding a glass across the marble before eying the brandy resting at the top of the fridge. “If you want, we can get the good drinks later when we’re bored.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“Want me to explain why Yujin’s project has been a pain in my ass as of recently?” 

She dips her head down, hiding her smile. 

“I think I can think of a few reasons why she can be a handful for some people,” she says, sipping a bit of the water before she gestures her head to the fridge, wanting to get right to business without wasting any time. “But you care a little too much, so we need to ease your mind a little.” 

“Just trying to not be overbearing; because she’s a piece of work, but I love working with her regardless,” you tell her. Next thing you know the brandy’s been brought down on the counter. While you’re doing that, you’re finding the gaps in her schedule. When’s the next time you’re free? There’s the proposal that you’ll bring her out for a nice picnic, drinks with charcuterie, maybe toss in painting to the mix while you’ll blatantly stare at her cottagecore dress with a wine glass in her hand- 

“Are these your notes?” She asks, pulling one of your many notebooks closer to flip through the pages, looking at the different constellations that are already there, the ones that are easy to recognize. Her eyes dart to you when you’re sliding over a different cup filled with brandy for her to take, taking a sip while you glance over at the two sandwiches on your pan. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is quite a lot of work she has you doing.” 

“The name of the game, essentially,” you’re grinning, transferring over a tablet with pictures of different stars and galaxies from an album you curated. Some are straight out of a textbook, the others you and Yujin have found on separate occasions. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re actually a nerd?” Gaeul asks, mockingly, swiping the screen as you give her an unimpressed expression. 

You crowd behind her shoulder, going through the gallery, leaning her head against yours as your nose brushes her cheek, sighing in approval. Your hands have a mind of their own, slithering around her waist, planting a kiss on her neck - just to tease. Hey, you’re not fooling anyone here. 

“So you’re telling me that Yujin’s been trying to find a constellation of love somewhere in the stars instead of an actual person? Okay-” she holds in her laugh, leaning into your touch with another kiss. “Sorry, I- I can’t help myself, she’s a handful with this.” 

“Food’s ready, by the way,” you tell her. “I can talk about my side of things in the meantime.” 

–

Gaeul, effortless as she is, listens attentively. 

Her elbows are on the table top, most of the sandwich eaten as she keeps her eyes fixated on you. She watches while you’re giving her the basic rundown of what’s going on with your work life to the best of your ability - stops you midway, points to a spot under the corner of your lip, prompting you to check it yourself, which you do. By some klutzy move, you miss it - probably on purpose, enabling her into telling you to lean closer for her to wipe it herself, and with a downward tilt of your face, she hides away for a moment. It’s that implication of playfulness that gives way to curiosity, that sense of restlessness where sex was always going to be the eventual inevitability.  She wipes whatever was on your chin with her thumb, and keeps it there. Next thing you know, her lips are on yours. 

You’re fighting the press of her lips, leaning forward. Her hands suddenly palm your chest, pushing you back into the chair; the conquest picks up when she straddles herself on top of your hips, grazing her lips and nose across your face. The rush itself dies down for a bit - taking the sweet time of tasting each other’s lips and sucking the air out of one another. 

For someone like her to kiss you so eagerly. You’d let her do just that. 

Her jacket gets taken off smoothly, and her bottoms are pulled a bit to where you can see a hint of her underwear, holding her by the hips. 

The fucking lace, alright. She looks unreal the way it hugs her figure. 

At this point you’re just hypnotized by her hands and lips, undoing some of the buttons on your shirt, sliding her way down until the trail of kisses reaches the lower regions. Your pants and boxers pool at your ankles, kicking them off. She kisses the inside of your thighs, lets her breath coat your balls before a lick of the underside shifts your hips forward to the edge of the chair. Her pretty little mouth reaches your tip, delicately kissing it; she knows what the fuck she’s doing. 

“You’ve been fantasizing about this for a little, haven’t you?” Gaeul teases, pleased. She grins when she wraps her fingers at the base, sighs when you hiss some of the air out your lungs. Her breasts are fighting the bra containing them. She then opens her mouth a bit, drops her head, sinks - fuck. The seal alone is just the right amount of pressure. “How much am I willing to bet you yanked one out after our first date?” 

Your midsection tenses, balling your fists because there’s nothing else you would rather do than push your hips upward and fill her throat; not to shut her up, but give her an idea of what she’s in for if she doesn’t play nice. 

You know that she won’t. 

“Well- you’re right. I did exactly that. How did you-” you blow air out instantaneously when she moves down halfway to your shaft, her eyes rolling back as she’s forcibly choking down your cock. Some of the spit leaks out of her mouth, coating the skin, soaking her bottom lip. Some of it lands on her chest. 

“-ust my kind of guess. Now how much are you willing to bet you’ll ruin me with this cock of yours?” she asks once more, giving you no time to answer when she’s putting her head between your legs, suffocating herself before popping her lips off the tip, slapping your shaft across her cheek. “Shouldn’t take you that long, huh?” 

The way she’s smiling while talking you through this filth, it’s gonna break you. You need her. You need her mouth right back on your fucking cock before she entertains the idea of blue balling you to oblivion. “I’m slightly worried that you won’t be able to handle this. Maybe I should just hop on your cock and let you have your fun while you fill me up-” 

“So f-fucking bad, you are,” you grit, stuttering. 

Consider this as karma coming full circle: Gaeul breaking you just by her being on her knees, lapping away your cock while you had your fun eating her out in the back of the bus back to her place less than forty-eight hours ago, holding her close while you made a mess of her underwear with your fingers. She was trying so hard to be quiet, covering her mouth while you were fucking her open. 

“Aw, that’s unfortunate,” she tells you, dropping her mouth again, hand cupping beneath your balls, working her way down your shaft even more. 

Her bobs are meticulous and calculated. The levels of stimulation are over the scale you drew up in your head, and when she gets her other hand in the fun - twisting the base while the one at your balls are being squeezed, you draw your head back against the chair. 

It’s all in the slow buildup: the soft pumps, the occasional spit slathered as the sound of skin on skin becomes even more obscene. Her fingers coil your base when she takes you in that enveloping heat, humming down your cock until you feel the gentle graze of her teeth on the topside, eyes open and going cross-eyed. You’re struggling to come to terms that this girl was the same girl that was dressed up so nicely and princess-like in the art museum asking you and wondering what was the meaning of all these pieces. 

But then you’re reminded, that all of it is just the surface level of certain things - once you get to know someone, you learn as you go along with them. Gaeul just blinks through every move of her head at your hips, coating your cock endlessly and teasing to the point where she wants to see that side of you that you’re capable of showing her - to make you bust over and over again until you filled up her cunt where she’s begging for more, watch as she gets herself off if you’re away from her for too long, break her like it’s meant to be a daily routine from here on out - which will happen, Gaeul’s good enough to get you there sooner than you think, her pretty little lips, her dainty hands, that fucking tongue - you’ll get back at her for breaking you. 

“Sweetie, okay.” You gasp when she bottoms out your cock, groaning aloud that she’s smiling into the length. She keeps working with her hands and mouth, takes a moment to breathe, fingers sliding nice and easy along the slick skin. Staring at you. “Gaeul, please-” 

She’s close to getting you there; begging, and you manage to get a hand to her cheek, hold her face while she sinks her lips back on your cock again. Fuck. You might be too far gone already. Her teeth press down on the skin of your dick and you let out a noise showing another sign of just how good she’s making you lose it. Some of your fingers card her hair, like you’re clawing for a grip on the side of a rock and you swear that your cockhead swells at the top of her throat - you’re left speechless. You’re pretty sure that you can see stars. 

Gaeul smacks your tip across her lips, smiles as she does so. “You love my mouth, don’t you? I bet you’re just dying to cum all over my fingers and make me apologize for not letting you have your fun. Sucks to be you.” 

“Fucking-” you spit. She swipes her tongue on her lower lip, kisses your shaft the second after. Her index and thumb tighten around your base. “Gaeul, I swear-” 

“What? Had enough already?” 

Forget what you assumed about Gaeul. This version of her at your feet blows the performance right out of the water. 

All that boldness; that wit and snark while playing it cool, she swept it all under the rug from you. Anything she does or says to you, she knows that you’ll twist yourself into giving in to what she wants. Bratty might be one way to conclude - the way she hides her pert smile when you can easily tell that it’s a teasing grin. She looks at your shaft so earnestly as she jerks it around her hand, testing the girth and thickness of it when she finally decides enough is enough and tells you to plug that sorry little hole up that is her throat. The choice to paint your mess over her face or drain it down her mouth is up to you; you’ll ruin her just to satisfy your selfish ego. 

“I could just let you, ya know,” she leans more into your palm while her tongue laves across the skin of your balls, breath hot and heavy in the same way her eyelashes bat at you so innocently. “Let you fuck my face and fill my mouth up with this cock. You’ve been good enough for me, I think I just might.” 

She leans back and unclips her bra, revealing her tits; nice and perky, her rosy pink nipples too - you’ll mark her up when you get the chance. Her hands go to her hair, tying it like some party trick that only takes a few seconds, leans down to your stomach and kisses it, licking downwards just enough to make you snap. 

Your hand’s fast to grab the ponytail on the back of Gaeul’s head. 

“Thought you said you’d let me take over,” you tell her. And then: “there we go, look at that. So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock,” you hiss, guiding her down along your shaft, dragging your hips down and up into the addicting clench of her throat. You pull yourself out and smack your tip across her face, smearing the spit and precum. She wants the mess: “Gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you.” 

When she sinks again, you lose focus for a moment. 

“Mmphgh,” she hums, gripping your wrist. “Mmmuugh.” 

“Not so tough now if you can’t talk.” You almost feel bad. It’s unfair how she can still look up at you and smile at the corner of her lips, keeping her gaze leveled as you sink her mouth on your shaft - you thrusting upwards to meet in the middle. She’s handling it like a champ, and it takes a bit for someone to take you whole. 

A drag up, down, then up. She’s halfway on your shaft, rises, goes deeper - you could see her upper lip clamp down at the base, cheeks puffing up to dispel the air. Her head shakes a bit, struggling; sucking her cheeks soon after - god. The blush is a lot more apparent now, her eyes filled with lust. You give her a little bit of breathing room while you crash her face back down on your shaft. 

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling her velvety mouth, taking all of you. She inhales sharply when you slip out of her - only for her to take you back in as you pick up with the thrusts with every shove of her head back down. 

You are trying, so hard, to not fuck anything up - fucking her face - you’re pretty sure you feel a little lightheaded. Her gaze is hazy, gasping every few seconds or so through the gags before you up the intensity once more. How is she even prettier like this? She has no right. Not when the noises and current actions are this debauched. 

“Mmnph?” She hums, the vibration tremoring on the skin. The clamp of her lips at the base again doesn’t help, but when she slides her tongue along the underside- 

“Jesus, Gaeul-” 

Fuck. She inhales your cock to the hilt and swipes her tongue across the same spot where her lip can’t reach. Rough. 

“Mmph hmm.” 

“Relax your jaw, baby,” and she does so, holding you where the clench is the hottest. She squints her eyes as you move her head side to side, the gagging more punctuated through the wet sounds. Ah fuck-

She makes it so, so easy for you. You’ve got just enough to hold yourself back, tugging at her ponytail while she adjusts her mouth over your length - mindlessly bobbing that makes you forget for a second and get lost in the overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You’d do anything for her, she’d do anything for you: even if making her a slut was part of the process. 

If we’re being honest here, she wouldn’t have gone this far for you to fuck her mouth - like, a well-practiced and simple blowjob from her could’ve been enough for you to lose it - but if she prefers things this way, how her wide eyes keep looking at you with your hand in her hair, she’ll keep it up until you eventually dump your cum all over her tongue. 

You just have to, soon, and you will. Gaeul guides her other hand to yours, giving you free reign - sending her mouth to you. She does it with such grace, so beautifully, the arousal catches you by surprise. 

Her hands slide to your sides, gripping. Goddamnit, it’s clustered all over her face: the rosy cheeks, the swollen mouth, the sound of her mewling and gagging once you’re upping the pace of your thrusts, spit spread all over her face and chest that makes her skin shine, her hair around the tie becoming more and more messier. 

She will make you insane. 

“Mhm mhm,” she sputters out because it takes her a while for her to coherently say it, probably since her cheeks are so full of cock you pull yourself out to the point there are webs of spit plastered over your shaft and on her lips. 

You’re trying to hold it together. Gaeul, not so much - breathing staggered before she nudges her lips along your cockhead again, opens wide, and slides her way back down, the hypnotizing movement of drool with every deepthroat stroke she does on you. 

“Gaeul,” you call out, breathlessly. Her gags just keep on coming, and your hands find themselves in a familiar place yet again. 

She forces your hand down, comes back up for air. You’re left speechless, stunned. She’s kissing up your cock - desperately in adoration, practically begging without being verbal about it. 

“I want it,” she whispers - drops her jaw again, and guides your hand with her head back down on your length. The friction alone hangs your mind in suspense. 

“Fuck my mouth,” she commands; her voice soothing. You don’t think twice when you sink her head back down on your cock, the warmth and plushness of it unfathomable to register in your fucked-out brain. When she comes back up, gasping for air: “Please, sir. Just like that.” 

So you grip her hair again. “Shit.” You pull at the root of her knot, let her graze her teeth along the slick surface of your cock. “Christ- Gaeul,” Her eyes red, mascara smeared, cheeks hollowed out once more as her throat rucks up the head of your shaft, taking you- all of you. 

Easing yourself into fucking her face wasn’t the way to go; it would be like shying away, saving yourself the embarrassment. Your ears close in on the sounds: the choking, the new layer of spit coated across your throbbing shaft. She’s so good with her lips - in the most fucked up way possible, the sloppier she is, the more happy she’ll be when you release your cum in her mouth or on her face. 

Whichever one happens first, that is, you’ll find out soon enough. 

“Gaeul-” you’re saying her name, sighing it out in reverence. “Close, baby. I’m so close-” 

It’s when she curls her bottom lip, the technique of her tongue sweeping that sensitive spot at the underside - it makes your vision focus at a fine point, she doesn’t let up with the gulps and gags, the delicious clench that makes you swallow nothing. Fuck, you feel it. She knows. With every passing drive of your hips, there’s enough wiggle room for her to breathe again. 

She’ll kill you if you let her do this more often. 

–

“Uhm,” you’re calling out to her again, noticing something out of place. “I don’t remember you asking for that.” 

Gaeul turns around, stretches the shirt on her like some bathrobe. It’s funny: the hem at the waistline covers the middle of her thighs, but somehow you can’t help but admit she looks cute in your clothes - even when she’s wiping away the cum and saliva with the collar and there’s no point in complaining. 

“Sorry, I thought you’d be okay with me having a small memento of you,” she says, pulling the fabric behind, molding it to her figure. There’s a playful hum she’s singing, wandering around your place like it’s her gallery, eyeing the trinkets and things that make you well- you. 

“Would you be cool if-” she adds, turning around in some coquettish ingénue pose, showing a bit of her panties that’s being engulfed by her ass. “-I made you cum a third time?” 

You give her a chuckle since that’s in the ballpark of recurring jokes or cute memories, somewhere along the lines of flirting like an idiot and fucking like rabbits. It’s getting there, the insight at least. 

Sure, have her keep the shirt. It looks good on her. She brought a change of clothes for the night anyway; God knows as to why but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her around. 

“I’ll take that as a yes with how you’re staring at me still.” She muses a scrunch of her nose that simmers the cutesy, heart-fluttering, babyism sort of act that would make anyone, in particular, flash a look of confusion topped off with a subtle eye roll. 

She grabs your toothbrush and runs it through the faucet. You don’t say anything about that. 

The balls of her feet lift her heels, but she’s not slick with the small arch of her back and leans in towards the mirror. She’s careless, and that’s apparent with how the collarbone sticks out on the right side where the shirt pools. You give her a light laugh when you’re hugging her side, nestle your nose at her temple, patting her head. 

“Do -ou minth?” Gaeul sighs, smiling. “-m tryimph to cean mythelf ere.” The toothbrush hangs at the side of her mouth, minding her own business as you’re pulling a few wisps of her hair past her ear. “Should’ve closed the door on you when I had the chance. Didn’t expect you to be so clingy. You expect me to believe that you can be soft and bubbly when you just shoved your cock down my throat?” 

“Too much?” you ask. “I can dumb it down if you want.” 

She gives you a genuine shake of her head. No. “I don’t mind at all.” She spits out the paste into the sink for a new one, since she’s drooling it out. “It’s cute that you’re like this when it should be the opposite.” 

“Mmm. Bite me if you have a problem with it.” 

Gaeul then sighs when you bury your nose in her hair, rub the side of her waist, because it feels right. Her eyes follow you when you leave her be at the sink, let her spit out some more before brushing. 

–

A girl like Gaeul makes it difficult for you to come to grips with her small, yet lithe frame - how your hands rest neatly on the swell of her ass, fingertips cupping the indent. She’s not making this any better, palming your cock through your pants, or that cheeky smirk once her hand slithers past the elastic and wraps around you like it’s a lifeline. 

You also realize: how light she is, feeling her tits and having a moment of small joy when you manage to get a mouthful of her breast, mouth parting while you’re sucking on her mounds and nipples shamelessly to the point where she has to tug you by the hair to make you stop, grasp at that last bit of control. 

Marking up her chest serves as a viable response to her. 

“Careful now,” she tells you, mewling, head tipped forward - the stimulation quite a lot for her to handle. “A little aggressive, are we? Ah-” 

Like you’re the kind of person to take it easy, anyway. She says your name so prettily; the sensuality over a simple utterance, the breathlessness lying beneath the tone. You’ll fuck and treat her like she’s the only girl in the world and prove it in more ways than one. You’re on the eve of something big here: finding where her limbs and muscles tense, mark up her perfect skin and knock her up like she wants the filthy mess. There’s an unspoken safe word - a prompt or phrase of some kind. If or when she says: “I’m yours,” she tells you, eyes fluttering when you slip your two fingers in, guiding them to the tempo that she wants you to go. 

So she grinds on your fingers and cock whilst making out with you on your bed, eventually fucking her soon after, sheets and pillows tossed and used in the process; you slip some rubber on your cock and cum first before she does, and she’s a bit angry, pouty, coiling her arms and legs around your neck and shoulders until you give her what she wants - the time reads a little past midnight, she’s sprawled on the bed like some happy, sleepy puppy and sighs: “I’m starting to think you can’t handle me. My pussy’s just too good for you to have another round,” laughing as her knee rises and slides her heels along the mattress. 

“Maybe two or three will shut you up, I don’t know.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Gaeul says flatly in lieu of your subtle shrug, “I’m gonna break your cock, just watch me,” and well, you find and realize, she was serious about that; she fucks herself on your hips, determined - and hops off your waist, your front flush with her back, bringing a pillow for her to cling onto. “Something tells me that you’ve been- deprived, I would say. This bed is a little too spacious for us.” 

You laugh with a yawn mixed in. “Yeah, sure.” Gaeul takes the tie you pulled out from her hair and tosses it to the nightstand. “If you want to put it that way, I won’t complain.” 

She scoffs. “Wow. I point out one thing and you’re not even gonna argue against it,” you can picture the quirk of her mouth, a hint of her teeth peeking through into a grin. “For a guy like you to have some experience, that’s not what I expected-” 

“Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” you ask her, leaning more into the cushion while Gaeul tangles a leg between yours. The world around you seems to fade out from your ears, solely making you focus on the present moment, looking at her with a wistful gaze, one filled with contentment and wonder. 

Deprived no more, you’re mentally telling yourself. 

It’s not long after before Gaeul pats your cheek, kisses your jaw before you hear her feet scuff across the floor to your bathroom with nothing on, watching as she checks herself in the mirror, leans into the doorframe, arm raised and stretched up high, locks of her hair spilling from her collarbones and down to her chest, that head tilt to top the silhouette off nicely you’re left in a trance. 

You figure out that this moment, right now, all of the stars aligned at the right time and firmly believe that it’ll stay. 

–

Sometime later, you tell Gaeul that you were holding out for someone like her; someone that took an effort to get because they were simply out of your league - she laughs, half-impressed. 

“Y’know, for you to be figuratively at the altar but still searching,” she murmurs, tapping your chin. “people like you and I can only get so far in life.” 

“People like me and you,” you repeat, the movement between you two isn’t much, but still cautious.

Gaeul drops her eyelids and smiles, a dimple appearing. 

“People. Interesting, enticing,” she breathes. “Enigmatic and those with charisma.” A chuckle hums low in her chest when she looks up with those wistful, doe eyes, “that’s where your type falls, doesn’t it?” 

On the nail, she is - damn she’s good. 

“And where would I be, had I not talked to you that day,” you ask, grinning like an idiot. The space alone is still difficult to interpret, placing your lips on hers and scratch her head while the waves of her coffee-brown locks sift between your fingers. You could feel yourself sinking - sucked into a black hole with no way out, swallowing you up whole. 

“I wonder too,” she echoes your thought. 

You kiss her forehead, give attention to that cute little beauty mark on her cheek. Watch as her gaze softens: a look of love, almost. 

“I’m bad news for you, sadly,” she adds. “Keep me in your life, you’re bound to regret it.” 

–

She wants you so bad, you can’t help but fuck her for the next couple of days. 

Your schedule slowly shifts to Gaeul’s. When the night falls - because there are multiple instances at two in the morning talking about complete nonsense over mac and cheese bowls and slow kissing in the shower with the water falling on both of you that makes her skin a hot blush pink, pressing her into the tile or sink after with your hand or towel in her mouth to keep her quiet - since you learn she likes it that way, letting you feel up the slick curves of her ass and watch the skin ripple to where you see some of the recoil of her tits in the mirror, or even on your office chair facing away from the desktop, Gaeul biting your ear with her knees up to her pits- 

“You like fucking my pussy open with my legs up like this? Hmm?” Gaeul hisses in your ear, voice rasped and torn, sliding her legs back down, tugging hair while you’re filling every inch of her cunt. “Just letting you use me wherever, whenever, however you want-” 

Alright. It’s hard to imagine what you were getting yourself into when Yujin threw a bone to pick at you playing matchmaker - leaving the door open for Gaeul, the girl who waltzed into your life unknowingly, only for her to be the kind of girl that crumbles from your cock being inside her, pumping so full where she’s pulling you into that leaking white slit for another round - but there’s times in the late morning, treating herself another cup of tea, body riddled with hickeys drawn up and discovered by you like a stargazer, her small waist a gift from the heavens above, in your sweatpants where the ends pool over to her toes, leaning down to take your attention away from the screen, grabbing a handful of her tit in place of a hello. 

“What’s that you got there?” Gaeul giggles, hand stacked on yours while you squeeze gently. “That doesn’t look related to the project.” 

She’s half-right. It’s somewhat relevant to the submissions Yujin’s been sending over for you to look at, and the data’s been stagnant; luckily, you’re glad that someone else’s been keeping you accountable for the time being. 

“Well, that's because it isn’t.” you laugh, swiveling your chair a bit so that she can sit on your lap. “This is what the galaxy looked like on your birthday. Gotta say, that does look pretty.” 

Gaeul coos, leaning her head on top of yours. She moves your hand up to her chest, slips her arm out of the sleeve, rucks the shirt on her shoulder. The mix of pale skin and pink bruises, you’re salivating with every lick of your lips - and she leans closer to the screen.

Her eyes widen at the flashes of blue and purple, stares like the picture itself is an art piece, captivated. “Wow, you know what I think?” 

“What is it?” 

“If you’re gonna help discover a galaxy or image like that,” Gaeul tells you, moving her arm around your neck, lightly scratching your hair, “I’d pull your weight with Yujin on this project if I were you.” 

“Really?” you ask her, leaning back so that she can rest her other leg across yours. “I’ve been doing that, but it’s been slow.” 

“Maybe you just have to draw up the connection a little better, then.” 

–

Your groove gets thrown off. Gaeul disrupts the flow which you have no complaint about. You leave your place far later than you intended, and tell Yujin to let you off the hook. The pictures, readings, sketches - the information is a lot to take already. You’re seeing stars. If she’s the sun then you’d be Icarus: flying closer and closer until you get engulfed completely. 

This isn’t simple for you; a little hard to properly explain. The girl just takes and takes and takes. 

You show Gaeul the night sky, have her look through your telescope and tell which stars and planets are seen, painting the image and guiding her to fill that imagination - only for her to say something to make you laugh; next thing you know, she’s got her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, shutting you up with no care right there on the balcony. She keeps batting those lashes at you, fucking her face - hollowed cheekbones too, god. She’s swallowing you whole, hands at your sides, gargling. Putting her hair up in that ponytail. Yeah, you won’t last long. 

The lapping, licking, spitting. She’s savoring the inescapable deepthroat. 

When she licks the upper seam of your balls, you’re pretty sure you saw a new set of stars right then and there. 

“We might need to look at those pictures you have,” you’re telling Yujin on the phone. “I think those from the last look-up. No- I mean, yeah. I was also reading on Rei’s side of the project as well, and what she has is way more substantial than what we were initially working with.” 

“As much as I hate to admit it, her recent stuff has been looking pretty good compared to ours. I’m just glad we found her to work with us in the first place.” Yujin says, laughing. 

“All I’m saying from last time is that if you were this committed to finding someone that can put up with your antics; maybe rough you up and get you all needy and not be as controlling to just live a little, you know? I know that we’re close to finishing this, but I can extend an olive branch for you to reach if you need a guy up your alley.” 

“I’ll hold you to that offer,” replies Yujin, “Hopefully you got a guy in mind that can handle me like how Gaeul is with you.” 

Right, you tell her. Gaeul’s leaned on the frame leading to the kitchen; not tired, sighing when you look over your shoulder to see her hand in her sweats, finger deep up her cunt. The tilt of your head says to keep it down. She bites her lip, continuing what she’s doing. You’ll see why, and be glad that you didn’t jump at the opportunity yet. You look away for a second to notice her sitting right next to you, brushing up your right side, forcing you to switch the phone to the other hand. Watch it. You’re certain that she could hop on your cock right now, and ride you without a care in the world, because why the fuck not? She’s not wearing panties underneath as it is; asking, whining, begging to be bred. 

Shit. 

You really could. 

If you wanted to. 

Like fucking her on the balcony for the world to see would just be another law in your twisted philosophy, breaking a slut like her, leaving the mess of cum all over her body, have her lick it off so sweetly. In a sky full of stars, you’d want to paint that picture somewhere up there too. 

You’re certain that there’s a solace here - one that’s permanently eclipsed with euphoria, certain that it will stay. 

Gaeul’s breathing funnels into your ear as you bite down a smile, grab a handful of her ass and claw greedily at the indent. You could feel her head nod against yours. She’s so fucking needy. 

“I’ll send over the revisions I made,” she pulls back on your lap to see you say. Yujin beams on the other end of the line. “Touch base with Rei also to see if it matches up.” 

Gaeul moves your arm away, pushes your head back with a lip lock. Her hips drop to your growing bulge below. You end the call right away to ensure Yujin doesn’t get caught up in the middle of it, watch as she rips your shirt off from her body. 

–

You hate to admit that you’ve got this dark-twisted fantasy, unwilling to frame that mindset because there was no reason to. She’s so mild-mannered and soft-spoken; wears pretty outfits and dresses waiting for you in the lobby of your building. She’s one messy bun with a hairclip on top away from urging you to snatch her away, Christ almighty. You’ll take away the layers and make mental notes, conceal her away like she’s some comet - write her name into the books that way the whole world knows about her perfection. A girl like her can change what a man thinks, make them say things like I know what you want, don’t give me that look - just for her to stare with that lovestruck look in your eyes. 

If she wasn’t the kind of girl that fell from the sky and onto your lap, syrupy laugh and giggle with those dreamy eyes, you would have a hard time looking through a scope; she’s rattling your brain to the point where you could say one or two things, have her listen dutifully because you know she will. 

Every exploration is a journey into the unknown, and suddenly she could pop a question at any random point in time, like: hey, you don’t need science to make a woman feel good, okay? You can totally fuck me like you mean it.  

But here she’s babbling, heaving. Completely stuffed up on her back with her knees to her chest, brain nothing but mish mash and riding out the pleasure. “Aren’t you a sweet thing,” you groan, “creaming all over my cock-” 

She’s biting down a piece of her shirt, lifted just above her tits, eyes squinched. Her head tilts back, chest up in the air. You’re pressing on the underside of her thighs, pushing her deep into the mattress. The words coming out of her mouth are incoherent, but you’re fucking it out of her: god, oh god, yes, shit, baby, fuck, fuck me- 

“Christ,” you hiss, and move your hands from her thighs to her back, bending the arch more. You’ve done yourself a favor by not railing her on the dining table like last time, gripping her ass, the addicting clench and glide of her folds, begging you to pound and pound and pound until she’s lost the feeling in her legs. 

Everything leading up to this was relatively tame; nothing too serious other than fifteen or twenty minutes of the usual fill-ins of what was done throughout the day, only for Gaeul to flash a look at you and with a grab of her wrist, the rest of the clothes peel away not long after. 

Probably in this universe, there’s nothing left to decipher in the sounds and expressions displayed on Gaeul’s face, small streams of tears falling on her cheeks with every part from the face down riddled in a rosy blush and sweat. You slide your palms up to her chest, rest your thumbs on the underside of her breasts, steadying, plugging your cock up in her tiny cunt and dragging every inch of skin across her walls, clamping hard and soaking no matter how fast and hard you’re giving it to her. Her body’s used to your length, thoroughly fucked that she can’t do anything but feel ruined. 

You see her mouth form an oh shape, some of her hair gets caught on her cheek, glancing you from the corner of her eye before rolling it back to her head- 

“Shhh,” you say, brushing your nose to the side. “Almost there, baby. I’ve got you-” 

Gaeul’s brows furrow together; grinding her teeth, forcing the dragged-out groan down her throat, tears peeking through the seal of her eyelids. She knows that she can’t do anything - besides just taking it like a nice little girl, let this cock pound and wreck her and look gorgeous as you bottom her out. 

“C’mon baby,” you’re huffing, getting one good thrust in while the flesh ripples at your hips, and Gaeul grits out a holy shit but dies down instantaneously, soft, the wail wheezed out in a whisper. Her whole body shakes with another peak, her face flushed with red, saying nothing seconds later. The wetness leaks out of her, coating your cock while holding you true. There’s no objection, only order when you drive your dick back in her cunt. Small threads of her slick forming on your waist, drawing their own set of constellations on her body. 

Her body rebounds upwards on the inhale. 

“Cum,” she tells you, pleading. You could feel her fingers coil your forearm. 

“Condom,” you stutter and fuck. She’s so unhinged - even if it’s just a singular word or simple request. Wringing her out this way was always going to be the result. “Fuck, can’t-” 

Her breath hitches, a cute noise you think. Some of her hair falls on her forehead, eyes lidded. The corner of her mouth ticks up. 

“What?” 

“If you seriously think that I’m gonna cum inside-” 

Gaeul chuckles, twisted into a moan. You can see the gears in her head turning, trying not to get caught up with your cock embedded in her hot cunt still. 

“Not- that.” 

“Not?” 

Her head falls to the mattress. 

“All over me.” Her shoulders slack, hands sliding further up your arm. You let her legs bracket your hips as you grasp at her tit. She doubles down on the command to be sure you heard it the first time. “I wanna feel it.” 

You don’t say anything more when she props herself up on her elbows, watching the sight of your cock slide slowly in and out of her cunt. Slipping the condom off in one swift pull and lick your palm. Gaeul bites on her thumb, smiling at you barely keeping it together. 

“Here is fine.” The way she suggests is dripping in want. Her heaving chest, kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair and sweat and everything in between. “Or maybe,” you see her glossy eyes once more, filled with lust. “Paint my face and get your nice, thick cum all over my fucking lips-” 

You inhale sharply. 

“Watch it,” you hiss. 

“Maybe I won’t,” Gaeul replies, lip between her teeth, challenging. Her hand reaches to your length to keep you second-guessing. The sight of her body; a literal depiction of sin, right in the palms of your hands. 

She grinds your cockhead along her folds, closing her legs slightly. The pressure already sucking you back in. “Sweetie, where- I could just let you lick it off again, grab a towel from the bathroom, that-” 

“You know what I want.” 

You look at her, unsure. But you know what’s about to happen anyway. 

As if she couldn’t give it to you in a different language, she grabs your wrist gently. It’s an easy problem with an easy solution. You can’t argue how pleasant she really is. She doesn’t have to prove more into it, how she’ll be, you could give into that sense of luxury, and you really could. 

So you’re pondering, skeptical. “I told you. You’re insane if you genuinely want me to cum in you. We’re not doing this. No.” 

Gaeul pouts, combined with an eyebrow lift. 

“And I wasn’t kidding when I said that.” She mentioned it the first time, too: “I’d let you cum anywhere you want.” 

A few more passing blinks go by. 

“Why go through all that just to waste your hard work on-” And you’re left surprised that she’s got the strength left to pull herself back up, resting her hips right on top of yours, fingers carding through your hair when she slips you back inside. Inch by inch, you feel her sinking down - slowly. You know that she isn’t stopping in particular, wiggling her ass; a soft implication, teasing. She’s pulling you closer and closer to where you’re seeing eye to eye with her. “Safeguarding a pretty girl like me.” 

In all honesty: it’s in your nature. Gaeul’s simply just being herself. Tender. Beautiful. Fully embracing. You could give her the power to destroy you, and she’d thank you for it. 

She gives you a very hard time thinking, grinding her hips against yours - let yourself get drunk in the raptures since the rubber was starting to become a pain in the ass recently. Gaeul’s cunt siphons out all your thoughts with every single inch of her gripping cunt, speaking listless phrases of praise and wishes that you’re positive to make come true for her. She could ride and pound her pretty pussy all over your cock - orgasm after orgasm after orgasm - until her face is blown out and just flat-out gone. Ease her mind with your dick, since she seems to love it so much. 

To be spoiled, showered and railed in whatever way possible. She just keeps hopping along your cock, bottoming herself out to the point where she’s looking to the ceiling in pure stimulation. 

You ruck your hips forward. Gaeul trembles, sighing in relief, allowing you the reins, lifting her body up and back down on your thighs. Her neck tips down, mouth canted. 

She’s warm and tight - just perfect; so sensitive and responsive after bouncing her cunt on your cock over and over and over- 

You steady yourself, savoring the feeling. 

She wants you to fill her up, to the point where she has to tell you that it’s enough. 

You suck in a breath, slip out a groan, shuddering. “Oh my god-” 

“Good, right?” Gaeul smiles, “Shit-” and you feel her head collapse onto yours, relaxing and riding out the length until her hips mesh with yours. She practically melts on your cock, stretching and tightening all at once, inviting. 

A kiss to her chest is what you give her, trying to keep your mind off her pussy carelessly clinging every inch of your girth; making it simpler for you to nudge your cockhead into the spot that makes her clench and shake; mewling and humming mixed with the moans; soaking your hips till it stains the sheets. 

“Such a slut,” you tell her, maintaining the last bits of coherence you have left, “so careless and needy. I should stop before you do some real damage.” 

Gaeul smirks, looks so admonished you can’t help but stare. “I don’t like that tone of yours.” 

“What tone?” 

She curls a smile before cradling your head. 

“Talking me down, doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“You told me that you didn’t mind.” You lift her hips from the crease, lean forward to swirl your tongue around her nipple. Looking up to see her watch, give a shameless lick on her bud to lay the challenge, pull back with a pop of the lips. “I know you were being polite about it. Call me a good listener.” 

“I might’ve said something different.” 

“Like you beg to differ.” 

“Hush.” 

“Pussy so good for you that you’re at a loss of words? Set your mind right after getting lazy over work?” The arch in her back deepens, gyrating her hips at the hilt to further the connection - your thumbs dig in the crease of her legs. You drag her forward. She moans again. “Shame on you, I should say no the next time-” 

“But you won’t.” 

“No. No. I won’t.” Gaeul huffs into your cheek, sighs once more when you’re kissing her throat. 

You’re fucking her brains into a puddle and somehow you’re still wondering how she can still think straight - ignoring the fact that her body’s split open and folding through on slap of your hips onto the next- 

“I won’t. Not ever.” She mumbles, whimpering. “I- can’t get enough of this dick. I can never get enough of your dick.” 

“Really?” You’re asking acerbically.

She shakes her head, and you give her a nice hot kiss, priming her head at an angle where you both prefer it to be: and she slips her tongue between your lips, groaning and melting on top of your body, pressing her knees to the sides of your thighs and her cunt in this sliding friction across your cock. She’s terrible at keeping secrets, a truth even - trying to convince you otherwise that she doesn’t like when you’re working her so well her face flushes, aching while leaking her endless slick onto your skin. Your mouth, hands, and cock all give her these waves of bliss, hitting the points all at once where her body blooms and she doesn’t know what to do next. 

You slam her ass back on your balls that her hips spazz out, grinding another climax out of her while she screams; a live wire is what she is, purring and gasping once you’ve triggered that reaction. 

“Like that,” she tells you, at this point, her arrogance is fucked out. Then, her lip is between her teeth, puffing out, bites her teeth together: “that’s so fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” and you feel her fingers slither back into your hair, assisting in the lift of her lower half back down - she’s spiraling. “So good for me, love, baby. Oh, baby-” 

She rattles her head when you’re sliding your hips further forward, the press of Gaeul’s knees moving up to the sides of your stomach. “Nuh uh,” she hisses; the angle is too good for her, impaling her from below she can’t breathe at the top, cunt nicely forming around your cock so deep-” 

“Not the love bullshit, no.” Gaeul chuckles, giddy, mouth canvasing your shoulder. Sighing, whispering, swallowing her hums.

You raise and yank her back down. The whine is one part of the whole symphony. 

“Like- love. What the fuck - so soft. God-” 

“Look who’s talking,” you growl. A curse spills from your lips. She’s a fucking waterfall that it’s unbelievable. The tightness alone for the first time would make anybody an instant addict. And you’re bent on the fact that cumming inside Gaeul is your inevitable demise - her walls clamping in increments around your shaft that every slap of skin and swallow of your throat brings you closer. “I’m giving you what you want, no? All you have to do is just take it - like a nice, little, whore-” 

She wheezes, giggling where it gets caught between a coo and a hum of approval.

“-my little cocksleeve, good god-” you hear yourself say, and the bump of Gaeul’s head into yours can hide so much of her flushed cheeks. “So beautiful, ruined for me, my little nymph come to life. You love this cock so much, wanting to be full of cum, lapping it up like a cute puppy-” 

You’re not sure what you’re saying at this point, but Gaeul keeps on laughing, rolling her hips forward and backward. She lifts herself halfway, falls right back in. Exhales. You know what’s coming; what’s about to happen. Her legs lock up, jaw slacked - hung in suspense. She’s breathing where you could see on her shoulders, leans forward with a turn in her ear: 

“My little sex kitten, how bout that?” 

Skeptical, Gaeul sighs; sucking in her stomach while her head turns the other direction, showing some of that fading self-control and common sense. 

“Okay, that’s. Oh-” she tries telling you, shying away. Her hand goes to yours, continuing the motion, sloppily, letting out a lazy grin and bouncing your name off your lips as her body leans back and into your control. “Rushed, I think. Maybe. Not sure- need more- to get used-” 

“Gaeul.” There's no hiding it anymore, you’re too dumbfucked out of your own mind to turn back now. She seethes out another cry, making you tilt your lips to a devilish smile. “Poor thing, so dirty. A naughty little squirrel that can’t get enough of my nut, huh? Look at you, so wet and filthy, making a mess all over the place-” 

Yeah, she broke you. You’ve gotten so twisted because of her - no point in mincing words here. 

“Fuck, okay, please, that’s too much-” 

You can’t stop - you just can’t. Her cunt is so close to squeezing you, numbing your mind until she drains you completely. 

The pace is painstakingly slow, the rise and fall of her hips with every pump inside her, nails clawing your skin away at the bridge of your shoulders. It becomes- too much, the way your cock stuffs her tiny pussy until that edge is finally reached, the heat cranked up way past eleven, the desire to take it written all over her face and body.

“Want it,” she chokes out. Her cunt creates this pocket of air inside where the noise is just utterly wrong. “Please.” 

Her eyes water, fluttering.

“I hear you, darling. I know.” 

“Ah, yes. You-” 

Her head lolls forward, lazily. You wrap your arms around her waist and guide her back onto the sheets, slip yourself out and roll her over until her ass is in view. She peers over her shoulder, watching you mount her thighs, pull her hips up and slide a pillow into the open space created, laying back down and bury your cock back in her creaming cunt, kneading the handful of ass in your palm before testing the depth again. 

You notice her shoulders bunch up to her neck, hands gripping the sheets when you’re leaning back down to her face.

“Fight me,” you whisper down her ear, “if it’s too much.” Gaeul shakes her head at the drag of your shaft, driving back in with a firm thrust that makes her gasp for air - bites down a moan into the blankets beneath her. You’re pinning her into the bed frame so harshly you don’t even care if you break it. 

Her hand shoots back to your arm, grabbing. The slaps of skin pick up in rhythm, maintaining a tempo. You reach out for her hair and lift her head, releasing a few moans before her breaths also start to become more staccatoed- 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t- hhn-” 

You’re having too much fun for your sake. Though, you can’t blame yourself in this situation. This was what Gaeul wanted, and she got it. A second later you’re pressing her head back down into the bedding, bend that arch in her lower back a bit deeper where your cock can carve its way down to the hottest point where she can take it. Her mewling and crying rise in volume and you only have the slap of your hips to hers serving as this undertone to her song. 

“Where,” you sputter, because you know the limit’s about to be reached. “Where do you want me-” 

Gaeul turns her head back; you can’t even see her lips move when she says it: “Inside.” 

So you coil your arms around her waist and flush your chest to her back. “If that’s what my kitty wants.” 

You raise the pace then and there. Fucking her tight little cunt as if you finally created the theory in your head into breaking Gaeul. It doesn’t take much for someone smart to put the pieces together: all you need is a nice hold of her ass, impaling your cock deep where you can take it, sliding in and out of her walls with such precision that you’ll empty every fiber in your body to satisfy both her and yourself. 

You’re experimenting with the position of her body - deep into the mattress, lift her upper half where both deepens the arch of her pussy, nudging your cock where her walls can clinch and clench along the member - working so seamlessly to bring that orgasm to the front. There’s only one thing left to do now: to pound and bounce her ass and cunt all over your cock until you spill all of it inside her open pink hole. You’re gonna drain everything in your balls deep into Gaeul’s cunt until she’s whining from the mixture of tension and shaking, growling so loud that you’ll wake the neighbors on the upper and lower floors. 

The pulsing, shooting rope after rope and after rope of cum inside her. She’s moaning in relief at the feeling while you’re still pooling, head spinning so fast that you’re finally on the same page as her: ruined, and thoroughly fucked. 

“T’so warm,” she mumbles sleepily. “And thick-“ 

The slamming of your hips keeps you conscious. “Gaeul, this cunt, baby, so fucking incredible.” 

An angel falling from the heavens. Would anyone ever believe it if you told the things you did with her? 

When you do slide out of her well-fucked-and-worked-cunt, you can’t help yourself still and slip inside again, coating your cock mixed in with her slick and your cum. You watch when you pull your tip away from her folds, the sheen of white coming out of her slit - the whole image of her backside is a picture-perfect painting right here in your sheets: her puffy pussy lips, the beet red spread across the breadth of her ass, bruises on bruises across the plane of her back, hair in this half and half of a bun and wavy locks. You then run your hand across your length, wipe the mess on the person who created it, and look at her while she rolls on her back with her arms raised. 

You’ll also think about treating her; cleaning her up in the shower; dry her hair, swaddle her in a towel, carry her around your place, clean every spot and cranny - worshiping her curves and mounds until she’s willing to be broken apart and put back together again. A girl made to be ruined, an endless experiment you want to keep forever. 

“See?” She laughs, running a finger along her folds, collecting her reward, licking it off her fingertips before cupping her palm gently along your cock, slowly rubbing you to get a few more drops out of you. Her tongue runs across her lips, almost like she’s gonna drool again and it’s just fucking terrible, but you love it. “Can’t you think the wonders of you breeding my poor, sorry, cunt-” 

Part of you wants to shut her up with your dick. She’s so forward with the intent and doesn't care about the consequences. It’s dangerous. You’re thinking ahead of how she’ll look with the ribbons of cum spread all over her body, on her face, in her hair. Sick and twisted it is, and she cups your sack - gasping at the sudden weight of it still. 

Soon. You need a breather and push yourself away. 

She flails her arms and legs around like some kid throwing a tantrum, groaning. 

But she smiles and shies away; not nervous, but happy. “Fuck me,” she swears where she feels relaxed and unbound by any worry. You bring yourself down to her and try to kiss her cheek, but she turns her head away with her hand pushing your face. 

“Nope,” she tells you, softly laughing, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Should’ve fucked me harder.” 

This girl is a problem. 

You pinch her cheek and start poking her stomach, the bubbliness coming to life. She can’t stay in one place the more you tap your fingers all over her body. She’s very ticklish. 

“Poor kitty,” you remark, because you notice her smile and tucked lip, watch the butterflies flutter in her stomach, and when you’re patting her thigh she doesn’t bother retaliating, since the idea’s set in her mind that there’s no further objection. 

“Didn’t you say,” she sighs, voice beaming, face pink and clutching her waist. “You like it when I’m like this, making you stupid that way you’ll just pound me at the end of it? Y’know, pinning me into the mattress. Gotta say, the-” 

“Gaeul, please.” She knows that you’re amused, smiling. “Get up. Go shower, you’re dirty.” 

“No no,” she replies, shaking her head. You stare into her eyes while her legs spread, causing you to look down and scrunch your nose. Her head tips back, trails her fingers up her chest, traces around the nipple, some of her hair falls in front. “If you’re the one who made the mess, you should make the effort to clean me up again.” 

You make a note of the upsetting attitude - maybe forward it to Yujin since she knows a little more about Gaeul out of annoyance. 

Yujin didn’t give you the full report, anyway: about how Gaeul’s the kind of girl that functions over good food, drinks, and a proper dicking down without even considering the whirlwind of logistics she’ll mess up. You should’ve seen the signs. You should’ve known who you’re dealing with. 

“What’s wrong?” Gaeul asks, grinning, relaxing her back while you pull her by the thighs, bringing her closer. You thumb her knee, considering. The warning signs are there - just waiting for everything to come apart. 

She gives you an eye smile while you’re rolling yours, guiding your hand up her inner thigh, stopping right at her pussy lips. It’s draining. A headache. You’ll be sleepless in the morning because you can’t admit Gaeul’s the reason for staying up so late. “Only gonna say it once,” you tell her. “Shower comes first.” 

You say, but your body does otherwise, scooching forward where your finger hovers right above her clit. Though you gently press your palm right above her hip, noticing how sweaty she is - or maybe it’s the spread slick from her thighs; you can’t tell, the slide of it has you in disbelief. 

“I think you can give me one more,” Gaeul suggests, rolling on her stomach, forming the arch so tantalizing you force yourself to look away, knees spreading and her feet flush - imploring without really saying anything because you know she won’t stop and there’s nothing you can do about it. Her teeth peek through her cunning smirk, fully pleased. “Forget about putting another condom on, ‘cause like- god. I know you love how my pretty little pussy lips wrap around your cock when you’re cumming in me anyway.” 

It’s a genesis of sorts: the beginning of an unending madness. A world which you cannot escape - nor want to. 

–

Everything is a mess: you, your place, your work with Yujin. Gaeul comes by every other day - except when she’s swamped with schoolwork where she pops the idea of going on a romantic getaway or a staycation, hiding yourself away from the world and fucking her stupid until she’s sleepy. 

Here’s the thing. 

It’s when you’re with friends- or just you and her, wandering around the city, she’s the calmest, reserved girl you’ve ever seen. Much like she puts on a mask or appearance during the day and nobody seems to notice. Her clothes are much in line with yours, and pulling your face for a kiss - well, to milk the moment, you suppose - curling her fingers across your cheek, eyes so full of her that they’re crossing against each other at the press of her forehead with yours. 

There’s something here. You’re certain that it’s already been found. An exploration of these moments and experiences and the gut feeling rest well in your mind. You ponder, maybe it’s meant to be. This was all for fun at some point too. Maybe, also, that might not be the case. 

You deem it too early to say you love her, but the reciprocating kisses she gives you make you think otherwise, every single time, and you give into her little smile. 

If you or her mean it, one of you will say the words eventually. 

–

“So? What are we thinking? You reckon we’ll get it this time?” Yujin says, optimistic. You picture her with her feet propped up on something or in the air, it sounds like it. 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” You answer, “Oh- by the way, Gaeul wanted to come along for the final set of tests. Are you okay with that?” 

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” 

“Awesome.” 

Silence builds up on the line. 

“Aren’t you gonna tell me how she is?” Yujin prods, teasingly with a tone higher than usual. “C’monnnnn, I wanna know-” 

“Why would I? My business with Gaeul is not information to share.” 

“Boooooo.” 

“What?” 

“You and her haven’t given me credit for setting you guys up,” says Yujin. “Some of the details can be left out - for obvious reasons. She’s been telling me good things about you.” 

You smile at that. 

“Okay, to be honest, she’s amazing. I haven’t had an issue with her since our date and well- I don’t need to explain more for you to figure the rest out.” 

“Tell me more later when I see you two, but from what it sounds like, I think you struck your luck out with this one. She’s a real keeper.” 

Seeking out an Andromeda wasn’t on the cards, but you’re happy enough to have it fall right on your lap. 

It’s something special to cherish. 

–

Gaeul watches from a distance, admiring the image of you in your element. 

Yujin looks closely at the screen readings while you’re peering into the telescope, following along to the proper adjustment in getting the coordinates right. There’s a double check - then a triple check - glancing at the image presented. She smiles when you give her a nod of approval, looking back over at Gaeul who stares right back. 

Gaeul appears stoic, but you can tell that she was a little bit nervous for you. If things didn’t go well today, it wasn’t going to be the end of the world, but you know deep down that she wants you to succeed - and you do too. 

“We have something,” you’re telling her when you reach the bottom of the steps, rubbing her elbow for comfort. “Wanna come take a look?” 

She bites her lip, eyes tilting down, and nods. 

You kiss her knuckle and bring her up. 

Minutes later, she’s where you were: through the looking glass while Yujin slides her chair over pointing at the mix of greenish blue in the middle of the vast blackness of space. “Looks new, seems lightyears away from us. Have we finally got it?” 

“Judging from what the professor was telling us, nobody is claiming this one yet.” 

Yujin taps your shoulder before leaving to call up her mentor. 

Gaeul still looks into the scope, smiling when she feels your arms wrap around her waist, laughing softly. 

“It’s beautiful,” she tells you, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

The night sky shines above the observatory, light funneling through the opening as a natural spotlight, illuminating the glow reflected on her perfect skin. You look at her as if you’d turn into stone when you look away. She looks at you like everything just makes sense - a safe place where she can find comfort in, realizing what she said was already made true, but she doesn’t know that. 

“You speak for yourself? Or?” 

She hits your arm, and you’re smiling like an idiot. 

“Do you have a name for it?” Gaeul asks, turning around so that she’s properly facing you. You’re still trying to figure out how she can look so pretty - so effortlessly; it’s something that you’ll dedicate a whole lot of time to study, see if you can find the answer in her eyes, or her body- 

“Not yet,” you answer. “It'll take some time to pick, but- I’m open to recommendations.” 

She nods, quickly flashing her eyes to see if there was anyone within earshot, pensive. “I got nothing so far, but I’m willing to jog your mind if you’re it.” 

“Gaeul,” you say, sternly, grip tightening on her lower back. “What’re you implying, hm?” 

“All I’m saying is that I can be a great help for you in that bathroom downstairs. Unless you want to step outside, get some fresh air - the breeze is so nice up here, and no one will hear me because of the crickets-” 

“Minx,” you’re saying again. She sighs with her mouth parted, working herself right off the bat. “Now’s not the time, you were good for me earlier. Plus, your ass is still sore, I know why you didn’t want to sit down in the first place.” 

Gaeul nicks her head up, lifts her eyebrows. You’re flashing the image in your head of earlier: her being soaked in your cum, mouth swollen and makeup ruined, naked with a pair of cat ears in her hair and wrists handcuffed to the edge of your bed. It’s been a few hours since then, but nothing’s stopping the urge from burning through your pants- 

“Said you did a good job spanking me, did I?” 

“You know my answer.” 

“Touché.” 

You shake your head and press your lips to her crown. Patting her head and rubbing her shoulder while she puts her thumb on her chin, carelessly minding her own business while you’re treating her; mind already tired and with the amount of pictures and papers and telescopes too complicated to listen to in a firm explanation, she’s unbothered. She pats your back twice to make you stop. 

“We’re still grabbing drinks with Yujin after, right?” Gaeul asks, remembering the offer. “Her treat?” 

“She’s a terrible liar,” you chuckle, “The tab’s on me.” 

–

It’s all a process. 

Day by day. The concept of love is not a linear path; getting to know someone and revealing the pieces, building that trust with a significant other, infatuated about the secrets and intricacies that you’ll take to your grave once they’re shared, seen, and spoken. 

You’re up late nights, peering into your bedroom to see her legs tangled around a pillow. On certain days she comes home excited, jumping onto you at the door to times when she’s tired, and you’re piggybacking her inside because that’s what she likes. When she’s with Yujin, she’s normally quiet and laid-back - but with you, she’s all over the place. Telling you these unholy things that you don’t expect her to know when you’re fucking her into the bed; the way her voice sounds when she’s praising you. She goes around like her own little planet, full of wonderful things. She likes vinyls and vintage stuff and prefers to run outside when it’s raining. You let her steal your glasses because she looks better in them. Her smile is infectious. The way that she tousles and turns when you’re kissing every corner of her body and telling her all the things that she wants to hear. You’ve got the backlog filled out.  

Spread her legs apart, have her sit up, ride your face. Break down those fragile walls until she’s completely sucked into your embrace. Gaeul desires a lot of things that you can try to give - the wonders of the world, a bigger picture - something that you’ll pull down from above and have her keep for the sentiment. 

You’ll keep the fact that she’s somebody who wants to be ruined - get chaotic and a tad sadistic. She prefers the punishment over the crime. 

–

Nights like these, it feels like some kind of mistake when Gaeul brings you over to her place. 

There’s nothing bad happening whatsoever, you just feel the knife twist a little more when you can’t go inside because last time Liz and her other roommate caught you and her red-handed on the couch, even after having the assurance that they wouldn’t be home until later. It wouldn’t feel wrong to hug her, kiss her goodbye, knowing that you’ll probably see her around on campus in the afternoon later. 

Gaeul gazes into your eyes earnestly, as if she didn’t want to go back in yet, hoping that you’ll take her away and carry her back to your apartment. A wish she made on a passing star and praying it comes true. With those white thigh highs she’s wearing, you’ll make that dream a reality in a heartbeat. 

“How long have we been friends for again?” She asks, tugging on your jacket, slipping your hands around her hips. She’ll take wherever she can, you know her well. “Hard to believe that we’d be together. You know, like this.” 

“Do I need to remind you who made the first move?” 

“Fuck you.” She slaps your chest as part of the response. “I was trying to have a moment with you. So shut up.” 

“Okay, I will, please continue.” You lift your shoulders in surrender. “For the record, I’d like to take most of the credit, since I asked and all that.” 

Gaeul rolls her eyes to the back of her head. That was her whole plan from the start - had you not said anything to her, she wouldn’t be here taunting you; while being so quiet and pretty that it’s hard to combine the two. 

“Depends on who asks,” she begins. Her cheeks rise, veneers highlighted. She throws everything out in your head with ease - one hint or subtle suggestion and the common thoughts get brushed aside. That’s a you problem. More so of a bigger problem compared to hers. She can read your expressions like a book. 

So you say: “Are you asking?” 

You keep looking at her, like you did back in the museum, wondering all of the pretty little things that differentiate her from the rest; her side profile, the bunny-heart-shaped-ears, how her lips purse together almost like a pout; it’s like you’re seeing some cosmic pareidolia. Kind of like putting fragments together from your dream. 

Gaeul tilts her head, pondering. “If you are, then I’d agree with what you’re saying,” she tells you, kissing your cheek and stepping inside her apartment.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes. 

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.” 

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?” 

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said. 

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[luveline]

Oooooo carmy request: him being jealous of readers friendship w richie cos they re like buddys and he thinks she doesn't like him cos shes not like that w him

—you realise what Carmy wants from you. fem, 1.4k

Richie isn’t technically an upstanding citizen, but he’s a good guy. 

“I’m telling you, sweetheart, you just need to be more aggressive.” 

You’re sitting on a stool behind the counter filling the ketchup and mayonnaise bottles with the huge ones from the walk-in. Richie isn’t doing much of anything, which is fine by you; he’s good entertainment for a shitty job. 

“I don’t want to be more aggressive, I want people to be nicer.” 

“We don’t get what we want,” he mutters. 

You frown expressively. “Aw, baby, we don’t get what we want. You don’t get what you want, huh?” 

“What’s your problem?” he asks, though he laughs brightly. “You’re the fucking baby. You’re not doing that right.” 

You point at your extremely slow drip of ketchup. “No, you think? I know I’m doing it wrong, Richie. Doing it right is a lot of arm effort. Have you seen my arms?” 

“You’ve got muscle.” Richie lifts your arm up by the wrist. “Flex. Flex your arm.” 

“I’m flexing. You can’t see that?” 

“What are you guys doing?” Carmy asks. 

He comes up behind Richie and they’re almost twins. Not in appearance —Carmy’s lighter facially and broader physically— but in stance, their mussed up aprons and the rags on their shoulders a uniform. 

You flex. “Weight training.” 

Richie drops your arm. “I’m showing her how to fill the sauce bottles.” 

“And you didn’t know how to do that?” Carmy asks you. 

“I’m the one that taught Richie.” You absolutely didn’t teach Richie how to do it, that much is obvious. Richie laughs heartily, and Carmy frowns, and you realise that Richie thinks you’re both laughing at Carmy, which isn’t what was happening. Not totally. 

It’s hard to navigate The Beef without Mikey; Carmy is nothing like his brother, and Richie’s an asshole. 

Carmy nods at you. You’re worried his lip is gonna curl like it does when he’s mad and you’re gonna get told to do something you’re uninterested in, but it’s Richie who gets punished. “Can you finish Sydney’s prep?” 

“Why can’t she do it?” 

“Her stomach thing. It’s just onions.” 

Richie wants to argue, but can’t. He’s paid a wage to work. “Fine. But tell Syd I’m not her gopher.” 

Richie saunters away. 

“He’s not her gopher,” you tease when he’s out of earshot, to Carmy’s surprised delight. “God, Carm, don’t you know anything?” 

Your Richie impression isn’t your best. Carmy must enjoy it, still smiling to himself as his attention is turned to the register, where he begins wiping down the keys. 

“Is that really the way to do that?” he asks, gesturing to your sauce bottles. 

You’ve turned the cap upside down, feeding sauce into the bottle one drip at a time. It would be quicker to remove the cap entirely and pour straight from the big bottle, but that sometimes requires three hands, the big jugs are that heavy. 

“Despite what you might think, Carm, I’ve thought it through.” 

“You sure?” 

You could get defensive. When Carmy first took over the restaurant, you thought, What the fuck, Mikey. Leave your shithole restaurant to your world class brother and get your entire roster of staff fired in one fell swoop. But Carmy never fired you, hasn’t cut your hours, doesn’t treat you like an asshole. He is a jerk, that much is certain during busy dinner service, but he has yet to take it too far. (Ish.)

So you won’t defend your laziness, or expect him to like it. You get up from your stool and turn the cap right side up, tapping what’s yet to drip through the spout into the bottle. You set the cap aside, and you uncap the big ketchup to decant sauce until the bottle is full. 

Carmy glances at you from the corner of your eye. He looks at you, looks away again. 

You think he might like you. In the don’t have a choice, grown on him like moss way. He gets cagey when you and Richie are having fun, and he stares altogether too much, but he can be pretty when he’s smiling (or really yelling) and he has nice hands, and nice arms. He has a nice way of saying things. You don’t mind his attention.

There have been worse bosses to want to push you up against a wall. 

Not that you think Carmy could. He whines like a bitch at you for stupid shit, but Carmen Berzatto shoving you into a wall for a rough kiss? That’s never gonna happen. 

And yet… his frown tells a different story. 

“Why do you get so weird about me and Richie?” you ask. 

“I don’t get weird about you and Richie.” 

You open the mayonnaise bottle and set the cap aside. “He’s nicer than you think.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds vaguely depressed, which isn’t uncharacteristic. Seriousness colours his voice with a strange charm. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“He is, he makes me laugh. He makes sure I eat, he shouts at guys when they’re mean to me.” 

“Who’s mean to you?” 

“Carmy.” You give up on the mayonnaise and wipe your hands down your apron, to his ire. You’d prefer not to smell like egg and oil during this conversation, but it’s better than smelling like burnt chicken, sort of. “Richie’s a nice guy, whether you agree or not.” 

“That’s great, I’m glad he’s so nice to you.” He sounds angry now, but he’s stuck as you are —walking away is losing. 

You really don’t get it. “Is he not supposed to be nice to me?” you ask. 

“He can do what he wants. You can do what you want.”

You laugh, and hope to diffuse the situation with a joke, “Okay, thanks for your permission, Chef.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He sounds less tense, but not fixed. And you might find it harder to keep up with him, constantly wanting to impress him, knowing you can’t, but you’re not out of touch. You aren’t a huge dick. 

Carmy beats you to it. “I was kidding, about the bottles. You can do it how you want.” 

“I wasn’t offended.” 

“But you don’t– with Richie, you– I don’t know what I’m doing wrong with you.” 

You look him up and down, lengths of his arms, tattoos and the cut over his elbow. His clean t-shirt, his neck, the strong line of his nose and his bright eyes. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you say, smiling at him, knowing your expression says lots of weird stuff. 

Working here in the kitchen makes a busy atmosphere normal. Richie’s telling a story at the top of his lungs, Angel’s swearing about a dropped plate, knives scratch on boards and ovens hum. Being overwhelmed is something you’re good at, and big feelings don’t scare you. 

“You’re jealous of Richie?” you ask, playfully pitying. “Get it together.” 

“Fuck off,” he says again. 

“Seriously? Richie Jerimovich. He’s telling Tina a story right now about how the last date he went on ended with her asking if he’d ever been abducted by aliens.” 

“I’m not jealous of Richie.” 

“No, I don’t think you are,” you say, taking a step too close, and refusing to take the step back. 

Carmy doesn’t look mad anymore. 

You wonder if anybody’s ever held his hand. You used to think he must’ve had a ton of girlfriends, he got so famous everywhere he went, but… He looks like he’s never been this close to someone before. Like you’re making him nervous. 

“Me and Richie are friends,” you say quietly. “Is that what you want us to be?” 

His hand twitches at his side. 

“There, cousin, I cut the fucking onions. You happy?” Richie asks, and laughs as he steps back out to the front of house, unaware of the tension. “That’d be the day, right?” 

“Yes, Richie, I’m happy you did your job. Thank you.” 

“Was that hard for you, baby?” you ask Richie with a pout. “Here, let me kiss your poor hands.” 

Richie gives you the bird with both of them. 

You look to Carmy. Making fun of Richie together isn’t quite as good as holding hands, but you hope it’s a start. 

Carmy catches on, can’t hide his grin, “There’s tylenol in the office if you need it, cousin.”  

“Are your wrists feeling tender?” you prompt. “Or is that motion one you’re used to?” 

Carmy laughs and the sound takes on the shape of his smile, nearly giddy. 

“Fuck both of you.”