#i rolled both requests into 1!

[wendigoruble]

Would Franco ever allow anyone to play with his hair? Like brush it or put it in little pigtails, I know he hasn’t got much but it’s so pretty! 🎀

I think he'd make an exception C:

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 1

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 1 Tsumsitters (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The beginning of the Riddle's part is the same as in the request, but I added a little bit more scenario after that.

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

Yuutsum 3 (after going to the English server)

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With your Tsum in your arms, you find Ace and Deuce, leaning over with their hands on their knees as if they were catching their breath after a run. They look at you first, but quickly the cute little creature you hold in your arms catches their attention. They both have that look on their faces like they think it's the cutest and most beautiful little thing in the world but don't want to admit it.

They say that Riddle also has one of those and it was the one they were chasing and trying to catch, but they lost it. The moment they said Riddle’s name, you felt your Tsum move enthusiastically for a moment.

They hear something, when they look they see Riddle-tsum in the distance and run towards it, starting the chase again. Your Tsum jumps out of your arms and runs with them, which makes you run after them too.

Your Tsum passes Ace and Deuce, which surprises them because they were so fast, and throws itself at Riddle-tsum, rolling together for a few seconds until they both stop. When this happened, Riddle-tsum didn't run away again, and the two were rubbing each other's cheeks happily.

Ace grabbed Riddle-tsum while it was distracted. It seemed upset about being caught. But the moment Deuce grabbed your Tsum that upsetness turn into anger. Riddle-tsum jumped out of Ace's arms, hits him in the face and threw itself right in Deuce's face to make him release your Tsum. Once back on the ground, Riddle-tsum positioned itself between your Tsum and those two, glaring threateningly at Ace and Deuce.

Once again, it doesn't run away. You finally get close to them and approach the tsums. When Riddle-tsum sees you it relaxes again and looks at you with admiration. As if looking at a royalty.

Ace and Deuce suggest that you try taking them both to Heartslabyul, as Riddle-tsum doesn't seem to like either of them. They were small enough for you to be able to carry them both in your arms without any problems.

You take them both in your arms and Riddle-tsum immediately turns red. It looked like a tomato in white clothes, and it writhed as if it wanted to hide in your arms in embarrassment. When you arrive at Heartslabyul, Riddle-tsum's blush had already subsided.

“Ah, prefect.” Riddle says when he sees you, Ace and Deuce arriving. “I see you were the one who managed to catch...” He looks at your arms to see his tsum, but his gaze automatically goes to your tsum instead. “Oh, there is one similar to you too. It looks... as charming as you.” he blushes just a little.

After explaining how you three caught Riddle-tsum, Ace suggests that they leave you and your Tsum with Riddle-tsum to prevent it from escaping again or causing trouble. Or hurt someone else. Riddle hesitates at first, as he is the one responsible for taking care of his tsum, but soon after, Riddle-tsum hits a student for breaking some rule and Riddle starts arguing with it so he stops attacking others.

You place a hand on Riddle's shoulder to try to calm him down a little and at that moment both of your attention went to your tsums. Your Tsum was between you and Riddle-tsum.

“You know, they remind me of the hedgehogs in a way.” Riddle says “And now they are reminding me of when they come closer to smell each other or to rub each other's noses. I can't deny that I find it quite cute whenever they do it.”

And then your Tsum starts rubbing its little round nose against Riddle-tsum's and caressing it to calm it down. And it works. It returns the affection by staying very close to your Tsum.

Riddle blushes a little again, and says that, reconsidering Ace's suggestion and if you want, you could take care of your tsums together.

You were walking with your Tsum in your arms when you saw Cater and his Tsum on Main Street. Cater-tsum seemed to be curled defensively around something Cater was trying to retrieve.

“Look, you can't have it, okay?!” You hear Carter say to his Tsum as you get close to them.

You greet him by asking what they are doing. Cater gives you a quick glance before turning his attention back to Cater-tsum, as if he's afraid that if he looks away it'll escape.

“Hey, (Y/N)-chan! I'm trying to get my-” He quickly looks back at you, more specifically at the adorable little thing you have in your arms. “Oh!... My!... Great Seven!” He turns his body towards you, his gaze so fixed on your Tsum that he doesn't even blink. “YOU HAVE A TSUMMY TOO! And it's the most adorable little thing I've ever seen in my life!”

Suddenly you both got jumpscared as something jumps towards you. It was Cater-tsum jumping into your arms! Despite the scare, you manage to catch it and it starts to nestle into your arms and cuddle your Tsum. Cater looks at the floor where Tsum was and sees his cell phone left behind. He retrieves it.

“We HAVE to take a pic of them!” Cater says excitedly “No! We have to do a whole photoshoot! Here! It's a great place to start.”

If you like taking pictures, your Tsum will be very excited. If you are shy, your Tsum will turn around to hide its face in your arms.

“Awwwww~ That’s even more adorable! Pwease! I beg you~" He says to your Tsum. Cater-tsum will also make pleading eyes at your Tsum.

The four of you spend a lot of time taking pictures in different places. Both pictures of the Tsums and of you with Cater. Until Cater and his Tsum have enough pictures to finally let you and your Tsum rest.

You sit on a bench, you with your Tsum on your lap and Cater with his Tsum on his lap, both of them editing photos on his cell phone. However, you feel your Tsum move and leave your lap to headbutt Cater's hand that was holding the cell phone, making it fall against his belly. After that, your tsum just stands there looking at Cater-tsum with a slightly annoyed look. Cater-tsum smiles with its tiny eyes and jumps against your tsum so they can cuddle each other.

Cater looks at the Tsums protecting the cell phone against his chest, watches them for a moment and then looks at you.

“Hey, if you want to do the same, just need to ask, you know~?” Cater says and winks at you.

If you accept, he'll put an arm around your shoulders and edit the photos with you, while your two Tsums cuddle on your laps.

Your Tsum was restless, impatient. It really wanted to go somewhere. So you pick it up and walk around campus trying to understand where it wants to go. Fortunately you don't need to walk far, as the botanical garden is one of the closest points to Ramshackle Dorm.

As soon as you enter, your tsum jumps out of your arms and starts jumping (its way of running) somewhere in the middle of some bushes. And you know that spot well. As soon as you stop seeing it, you hear a patient growl.

“Another one?” You hear Leona's voice. “Hey! What do you think you're doing?!” You follow the voice, pass through the bushes and see Leona lying down with two tsums on top of his torso. Your Tsum and Leona-tsum, cuddled up like two cats sleeping with each other.

“Herbivore, get your stuffie thing out of here and take the one that looks like me with you too. I'm not a nest to have two pesky armadillos sleeping on top of me!”

You kneel down next to him, looking at Leona-tsum with that “HE’S SO CUTE!” twinkle in your eyes. Leona-tsum looks at you and its sleepy eyes suddenly open, almost bulging. And it jumps onto your chest, knowing you would catch it.

“You got one.” Leona said. “Just one more to-” He interrupted himself, looking at his chest and seeing your tsum rising until it approached his face.

If you look at his face, you will see Leona's pupils dilating. And your tsum snuggling against his chest. You comment that you don't think your tsum will want to leave his side.

“Why don't you walk away with that one and see what happens? Maybe yours will follow.”

You are also curious to know what would happen. Leona-tsum was already sleeping in your arms.

You walk away with it, towards the exit of the botanical garden. Halfway there it wakes up and you feel it move in your arms. You stop and look at it. It seemed to have an annoyed look on its face, very similar to what Leona does when things aren't going according to his plans. You open your mouth to say or ask something, but it's Leona's voice that can be heard throughout the botanical garden.

“OI!” You hear Leona growl in annoyance. “Who do you think you are demanding anythin’ from me?!” And then you hear him roar.

You come back with Leona-tsum in your arms, and you find your tsum pulling one of Leona's braids towards you as if it wanted to force him to come to you.

“This thing really takes after you.” he comments, in a tone reminiscent of a father irritated with a child he deep down loves.

Leona-tsum jumps out of your arms and lazily approaches your tsum. Your tsum lets go of Leona's braid.

You both see Leona-tsum rubbing its cheek on your Tsum's cheek, and making a movement as if it was licking your Tsum's face. After calming your tsum down, the two of them curl up to sleep together.

“Well, at least they're not bothering me anymore.” Leona says. He closes his eyes, but right after, he opens one of them again to look at you. “If you're also going to stay here with your stuffie thing, at least be useful. This floor isn't the best pillow, you know?” He makes that gesture for you to come closer with his index finger.

And if you let him use your lap to lie down, he will fall asleep in 3 seconds, just like his Tsum did.

You were in the Ramshackle Dorm Lounge with your Tsum and Grim was in your bedroom, probably taking a nap after eating too much, when you hear someone knocking at the door. You go open the door, leaving your Tsum on the couch. You do it and see Jack.

“Hi (Y/N). Sorry to bother you, but this Tsum-” Before Jack could finish his sentence, you saw something near your feet come barreling through the door. You look back in time to see Jack-tsum turn to enter the Lounge. “Ah! Sorry. It won't sit still. Let's catch it before it does any damage.”

The two of you go to the lounge and stop right at the entrance. Jack-tsum was on the couch with your Tsum. Jack-tsum was jumping around your Tsum, its little tail wagging like crazy, and its eyes shining while also rubbing its face against your Tsum’s as if licking it. It was just like a puppy wanting to play.

“OI!” Jack shouted “Don't mess up (Y/N)'s couch!”

Jack-tsum sulked and your Tsum jumped from the couch to the floor. Jack-tsum followed it. Your Tsum approached Jack and smiled at him with its eyes, as if it were greeting him.

“Hum?” Jack’s ears pricked up as he looked down. “You also have a Tsum similar to you.” He didn't realize his tail had started wagging.

Jack-tsum followed your Tsum and you felt the need to bend down to see Jack-tsum up close. It looked at you with big bright eyes and its tail wagging wildly. You comment on how cute it is and reach out to pet it.

“Be careful.” Jack warns you “It doesn't let anyone...” You start to pet its head as it leans in your hand. “... touch it... What's the deal with this thing? Whenever anyone approached it would either move away or growl at them. How did you do that? I can't even catch it to take it to Savanaclaw.”

You say you don't know what you did either, if anything special. And you comment that it seems to like you. This makes Jack blush slightly.

“How would it not?” he says softly, and without meaning to. He clears his throat. “Um, do you mind if we stay here for a while? It seems to have finally settle down a bit.”

Your tsum goes to Jack-tsum's side and they both look at you as if begging you to say yes. You agree and the two Tsums bounce happily for a moment before they start running around the lounge together.

“OI! You two be careful!” Jack warns “Don't break or mess anything up, you hear?!”

You laugh and comment on how much you think Jack and his Tsum look alike.

“It's just the hair and the outfit.” he says a little embarrassed “Do I look round and soft?!”

“Round maybe not but soft...” You laugh and he blushes.

Before he could open his mouth to try to respond to that, the tsums started running towards you and ended up bump into you as they passed, which made you lose your balance. Jack catches you.

“What did I say?” he shouts to the tsums. He looks at you. "Are you okay?" in his arms, and he releases you, blushing a little. “Sorry about that.” he rubs the back of his neck. “It had never done this.”

“Maybe it was a bad influence.” you say and look at the Tsums. From the looks on their faces, especially your Tsum’s, it wasn't an accident.

You were walking down the Main Street with your Tsum in your arms when you hear footsteps running behind you, approaching quickly. You turn around in shock and see a very tall figure right in front of you. Then you realize it's Floyd.

“Boo~” Floyd smiles at you with something writhing violently in his arms. You look and see his Tsum trying to get free. You also notice, by the way he is holding Floyd-tsum, that he is using a lot of force. “Hi Koebi-chan~. Whatcha doin'~?” He sees something in your arms and looks to find your Tsum. “Woo! You have one too! And it looks so small and weak like you, how cute! He he.”

(What you don't know is that what really happened was that Floyd-tsum was loose and took off running when it saw you. The footsteps you heard were Floyd running to catch it before Floyd-tsum caught you first.)

Your Tsum made a sulky face, while Floyd-tsum continued to struggle in Floyd's arms. You say Floyd-tsum is also very cute, it stops and looks at you with smiling little eyes.

“Do you wanna play with it?” Floyd asks and you say yes. “Sure, but careful how you handle it. It’s easy to set this guy-” The moment he let his arms go slack for a second, Floyd-tsum jumped into your arms.

With difficulty, but you managed to catch it without letting your tsum fall. Now you had them both in your arms. You saw it squeezing your tsum while it snuggled into your arms. However, your tsum didn't seem uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it felt like a passionate everyday hug.

Between letting Floyd-tsum jump out of his arms, until realizing that it wouldn't hurt you, Floyd stared at his Tsum with that serious face that all students who know him the least bit fear.

“Aw~ Aren't they cute together?” he says with his usual relaxed expression. He sees that you are having difficulty holding both tsums. “Let them go. They can walk on their own. Or hop, I guess.”

You do so. The two Tsums land on the ground and Floyd-tsum jumps up to continue hugging your Tsum. But before it can, Floyd quickly picks up your Tsum in his arms and starts squeezing it too.

“MY TURN!” Floyd says to his Tsum.

This one sulks, looks at you and jumps back towards you. You catch it and it hugs your forearm. You and Floyd laugh, until the pressure in your arm starts to increase to the point where it starts to hurt. The moment you grimace, Floyd's expression changes, he lets go of your tsum and rips his off your arm.

“I warned you.” he says to his tsum, with the same face he uses to threaten students who don't pay Azul. “Someone is not keeping their side of the deal.”

Floyd-tsum manages to escape and hugs your tsum again, but without hurting it. Floyd looks at you, who looks slightly sad, and sees you rubbing the forearm that Tsum was squeezing. He holds your wrist to see better. There is a slight reddish mark. He lets go of your wrist, turns to the Tsums and lifts his foot as if to step on his tsum. Before you could stop him, your tsum does it, getting out of Floyd-tsum's embrace and positioning itself between it and Floyd's sole when he was about to hit his Tsum. He looks at your tsum's fearless face for a moment and laughs heartily.

“HA HA HA HA! It also takes after you, Koebi-chan~” He puts his foot back on the ground and turns back to you. “We were going to Mostro Lounge. Do you want to come?”

With your Tsum in your arms, you were walking down Main Street when you heard a scream. It sounded like someone was being attacked by a dog or something. You follow the sound and see Epel, another Pomefiore student, and an Epel-tsum attacking this student while Epel tries to stop it.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and runs (or hops) towards them until it stops between Epel-tsum and the student, preventing the tsum from attacking him again. And then, your tsum headbutted Epel-tsum so hard that it even knocked it upside down for a moment. Enough time for Epel to catch it. The other student runs away and Epel-tsum begins to struggle in Epel's arms.

“Stop it!” Epel complained “Ya can't go aroun´ attackin´ students!”

You approach them asking if everything is okay and if he needs help. Epel-tsum stops and looks at you. You smile when you see that Epel also has a tsum and comment on how cute it is (like any tsum).

“No! Don't call it that!” The Tsum manages to jump out of Epel's arms and towards you.

He panics, but instead of the Tsum hitting you, it lands in your arms and just looks at you with a sulky face. You say it's still being cute, and once again, instead of it attacking you, its little face turns red with blush.

Epel freezes, completely confused for a moment until he thinks about what could be the possible reason for you being the only person who called the Tsum cute and it didn't attack. And when he thinks of the most likely reason, he also blushes.

Your tsum also jumped into Epel's arms, surprising him. It smiles at him with its cute little eyes and his blush deepens. Your voice is the only thing that makes Epel look away from your Tsum, asking if you could accompany him and his Tsum if they were going to Pomefiore.

In his dorm, needless to say, Rook wasted no time praising the Tsums, both Epel's and yours. But since Epel's Tsum didn't seem to appreciate the comments very much, especially if they focused on the fact that it was cute, Rook ended up turning his attention to your Tsum, which ended up bothering Epel's Tsum even more.

“It looks like someone is jaloux.” Rook says smiling amused.

That was the only thing that made Epel-tsum throw itself at him, to attack. Rook dodged it like a bullfighter with the grace of someone who was expecting it. Epel panicked and quickly picked up his tsum and apologized to Rook.

“There is no reason to apologize, Monsieur Pommette.” Rook says, loving the situation more than he should. “Truly. I must confess that my provocation was premeditated. C'est tellement beau to see your true feelings and emotions through your Tsum's lack of filter.”

“WHA-?! WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

Rook just laughs, winks at Epel and starts walking towards the door. Halfway there he passes you, leans over and whispers in your ear: “Could you tame the little beast for us, Trickster?” and leaves.

Epel's Tsum struggled in his arms, angry... with jealousy.

Your Tsum was restless, impatient. It really wanted to go somewhere. So you pick it up and walk around campus trying to understand where it wants to go. You leave Ramshackle Dorm, pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors.

As soon as you enter, your Tsum escapes from your arms and quickly jumps until it enters the mirror to Diasmonia. You follow it, but you realize that you lost sight of it the moment it passed through the mirror.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N)!” Lilia is the first to come and greet you. “To what do we owe such a wonderful surprise visit?”

You tell him about your tsum.

“Ah yes! Sebek also has a cute little lookalike. I can't wait to see yours. Although if it's as adorable or even more adorable than you, we're going to have a cuteness overdose problem in this dorm. Khe he. Well, from what I understand, and despite Sebek denying it, the personality of these tsums is very similar to the personality of those they physically resemble. So if your tsum wanted to come here, where do you think it would have gone? Where would you want to go?”

You don't think about a ‘where’ but rather a ‘who’ and that may have shown on your face, beacuse Lilia laughs amusedly.

“So maybe your tsum went to meet someone? Maybe a fellow tsum? Khe he he. I suggest we look for Malleus. Wherever he is, Sebek and Silver will be there too.”

The two of you head to the lounge, but before you get there you can already hear all the commotion. Aka: Sebek’s thunderous voice.

“Don't look at me like that! No matter who your looks resemble, you're bothering Malleus-sama and meddling in our, I mean my guard duties!”

“Actually,” You hear Malleus's patient voice say. “I am quite enjoying this little one's presence. It's as pleasant as (Y/N)'s own presence. Wouldn't you agree, Sebek?”

“HM?! Yes! Of course sir! Please forgive me for implying that this Tsum's presence was inconvenient.”

You and Lilia arrive at the lounge and approach those two. Sebek, as expected, was standing very straight next to Malleus, who was sitting in one of the sofas. Coming closer, you see that both your Tsum and Sebek's Tsum are in Malleus' lap. And Sebek-tsum looked like it was... about to cry?

“AWW~ Look at you.” Lilia said, your Tsum turned to him. “You are even cuter than I imagined. *sigh* What an unfair competition.”

The moment Sebek-tsum sees you is when it finally starts crying.

“HUM?! What is wrong with you?” Sebek inquires. “You are such a strange creature.”

“I think it's too much emotion to see so many people it likes together.” Lilia says with a smirk.

“W-Well, regardless, it should learn to control itself!”

You come closer, worried about Sebek-tsum, and ask if it would like a hug to feel better. It looks at you, then at Malleus, back at you, Malleus, you, Malleus, and on until it almost gets dizzy and the indecision seems to make it more sad.

“I think I have an idea.” Malleus says. “(Y/N), would you like to sit next to me?”

You sit down, he asks you to come closer until your thighs touch, so he can place Sebek-tsum on both of your laps at the same time. It, still in tears, seemed to be thanking Malleus with his eyes and head.

“How intelligent and generous, my liege!” Even Sebek himself had a tear in the corner of his eye.

He was about to continue his praise when your Tsum jumped from Malleus' lap into Sebek's hands. He caught it as if he was saving it from a fall. It looked at him and smiled with its eyes.

“How precious.” He said with a tender smile, as he was still emotional about Malleus's act. Then he realized what he had just said and blushed in embarrassment. But he didn't stop holding your Tsum.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TIKTOK TRENDS | PART 5

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: Kissing (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

1. We listen, and we don't judge

Y/N's phone was set up, angled perfectly to capture herself and Matt sitting in front of Matt's computer desk in their room, with his arm lazily draped over Y/N’s shoulder, caressing her covered skin.

"Alright, people, welcome back. We’re doing the 'We Listen and We Don’t Judge' trend because, apparently, you guys are crazy to see us admitting some things." Y/N starts, glancing at Matt, who’s watching her through her phone screen with a small smile decorating his features. "Keyword: don’t judge, okay?" She emphasizes, holding up a finger to his face. "I know how you get."

"I’m the least judgmental person, you know." Matt counters, looking directly at her, smirking. "Ladies first."

Y/N looks at the camera dramatically, as if preparing for a confession of a lifetime.

"Okay... so... I’ve been lying about being afraid to get my driver’s license-"

Matt’s jaw drops in faux shock.

"What?!"

"Wait, wait, wait." She quickly holds up her hand. "I say I’m scared, but I’m really not. I just don’t want to drive because I love it when you drive me everywhere so I can be your passenger princess."

Matt covers his face with both hands, groaning.

"Y/N! Are you serious right now?" His voice sounds muffled by his palms.

"Yes!" She giggles. "Because I know you’ll always do it. Even if it's the middle of the night."

He shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

"Can't believe I have a second Chris in my life... We listen, and we don’t judge, I guess." He rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Hey! Don't compare me to Christop-"

"Shh, it's my turn now." Matt straightens up. "Sometimes, when I’m separating our clothes for laundry..." He pauses dramatically.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

"What?"

"I... smell your panties to check if they’re, like, really dirty."

Her mouth falls open.

"MATT!"

"What?!" He exclaims defensively. "We listen, and we don’t judge, remember?"

"That’s not listening. That’s borderline psychotic!" She laughs, smacking his arm.

"It’s efficient!" He insists, laughing along with her. "And they always smell good, by the way."

"Okay, okay. That's what intimacy and three years living together do to you, guys." She says, sighing dramatically. "My turn again." Y/N leans forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes, especially during the winter, when there are dirty dishes in the sink, I pretend not to see them, so you’ll wash them."

Matt throws his head back in exaggerated disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?! You make me wash dishes all the time purposefully, then?"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" She says quickly, pointing at him.

"Y/N, I knew it! I’d be like, 'How did she miss that giant pile of plates?', because I know that Chris doesn't wash his for anything in this world and Nick is cleaner than that."

"It’s selective blindness." She admits, shrugging innocently. "And don't call me dirty, asshole!"

"Unreal." He mutters, but his smile lets it be known that he isn't mad. "Okay, my turn. Remember when I went to Boston by plane alone last month, and I decided last minute I wanted you to come with me?"

Y/N nods.

"Yeah, and you surprised me with a plane ticket. It was so sweet."

"Well, the tickets were super expensive exactly because it was last minute, like a thousand dollars more than when I bought mine." Matt starts, scratching the back of his neck. "But I bought it anyway because I didn’t want us to be on separate planes. If the plane crashed, I wanted us to die together."

Y/N stares at him in shock.

"MATT. WHAT THE-"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" He defends himself, holding up his hands.

"That is so sweet and so morbid at the same time!" She exclaims.

Matt shrugs.

"It made sense to me at the time."

Y/N takes a deep breath, clearly trying not to laugh too hard.

"Can't believe you spent more than a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Boston." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Can't blame me for wanting to have my girl back home with me." He muttered, smiling shyly at her.

She pouts, looking at the camera with a 'Are you seeing this cuteness?' look.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" She takes his hand closer to hers, taking it to her mouth and sealing his skin with her lips. "Alright. Here’s another one. I always let you serve me my plate when I cook any meal because I know you’ll put more food on mine than yours."

Matt raises an eyebrow.

"And you call me psychotic?"

"You’re predictable!" She shoots back, grinning. "And the more food, the better."

He chuckles.

"Fine. We listen, and we don’t judge. My turn again. When I go to take a shower and say I forgot to grab my towel..."

Y/N immediately narrows her eyes.

"Oh no. What now?"

"I didn’t actually forget it. I’m just too lazy to grab it myself, so I call you to bring it to me."

"Matthew!" She exclaims, smacking his arm again.

He laughs, unbothered.

"Hey, you bring it every time, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal."

She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Of course I do! I don't want you to drip all over our bedroom." Her voice gets high-pitched. "Unbelievable." Y/N takes a deep breath while looking at her phone camera. "Okay, last one from me. When you go record videos with Nick and Chris out of the house, I play Fortnite on your computer."

Matt’s eyes widen.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"On my account?"

"Yup!"

Matt gasps, scandalized.

"You’re out here ruining my stats?"

"No! I’m good, I promise!"

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly skeptical but amused.

"Chat, she's lucky she's cute."

Y/N grins and leans against him, softly caressing his hand with her fingers.

"Your turn to end it, babe."

Matt thinks for a moment, then grins.

"Alright. Final confession. One time, you needed my help to open this sweet jar I had just bought. It was one of those really stubborn, super-sealed ones, and you couldn’t get it open no matter how hard you tried."

"So...?" Y/N pulls away from him, frowning in confusion.

"The thing is, when I got it open, you looked at me in this way that... let’s just say I felt very appreciative of my strength." He wetted his lips, trying to hide his smile.

"Matt!" She exclaimed, searching his eyes with wide ones, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Wait, wait, it gets better!" He said, waving her off. "So later, I went back to that sweet jar and tightened it as hard as I possibly could just so you'd have to ask me for help again."

Y/N mouth open in disbelief.

"You did not."

"Oh, I absolutely did." He said proudly, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "And it worked! Next day, you were struggling with it again, and there I was, showing up to save your day."

Y/N swatted his arm, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

"You’re the worst! I can’t believe you manipulated me with a sweet jar."

"It’s called strategy, babe." He said, dodging her playful hits. "And you totally fell for it."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. A boy who's jacked and kind

The soft hum of Sabrina's song filled the room as Y/N set her phone up on the dresser, already recording, before standing in front of Matt, a sweet smile tugging at her lips as she looked into the front camera. Her hands rested loosely at her sides, and her bright expression mirrored the expectation to finally do the TikTok trend.

Behind her, Matt stood tall, his brown hair slightly messy decorating his straight face. His posture was casual, hands resting on his hips, as he waited for the right moment.

As the verse "A boy who’s jacked and kind” began to play, Matt immediately lowered himself behind her, bending slightly to grab Y/N by her thighs. The motion was swift but careful, his hands wrapping securely around her legs just above her knees. Without breaking a sweat, he hoisted her into the air, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

Y/N let out a loud, surprised laugh, but it didn’t break her radiant smile to the phone. She reached down instinctively to hold onto his shoulder, her fingers brushing the collar of his pink shirt for stability.

Matt straightened up, effortlessly placing her on his right shoulder. His grip on her thighs was firm yet gentle, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her balance. With Y/N sitting comfortably on him, Matt turned his attention back to the front camera.

Grinning brightly, he flexed his left bicep exaggeratedly, his arm bulging just enough to make the flex appear, a contrast to his lean frame.

The two of them looked like they were in Disneyland, their expressions full of joy. Matt’s smile stretched wide, his boyish expression evident as he proudly held Y/N on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Y/N’s laughter was silent as she leaned forward slightly, her cheeks flushing with amusement.

When posted, Y/N made sure to put the caption as: those push-ups are really getting him somewhere.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Being rude to my triplet's girlfriend to see his reaction

The phone was already recording when the Crumbl Cookies were neatly arranged on the wooden table. The pastel pink box was opened, revealing an assortment of cookies that looked almost too pretty to eat. Y/N sat between Matt and Chris, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned closer to it. Nick stood opposite them, fiddling with his phone to adjust the camera angle.

"This is so cute." Y/N said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I can’t believe I’m finally doing a Crumbl Cookie review with you guys!"

Matt smiled at her, his hand naturally finding its place on her knee beneath the table.

"You'll love the lemon one." He said, his tone warm and encouraging.

Chris and Nick exchanged a quick glance, their smirks barely concealed. They had planned this little prank earlier that morning, where they would pretend to be rude to Matt's girlfriend just to see his reaction. Y/N was in on it, of course, and she’d been surprisingly eager to play along.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." Nick said, his tone sharp as he rolled his eyes dramatically, sitting by Chris's side. "Can we just start? I don’t want to sit here all day."

Y/N blinked, her smile faltering just slightly.

"Oh, um, okay..." She said softly, glancing at Matt, who immediately noticed the change in her tone.

"What’s the rush?" Matt asked, narrowing his eyes at Nick.

"Yeah, Nick." Chris chimed in, turning slightly so he could look into Nick's eyes. "Not like this is going to be a life-changing experience or anything. It’s just cookies."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, her hand fidgeting with her napkin.

"I mean, I’m just really excited." She said, her voice quieter now, playing her part. "I've seen you guys do this when you went back to Boston, and I really wanted to do it too."

Matt’s jaw tensed as he looked between his brothers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two? You both like some of those."

Nick scoffed, picking up a cookie and taking a careless bite.

"Honestly, I don’t get the hype. They’re just cookies. We've tried all of it with Nate already. You don’t have to act like it’s a five-star restaurant or something."

Chris snorted, grabbing his own cookie and making a point to ignore Y/N entirely.

"Yeah, and she hasn’t even tried them yet. Bet she’s gonna overreact or something."

Matt’s hand left Y/N’s knee as he sat up straighter, his protective instincts kicking in.

"What the fuck are you guys on about?" He snapped, his voice sharper now. "Why are you being such assholes?"

Y/N pretended to shrink in her seat, her lips pressing together as if she were holding back tears. Matt noticed immediately and turned his full attention to her.

"Babe, hey." He said softly while his hands found hers, squeezing her fingers, his voice and act a stark contrast to the anger he’d just directed at his brothers. "Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just being idiots. We can eat all of it if you want to."

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she tried to maintain her act.

"I just... I was really excited, but maybe it’s not a big deal. We can do another-"

"No, it is a big deal." Matt said firmly, his gaze flicking back to Nick and Chris with a glare that could melt ice. "What are you two on about? She’s excited about this, and you’re just shitting on it for no reason."

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, chill, Matt. It’s not that serious."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising.

"Not that serious? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re being rude as hell to my girlfriend. How is that not serious?"

Nick laughed nervously, clearly trying to stay in character but faltering under Matt’s hard stare.

"We’re just saying it’s not a big deal. No need to get all worked up."

Matt scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You’re unbelievable. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to treat people with respect?"

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Matt’s arm, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, it’s okay..."

"No, it’s not okay." He said, his voice softening as he looked at her but still laced with frustration. "You don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially not by them." He pointed at his brothers with disdain. "You two can get out of here if it's so hard to eat cookies, and-"

Chris finally cracked, unable to hold back his laughter any longer, interrupting the middle triplet.

"Okay, okay, stop. Matt, it’s a joke!"

Nick followed suit, laughing as he raised his hands defensively.

"Yeah, it’s a TikTok trend! We were just messing with you to see how you’d react."

Matt froze, his brows furrowing as he processed their words.

"A trend?"

Y/N bit her lip, finally breaking character as she let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah... I knew about it. I’m sorry, babe, but we wanted to see how you’d feel in this situation."

Matt’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief as he leaned back in his chair.

"You’re kidding me."

Chris grinned, still laughing.

"Dude, you were ready to kill us. You’re such a good boyfriend. It’s actually insane."

"You guys are fucking idiots." Matt ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I'm going to bed. C'mon, Y/N."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. Rating kisses

The warm glow of fairy lights lit up the cozy bedroom as Y/N adjusted her phone on her right hand, Matt's fingers brushing against her thigh as she settled by his side on the edge of the bed.

"So." Y/N began. "This filter gives us ten different types of kisses, and we have to rate each one of them."

Matr tilted her head, smirking.

"And this is your excuse to receive ten kisses from me in one sitting?"

Y/N gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest.

"Excuse me? This is for science! We are conducting a very serious experiment here."

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

"Fine. Let’s see how you do, Ms. Science."

She hit the screen, and the filter started spinning before landing on the first kiss: Cheek Kiss.

Matt leaned closer, cupping her face with one hand as he pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her blush. He pulled back, a smug look on his face.

"Well?" He prompted, his eyebrows wiggling jokingly.

"Hmm... I’ll give it a 2." She shrugged, biting back a grin when seeing his reaction to her saying. "It was nice, but we’ve got nine more to go. Gotta leave room for improvement."

Matt muttered something under his breath about "ungrateful test subjects", but the filter moved on to the next kiss: Neck Kiss.

Y/N’s lips curved into a large grin, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Don’t make this weird, Matthew."

"Oh, I would never." He said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

He scooted closer, gently brushing her hair aside. His lips brushed against the curve of her neck, soft and slow, sending a shiver down her spine. She let out an involuntary squeak, his warm breath tickling her skin, and Matt pulled back with a satisfied smile.

"Okay." She said, trying to compose herself. "That’s a 3."

"Damn right it is." He said, leaning back triumphantly.

The next kiss popped up: Forehead Kiss.

Matt’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands, bending her head before leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or playful, just sweet and sincere, filled with affection.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her heart melting at the gesture. When she opened them, her voice was soft.

"That’s a 4. I really love this one."

Matt smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

"I do, too."

The fourth kiss was Spiderman Kiss.

Matt immediately leaned back, his head hanging on the air above the mattress, almost bending his whole spine with his hair falling around.

"Alright, let’s do this." He said, his voice muffled by his awkward position.

Y/N laughed, leaning over him and pressing an upside-down kiss to his lips, the angle making it clumsy but undeniably sweet.

They pulled apart, both laughing.

"Okay, that’s a 7." Y/N said, still giggling. "Cute, but kind of impractical."

"Agreed." Matt said, sitting back up and rubbing his aching neck.

The next kiss was Nose Kiss.

Y/N laughed softly as Matt leaned in again, rubbing their noses together in an exaggerated Eskimo kiss before pecking the tip of her nose lightly.

"You're adorable." She looked into his eyes for a second. "I’ll give it a 5."

Then came the Bite Kiss.

Matt’s grin turned mischievous.

"Now this one, I'm the best at."

"Don’t be too hard!" Y/N warned, but her voice wavered slightly. "You left a bruise on my shoulder the last time you decided that biting me was a good idea."

He ignored her comment and lifted her arm, his teeth closing around the exposed skin. He pulled back with a boyish grin not even a second later, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's romantic. You have to accept that." Matt rolled his eyes playfully, kissing quickly the spot he had just bitten.

"Shut up. Now, that’s a 9 just because I'm sure there's worse than that."

"Hey! There are no bad kisses around here." Matt's voice got high-pitched.

The next was Air Kiss. They both leaned back, dramatically blowing kisses at each other with exaggerated sound effects.

"That’s an 8." Y/N declared.

"Okay." Matt nodded.

The next kiss, Hand Kiss, took a more romantic turn. Matt gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he lifted it to his lips. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his eyes locking with hers as he pulled away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered.

"Okay, kind sir, that’s a 6. Sweet, but it doesn’t beat the others."

Matt pouted.

"Tough crowd."

When Foot Kiss appeared, Y/N recoiled.

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Come on, we’ve committed this far!" Matt argued, leaning down and grabbing her bare foot before she could escape. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of it, grinning as she dissolved into laughter, kicking against his hands lightly, causing the phone to tremble.

"That’s a 10." She said through her giggles, trying to breathe in while sitting up again.

"Fair." He admitted, wiping his lips jokingly.

Finally, the last kiss appeared: Lip Kiss.

Matt’s teasing demeanor softened as he leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw and his thumb caressing her cheek. His lips met hers in a slow, lingering kiss that made the rest of the world fade away. It was gentle but filled with so much love that Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest.

When he pulled back, she looked at him with a dazed smile.

"That’s a 1. Obviously."

Matt grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How does it feel to scientifically prove I’m the best kisser ever?"

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes to her phone camera.

"Don’t let it go to your head, King of Kisses."

"Too late." Matt said, pressing another kiss to the side of her head.

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching

word count: 1.1k

part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class

When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request. 

For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery. 

It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.” 

Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.

Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making. 

To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him. 

“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body. 

Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.” 

“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”

“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students. 

“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.” 

Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.” 

“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue. 

Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you. 

“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side. 

“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.” 

Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it. 

That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?” 

To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows. 

“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”  

Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building. 

Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.

[wcters]

𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k+

summary: after travelling with lando to the last couple of grand prix’s, it takes another driver flirting with you for him to realize his feelings

request: “i've been seeing clips of lando not eating and taking care of himself properly during this short break and max stressing out on the stream could you please write a lando x reader please, where reader is close friends with lando and max and takes it upon herself to travel with lando for the remaining of the gps to make sure hes well. maybe one of the drivers tries to flirt with her during one of the races and thats what makes lando realise he has feelings for her. “

warnings: sweating, talks of unhealthy habits, awkward flirting | what other driver to flirt with her than the one who flirts with everyone, sorry i’ve kind of made him look like a dick i just don’t know how to flirt 🤷‍♀️ not too confident in this one

You’d been friends with Lando almost as long as Max had. You’d been friends with Max for almost your whole lives ━━ meeting him when his family was visiting some of their family during the summer in your town and you two hit it off. You had known about Lando, but you didn’t fully meet him until about a year after the two boys had met. The two of you connected instantly. Both of you don’t know why, though Max had always joked that you two were each others person . . . and you both didn’t know, but he tried the trick the two of you into getting together. He could see the look in Lando’s eyes when he’d look at you, but he’d always make excuses. ‘She’s just a friend, I’m too busy with formula 1,’ etc. Max would just roll his eyes.

You were a bit more accepting to the idea, because you did like him a little bit. Though you didn’t want to ruin the friendship and didn’t want to interrupt his career. You cared too much, and would rather be friends with him than mess it up in a chance that he liked you. Don’t get me wrong, you’d had boyfriends over they years, but the came and went, and you ended up going to Lando or Max about another boy who broke your heart. Every time that happened, Lando swore his heart broke a little bit, but he never told you. He was never really open with his feelings, and that’s why you didn’t notice he wasn’t doing for awhile.

You had known Lando was stressed about this current F1 season. He always talked about it, not about the stress, really, just more about how the car was, the team was, and there was undertone that only you or Max could sense. You both kept an eye on him, but you had recently gotten busy with some stuff. Checking your phone had slipped your mind and you don’t even think to do it until you finally had some time to yourself and you ordered some takeout. It wasn’t until you texted the group chat that Max called you.

“You alright?” You asked him, mouth full of Chinese food. “Yeah. You?” You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, “yeah.” There was some silence before a sigh from the other end. “Usually I don’t get into his business because he can handle himself, but I’m worried about Lando.” You raised your eyebrows and set your food down on the coffee table and paused your television. “What do you mean? Is he okay? I know he’s been stressed but I didn’t think it was anything he hasn’t handled before. It’s Lando, you know?” You ranted, eyes drawing to a picture of the three of you on your wall.

“I know. I wasnt going to do anything besides talk to him about it, but he’s blocked me out. He’s been mentioning ━━ unknowingly, because if he did he wouldn’t say it all ━━ that he’s not been eating well. In the sense that he’s eating expired food that will get him sick but he doesn’t want to go out and not showering a lot. At first, I thought he was just over-exaggerating, but then it continued and when I’d ask, he’d push me off. I don’t think he’s well.” You frowned. “Where is he now? At home?” “Yeah. We’ve been streaming together, and that’s when I started to notice his tone of voice and stuff. I think the stress of the championship is taking a toll on him.”

“I’ll talk to him. I’ll force him to talk to me. I’ll see what we can do. And before you apologize, I know you have other shit going on right now. It’s also nothing to apologize for. He’s our friend. I’ll let you know how it goes okay?” You smiled, hoping Max was feeling better. Knowing him, he was. You picture him with his shoulders becoming less tense and him letting go of the ridge of his nose he was squeezing. “Okay,” he sighed, “let me know if you crack him. “Like an egg.” You both laughed and you ended the call.

You grabbed your computer from the coffee table and opened it, checking the time. It was eight pm. Monaco was only an hour ahead of the UK, and you knew he’d still be up. He’s usually is ━━ and he doesn’t sleep well when he’s stressed. You went on to FaceTime and clicked his name. It only rang a couple times before his face popped up. “Hey.” He greeted you. Even before he talked you could tell something was wrong ━━ his sunken cheeks, his pale face, he literally lived in Monaco, he should not be pale, and his eye bags. His voice solidified your thought. It was tired and strained, like he didn’t have the energy to fake it.

“Hey buddy, how are you?” He replied with an ‘okay and kept eating whatever expired thing it was now. “. . . Are you sure?” You paused before asking, not wanting to set him off. He paused as well and looked up at the screen. “Did Max put you up to this?” He asked you. He wasn’t even mad, he was just tired. “Lando, you’re not doing okay.” You softly told him. He was about to reply before his resolve cracked and he started to sob. You wished you were there to hood him, knowing that he was alone, and he was alone while he want okay. “I know, I know I’m not. But I’m too tired to do anything about it,” he hiccuped as he spoke, “i just wish you were here. I cant do this alone. I have to go back in two days and I’m not ready.”

It was at that moment you made your decision. You kept him on as you booked a one way ticket to Monaco. “Then you won’t be,” you told him, “I’m coming over there. Max can’t, but I can. And I will. You won’t be alone Lando, not anymore.” The man let out a sigh in response and his face started to loosen up. It was quiet before a small ‘thank you’ made its way out of his mouth. “Always.” You smiled at him. “Now, when I get there I expect your ass to be waiting for me in one of those stupid cars of yours.” Lando let out a guttural laugh, and he had to admit it felt good. “You got it.”

Lando kept his promise, and as you stood out front of the Monaco airport, you spot him. His face is scanning the area, trying to find you, but he passes right over you. You shake your head ━━ for a formula one driver, he can be oblivious. “Muppet! Over here!” His eyes finally meets yours and his face lights up. “Hey.” You greet each other as you hug. “Hey. Nice to see you.” He told you as he grabbed your bags and piled them into the trunk. “You too. Someone had to save your ass.” He looks at you with a ‘really?’ face and you shrug and get in the car.

You chat all the way to his house. It took a little while because when you stopped for gas, a couple fans spotted him and asked for pictures, but you weren’t in any rush. A rush meant less time with him. You also knew meeting the fans made him happy, his face may not say it, but when you three would FaceTime he’d rant with a giant smile on his face about the fans he’d met and gifts he’d got. You and Max always teased him about it, joking that he’s such a hotshot and ‘you’re so popular!’ but that’s all that it was, jokes.

When you got to his house, you only pulled a couple things out of your suitcase as you were leaving with him the next day. You showered, and then forced him to take you to the grocery store to make him real food, not food that’s been sitting in his fridge or freezer for months. You ended grabbing things to make Alfredo and headed back, putting music on, grabbing some wine, and getting to it ━━ though it was mostly you cooking and Lando almost hurting himself with the most random things. You didn’t know how he lived by himself.

After that, he still hasn’t packed his bag ━━ which you scolded him like a child for ━━ and helped him pack it. You think his neighbours thought it was a domestic by the way you two bickered.

“What about this one?” “I don’t know.” “Lando. You have until tomorrow, and at this rate, you’ll be going naked.” “People won’t mind that.” “You’re so gross. Get out of my sight.”

You continued to bicker to the point where you shoed him off with a wave of your hand ━━ he didn’t actually leave, just talked to you with a smug look on his face ━━ and you chose clothes for him. You were definitely telling Cisca about this. At the end of it, you two were giggling at the movie you had put on, drunk off wine and delirious after the loss of sleep. You didn’t even know you fell asleep until you woke up by the sound of Lando’s alarm. You had to wake him up with so much force it almost pushed him off the couch. “Wake up you dickhead.” You two were a mess of limbs tangled together. That was the closest you two had ever been.

It didn’t take long ━━ with you practically shoving him out the door ━━ to arrive at the airport and get on the McLaren private jet. You felt a bit weird getting on as you even offered to get your own flight, but Lando looked at you like you had grown two heads and replied with “Oscar’s girlfriend uses it, you get to too.” That made you blush. You didn’t think he realized how the words sounded. When you got in, Lily and Oscar were already seated. You greeted each other and you went off with Lily as Oscar and Lando talked about the race coming up with their team over a zoom call.

Though you had heard of Lily, this was your first time meeting her. She was incredibly nice and you two got along great, even exchanging numbers incase you wanted to rant about ‘how annoying the boys were’ with a wink. That was pretty much how the plane ride went, you and Lily chatting and laughing as the boys talked strategy. Both of you didn’t know this, but you and Lando kept stealing glances at the other. When Oscar asked, Lando’s excuse was ‘she’s my best friend, just making sure she’s alright,’ but yours was a bit different.

You had been showing Lily pictures of the three of you: Max, you, and Lando, and sharing stories before she asked “what’s up with you and Lando?” You paused and turned to look at her. “What do you mean?” She gave you a look. You sighed, “we’re just friends.” “In a ‘I’m denying it way’ or a ‘I like him, but we’re just friends’ way?” “The second one. I mean, he’s my best friend and I love him, but I like him a little bit. But I’d rather face it alone than lose the friendship.” You whispered that part, looking to make sure Lando wasn’t looking. She nodded, “I get that . . . But are you sure he doesn’t like you back?” “He burps in my face and eats my food. I’m sure.

She let out an ‘okay’, dragging out the ‘y’. Though Lily wanted to say that Oscar did that too ━━ besides the burping part ━━ she didn’t. She figured you’d eventually figure it out, or she and Oscar’s would give you the little push you needed.

You must’ve fell asleep soon after you put in your hand phones and put on your playlist as you woke up to someone attempting to pick you up. “Hm?” You asked, still half asleep. You heard a quiet ‘shot’ before the voice spoke up louder. “Time to wake up.” You opened your eyes to see Lando standing in front of you. “What a way to wake me up with a jumpscare of your face.” You mused as you got up and stretched. You were always a bit grumpy when you woke up and that’s why Lando wanted to lift you so you’d stay awake. “I will hit you.” He replied to you as you made your way down the stairs of the plane and on to the tarmac. “I’ll tell Cisca.” That shut him up real quick.

The city of Austin, Texas passed by you in blurry images. Usually Lando would’ve poked you until you finally turned to him and hit him in the back of the head, but it was your first time in Austin and he let you take it all in. When you got closer to the hotel though, that’s when he started to annoy you. You did hit him in the head when the car parked in front of the hotel, and Lily and Oscar heard the aftermath of that with Lando mumbling an ‘ow’ and rubbing the back of his head.

“I don’t even hit you that hard!” “Yes you did, I have brain damage.” “I’ll give you brain damage if you keep complaining.”

The four of you made it into the hotel and up to your rooms, albeit with a little fuss with you and Lando bickering, but when you got into the room, you immediately flopped on the bed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a hotel with a bed as nice as this.” Lando looked surprised. “Really?” You nodded as you sat up and crossed your legs. “You told me Max payed for you for that one hotel in Italy?” You stayed silent. “Did he not pay for you?” “No, i payed for myself . . . At a different hotel. It’s not his fault though, I told him you payed for me.”

You knew you were in for a scolding when you saw his face, and you were. You tried so hard not to giggle at his face. He was halfway through a sentence when you finally broke. “What?” “Your face is really funny when you’re mad. You make a weird face.” “I do not!” “You do, ask Max.” “Whatever.” He continued and then made you promis to never do that to him or Max with a pinkie promise. You rolled your eyes and did it. After that, you two got ready for bed. You had gotten into your individual beds and turned the lights off when you spoke up. “It was a good plan though. None of you had a clue.” “. . . It was good. But you’re not doing it again.” “. . . Damn.”

You stayed with Lando for the rest of the US Grand Prix, only letting him go for interviews, racing, and media ━━ though you made sure to check on him during the day when you could. When you couldn’t be with him, you’d hang out in the garage with Lily, or you’d tag along with the other girls who were there that Lily introduced you to. You’d particularly made friends with Alexandra, you two hitting it off almost immediately.

You passed out almost immediately when you got back to Monaco for the next couple days before you had to leave again, and it felt like a blur. You only remember a little of it ━━ showers, movies with Lando, and sleeping ━━ before you were being shipped off to the next Grand Prix. You had no idea how he did it. You knew he’d been doing this awhile, but the jet lag was enough to hve you feeling hazy. You were sure Lando had gotten so many pictures of you sleeping and sent them to Max. There was one time when you woke up while he was taking one and you couldn’t get his phone in time . . . Though you did threaten to post an embarrassing photo of him during his teenage years if he didn’t delete. He showed you him deleting it, and the redownloaded it. You found this out later after Lando sent it to the group chat. That dickhead.

You were now in Brazil, two weeks later, heading into the Paddock with Lando. You offered to stay behind and let him have pictures taken of just him but he waved you off, joking that ‘you’d make him look better.’ In response to that you gave him the finger and walked in front of him ━━ thought you had no idea where you were going ━━ with his laugh resonating behind him.

You were excited for Brazil. You’d always wanted to go there since you were kid, fascinated with the culture and country, but your family never had enough money and you had been busy every previous time the Brazil Grand Prix took place. You had ranted to Lando the whole car ride there, him giggling at how excited you got. He didn’t find it weird or annoying, just happy that it made you happy. You hung it in the McLaren garage with the boys and Lily until it was time to start media, then you made your way to the Williams garage to find the other Lily. It was one of the races she was able to make it to and you had planned to meet up.

When you got to the garage, you passed Alex and Franco. You had met Alex, but you had yet to the men the new rookie. You’d heard of his flirty reputation from Lando, laughing at him. You eventually found Lily with some help and you two stayed at the Williams garage for a little bit before you both decided to grab some coffee. You talk about her career, your families, friends, and things going on recently. You told her how you ended up here ━━ obviously keeping some details out for Lando’s sake ━━ as you grabbed the coffee and made rounds around the Paddock.

It when you had stopped by the bathroom so Lily could go that you saw Franco again. You were on your phone when you heard his voice. “I saw you at Williams, no?” You lifted your head to see him leaning against the wall beside you, facing you. “Yeah. I was going to see Lily.” He nodded and hummed. “Are you here with Lily?” He smirked. When he did that you realized what he was doing. “No. I’m with someone else. A friend.”

“A friend, huh?” You forced yourself not to roll your eyes. You nodded. “Well, since they’re just a friend, do you want to get to know each other?” You were about to respond when Lily came out. You handed her her stuff as she greeted Franco. You were about to leave before you turned to him, “not really.” He looked like he’d been slapped in the face, not expecting that response.

Lily never asked, but you had a fleeting she knew what took place based on what you said last to him, the look on her face, and the quiet giggles she let out. You two continued to walk around the paddock until Alex texted her that he was done. She apologized but you told her not to be and tell Alex you say hi.

You weren’t in a hurry to get back to the McLaren garage so you took your time, strolling past different areas and looking at food stops. When you did get the garage, you saw Lando with an annoyed expression and you made your way over, bumping your shoulder into his. “What’s up?” He looked at you. “You met Franco?” You raised your eyebrows, not expecting him to know that. “Yeah . . . How’d you know?” “Oscar told me.” You nodded slowly. He seemed upset. There was a beat of silence before you realized what he was feeling.

“Are you jealous?” He spun his head around to face yours. “No!” You raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Sure.” You looked at the screen he was just watching, pretending to leave it as you noticed him fiddling with his hands. “Yes. I was.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, almost as if he was scared to say it. “Why?” He cleared his throat, “because he was flirting with you. I know he was.” “Why does that matter?”

There was some more silence. “Because i like you.” You opened your mouth in shock, not prepared to hear that. You opened and closed it before you spoke. “Really?” He took your expression in the wrong way and responded with a ‘forget it’ and moved to put his headphones back on before you grabbed them out of his hands and forced him to look at you. “I like you too, you muppet.” Now it was his turn to be shocked. When he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, you grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him. It was weird. I mean, you’d imagined it, but you never expected it to happen.

When you pulled away, his cheeks were red and he had a sappy smile on his face. “So . . . Can I take you out on a date after this then?” You snorted, “well I hope so. I want to be treated, Mr. Norris.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Bringing in the new year with Simon.

Just a little something to tide us over till tomorrow. 😉

5…4…3…2…1… Happy New Year!

The television blasted out the sounds of the happy, cheering gathering of people while boisterous music played behind them just as the clock struck midnight. Two long-stemmed glasses filled with cheap champagne sat bubbling on the crowded coffee table, untouched. Even right outside the window the sounds of celebrating could be heard as people took to the streets to spread their joy through the cold night. And yet everything was completely forgotten and faded into the background as the two people sitting on the couch became lost in one another. 

Simon's large hands were wrapped around your delicate cheeks, pulling your face tight against him as heated, moist lips captured yours over and over without a single thought to what was happening outside the space between you both. All he could comprehend in that moment, all that he cared about, was the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body, the soft touches from your fingertips grazing over bare skin that made his mind fuzzy. 

He had gotten a little too eager, started the celebration a little too soon, as it was the first year he wasn't stuck in the barracks alone and isolated as those all around him celebrated with those that meant something to them. Now he was with someone who he cared about more than anything in this world and so things had already gotten ahead of themselves… not that either of your minded.

Eyes staying closed, he grabbed your hands within his, lacing his fingers into the empty space between yours, and gave them a tug in a silent request to move in closer. Carefully, with mouths still connected, he helped to situate you over top of his broad lap so that you were comfortable. Straddling his thick thighs between your legs, knees shoved into the couch cushions on either side, you wrapped your arms around his neck as your fingers sought to play with the short strands of hair at the back of his head. 

Your touch was met with a deep-throated moan from him, causing his hands to reach behind you so that his palms could fill themselves with as much of your ass as he could hold between them through the fabric of your dress, massaging that voluptuous curvature in slow, circular motions as he pushed down to guide your hips to gently grind against him. The scant fabric at the crotch of your panties meant that you could feel him press up into you the longer you moved, that bulge growing steadily since he first pulled you into his kiss.

His exploring mouth began to travel down from your lips to your jaw and then on to your neck where he nuzzled into the crook of it as he latched on. Sharp teeth nibbled at the tender flesh at the base of your neck, quick bites that had you tingling from head to toe.

A loud group outside shouted and laughed, which caught your attention and drew you back into the reality outside of Simon’s body. “I think we missed it,” you moaned breathlessly into the room as his lips sent another wave of pleasure rolling straight through you. “It’s already past midnight.”

“Didn’t miss a fuckin’ thing, sweetheart,” he groaned as his hands roamed up a little higher to secure themselves around your waist. “This is the only way I wanna bring in the new year.”

Minutes passed by wholly ignored as if time itself had stopped while large hands pawed at your lap as your hips rolled over top of him. The friction was divine and mixed with the overwhelming feeling of your lips embracing his own and it wasn’t long until it felt like his entire body was on fire. 

Suddenly you felt Simon shift beneath you and all at once your body being shoved back down onto the cushions as he loomed over top, crushing your body into the surface as he positioned himself in between your legs. 

Your lips were left cold as he broke the kiss to sit back on his calves as calloused digits pushed the bottom hem of your dress up to your waist, leaving your hips exposed with nothing but a small bit of underwear to cover them. His breath got caught in his throat for a moment as he took in all that beautiful, warm skin, the flush of your cheeks, the swollenness of your lips.

His angel heaven sent.

There was a saying Simon had heard that said what you did on the first day of the new year dictated how it would go throughout the rest and though he didn't believe in old wives tales, he wasn't about to jinx a good thing. He wanted the next 12 months to be filled to the brim with moments like this. 

“Let’s start this year off right, yeah pretty girl?” he smirked as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties to slide them down your tights and right off your legs.

“With a bang.”

[goldfades]

HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!!!

─ summary | father charlie grapples with his intense attraction during the church event. they shared a passionate kiss that reignites their forbidden connection, despite the undeniable chemistry, charlie wrestles with guilt and the reality of their situation, ultimately pulling away as the risk of being caught looms over them. the tension between desire and moral obligation leaves them both longing for more, even if they face the consequences of their actions

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! oral (f!receiving), p in v, pretty rough but not as nasty as part one, praise (?), pretty soft/vanilla in comparison to part 1

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). also i feel like there should be a part 3 but i'm not sure where it would go sooo

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

After your encounter with Father Charlie, your world had turned completely upside down.

You no longer wanted to attend seminary, not like you wanted to begin with. It had always been someone else’s dream for you, a path laid out by your parents, by the expectations of the community, by the life you thought you were supposed to live. But now, every time you stepped into the church, all you could think about was him. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way he had murmured your name with a mixture of reverence and desire. It was as if the weight of everything you had ever known had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you standing on uncertain ground.

It wasn’t just the guilt, though that was there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. It was the confusion—the way you felt torn between the life you had always been told you should want and the inexplicable pull that had drawn you to him that night. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, hadn’t even fully understood what was happening as it unfolded, but now there was no denying it: something had changed inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't teasing the poor man, but you never expected it to go that far. His mean words, his rough touch... it was unexpected but welcome.

However, you avoided Charlie in the days that followed. But that didn’t stop the memories from replaying in your mind, unbidden and relentless. The rough sound of his voice, the way his breath had hitched when he looked at you, the feel of his lips against your skin—it haunted you, drawing you back to that night over and over again.

And yet, for all the confusion and turmoil, there was something else, too. A part of you that felt more alive than you ever had before. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of it, the way your heart raced when you thought about him, the way your body responded to even the thought of being near him again.

But what did that mean for your future? Could you go on pretending to follow a path that no longer felt like your own? Could you return to the person you had been before all of this?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that something had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you tried to push it aside, to tell yourself it was just a fleeting moment of weakness, the truth lingered, heavy and undeniable: your encounter with Father Charlie had changed everything.

──

"I've just been worried about her." Your mother sniffled as she glanced up at Father Charlie. Her eyes were watery as your father nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Charlie did his best not to roll his eyes─he assured them that their daughter missing a few days of Church was nothing to worry about, she was simply exploring and that she'd come back if her heart was in the right place.

He wasn't sure if that was true though, he knew the true reason for your sudden absence—it wasn't that you were losing your faith. It was that you were avoiding him. And in a way, he couldn't blame you. After what had happened between the two of you, things could never be the same.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the weight of your parents' anxious gazes on him. He offered them a reassuring smile, the same gentle, composed expression he had worn so many times before. But beneath the surface, a storm raged inside him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, clasping his hands together. "But give her time. Sometimes a little distance can be healthy. She’ll find her way back, if it’s meant to be."

Your mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her worry evident. "But Father, she's never missed church like this before. She's always been so devoted. I just… I don’t understand what’s changed."

Charlie swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he forced himself to maintain his calm demeanor. He could feel guilt clawing at the edges of his composure, the weight of the secret the two of you now shared hanging over him like a heavy cloud. He had tried to rationalize it, tried to convince himself that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that would pass. But the truth was, every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

"I understand your concern," Charlie continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "But maybe she just needs some space to reflect on things. Sometimes, when we're too close to something, we can't see it clearly."

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's been so distant lately. I just don’t know what’s going on in her head anymore."

Charlie nodded sympathetically, though inside, he felt the sting of his own hypocrisy. He had been the one to create that distance. He had crossed a line he never should have, and now both of you were suffering the consequences. The temptation had been too great, the connection too deep to ignore, and now he was left trying to navigate the fallout, unsure of how to reconcile his role as a spiritual leader with the undeniable pull he felt toward you.

"Just give her some time," Charlie said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—your parents, or himself. "She’s strong. She’ll come around."

Your mother smiled weakly, though her worry remained evident. "I hope so, Father. I really do."

As they stood to leave, Charlie felt a familiar sense of dread settle in his chest. He bid them goodbye, offering them one last reassurance before they stepped out of the church. But as the door closed behind them, the air in the sanctuary seemed to grow heavier.

Charlie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed in around him. He had tried to distance himself from you, convinced himself that what had happened was a mistake. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory of you lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

And now, standing alone in the empty church, he found himself wondering if there was any way to make things right again—if there was any way to undo the damage that had been done.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

There was no going back. Not for either of you.

Later that night, Charlie found himself thinking about you once again. Particularly, how you looked that night. On your knees, so eager to please and your doe eyes gazing up at him. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, no matter how hard he prayed. He clasped his hands together, leaning over the edge of his bed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

But the words weren’t coming—no matter how hard he tried to focus, the familiar rhythm of his nightly prayers refused to take shape. His mind was somewhere else, tangled up in thoughts that shouldn’t be there, lingering on images that made him feel as though he were coming apart at the seams.

He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if that would somehow banish the memory. But the more he fought it, the more vivid it became—your wide, innocent eyes gazing up at him, filled with a mix of longing and devotion that made his chest tighten. The feel of your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the sound of your voice, so eager to please… it haunted him. The way you had knelt before him, lips parted in anticipation, had driven him to the edge of his restraint.

He should have stopped it. He should have turned away, sent you home, reminded you of your faith, of his vows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had given in, swept up in the heat of the moment, in the way your body responded to his touch, in the softness of your breath against his skin. And now, no matter how much he tried to pray, no matter how often he begged for forgiveness, the memory of that night refused to leave him.

Charlie’s breath came shallow as he stood, pacing the small room in frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his robes suddenly feeling too tight, too constricting. He could feel the familiar ache building in his chest, spreading lower, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the pull was too strong to resist.

He glanced toward the small crucifix hanging on the wall, a wave of guilt washing over him. He was a man of God—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to let his thoughts linger on sinful desires, especially not desires for you.

But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your name echoed in his mind, and the memory of your touch seemed to burn hotter with every passing moment.

But when he closed his eyes again, all he could see was you—on your knees, so willing, so eager. The memory of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and the guilt that followed only fueled the fire inside him.

And he knew, in that moment—the worst part wasn't the fact that he did those sinful actions—it was that he wasn't sorry, not one bit. Not even a sliver of remorse.

A chill ran through him at the thought, his stomach twisting with a blend of shame and something else, something that made him feel even more unsettled. It wasn’t regret that filled him when he remembered that night—it was a strange, unwelcome satisfaction. A hunger that hadn’t been sated, not entirely.

He had broken his vows, crossed a line he swore he never would. But now, in the stillness of the night, with only his thoughts to keep him company, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t sorry. Not for the way you had looked at him, not for the way his body had responded to yours, and certainly not for the way his hands had roamed over your skin, desperate to claim you as his.

The worst part, the part that filled him with guilt and dread, was that he would do it again. Given the chance, he would fall just as easily. There was no penitence in his heart, only desire. And that terrified him more than anything else.

He had spent years dedicating himself to his faith, to his congregation, to being a beacon of moral strength and guidance. But now, the very foundation of everything he believed in was crumbling beneath him. How could he stand in front of his parish, look your parents in the eye, and preach about virtue when he knew what lay inside his own heart? How could he ask for forgiveness when, deep down, he wasn’t ready to give up the sinful thoughts that had taken root in his mind?

Charlie stood abruptly, crossing the room to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his reflection, searching his own eyes for the man he once was. But all he saw was the shadow of someone who had allowed himself to be consumed by temptation. He touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight like a noose tightening with each passing second.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself—it was the knowledge that he would do it again. He would welcome it, crave it. You had awoken something in him, something dark and uncontrollable, and no amount of prayer or penance could change that now.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat, fearing that it might be you. That somehow, you had sensed his weakness, his need, and had come to him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t you. It was another member of the congregation, a kindly older woman who often helped with the church's charitable efforts. She smiled at him warmly, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Father Charlie," she said, her voice gentle. "I wanted to thank you for your sermon earlier. It was so uplifting. We’re blessed to have you."

Charlie forced a smile, nodding as he thanked her for her kind words. But as she turned to leave, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He didn’t feel like a blessing. He felt like a man on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously close to a fall he might never recover from.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved.

──

Father Charlie stood at the pulpit, his voice steady as he delivered the sermon to the congregation. The stained glass windows bathed the church in a soft, multicolored light, the hum of his words blending with the occasional creak of wooden pews. His hands gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles pale, though his calm expression gave nothing away.

"And though we may walk through the valley of shadows," he said, his voice resonating through the high ceilings, "we must remember that God’s light will guide us, if only we choose to follow it."

His eyes swept over the familiar faces before him—devout, attentive, hanging on his every word. For a brief moment, he felt the usual sense of peace that came with leading his flock, of being their shepherd through life’s trials. But then, in the midst of that calm, the heavy oak doors at the back of the church creaked open.

You stepped inside, late.

Charlie’s heart faltered.

You moved quietly down the aisle, slipping into a pew near the back, trying to draw as little attention as possible. But he noticed you. Of course he noticed you. His breath hitched in his chest, and for a moment, the words on his tongue stumbled.

You didn’t look at him right away, your eyes scanning the prayer book in front of you as you settled in, but he could feel the electricity of your presence, like a whisper of something forbidden trailing through the air. His mouth went dry as he remembered, vividly and all too easily, the feel of your skin under his hands, the heat between you, the way your lips had parted in that fleeting moment of sinful indulgence.

His mind, usually sharp and disciplined during sermons, began to unravel, his thoughts wandering to places they never should have. His gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your expression neutral, but there was something in the way you held yourself that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He noticed the way your hair caught the light, the soft curve of your neck as you bowed your head slightly. His pulse quickened against his will.

Charlie cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the words he had prepared, but they felt distant now, hollow in his mouth. He was no longer preaching to his congregation; he was struggling to hold onto his composure, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

"Temptation," he began again, though his voice was softer now, as if the word itself held a deeper, more personal meaning. "It is something we all must face. It whispers to us when we are weak, it pulls at us when we are vulnerable. But we must find the strength to turn away, to resist the allure of sin."

His eyes found you again, and this time, you looked up. Your gaze met his, and in that single glance, he felt everything crash into him at once. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before anyone could notice the tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

But you didn’t stop looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, a silent challenge, a reminder of the line that had already been crossed. He fought to keep his voice steady, but the sermon felt like it was slipping away from him, the careful words he had crafted now little more than a veil over the chaos inside his mind.

"We must… stand firm in our faith," he continued, though the conviction had drained from his voice. "For in times of darkness, it is only through faith that we find salvation."

Salvation. The word felt bitter on his tongue. Could he even claim to believe it anymore, after everything that had happened? After what he had allowed to happen?

The sermon dragged on, each word a labor, each moment a battle to maintain control. And all the while, you sat there, your presence like a burning flame in the cold of the church, drawing him in, tempting him with a kind of heat he knew he could never touch again.

When he finally reached the end of his sermon, the relief was almost palpable. He offered the closing prayer, his voice quiet, barely able to focus on the familiar verses. As the congregation murmured their amens and began to file out of the pews, Charlie stayed rooted at the pulpit, his eyes lingering on the spot where you sat.

But you didn’t leave with the others. You stayed behind, waiting until the church was nearly empty, until the last whispers of conversation faded away into the stillness. And then, slowly, you stood and made your way toward him, your footsteps soft against the stone floor.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the air between you charged with unspoken tension as you approached. The church was quiet now, the last of the congregation having departed, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind. The light filtering through the stained glass seemed softer, casting shadows that flickered across the empty pews. But there was nothing soft about the way his pulse thundered in his ears, about the tightening in his chest as you closed the distance between you.

He should have walked away. He should have left immediately, before anything more could be said, before the unspoken words between you could turn into something neither of you could take back. But instead, he stood there, frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the weight of your gaze.

“Father Charlie,” you said softly, your voice low and sweet, like a secret meant only for him. The sound of your voice sent a shiver through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the cracks in his composure growing deeper with every passing second.

“Yes?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, strained.

You took a step closer, and the scent of your perfume reached him—something soft, floral, intoxicating. “Your sermon…” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met his again, and in that moment, he could see the truth in them. The same hunger that gnawed at him was reflected in your gaze, the same forbidden desire simmering just beneath the surface.

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not again. Not here, in the house of God, where his entire purpose was to be a guide for the people, to resist temptation, to be the moral compass for those who sought him out. But standing this close to you, feeling the warmth of your body, seeing the way your lips parted slightly as you looked at him—it was as though the air itself was charged with electricity, pulling him in.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost a whisper. “About temptation… about resisting it.”

His throat tightened. He knew where this was going, knew he needed to stop it before it went any further. “You should,” he managed to say, though his voice was strained. “We all must resist.”

Your eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps, or maybe defiance. “Is that what you’re doing right now, Father?” you asked, stepping even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Not like this.”

“And yet,” you replied, your voice teasing, “here I am.”

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t give in to the desire that gnawed at him, no matter how strong the pull. But as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, the warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him that made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to find his breath. Of course, he had been thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that night, no matter how much he tried to push it away. But acknowledging that would only make it worse, would only open the door to something darker, something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

“I can’t…” he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

You stepped even closer, your body now just inches from his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you, could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume. “You don’t have to resist,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

Charlie’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that one more step would send him over, would plunge him into something he couldn’t take back. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, he knew.

The worst part wasn’t the temptation. The worst part was that he didn’t want to resist anymore.

"Sweetheart?"

You both immediately jumped, putting some space between you two. You looked back to see your mother standing, looking between you two with suspicion. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His breath hitched, and he took a hurried step back from you, creating what little distance he could in the small space between you both. The panic coursing through his veins was almost palpable, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything to justify the intimate moment your mother had just interrupted.

You spun around, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide as you faced her. “Mom…” you started, your voice shaky, barely able to form the words.

Your mother stood just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and Father Charlie. Suspicion danced across her face, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe for a second that what she had just walked in on was innocent.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern, but laced with an edge of disbelief. “Why are you here alone with Father Charlie?”

Charlie swallowed hard, doing his best to regain some semblance of composure. He stepped forward, trying to project the calm and collected demeanor he was known for.

His hands fidgeted behind his back, where no one could see the way they trembled. “Mrs. L/N,” he said, forcing a small smile, “I was just… offering some spiritual guidance. Your daughter has been struggling with her faith lately, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at you again, her suspicion deepening. “Spiritual guidance?” she repeated slowly, her tone skeptical. “That’s all?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment, desperate to put her at ease. “Yes, Mom. That’s all. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind, and Father Charlie was helping me work through some things.”

Your mother didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t push any further either. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening just a little as she looked at you. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m your mother—I know when something’s not right.”

Charlie took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous ground it had been treading. “You have every right to be concerned,” he said gently. “But I assure you, your daughter is fine. She’s just been searching for some clarity, and sometimes, that means taking a step back to reflect. It’s a normal part of spiritual growth.”

Your mother seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded, though the unease still lingered in her expression. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But… next time, sweetheart, maybe talk to me too. I’m always here for you.”

You smiled weakly, giving a small nod. “I will, Mom.”

Your mother’s gaze softened further, and she gave you a gentle smile before turning back toward the door. “Me and dad are waiting outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as she was gone, the tension in the air shifted, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what had almost just happened.

“That was too close,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned back to him.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts still racing. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, though even as he said it, part of him knew it was a lie.

You stood there, staring at him, your breath unsteady as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Your mother had almost caught you, and the danger of the situation wasn’t lost on either of you. And yet, there was still that undeniable pull, the heat between you two simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to die down despite the risk.

Charlie’s words hung in the air, a weak protest against what both of you knew was inevitable. He had said it before—he couldn’t keep doing this—but neither of you had stopped, even after that night. Even after everything that had followed.

You took a small step closer to him, your heart pounding as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to walk away. “You don’t mean that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, clearly trying to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he had left. “I should mean it,” he muttered, his voice strained, but he didn’t move away from you. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, despite his own protest. “This is wrong. We both know that.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with himself. “Maybe it is,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his again, “but that doesn’t mean I regret it. Do you?”

Charlie looked at you, the conflict plain in his eyes, but the more he stared, the more that tension seemed to fade. “I don’t regret it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and hoarse. “But I should.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping even closer to him, the space between you almost non-existent now. “Then why don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for an answer. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, every inch of space crackling with tension, and you could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack.

He exhaled sharply, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You moved closer, your hand sliding down his arm, feeling the way his skin shivered beneath your touch. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back, your lips dangerously close to his now.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the tension and the desire between you growing stronger with every passing second. Charlie’s breath quickened, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted, a look of torment crossing his features. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both desire and guilt. “You deserve better than this.”

You swallowed hard, your heart clenching at his words. But you shook your head, refusing to let him pull away now. “What I deserve,” you said softly, “is you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed with something—a mix of longing and torment—and for a moment, he looked like he might resist again. But then, something inside him snapped. He reached out, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer in one swift motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed into yours, and for a second, all of that guilt, that tension, melted away in the heat of the kiss. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you against him as if afraid you might slip away. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the church, not your parents waiting outside, not the fact that what you were doing was forbidden.

All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the way his touch set your skin on fire, the way everything else seemed to fade into the background when you were with him.

The kiss deepened, an electric jolt shooting through you as Father Charlie held you close. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race faster than you thought possible. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his grip possessive yet gentle, like he was trying to hold on but afraid he might break you. It was a contradiction, just like him—full of restraint, but also full of passion.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand slid up your side, brushing against your ribs, and the sensation made your knees weak. You had to remind yourself that this was real, that this was actually happening again, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it any more than he could.

Charlie broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were fighting an internal battle—one that he was quickly losing. “This can’t happen again,” he whispered, though the way his hands still held you told a different story. His resolve was crumbling, just like it always did around you.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree out loud. The tension between you two was still thick, and the temptation was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and it was enough to make you lean in again, brushing your lips against his one more time.

“Then stop,” you whispered against his lips, daring him, challenging him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if the very act of pulling you closer was the only thing grounding him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your hips, and you could feel the desperation in his touch. There was no hesitation now, no pretending that this wasn’t what he wanted.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clerical shirt, the smooth fabric bunched under your fingers. It was almost surreal, the way everything else disappeared around you, the church silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats.

But then, reality began creeping back in, like a shadow over the two of you.

The weight of what you were doing came crashing down again, as it always did, leaving you both tangled in a mess of desire and guilt. Charlie broke away once more, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His eyes were wild with conflict as he looked at you, his voice hoarse. “We can’t… Not here. Not like this.”

You could feel the hesitation returning, his conscience pulling at him once again. But before he could say anything more, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I know,” you whispered, nodding. “But don’t regret this, Charlie. Please.”

His gaze softened for a moment, and for just a second, it seemed like the weight of his guilt was lifting, replaced by something softer, something more real. He gently took your hand in his, pulling it away from his lips, and brought it to his chest, holding it there as if to let you feel the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

But before either of you could speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the small room. You both tensed immediately, pulling apart in a rush as if the entire world had just come crashing back down on you.

Your mother’s voice rang out, calling your name from somewhere outside, and the reality of your situation hit like a cold shock to your system. You glanced at Charlie, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

You sighed, stepping back, your heart still pounding as you adjusted your clothes, trying to make yourself presentable before stepping out of the room.

As you left the small space where everything had happened, Charlie watched you go, his chest tightening with the weight of his own choices. He knew there would be consequences to all of this—there always were. But as he watched you disappear into the hallway, a small part of him couldn’t help but want more.

And that terrified him most of all.

──

Father Charlie’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into the small, dimly lit room at the side of the church. The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet sound echoing through the silence as though sealing you both away from the world outside.

Your back hit the wall gently, the cool stone pressing against you, but all you could focus on was the heat radiating from him—the way his body seemed to burn with a need that matched your own. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he had been holding back for too long and could no longer control the desire that had been eating away at him.

“God, I’ve tried,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment, as though trying to regain some semblance of control.

But even as he said it, his hands roamed over your body, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the curve of your hips. “I’ve tried to stay away… but I can’t.”

His confession sent a shiver through you, both of guilt and desire. You knew this was wrong—both of you did—but the pull between you was too strong to resist. There was something magnetic in the way you fit together, something undeniable in the way his touch made your pulse race.

You gasped softly as his hands slid higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

“Charlie…” you breathed, barely able to find the words as your heart pounded in your chest. His name left your lips like a prayer, one filled with both need and hesitation.

His response was a low growl of frustration, his hands tightening on your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more reckless, as though the two of you had crossed a threshold you could no longer retreat from. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you even closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for anything but the heat of your desire.

“We can’t…” he whispered again, though the words seemed hollow now, an afterthought that barely registered in the heat of the moment. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His words mirrored the conflict that raged inside of you—this was a line that should never have been crossed, but now that you were here, it felt impossible to turn back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as his hands explored your skin. The soft rasp of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it left you dizzy with need.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared at you with dark, conflicted eyes. “We’re going to hell for this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, but there was no regret in his tone—only raw, unrestrained longing.

You shook your head, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you looked up at him, breathless. “Then take me with you.”

That was all it took for him to lose whatever remained of his restraint. With a groan, he captured your lips again, his hands moving faster now, more urgently, as though afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, the weight of what you were doing might crush him. You didn’t care anymore, not about the consequences, not about what anyone might say. In that moment, there was only him, only the way he made you feel—alive, reckless, consumed.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist as though claiming you entirely. The cold stone wall at your back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you even as everything around you spun out of control.

There was no space between you now, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, each touch, each kiss driving you further into the dark, forbidden territory you both had sworn to avoid. But neither of you had the strength to resist anymore. His breath was ragged against your neck, your own heart pounding in time with his as the intensity of the moment wrapped around you like a vice.

"Gonna make you cum so many times," he mumbled into your neck as he pushed you harder on the wall.

You let out a small giggle at his words, your head falling back against the wall with a small thud. "Is that a promise?"

Charlie hummed against your neck. "Mhm, you won't be able to walk outta here."

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he spoke, pulling him closer, urging him on. You needed this as much as he did. Needed to feel alive, to feel something that burned beyond the lines of right and wrong. It wasn't just lust—it was a dangerous craving for connection, something that both frightened and exhilarated you.

"Please," you pleaded, breath hitching as his hands roamed higher. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the struggle within him, but his resolve broke the moment you gave him permission.

With a low groan, his hands slid beneath your shirt completely, the sensation of his touch sending fire through your veins. Every nerve in your body was alight, the tension between you mounting to an unbearable high as his lips claimed every inch of skin they could reach. His breath was hot against your neck, the pressure of his body overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

Charlie’s mouth found your ear, his breath warm and labored. “I don’t know how to be anything else around you... it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You gasped as he pressed himself harder against you, your lips brushing the curve of his jawline in response. His words cut through you, filled with the same struggle and longing that burned in your chest. It was reckless, dangerous even, but it was real.

Without warning, his arms around your middle and picked you up. You let out a surprised sound as you wrapped his hips, before he dropped you right on the desk. The sensation of being completely in his control, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment, sent a thrill through you.

Before you could even process what was happening, he dropped you onto the desk behind you. The cool wood pressed against the back of your thighs as your hands flew to grip the edge, steadying yourself. The roughness of the gesture, the way his eyes burned into yours, left you breathless.

There was no hesitation in his movements anymore, no room for doubt or second thoughts. The desk creaked slightly beneath the weight of the moment, but neither of you cared.

Charlie stepped between your legs, his hands immediately finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you. His gaze roamed over your face, dark and full of hunger, before his lips crashed back onto yours with renewed intensity. His kiss was deeper now, more demanding, as though he was trying to erase every single barrier between you.

"Charlie," you moaned as you blinked up at him, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, craving the feeling of his body against yours. His hands slid up your sides, trailing heat in their wake as they pushed your shirt higher, exposing more skin to the cool air. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his touch set your nerves on fire.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his voice low and filled with raw need. He leaned forward, his body pressing yours back against the desk, the weight of him intoxicating. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held nothing back now, his control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers exploring the firmness of his body beneath the fabric of his clothes. Every muscle tensed beneath your touch, responding to you in ways that made your pulse race even faster. You pushed his shirt up, wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, to close the distance between you even more.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing down your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the way his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force.

You could feel him hard against you, his desire unmistakable. The tension between you, the build-up of everything unsaid, was too much to bear anymore. You arched against him, needing more, wanting to lose yourself in the overwhelming heat between you both.

He then spread your legs further before practically ripping your skirt off, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on your stomach before he slowly descended down where you needed him most.

Charlie placed two fingers on top of your clothed wet pussy, letting out a broken groan. "So ready for me, huh?"

All you could do was moan in response as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut. The feeling of his fingers so close to where you ached, made you wanna scream in desperation. You just wanted him to fill you up and fuck you senseless.

“Charlie…” you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt in that moment. His name on your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers pushing deeper into your needy cunt.

Finally, he moved your panties to the side before slowly dipping a finger inside your sloppy pussy. Your back arched to his touch, letting out a pornographic moan.

Charlie shivered at the beautiful sound, his pants becoming impossibly tight. He felt his cock get harder every second, he wasn't sure how long he could wait—but he needed to taste you.

Keeping his finger inside your wet pussy, he leaned down and pressed his lips against it. With the added sensation, you were sure you were gonna pass out. Charlie slipped out his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as he hummed.

"Taste so fucking sweet, baby." He moaned as he opened his mouth to taste more of you. The taste was heavenly, he shut his eyes and began devouring you, his finger slipping in and out.

You were practically sobbing with pleasure at that point, your hand on his head as he ate you out like a starved man. Your pussy clenched around his finger, but you needed more. You needed his cock, desperately. He began rubbing himself against the wooden desk, desperate for any friction as he continued his assault on your puffy cunt.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach begin to form and you knew that it wouldn't take a lot more to make you cum. You began breathing heavily, your head falling back as you nodded desperately.

"Please, please make me cum," you babbled as you fisted his hair. "Oh, fuck!"

One last push of his finger and you were cumming around him, and Charlie wasted no time—he kept licking your juices until he felt he was completely satisfied. You were breathless from your high, but Charlie was far from done.

As you regained some sense of consciousness, you heard his belt buckle hit the wooden floor with a familiar thump. Then, Charlie’s lips crashed back onto yours with renewed urgency, fueled by your whispered permission. You could taste yourself on his tongue, humming at the salty taste.

His hands roamed over your body, no longer holding back, exploring every inch of exposed skin. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, the air growing thick with anticipation.

His free hand gripped your waist, pulling your body flush against his, and you could feel just how much he wanted you. The desk beneath you creaked again, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, and the steady rhythm of his movements against you.

Charlie’s mouth continued to explore your neck, leaving kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, dark and full of something primal. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice husky, sending a thrill through you.

Your lips parted, words forming on the tip of your tongue, but they were lost as he lifted you slightly, shifting you further onto the desk. The sudden movement made you cling to him, your legs tightening around his waist, the closeness between you now unbearable in the best way.

Charlie then reached for his cock, you glanced down to see his redden tip leaking with pre-cum. He led his tip to your entrance, and he slowly began pushing himself into your warmth. Charlie let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back; he had missed the feeling of your tight cunt.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you were shaking at the burning and overwhelming sensation. "Please, Charlie," you didn't know what you were pleading for at this point.

Charlie let you adjust to his size before he began drilling in and out of you, the wooden desk creaking underneath you. You felt so full, you swore you felt him all the way up to your throat. Your hands found his broad shoulders, holding on as his thrusts began more erratic and desperate.

"This fuckin' pussy was made for me," he gasped as he began fucking you into the desk, the power of his thrusts making you cry out. "God made this pussy all for me, like a little present."

All his ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, you were absolutely drunk on his cock. You just moaned in response, unsure of what he was even saying at this point—Charlie wasn't sure either.

Charlie was snapping his hips against yours, he wasn't even thinking straight; he felt like a fucking dog in heat. All he could think of was cumming inside of your tight pussy again and again, until either of you could take it anymore.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened around him, your eyes rolling back in pure and unadulterated pleasure.

You came again, your whole body shaking as you felt your legs give out. You were practically limp as Charlie kept slamming into you, chasing his own high.

After a few more rough snaps of his hips, Charlie was spilling his seed into you. He rode out his high as he sighed heavily, his forehead falling against yours. You were both breathless, but nonetheless satisfied. His breath was warm against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, the remnants of shared intensity still lingering in the air.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments, still trying to catch your breath, hearts beating in sync. The room, once filled with hurried movements and ragged breaths, had now fallen into a peaceful stillness.

Charlie’s hand slowly trailed down your back, a soft, gentle touch replacing the urgency from earlier. His fingers danced over your skin, and despite the exhaustion that hung between you, there was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, as if he was savoring every second of this quiet moment.

His eyes, still dark with satisfaction, locked with yours, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse from everything that had passed between you.

You smiled back, your fingers brushing through his hair, still trying to make sense of the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Finally made me cum," you teased lightly, though your voice was soft and tired.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort against yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just reveling in the intimacy of the aftermath, the unspoken connection that had deepened between you.

After a while, Charlie sighed again, this time more contented. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and reassuring. “We should probably…get out of here before someone finds us,” he whispered, though there was no rush in his voice.

You laughed softly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You were still perched on the edge of the desk, clothes haphazardly discarded, with no sign of the wild passion that had just transpired except for the disheveled state of the room and the lingering heat between you.

But for a moment longer, neither of you moved. There was something comforting in the stillness, the quiet intimacy that followed the storm. Eventually, though, Charlie slipped out of you, shifting slightly and helped you down from the desk with a gentle hand on your waist. You both began to gather your clothes, the silence between you now comfortable.

With one last lingering kiss, you both finally slipped out of the room, the world outside waiting. But something had shifted between you—something that felt like the beginning of something more.

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[incognit0slut]

The Last Laugh

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer is forced to share a room with his rival. This is part two of Lose Control but can be read as a standalone.

warnings: sexual tension, a lot of banter, female oral, edging, rough sex, unplanned creampie (is that a thing?) words: 5,3k a/n: someone requested a part two with a one-bedroom trope and since this is one of my favorite stories, I had to do it

...Thinkin' you're winnin' with all of your grinning but I got the last laugh...

"I'M NOT SLEEPING WITH REID."

The idea was absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. Out of all the people in her team, why was she paired up with him?

According to Garcia, the only choice she had to spend the night in this remote town was with the person she least wanted to engage with. Did Garcia not know how much she had been trying to avoid him? How much she had been attempting to act as if the mere proximity with him wasn't making her lose her mind?

"Why not?" Garcia asked, handing her a key. "He's not that bad of a roommate, well, if you overlook his tendency to share random facts in the middle of the night, then he's really not that bad."

"Do you not hear yourself?" She steadied her gaze to her friend. "You want me to share a room with the person I hate the most?"

Garcia rolled her eyes. "You guys really should stop with this nonsense. You're both grown adults."

"I'll treat him like an adult if he starts to act like one." Her eyes drifted toward the man of the hour, standing at the other end of this old-looking hotel that seemed too close to falling apart, engaged in conversation with Luke. She then glanced back at Garcia. "Why can't he share a room with Luke?"

"Because I'm sharing a room with Luke."

She shot Garcia an incredulous look. "You're rooming with Luke? Since when?"

"Since always. We're buddies, remember?" She cocked an eyebrow and Garcia sighed. "Don't look at me like that, we're just friends. Besides, you and Reid are the only ones left without a roommate. Consider this your opportunity for personal growth or whatever."

"Personal growth? More like a crash course in patience. And what's the deal with Reid anyway? Why does he always have to be the exception?"

Garcia leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "Well, let's just say Luke and I enjoy our peace. Reid, on the other hand, is like a walking encyclopedia. I figured it's your turn to experience that charm up close."

She scowled, a mix of annoyance and resignation on her face. "Charm? That's a generous way to put it."

Garcia stared back with an air of nonchalance that only seemed to amplify her exasperation. "Look, it's only one night. What's the worst that could happen?"

She shot her friend a withering glance as if the absurdity of the situation needed no further clarification. "The worst is that I might end up committing another crime in this town before the night ends."

Garcia raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident. "You're exaggerating, Reid is harmless. Plus, all the other rooms are fully booked. Consider yourself lucky we even found a place to stay."

"Lucky is not the word I would use right now."

"Just try to survive the night without killing each other," Garcia chuckled, ignoring the glare shot towards her way. "Give him a chance."

Her incredulous stare intensified. "A chance? Garcia, the man tried to argue with me about the most efficient way to organize my desk. And you know what's ironic? His own desk is a complete mess."

Garcia sighed, her playful demeanor softening. "One night, Y/n, that's all I'm asking."

She pursed her lips together. She could go on about how bad it would be to share a room with him, but the thing was, it would raise questions she did not want to answer. There was a limit to how much her disdain could stop her from entertaining the idea, and her avoidance, she realized, was more than just mere hatred.

Annoyed that she couldn't do anything to escape the situation, she shot a disapproving glance at him, who was still engrossed in conversation with Luke. With a resigned shake of her head, she turned back to Garcia.

"Whatever." She sighed, begrudgingly accepting the key Garcia handed her. "But if he starts reciting facts about, I don't know, the history of dental floss or something, I'm blaming you."

Garcia laughed. "Fair enough." She shoved her shoulder playfully. "But who knows, maybe you'll discover he's not as bad as you think."

That was the problem. Spencer Reid, in her eyes, was starting to... change. And she hated that. Why was the man she had never bothered to befriend occupying her mind more than she wanted him to? Was it because she now knew what it felt like to have his body pressed against hers? What it felt like to have him grunt in pleasure right in her ear? Just because they had sex?

Nope. Nuh-huh. She wasn't going to think of him differently tonight—or ever, for that matter.

She gave Garcia one last glare before making her way across the creaky floorboards toward him. Noticing her presence coming close, Spencer looked up and a slight tension filled the air as his gaze locked with hers. She quickly shook her head.

"You're sleeping on the floor," she declared with a point of her finger when she reached him.

A small amused smile played on his lips. "We're sharing a room?"

"Unfortunately," she grumbled. She then focused her attention on Luke. "Do you want to switch roommates?"

Luke chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm stuck with Garcia. Besides," he patted Spencer on the shoulder, "Don't act like you're not eager to spend the night with him."

Her eyes went wide. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Luke simply shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and walked away, leavingher staring at Spencer with a mix of confusion and suspicion. "What did you tell him?"

Spencer frowned. "Nothing." He sighed when her stare didn't back down. "Nothing, I swear. Luke tends to have his own way of interpreting things."

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced, but decided to let it go for the moment. She turned on her heels, not waiting for him as she walked to their destinated room. She felt his presence close behind her but kept her mouth closed.

Spencer, on the other hand, found the situation amusing. He really shouldn't find any entertainment in her visible annoyance towards him, but he did. He couldn't help but notice that despite being angry, she still looked unbelievably attractive. The scowl on her face, her pursed lips, her chest heaving in anger. He took a step closer.

"This must be hard for you," he commented.

"What is?" she shot back, maintaining her brisk pace.

"Staying the night with me when you've been avoiding me."

Her jaw tightened. "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Really? So you haven't gone out of your way to avoid looking in my direction ever since what happened?"

Her steps faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, refusing to show any vulnerability. "That doesn't mean I've been actively avoiding you. It just means I have better things to do than engage in pointless conversations."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Pointless conversations, or conversations you're trying to avoid?"

She shot him a sharp look but didn't respond. "You know," he began again. "You do seem to be acting differently ever since that day."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Spencer couldn't resist a faint smile at her denial. "You really don't know what I'm referring to?"

She huffed, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. The narrow hallway seemed to amplify the unresolved tension between them as they stopped right in front of their room. She could feel his gaze on her, and it only fueled her annoyance.

She tried to ignore him by unlocking the door, but as she pushed it open, she felt his presence looming behind her. His proximity was so close that she held her breath as he gripped the edge of the door in front of her. His breath brushed her neck and her eyes involuntarily fluttered close when his other hand slowly rested on her waist.

"Should I help you jog your memory back?"

Her eyes shot open. She shoved him aside and stepped into the room. "No funny business, Reid. Keep your dick in your pants tonight."

His laughter lingered in the air as he followed her inside, closing the door behind him. "The question is," he taunted. "Can you keep it in my pants?"

She scoffed. Who was he and what did he do to the Spencer she once knew? The guy she remembered lacked any humor and always kept his distance from her. It was hard to believe a simple encounter—could you call sex as simple?—had turned him so crude, or maybe, she considered, this was his true self all along.

She decided to ignore his words as her eyes scanned the cramped room, containing only an old dresser, a nightstand, and a queen-sized bed, which she pointed at assertively. "That bed is mine."

His brow furrowed. "Why do I have to sleep on the floor?"

"You want me to sleep on the floor?" Her hand gracefully moved to her chest in a dramatic gasp. "Where is your chivalry, Dr. Reid?"

"We could share the bed."

She simply stared back at him, her eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and incredulity. Spencer, unable to resist stirring the pot, shot back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, it won't be so bad. Did you know that the concept of sharing a bed has been a cultural practice for centuries? It symbolizes unity and—"

"Reid," she interrupted, shooting him a pointed look. "If you're trying to annoy me, you're doing an excellent job."

He grinned, clearly enjoying her irritation. "I'm just stating a fact. Sharing a room, sharing a bed—it's all deeply rooted in human history."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I highly doubt our situation is deeply rooted in anything other than poor hotel arrangements."

Spencer chuckled, undeterred, his laughter resonating in the dimly lit room as he took a step closer to her. The worn-out floor creaked beneath his feet, echoing the subtle tension that lingered in the confined space of the room. "You never know. We might be making history right now."

She shot him a skeptical look, her gaze unwavering. "I doubt historians will be interested in this disaster."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this skeptical, or is it just reserved for me?"

"It's just reserved for annoying people," she retorted, not missing a beat. She took a deliberate step closer to him, the air thick with a blend of tension and... something else. Her heart quickened as his gaze swiftly swept over her lips before dragging back to her eyes.

"Really?" He closed the distance between them, and she held her ground, tilting her head back to meet his gaze due to his towering height. A subtle trace of his scent hung in the air, his presence enveloping her. She felt a sudden shift in the air, her senses heightened, and her eyes traced the contours of his face—the sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth reflected in his hazel eyes. She also could sense the initial surge of longing coursing through her body.

Shit.

"Believe it or not," he added, his voice a low murmur that resonated in the confined space. "I find your company quite fascinating."

"Fascinating?" She responded, but it came out more breathless than she had intended. She took a deep breath, trying to act as if his close proximity wasn't affecting her. Her pulse, however, betrayed her composure. And it was evident in her voice. "T- That's a stretch."

"Really?" His lips curved into a subtle smile, catching the shift in her demeanor. "I think there's a small part of you that's enjoying this."

"Enjoy what? Your random facts and annoying habits?"

Spencer leaned forward. A tension crackled between them, and it swam in his eyes and played on his lips. It pulled at her chest, making her heartbeat flutter in her throat, and to her surprise, he extended his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch left a searing sensation on her skin.

"Admit it, you're starting to see a different side of me."

She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge his point. "One night doesn't change anything."

"You're right." His hand made its way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. "It can change everything."

Before she could register what he was doing, he closed the distance between them, holding her still as his lips crashed on hers. A thousand things flooded her mind all at once—each of them revolving around him. The way she melted into him felt oddly natural. The way his hands began to roam her body, the way her mouth opened for his tongue, the way her kisses became hungrier, also felt natural.

Which was bad. Really, really bad. This wasn't supposed to happen. One time, she could call it a mistake. But allowing him to have his way with her for the second time... there was no one to blame but herself. She should push him away and set the boundaries she was supposed to set the moment he invaded her personal space. But it was hard to think rationally when he tasted so good.

It was hard to stand her ground when his teeth softly nibbled her bottom lip. It was hard to think straight when she was already pulling hard at the locks at the base of his neck as his tongue explored her mouth, blindly walking her back until her back was pressing onto the wall.

"Look at you," he laughed against her lips. "You're not pushing me away."

"Shut up," she hissed, trying her best to keep her tone icy. But then again, it was hard to stay angry when he was touching her like this. His greedy hand traveled up her thighs, massaging the plush flesh. His fingers finally found the hem of her pants, and he swallowed her moan when they dipped underneath the material, slipping right underneath her panties.

Her breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between her folds, spreading her slick before finding its rightful place on her clit. Spencer didn't hesitate when he started rubbing at her nub, smooth and deliberate, it made her toes curl and her body jumped in a moment of surprised bliss.

Her sound of pleasure was music to his ears, urging him to satisfy her even more. He was quick when those same fingers dipped inside her core, her inner walls tensing at the sudden yet pleasurable stretch. There was a distinct sound along her needy whines, wet and slapping as his palm makes contact with her clit every time he was knuckle-deep inside her. Her head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed—a sight Spencer secretly wanted to commit into his memory.

Without even noticing it, her hips started grinding to chase his fingers, desperate to reach that familiar pleasure twisting in her core. Her movement didn't go unnoticed by him, an amused, deep chuckle reverberating from his chest while he pulled his fingers out of her, rubbing her clit aggressively, knowing it would make her reach her high faster.

"You're going to cum, aren't you? This quick?" She glared at him through half-lidded eyes, not giving him an answer. His smile widened at her resistance. "Do you think I should let you?"

Her heart quickened its pace, knowing well enough what he was about to do. He was going to tease her, or as she liked to think, he was going to torture her by not giving her what she wanted. Her theory was proved right when he leaned down, his face inches away from hers, a sly smile on his lips.

"Beg me."

She quickly shook her head. A hand snaked up her back until it found the base of her skull. His fingers brushed through her strands before gripping hard, sending a jolt of pain down her spine as he yanked her head back.

"Beg me."

"Fuck you—ah!" A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through her, pushing a moan from her that filled the room like a ringing bell—a bell that signaled the fact that despite how much she knew she shouldn't, she was already surrendering to his touch.

"No?" He taunted, his breath brushing against her ear. "Then I'm not letting you cum."

And just like that, the pleasure rippling through her body was ripped away.

He swiftly pulled his hand from under her pants with a smirk she wanted to wipe off before turning his back to her, leaving her all flustered. She took a moment to collect herself, her mind racing to grasp the situation. She loathed him. She really did. She despised the way he was so full of himself.

With a determined exhale, she shook off the flustered feeling that lingered. He may have momentarily unsettled her, but she was not one to let her guard down easily. She was not going to let him get under her skin. If he could make her sexually frustrated, then so could she.

If he was going to play dirty, she was going to get filthy.

Her shirt was the first thing that came off. Then she unbuttoned her pants, pulling them down over her legs. Dear god, she was going to regret this, wasn't she? But she couldn't stop. Not when the rustle of her clothes echoed in the quiet space and Spencer turned around, jaw slacked, a startled expression crossed his face as he watched her.

"W-What are you doing?"

There. That was what she wanted. That priceless, wide-eyed, disbelief face. She had to keep going.

"Taking matters into my own hands."

Her hand reached around to unclasp her bra before she intentionally took her time sliding the straps down her arms, enjoying the way his jaw clenched as you did. Eyes still focused on him, she tossed it to the side. Her hands lowered afterward, and an audible gasp escaped his lips as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of her underwear, sliding them down her legs.

"You're always so smug," she murmured, taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Thinking you have control of me."

Right hand reaching up, her fingertips just lightly swept the length of his stubbled chin, just below his lips. The corner of his mouth only drew up further at her touch. She smiled at his reaction, and her fingers dropped down to grip his chin firmly.

"But I can satisfy myself just fine."

And then she pulled away, the smirk now missing from his lips as she backed out of his reach. She then settled on the bed, and with her eyes never leaving him, she spread her legs wide open. She watched as a breathless sigh escaped his lips and smiled triumphantly, especially when the bulge growing in his dark pants was impossible to ignore.

With her gaze lingering on his steadily growing erection, she trailed her hand down her stomach, the tips of her fingers paused just over her clit. "What's wrong, Reid?" She hummed out, watching his chest heave. "You seem to be speechless."

Because he was, how could he not be when the pad of her middle finger slowly started to lightly circle over her clit. He watched as she teased herself, fingers gliding between her folds, gathering her arousal before slipping a finger inside. She gasped, the wet sound was audible even to her own ears as she gradually pumped her finger in and out.

He took a step closer, and her fingers moved faster as his eyes raked over her body—her luscious breasts fully exposed, legs spread apart, fingers between her thighs. A faint moan fell out of her, her eyes partially closing all the while her fingers never ceased their movement, vigorously thrusting into her cunt.

She then proceeded to put on a show for him, throwing her head back and rolling her hips. He was standing close to her now, eyes focused on her body, his tongue sliding along his lower lip. Her cunt immediately clenched at the sight of him, a bulge straining at the fabric of his pants. The sight sent a surge of warmth through her body, spreading from between her thighs to her cheeks as her fingers quickened in pace and her legs spread farther for him to see.

He was trying to hold himself, it was obvious in the way he held his composure. But then she watched with satisfaction as he stalked towards her, and just because she wanted to fluster him, she couldn't help herself from letting out a needy whine as she slipped her fingers out before rubbing her clit desperately, her eyes boring into his.

"Spencer," she moaned.

That was precisely when he lost it. He didn't even hesitate. He marched straight to her, and her finger stopped in its movement as she watched him settle between her legs, sinking to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and roughly yanked her over the edge of the mattress, and she fell on her back with a squeal.

"You're a goddamn tease, you know that?" He sneered, his warm breath brushing over her heat. "Fine, I'll let you win this time."

A gasp escaped her lips when he wasted no time leaning in, burying his head between her thighs. He wasted no time as she grabbed onto the sheets, feeling his tongue draw circles around her clit before flicking up and down at a rapid pace. Her thighs tighten around his head. and her whole body trembled beneath him, encouraging him to move his tongue faster.

His fingers dug into her thighs, holding them apart as he took his time. Ever so slowly he licked up her slit, gathering her juices on his tongue until he reached her clit, groaning every second of the way until she was shivering beneath his touch. She was breathless, mind buzzing and the room spinning as he thrust his tongue into her warmth, face becoming so deep between her thighs that heat rushed through her body.

When her thighs trembled and threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag deeper inside her. With a roll of his tongue, he was lapping at her walls, swallowing every drop until the second he heard her begin to whine.

It was embarrassing, letting him hear how worked up she was. But she couldn't help it, not when she was losing control of her mind and body. Her hips were starting to buck to meet his tongue. Her jaw slacked. Low moans spilled from her lips as he continued to ravish her, and her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her to hold onto her sanity as waves of pure overwhelming pleasure took hold of her.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, voice two octaves higher before growing silent. She was so, so close to the edge, his tongue relentlessly sucking her clit, licking, swirling over her entrance until her mind fell blank from the bliss. The heat began swelling from between her thighs, tension tightening and all she did was screw her eyes shut.

But seconds before the pleasure was nearly too much to bear, he suddenly pulled away.

"Reid!" She hissed, looking down between her legs. "You're fucking annoying."

He looked up at her with a teasing glint in his eyes, then his mouth parted a second before his tongue swiped over his lip to taste the remnants of her arousal. "What?"

Unbelievable. After pulling that stunt, he had the audacity to feign innocence. She huffed and opened her mouth to retort something but when he started to undress himself, she couldn't think of anything. Her mind was too busy taking in his slightly toned arms, his broad chest, his slim waist, and that patch of soft hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing underneath his pants.

And that was gone too, and now he was standing without any shred of clothing, and it then dawned on her that they were both very much naked. Their first time in that dusty storage room happened too fast that they didn't bother taking off their clothes, but now she had the time to sink in the way he looked wearing nothing but a smirk.

"I didn't bring a condom," he said as he climbed onto the bed. Like that was going to stop them, it didn't stop them before and it most definitely won't stop them now.

"It's fine," she mumbled just as he settled between her legs again, but when his eyes lit up at her words, she smacked his shoulder. "But you're still not finishing inside me."

He merely hummed a reply. Then seconds later he was lining up the tip of his cock with her entrance. His eyes meet hers as he teased her, and she noticed the smirk appear once again on his lips. She pushed her hips toward him, gripping his arm irritatedly, and released a breathy 'hurry up' before she could change her mind.

He wasted no more time pushing himself into her without warning, earning a gasp while he stretched her completely. He pressed his body into her, allowing her lips to collide with his and moan into the kiss when she felt him pull away just enough to slam back into her with one harsh thrust. His hands suddenly reached for her wrists, and he gripped them above her head, pushing them onto the mattress.

His eyes darkened as he looked down at her, and she quickly shut her own as he pumped himself into her cunt over and over again. His motions were aggressive, sloppy, and wild. The moment a particularly deep and brutal thrust hit her at the right spot was the moment she finally gave in to weakness as she let out a loud moan, her mind going blank to everything but the pleasure he was giving her.

Then he pulled back again, and his thick cock slid out of her partway, glistening with her juices, splitting her pussy apart around it before snapping forward, his hips going at a brutal pace, making her whole body bounce from the contact.

"God, you feel incredible," he groaned out just as she gasped from the intense pressure of him inside her, head falling above her, jaw slacked, sweat dripping down his temple. Her eyes fluttered open before exhaling a heavy breath, feeling him tightening his grip on her wrists. "We need to do this more often."

Though she didn't say it, she agreed with him. And it pained her to even consider making this a habit. But it was tempting. It was so tempting that the thought of having him inside her anytime and anywhere had her clenching around his cock, earning a low grunt deep within his chest.

Then something snapped inside her. She had started off holding back, keeping herself in check against the rising wave of sensations. But then, in a moment that felt like a long-awaited release, she decided finally to let go when he continued to hit that perfect spot inside her, and she almost felt ashamed at the noises she was making. She wasn't as vocal when she was alone, nor with other men, yet the man she claimed to hate earned every whimper, every desperate moan.

Hearing her cries urged Spencer even more. He leaned over to her and pushed himself deeper, earning a gasp from her as her legs fell apart even further, letting him sink himself as deep as he could. He pushed her hands above her head and hovered above her, letting his temple fall against hers as his hips rutted violently.

The pressure rose and the tension coiled in the pit of her stomach. Sweats beaded over her skin just the same as him, crying out for him, moans mixing with filthy noises of him thrusting into her wet cunt. His powerful thrusts then quickened, causing her to grow weak her body began to quiver in his grasp.

She cried out, wanting to warn him she was growing close to the edge, her mind growing numb, everything around her fading into black. But didn't give her the chance to speak before he pressed his mouth on hers in a heated kiss, all sloppy and wet and desperate, latching on her lips with so much fervor.

She felt him everywhere. On her lips, biting on her soft flesh. On her breasts, his chest rubbing against her hard nipples. And between her legs, his cock stretching her deliciously, a pleasant feeling that had her whining against his mouth.

But before she could whimper anything else, the pleasure erupted inside of her, red hot heat unraveling to every limb. Her release was a fiery blast—white-hot and overwhelming, turning her into the image of destruction. Her hair stuck to her skin, her back arching off the bed, feeling overwhelmed as his cock hit her deeper. She succumbed to the bliss, eyes shut tight, and her furrowed brow as she surrendered through her orgasm. 

He held her tighter, pumping himself into her as she finally let go, calling out his name in a breathless whimper. She came so hard her legs were shaking uncontrollably, but he didn't stop. He pounded into her harder, reveling in the way she fell apart for him.

"I-I'm close," he grunted. "Where... where do you want me to—"

"Inside."

He looked down at her, trying to hold himself to not combust right there and then. "Are you—" he groaned when she clenched around him. "Are you sure?"

She was already too deep in her climax that any worries faded away. It was like time slowed down, and all that mattered was the intense sensations taking over her body. It was wrong, but it was what she wanted. She wanted to be full of him.

"Yes. Please, just—please," she whispered. "Cum inside me."

It was enough for him to let go, chasing his own pleasure inside of her, hitting deep within her walls as her own arousal dripped out around him. The slick and messy noises mixed with his groans filled the room, heat continuing to rush to her face as her entire body became overly sensitive.

With one final, sharp inhale, the bliss took hold of him. His hips slowed as he began to release inside of her, filling her up with a few huffs and grunts, creating a bigger mess between her thighs. He thrust one last time as the last few drops spilled from him, continuing to press his body against hers as closely as possible.

Then everything went silent except the sound of their ragged breathing. He pulled out of her with a heavy sigh, just as spent as her, breathless beyond belief. He collapsed on the bed, his chest rising up and down as he tried to gain some sense of control, his mind trying to grasp on the euphoria that happened moments ago.

"Well that was—"

She quickly nodded beside him. "Yeah."

Spencer turned his head towards her, and she could already feel him gloating that before he had the chance to say anything, she covered his mouth with her hand. "Do not say anything."

His reply was muffled underneath her palm, and she didn't understand what he was trying to say. She didn't even bother wanting to listen to him anymore. So she got off the bed, wincing when she felt the mess dripping down her thighs as she walked over to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower," she called out. "I feel... sticky."

She then heard some rustling and she turned to see him hopping off the bed, following behind her. She narrowed her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"I feel sticky too."

"Spencer."

His lips twitched into an amused smile. "You called me Spencer."

She groaned and turned around. "We're not showering together, Reid."

"Why not?" He pressed, following her behind. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

She looked at him, assessing the way he was practically begging with his eyes. She was pondering whether it was a good idea to spend more time with him in an enclosed space. Probably not, but considering all the filthy, nasty things they had done, sharing a shower seemed harmless. 

"Alright, fine," she caved in, letting out a sigh. "Just keep your hands to yourself."

He nodded eagerly, but she should've thought better when the spray of water finally hit their bodies and he closed in around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he held her waist. Then he pressed her against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, and it was safe to say that he could not, as a matter of fact, keep his hands to himself.

Not that she was complaining.

.

a/n: I know this was supposed to be enemies to fuckable enemies but they're really starting to grow on me, they kinda cute

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Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed-out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

[starlightsearches]

All Yours

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." / "I won't apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you're taken." / "I don't want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do."

@somethingvicked tagging you because I accidentally deleted the original ask 😬 just wanted to say thanks for the request and a big, fat SORRY for taking so long. i was scrolling through my drafts the other day and saw this was like a year old and the shame managed to motivate me enough to finish this. Ooops again and I hope you enjoy!! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always cherished 💖

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

AN: 18+ only!!!!!!, car sex, partially-clothed sex, piv, semi-public, titty worship, humping, dacryphilia, unwarranted jealousy, porn with a little plot, eddie's self-depricating at the beginning but he fucks like a god, very possesive! eddie, multiple orgasms, one (1) mention of pregnancy but it's off-hand and mostly unrelated to the sex, unprotected sex, I took the spirit of the prompts more than the literal wording, this is very different for me and maybe rushed? idk you tell me 🙃

Eddie always jokes that you're his second love.

His van—with its stained upholstery, rattling frame and the battery on its last leg—was here first, he says. And despite everything previously mentioned, he treats that car like his baby.

So when he slams his door hard enough to rattle the glass in the window, it wouldn’t take a genius to know something is up.

Eddie sits silently in the half-light, gripping at the steering wheel with both hands and gnawing at his bottom lip until the skin turns white.

"Everything okay?"

He won't even look at you when he shoves the key in the ignition.

"Sure," Eddie says, but there's a bite to his voice, quiet over the roaring grind of the starter, "why wouldn't it be?"

The car does start—despite his abuse to the engine—and you prop your feet up on the dash, raising your brows as he tears out onto the empty street.

"Ohhh-kay. Is this about—"

You don't even get a chance to take a guess.

"It's not about Steve."

Eddie spits Steve's name at the window and the passing trees, their leaves blurring into inky smudges. You watch his jaw tick, eyes flashing from the road to the rear-view mirror, but never to you.

His resolve falters with the press of your hand against his on the gearshift.

"Really? ‘Cause I was going to ask if this was about Patrick Swayze?”

The speedometer ticks up for a quick beat, and then drops, and Eddie squirms in his seat.

He steers off to the right, and the van shakes as the tires bump off the smooth pavement to the gravel edge of the road, little twigs snapping off on the trees outside against the fading paint.

"Fuck," Eddie grumbles, quiet, like he's having a conversation with himself. His fingers catch in his curls when he takes the other hand from the steering wheel. It's dark out here, away from the street lights, but you still catch the shine glazing his lower lashes, the way he blinks to keep any tears from pooling there.

"I mean, it's no big deal," you tell him, petting over his knuckles with your thumb, "I just wish you would have said something."

You're not sure what lies were spread to make sure the goofy little pre-teens didn't show up for movie night and try to break down Steve's door. You just knew that—for once—everybody piled on the couch in the living room was of legal age.

It seemed like an exciting prospect when the night started, but everything was pretty much the same: just more beer, and fewer voices shouting about whatever movie you were gonna watch.

Nancy and Robin were a united front when they pulled out Dirty Dancing, and you joined them, mostly to annoy Steve when he pretended he wasn't interested.

Eddie grumbled about the choice, arm slung around your shoulder, but he came around, eventually. Nobody can resist the allure of Johnny Castle.

However many beers you had may have been one too many, though, because as soon as the credits started rolling, Steve had yanked you from Eddie's grasp and onto your feet as Nancy and Robin were cheering jump jump jump and you ran, stumbling into Steve's arms with a surprisingly powerful leap. Then you were floating, high above the living room with a bird's eye view of the crushed beer cans and Hostess wrappers littered over the carpet for one glorious second.

Until you landed in a giggling heap with Steve groaning beneath you, the room shaking with laughter to the point of tears, until Robin threatened to pee her pants.

Now that you've sobered up a little, you recognize that Eddie hadn't been laughing along.

He lets his head fall back against the headrest, eyes big as saucers, pathetic like a little dog who's about to get yelled at for pissing on the couch, and he twists the hand that's resting beneath yours until your fingers intertwine, gives you a squeeze—a move you recognize as an apology before he's got the words for what he's feeling.

"You know I'm not interested in Steve, right?" you ask, squeezing back.

Eddie nods, but his eyes tell a different story. He carries this thing with him—a kind of self-conscious bewilderment each time you reach for him in a crowd, press your lips to his, call him your boyfriend when there are people around to hear it.

It's kind of funny how much it doesn't make sense to you, how you assumed that, deep down, Eddie knew that you loved him, but also how badly you wanted him. That it wasn't some kind of fluke or coincidence or apathy that kept you here.

Eddie's breath catches in his chest, like he's trying not to cry, and you know you were wrong. You're not doing nearly good enough a job at making Eddie feel half as loved as he is.

You slip your hand from his, resting it just above his knee—an innocent start for your more illicit plans—scooting in your chair until you're almost nose to nose, lower your voice into a whisper.

"I'm serious, honey. You've got nothing to worry about."

Your plan is working already. Eddie swallows hard enough you can see his adam's apple jump in his throat, and his gaze keeps flickering from your eyes to the hand you've got on his thigh, climbing higher with each soothing stroke.

"Yeah, I-I know, baby, it's just—" his breath hitches, but he's fighting to get the words out, wet lips parting with a heavy breath as your fingers travel higher, thumb in the crease between his thigh and his crotch, "it's Steve Harrington."

His voice jumps an octave on Steve’s name, and your quiet laughter comes out in little breaths.

“I don't want to talk about Steve Harrington."

Your words hit his mouth in a puff of hot air, and Eddie gasps into the kiss that follows, moaning a little when your palm meets the zipper of his jeans and his swelling cock beneath. The tip of his nose digs into your cheek, one of his big hands finding your waist, trying to pull you closer, or as close as he can with the center console in the way.

"God, baby. Need you- need you so bad," he huffs, but you’re already breaking from the kiss, lifting your hips from the seat as you crawl into the space between Eddie’s warm chest and the steering wheel.

“Then you can have me,” you tell him, settling your weight in his lap, grasping around for the lever that’ll give you a little extra space. The seat rattles back until it stops with a heavy clunk, and Eddie has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep quiet when your body lurches into his.

He won’t meet your eyes, looking out the blackened windows, checking the car like somebody’s gonna pop out from the back seat.

“What? Uh, I mean—like, here?”

You take Eddie’s face in both your hands, relishing the scratch of the sparse stubble peppering his jaw. Out of habit, his hands come to rest on your thighs, and you hum in approval.

“Whenever–“ you whisper, shifting your hips back just to bring them forward again, the crotch of your jeans meeting the bulge in his, rattling the chains hooked to his belt loops. Eddie’s neck goes taut, head pressed back against the seat.

“Wherever– “ you place your lips at the delicate skin he’s revealed, just brushing along the column of his throat. When you meet his eyes again, Eddie’s pupils are blown wide.

“And however you want me, Eddie. I’m all yours.”

“You’re all mine,” he repeats back to you, and his hands echo the sentiment, his confidence growing as he moves around to grip at your ass cheeks, pulling you more fully against him until he can grind up on you, his lips at your neck now, planting messy kisses at the edge of your throat that have you digging your fingers into his hair just to keep him there.

Your boyfriend's got a big dick—fucking hung like a horse, although he doesn't seem to know it, and he's already throbbing and heavy in his jeans, bucking his hips into you like he's trying to get you pregnant before he’s even inside you.

"Eddie," you sigh his name, just to admire the feeling of it, and he lets out a groan that has you dripping, the damp fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt and dragging over your clit with each shift of his hips.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, and you hardly notice his hands at the zipper on your jacket, trailing it down, down, down until he can slip it from your shoulders, gripping at your tits through your tank top.

"You feel so—fuck," he's cut you off mid-sentence, pulling the neckline of your top down until your breasts are free, nipples already pebbling in the cool air. Eddie pinches one of them in between two fingers, the metal of his rings biting at the other until you gasp.

"Yeah?" he repeats, harder this time, the word mumbled into your tits. Eddie's smothering himself, licking and kissing and teething his way as he moves to replace one of his hands with his mouth over the dark, stiff peak.

He sucks the bud between his lips, glides his tongue over the sensitive skin there. The sound of your moans fills the car, and suddenly the pressure of his cock isn't enough when there's so much fabric between you. You can't pull away, though, not with how his free arm has circled your waist, forcing the sway of your hips.

"Eddie," you call out again, but he just grunts, onto the other breast now, fucking devouring you in a way only he can.

He's not stopping, teeth scraping at your skin and his lips pursed, sucking the life out of you while his other hand pinches and flicks the other stiff bud, still damp with his spit.

It's almost frightening how close he's gotten you, and just from this—the movement of his hips and his worshiping mouth.

"Eddie."

There must be something different in the way you say it this time, because he listens, finally, snaking his hand down between your bodies, slipping the button on your jeans and shoving his fingers inside until they reach the apex of your aching cunt. Your vision goes foggy, on the verge of tears from the relief of something solid pressed right up against your clit.

And his mouth doesn't stray from your tits, single-minded in a way only somebody like Eddie could be, sucking at your nipples until they both shine.

His fingers curl, perfect, sitting right where you need them as you grind and grind and grind your hips, brain turning to jelly with the way he's making you feel.

You feel Eddie's teeth bite a perfect circle on the inside of your breast, and that's what pulls you under.

You're practically screaming, and Eddie still won't stop, letting you ride out the perfect feeling of him, maybe hoping you'll remember this moment the next time Steve sees you. Just the idea of meeting up with your friends again after this has you flushing so deep you think you might combust right here.

The sparks fade slowly, your pussy still shaking and empty, wet enough you're sure you've soaked Eddie's fingers and he finally relents, his plump, pink lips tracing your collar bones, stopping at the edge of your jaw. He takes the delicate skin their between his teeth and sucks, hard.

That jolts you from your stupor. You press his head back, one hand on his forehead so you can make him look you in the eyes.

"Hey—that's gonna bruise."

You're scolding has no effect; Eddie's on a different plane now, cocky from making you cum so easily and still a little peeved from earlier, pressing past your hold on him until he can reattach himself to your neck.

"Not sorry," he tells you, marking you up between staccato shifts of his hips, "wanna make sure everybody knows you're mine."

It's impenetrable logic—you couldn't argue with him if you wanted to, and you really, really don't want to when he makes his way to your mouth, kissing you, his tongue against yours and his hot, heavy breaths, one hand balled in the fabric of your tank top at the middle of your back.

"Turn around," he tells you, guiding you into compliance with his hands at your waist, and it makes you dizzy, feeling like you'd end up on the ceiling if Eddie didn't keep his grip on you, pulling you tight against him until your back meets his chest.

It’s like he's touching you everywhere, hands on your hips and your tits and pushing your hair up off your neck—looking for more skin that he hasn't painted yet—so you're not prepared when the chair falls back, left breathless and unmoored, staring at the stained upholstery on the roof of Eddie's van.

"You good?" Eddie asks in response to the gasp you let out, urging your hips into the air as he tugs your jeans and your underwear down around your thighs.

You just nod, too desperate for any explanation, to say anything at all. Eddie's turned you stupid, has you whining into his neck when you lean your head back on his shoulder, looking up at his jaw with wild, tear-filled eyes.

"Gonna ruin you for anybody else, sweetheart," he tells you over the sound of his jangling belt, his hot cock pressed against your back. "Gonna make sure you never leave me."

You nod, fucking rabid when he shifts and you can finally feel the fat tip of his dick at your entrance, smearing the first taste of his cum over your lips.

"Nobody else, Eddie," you promise him, "just you."

Eddie takes his cock in his hand, teasing it over your pussy, nudging it against your clit until you jump in his arms. He grips tighter at your waist, holding you just under your tits to keep you still.

"Promise?" he asks.

The tears that slip down your cheeks and onto his neck must be answer enough, because Eddie slides inside you, just the tip, and the relief at even this small feeling of fullness has you crying out.

Eddie's thrusts are methodical and relentless, slow at first, but they build quickly, his hips slamming into you, his grunts from exertion and from pleasure low in your ear. And you're moaning, too, like putty against him, totally enraptured as you watch the muscles in his jaw flex, beads of sweat collecting at his hairline.

He keeps hitting this spot inside you, has you full to the brim, and you're so wet you half-wonder if your pussy juice is soaking into the seat.

It feels like the van is rocking with the force of his thrusts, steam collecting around the edges of the windows from your shared breaths. It’s obscene how in to this you are, how loud it sounds, the wet squelch of your poor cunt echoing around the interior of his van.

"You're gonna cum for me, baby," he tells you, "wanna feel you squeezing my cock."

Four of his fingers meet at the top of your thighs, rubbing steady circles over your clit. You think you might be screaming.

Eddie has you cumming like you're being raptured, twitching in his lap, tits bouncing as he fucks into you, deeper than before until your vision blacks out and you can't see or feel or think of anything but perfect Eddie Munson and his perfect fucking cock.

It's dark when you come to. Maybe he fucked you blind.

Your vision returns, though, just in time. Eddie's chest heaves beneath you, and he pulls out with a grunt, his cum and yours dripping down your thighs in a sight so lurid it's got you flushing down to your neck.

That's definitely going to stain the upholstery.

Eddie doesn't seem to care, stroking his heavy hands over your thighs, pulling your clothes back into place—gentle where they had been rough, his mouth dotting soft kisses against the back of your spine.

Eddie shifts you around in his lap, let's his big eyes find yours. Your fingers twine with his, and he laughs a little when you kiss at his knuckles.

"You know," Eddie says, cheeks pink and a stupid smile on his face, "now that I think about it, Dirty Dancing might be my new favorite movie. I mean, who doesn’t love Patrick Swayze?"

[nerdy-novelist017]

The Ride (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 2)

Wow, I truly didn't expect all the love for the last post! Thank you so so much! Here's a part two baked fresh just for you lovelies! ;)

( Also! I'm going to work on putting together a masterlist for my fics for him since I have so many ideas)

Ps. please send me requests for this man i'm going feral over here from all the possibilities

Part 1 here

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 1.9k

-Minor NSFW Content-

Summary- You thought getting on the bike would be the hardest part. Having to unwrap your legs from his waist and get off at the end of the night was significantly more difficult.

*******

Despite the fact that you knew there were multiple people surrounding you, all cheering, your eyes were glued to Benny’s form as he swung a leg over top of his bike. He kickstarted the motorcycle, the muscles in his thigh flexing through the faded pair of jeans he wore. The engine roared to life and it took everything in you not to jump back. Benny glanced over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes all but dared you to run away, to take it back and return to the safety of the car. 

But some underlying competitive streak in you flared and you clenched your fists tightly. You approached his bike and he took your purse and Tupperware bowl, tucking them away in his back compartment. He leaned forward and awkwardly swung a leg over his bike, attempting to repeat his action as you mounted, but the movement caused your dress to slide up to reveal a generous view of your upper thigh. Blushing, you glanced at the onlookers who cheered and whistled at the sight, but Benny seemed to ignore them. Without looking, he reached back, his hand enveloping your thigh, sliding it higher so that your foot found the footrest. Heat instantly blossomed from the contact and you physically resisted clenching your knees tighter around him. 

“Hang on tight, Little Bunny,” he murmured as he moved his hand to grab your arm, gently guiding it forward to wrap around his waist.  He revved the engine and you tighten your grasp over his waist, eyes closed as the bike began to slowly roll forward over the grassy field. The cheers subsided into the wind that tugged gently at your hair. You’re going on an adventure, it seemed to say, but you refused to open your eyes.

Heart drumming in your chest, you hoped to spend the entire ride with your eyes screwed shut, pretending to be anywhere else, anywhere safer. But then the bumpy and uneven field soon turned to smooth blacktop as he maneuvered the two of you onto the backroad. You felt the bike increase in speed slightly and you dared to peek an eye open. Corn fields blurred as you sped by, the setting sun seeming to light the horizon with a brilliant show of deep oranges and purples. A gasp escaped your lips and you pressed yourself closer to him in a desperate measure to not fall off, hands flush against the curve of his abdomen.  

He rode with one hand, you realized, and it painted a picture of a cowboy in your mind. Had this been the 1860s, Benny would have ridden his horse like this, a model of a true outlaw with his dangerous persona and ruggedly handsome appearance.

The world sped by, or rather you sped by the world as Benny drove down the center of the yellow lines. You couldn’t stop the squeal that escaped you as he leaned the bike to go around a turn. He took you down roads you’ve never been before, pointed out interesting things and places you’ve never seen. True to his word, he didn’t go very fast, never faster than the speed limit at least. But regardless, it was an adventure – both frightening and fun and your heart never seemed to return to its slower rhythm. Despite the fact that you've never ridden on a motorcycle before and the uncertainty of your next destination, there was strange sense of safety that invoked you as you breathed in Benny's scent, hands clasped tightly to him. As the sun completely dipped below the horizon and the temperature dropped, he finally asked you where you lived. 

When he did eventually pull up to your house (hours later), the rumble of the motorcycle seemed to echo off the houses, disturbing the peaceful silence of your quiet neighborhood. He cut the engine and the toe of his boot kicked out the kickstand, shifting your combined weights to the side slightly and the air was once again filled with silence. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned back ever so slightly, his head turning to glance back at you over his shoulder.

He held an arm out for you as you awkwardly dismounted, heart pounding again. A strange sense of disappointment panged in your gut as the bottom of your heels made contact with the blacktop. You stood there before him, eyes now level with his as he remained seated casually on his bike. Keep driving, you wanted to tell him. Keep driving and let's find our way to the end of the world together. You wanted to hop back on the back and wrap your arms around his waist. You wanted to ride with him till the sun came up over the horizon, just this once, just because you’ve never stayed out till the sun came up. Your family would worry, your father would be pacing up and down the hallway just inside, but something in you longed to throw caution to the wind, to do something naughty. 

You bit your lip as you broke eye contact with him and looked down to your feet. What were you thinking? You played life by the rules. You were a good girl, that’s what your parents called you. That’s what your teachers called you. That’s what you were raised to be. That’s all you knew how to be, what you were comfortable with. Benny . . . he made you uncomfortable. He filled your belly with butterflies, made your heart pump harder than normal, made the spot between your legs tingle. All things that dangerously threatened to upend the perfectly planned life you had. Trouble, plain and simple.

You got what you wanted – a ride home and a bit of excitement. You got close enough to the fire without getting burned, got to play a risky game for the evening. Now it was time for you to go back to your routine life. That perfectly . . . boring life. 

“Thank you . . . for the ride,” you said softly, the adrenaline of the adventure smothering into ashes. 

He nodded and you watched as his cyan gaze moved from you to your house behind you. “You still live with your family?”

“Yeah,” you replied, heat touching your face. “Why?”

He looked back at you. “Just gotta know what kind of house you want after we’re married.”

“What?” you balked at him, stomach dropping like you just took a plunge off a bridge.

He smiled and leaned an arm forward, resting casually on his bike as if he didn’t just say something shockingly direct. He offered no help, just watched as you attempted to sputter a response.

“M–married? We . . . I don’t . . . even know you.” You breathed out a nervous laugh. You went for one ride with him! You had only had a handful of sentences exchanged between you, the majority of those spoken with a crowd cheering around you. Who did this guy think he was? 

He shrugged as he slid his hands into the front pocket of his jacket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes. “We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity. “I’m not marrying you!”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He looked amused as he flipped open his lighter, the flame casting his face in an orange glow as he lit one of his cigarettes. Your protests wavered slightly as you watched his hands cup around the flame in an effort to protect from the wind and his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the cigarette tucked between his lips. A phantasm of his hands cupping your breasts, his tall frame hovering above you, lips pressing softly against your collarbone tainted your mind and you took a step back to put physical distance between you and this man. 

Swallowing thickly, you continued, “Well, I don’t even know your last name–”

“Cross.”

“–And I don’t even know if I like you!”

“I think you like me,” he said confidently and you snapped your jaw shut at the accusation. “Why else would you let me drive you home?”

“W–what if I just used you to get me home?” you countered quickly. 

“Did you use me, Bunny?” he drew out the sentence with an almost painfully seductive smile. You furrowed your brow, irritation flooding your veins. He was quick, you’d give him that.

Benny studied the way your lips pursed and he wondered if that was something you did while you were angry or if it was your way of finding another excuse. He wanted to spend the rest of his life finding the answers to your facial expressions, the meaning behind your almost undetectable quirks he was discovering with each minute spent in your company. And my god, those those lips . . . his eyes fell down to those soft lips of yours, fascinated by how he wanted to feel them wrapped around his—

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Cross,” your voice brought him back to reality as you reached forward and grabbed your purse and empty Tupperware bowl from his bike. “But I–I have no intentions on marrying you. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever see you again.”

“Hmm, okay,” he feigned being hurt by your words. “Whatever you say, kid.” 

You shot him a frustrated look. “What’s with all the nicknames?”

He held up his arms in mock surrender. “You don’t like ‘em?”

"I don't think they're very accurate."

He raised his brows at you, unconvinced.

“Yeah? Well, I got a nickname for you.” you retorted. 

“And what’s that?” He played along to your game. 

“Trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Mh-hm.” You nodded and lifted your free hand to brush the wind-whipped hair from your eyes.

He shrugged and spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that. You think I’m trouble, Bunny?”

An exasperated sigh left your lips and Benny felt a swell of pride at the reaction. This was fun, teasing you like this. The blush tainting your face, a clear sign of your flustered reaction, made his heartbeat quicken. 

“Goodnight, Benny,” you said a little firmer as you turned and walked up the sidewalk to your house. 

“Goodnight, Bunny,” Benny called out as he watched the sway of your hips as you climbed the front steps. You shot him one last look over the curve of your shoulder before you opened the front door and slipped inside. Benny sat on his bike outside your house, his mind reeling as he finished his cigarette. He hadn’t felt this excited in a long time and hadn't felt this kind of adrenaline since his first ride. This was a new kind of ride, Benny realized. Something exhilarating and arousing gripped his heart when he looked at you in your pretty little dress with your innocently wide eyes and pouty lip. The primal instinct of taking you in his arms and laying you down onto your shared bed, his body shielding you from the rest of the world played in his mind the movie. He wanted to grab your hand and show you just how exciting life could be with him. Not to change you, he’d make sure your integrity was protected, but to broaden your horizon.

And maybe it made him selfish, but Benny's never had anything as good as you in his life and because of that, he wanted to be your guide throughout every adventure going forward.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

That’s Not What Friends Do (part 1)

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating

Request: Lando and the Reader have been best friends since they were babies. Lando has been in love with the Reader since he was a teenager, which is why he has never had a serious relationship. He has flings with girls, but nothing serious. On the other hand, the Reader has been in love with Lando for the past one to two years but thinks he doesn't like her that way, which is why she doesn't propose. Lando is very protective of the Reader, and the Reader is equally protective of Lando.... She knows he sleeps around and is protective of him in a way that she advises him to be smart about who he sleeps with and to stay out of the headlines for anything other than racing. The story starts after the Brazil race, where Lando had a tough time and went without sleep for 24-48 hours. When he returns from São Paulo, he finds the Reader already there, ready to comfort him after a bad race. - I changed it up a bit adding Charles into the story, but I hope you still like it!

"Oh, yes, yes, yes-ah.." The girl moans breathlessly into the pillow as Lando animalistically continues pounding her from behind.

"Just like that, Lando, give it to me" She continues talking even though Lando hates hearing it.

He hates the way his name sounds coming from her lips. He also hates that he's giving her what she wants. And most of all, he hates the fact that once again he's fucking someone else, imagining it washer.

Once he closes his eyes and thinks of your innocent face, it sends him over the edge, he twitches pulling out his cock and cumming inside the condom. "Fuck.." He moans throwing his head back as his thighs shake.

"You didn't have to pull out, you know? You have a condom on anyway" The girl smirks turning to look at him and trying to pull him down to her.

Lando doesn't say anything, he raises his eyebrow at her, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes at her stupid comment.

He's been with so many girls he can't even count them, but even when he's drunk out of his mind, protection is a must have. He's not fucking around when it comes to that, not when he doesn't even know half of those girls' names. Nor is he interested in their names. All he cares about is emptying himself, giving himself a short-term pleasure and maybe just maybe running into someone who is at least slightly similar to her.

"You're not gonna stay?" The girl asks when he gets up from the bed and starts pulling his pants up.

"No, sorry, I gotta go" With curt, almost no explanations, he always leaves minutes after he finishes. Not that he's proud of it, but to be honest, he doesn't care either.

On the other hand, y/n doesn't spend her free nights the way Lando does. She doesn't fuck around with guys to keep her mind off Lando because she knows that's impossible in a way.

Although she spends some of her evenings wishing she had never seen that article a year and a half ago. It was a perfectly normal Monday night, the day after the race, when after a long flight she finally lay down on her couch, snuggled under the blanket and started scrolling through her phone. At one point, her best friend Ruby sent her an article titled "Friends"? and a picture of y/n and Lando that y/n hasn't stopped thinking about ever since.

The picture captured the moment when, after the race, Lando had both arms tightly wrapped around y/n and was kissing her temple with his eyes closed.

At first it seemed like an ordinary picture, I mean it wasn't the first time they shared a close moment like that before. After all they're friends? Friends do that, right? But the longer y/n stared at it, the more it awakened something in her that hadn't been there before.

When she found herself thinking about Lando and herself at night to fall asleep, she realized she was in trouble because she knew she was in love with her best friend. But since she also knew that the night she was staring at their picture, he was fucking some girl because he himself had told her he was meeting her that night, y/n knew she had to suppress her feelings.

That's where y/n had a little help named Charles.

"Where were you?"

Y/n startles almost screaming when she walks into her apartment and turns on the light revealing Lando on her couch.

"Oh my God, Lando!!" She said, barely able to catch her breath as she held her hand over her heart thinking it would jump out at any second. "You scared the shit out of me! How did you get in here?"

"You gave me the key?"

"I did, but to use it in case of emergency only!"

"You not answering my calls is an emergency" He says and you roll your eyes at him as you take off your shoes. "So?"

"So?" You mimic him.

"Where were you?"

"I was" You sigh. "On a date."

"You were on a date?" He asked a little panicked, following you like a puppy into the kitchen where you had gone.

"Mhm" You mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Ready to conquer Brazil?" You ask trying to change the subject.

"Who were you on a date with?" He asks not dropping it.

"Can we please not talk about it?" You sigh. You really had no intention of telling him anytime soon that you were seeing Charles. You knew Lando was never much of a fan of Charles. Although the reason for that was never clear to you, Lando had actually seen the way Charles secretly looked at you on a couple of occasions, and he confirmed his suspicions when Carlos told him that Charles had said he wanted to get to know you better.

"Why not? Since when am I not allowed to know who you're seeing?"

"Oh please, as if you tell me about every girl you see"

"Well..that's n-not the same"

"Oh really? And by the way, the other day Instagram was full of you and some blonde at a club again. I could see how drunk you were through the picture, you know?" You've scolded him for the umpteenth time already. "You really should be more careful who you associate yourself with, it's getting out of hand"

Lando remained silent because he knew you were right and he hated that he knew you were always right.

"Lando, you know I'm only saying that because I don't want them to talk badly about you and play with your head..."

No one really knew Lando the way you did. After all, you've known each other since childhood, inseparable since you were little. Your relationship has always been one of a kind, both of you very protective of each other. For Lando, it was like he wasn't afraid to hurt anyone but you. You were something that cannot be touched.

"I know, but I don't want to talk about that either." He says. "Are you coming with me to Brazil?"

"No, I'm sorry, Lan. I have a project to finish. I have so much to do and so little time."

"So you have time to date but you don't have time to be there when I need you?"

"H-how can you even say that?" You were offended because that was far from the truth. If anyone was always there for Lando, it was you. You just didn't know he was saying this only out of jealousy and because he had a hard time accepting that you had someone in your life besides him.

"Let me guess, he'll be your moral support while you work on your project?"

Oh, if he only knew that the "moral support" he was talking about would be much closer to him than to you that weekend, he would surely lose his mind.

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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(special thanks to @bucket-of-cheese for this episode cover art!, as well as @karkatwaddles @chip-the-dip @scrambledlikeeggs @kairamuwu with editing)

---

Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

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Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

Grian and Scar both spend their morning groggy and aching from the phantom fight the previous evening. Not to mention the little rest they were able to get during the relatively short night that this planet provides.

Now that they feel rested enough, Grian shoots up high above the canyon with a few strong beats of his wings. Scar watches him from the ground as he makes a few circles in the sky before he dives down back to join him. With a greater bearing on his surroundings, thanks to the high vantage point, Grian picks a direction that seems most prominent to head towards. He returns grumbling about how he could see something in the distance, but it looked like nothing more than a bunch of junk to him. Not much of the optimist it seems, but Scar prides himself on being able to make the most of any situation. He pats Grian's back, giving a small speech about how 'that a bunch of junk was better than nothing after all'. Grian blinks slowly, reluctantly agreeing. They have a destination now!

Grian consistently finds himself needing to catch up with Scar, occasionally mumbling about how the ground is too flat and something about bird feet. It’s obvious by how he’s fidgeting that he’d rather be flying, even though that option means either leaving Scar behind or carrying him there. And as much as Scar wants to ask, he’s also scared he might lose an eye as a result.

He leaves the slightly personal question unasked, the conversation instead being filled with Grian complaining about walking. He hesitates when their passage opens up to the blaring, exposed sun. Holding his hand up to shield himself from the harsh light, he scrunches his face, occasionally wincing when his hot metal limbs hit his skin with his heavy, tired steps.

Scar himself isn’t having much of a fun time either. The leg braces he uses aren’t meant to be put under a lot of strain for such a long time. It’s only a matter of time before they might snap. The grains of sand grating against them are probably hastening the unit's deterioration. He'll have to use Grian as support if they do break.. and go through the laborious task of requesting a new pair from the Vindicators.

Occasionally they have to take a break, with Scar trying to brush as much dust and sand from the joints of the braces, doing the most he can to slow down any decay it might have caused them. On the other hand, Grian uses the opportunity to rest, immediately slumping against the nearest wall and fanning himself with his tail.

Scar has long since taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist, relieved by the fact he'd been wearing a tank top underneath. The lack of sleeves feels like a world of difference in the heat, not that he wouldn't take it off completely if need be, despite his company. Every so often, he catches Grian's lingering looks when he thinks Scar isn't watching, his expression weirdly guarded and lost in thought. One time, when he notices he’s being examined, Scar flexes jokingly in response, receiving a roll of the eyes and quiet mutterings about indecency.

Despite how hot it is and how much his company seems to fidget and scratch at the uncomfortable feathers underneath, Grian seems insistent on keeping his layers on.

Finally, they reenter the shade, and the winged man groans, flinging around his stiff arms.

”What's wrong?” Scar turns around, watching as the strange man shakes out his feathers. Sand rains down as he does as if the sunlight has been caking him in the sand.

"I lost my helmet and, therefore, my visor. It sucks."

“Sucks how?"

"The light hurts my eyes." Grian rubs at his temples, scrunching his eyes closed.

Scar tilts his head in response, confused. It’s bright, not enough to be painful yet, but it’s clearly bothering Grian more somehow.

When he’s met with a lack of a retort, Grian glances up at Scar, quickly taking note of his confused expression. He rolls his eyes like he knows what Scar is thinking.

"I'm a glare," he says so simply, answering the unspoken question.

"Not… glare-leaning? Or an avian?" Scar, not so subtly, looks Grian up and down, the other tensing uncomfortably with a weird look to match.

"No."

"But…" Scar trails off, not quite being sure how to ask respectfully.

"I have wings?" Grian finishes for him, like he’s heard it all before. Tucking his wings behind his back on reflex, he takes in a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for a speech.

A series of looks flash across his face. Scar waits patiently, only for Grian to breathe out a quiet "Yeah," with no further elaboration.

"Glares can have wings?"

"This one can. It's complicated." Grian walks past Scar, losing eye contact deliberately as he strolls ahead. He doesn’t appear upset at least, bored is the closest to how Scar could describe it.

"But… How?" Scar asks cautiously, against his better judgment.

"Family curse from hitting a magical bird with a ship centuries ago." Grian holds his hands out, imitating piloting, before hitting his hands together with a metal clank. "BAM! Wings for all your firstborns."

"Wait, really?" Scar exclaims. Genuinely believing Grian’s story. He catches up to him with a quick jog, looking to the glare in an attempt to get a read of his face only to be met with a smirk. Oh.

"Nah-" Grian chuckles to himself, patting Scar on the shoulder.

Scar watches as he continues up ahead, looking at the feathered tail with a new perspective. A glare. That explains why his feathers look so real — they’re a feature all Glares possess to varying degrees – and his deep inky eyes that never seem to shrink, even in the harsh light. Maybe the wings are just artificial add-ons, but that doesn’t feel right — they’re far too realistic and fluid. He shakes the thought out of his head. It probably isn’t polite to dwell on it, the subject is obviously something Grian doesn’t want to talk about.

But no, Scar isn’t about to be done with this conversation completely.

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

Grian, who had walked slightly ahead, stops and turns around to give Scar an almost offended look before he shrugs, replacing it with an amused, yet tired one.

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Without warning, everything in Scar’s sight goes dark, like an all-encompassing shadow out of nowhere, the murky nothingness only just reaching his toes. He sticks his hands out in front of him, looking at them as they become outlined by a dark void.

He knows what this is. Most glares possess this skill, it’s the baseline ability tied to their magic. ‘Darkness’ he thinks he remembers it being called. Scar has never experienced it first hand though, and he can’t help but ogle the slightly frightening power.

“Whoah-”

As quickly as it appeared, the gloom flees, leaving him with the less-than-friendly, hot reflective sands.

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

Grian very hesitantly smiles back, turning away before Scar can process it completely.

Despite his wary demeanour, he secretly revels in the reaction, not quite being able to help but grin to himself.

“Can you do illusion magic too?” Scar asks, making Grian's steps hesitate for just a second, the mood in the air changing quickly. His back is still facing Scar, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing the slight shudder in Grian’s shoulders, and the subtle flicks of his feathers.

“…No,” is all he says in slow response… too slowly.

Ah, so another sour subject, it feels like Scar is collecting them all. As much as he wants to pry, he feels like he has asked enough.

There’s a lapse in their conversation as Scar's eyes wander. They both continue walking, albeit slowly, probably due to Grian's obvious intent to savour the shade when passing through it.

"If the sun's bothering you that much, why don't you just do the darkness thing to yourself?" Scar inquires, filling the silence.

"That's not how it works. It's only a perception, I don't actually switch off the sun," Grian replies, his voice back with some light, the previous question forgotten.

"Oh."

"And trust me, oh how I want to switch off this sun." He holds his long claws up to the sky, imitating crushing the light that peeks from the shade touching the tips of his claws.

“I'll still get the painful headache even if I make everything dark for me.”

Scar glances down to his waist, where his own helmet has been clipped. He once again catches up to Grian, leg braces creaking slightly.

"… I could give you my helmet." He hands it to him.

Grian looks down at the poor thing with a gentle look on his face.

"It's got a huge crack in it, so it's pretty much useless. Sorry about that, by the way." He flicks a guilty look at Scar before settling back into stride ahead of him.

"I wouldn't call it useless-'' Scar looks down at it with a frown. He hopes he can repair it, it’s dear to him.

"Even if it wasn't, I would never put that thing on."

"What’s wrong with the cat ears?" Scar questions, a smile evident in his voice. He knows well that it isn’t his cute accessories that’s deterring Grian from putting the helmet on, he just thinks it’s amusing to indicate so.

He holds up the helmet up in front of Grian, closing one eye and envisioning him wearing it with a smirk.

Grian squawks out a laugh and pushes the helmet aside, "Hah. Ironically, I don’t have a problem with that, though I wouldn’t break the dress code just to put cat ears on a helmet."

"You know about the codes?"

"Sorta. I mean, I've unfortunately become very familiar with them – know your enemy or whatever."

"You really don't like vindicators, then," Scar says, with no malice in his voice. He’s more curious than anything.

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

Scar hops ahead of Grian, stepping slightly in front of him so that Grian has no choice but to look at him. "Well, I'm okay, right?" Scar smiles tilting his head.

He watches the bird’s gaze shift from the dust on Scar’s boots up to meet his eye, a brow raised.

And with a genuine smile and quiet laugh, Grian answers "Yeah, you're alright".

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

While navigating through a particularly maze-like part of the ravine. Grian had stopped abruptly, and grabbed Scar by the shirt mid-conversation, pulling him around a corner.

Scar attempted to ask what was wrong only for Grian to shush him, hissing about how he’d seen two figures deeper in.

Wiggling slightly out of Grian's hold, Scar popped his head around briefly, catching a glance at their new company.

There were, in fact, two figures who sat up against a stony wall as the passage opened up, connecting to another, larger passage. Scar and Grian had an advantage, as the corner shielded them from view. One figure had their back to them, their large silhouette obscuring the other figure from view. The only indication there was even two, being the distinct overlap of a conversation that could barely be heard from where Grian and Scar were hidden.

And that brings them to the present, with Scar tapping his chin, debating different ideas of how to approach them. Grian listens as he impatiently claws at the ground, grumbling at each suggestion that leaves the other's mouth.

There’s a quiet shift in the sand to Scar's side and he turns to watch as Grian shifts closer to him, his shoulders hunched slightly and wings puffed up.

Scar finds himself suppressing the urge to compare him to a pinecone.

"Why would they be dangerous?" Scar asks, tilting his head slightly. Confused about the other's comment.

Grian splutters, mouth working but not making noises aside from baffled squeaks before he eventually coughs.

"… I mean, I was a stranger a mere hours ago and I had a blade to your heart, dude." His voice pitches up at the end, causing him to flinch when it echoes slightly against the walls. He ducks as if that would stop the sound, scooting closer to Scar, further from the stranger's direction.

"….Well, you're not doing that right now." Scar smiles a wide grin, hushing his voice pointedly before shrugging.

Grian just stares at him, almost as if testing Scar’s smile, before he rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"… Can't argue with that logic."

Scar's smile grows slowly, bright and excited at Grian's agreement. He watches all of Grian's feathers stand up even more somehow, catching on to Scar's enthusiasm.

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

"I wouldn't go that far, trust is a strong word," Grian pulls a dubious look before grumbling and looking away. He shakes his shoulders as if trying to suppress the stress that’s putting him and his feathers on edge.

“I honestly don't think it's a good idea to even approach them– People are almost always bad news in these situations. We could just work our way around them…” he trails off mumbling to himself.

“But that's no fun!” Scar hums lightly, nudging the bird out of his strategizing. “Besides, they could help us!”

Grian doesn’t reply, just huffs with a scowl that squishes his face comically.

Scar absently scratches at his chin before he leans up against the wall pressing his forearm high above Grian, leaning over, the other doing a double take, clearly taken back by how much Scar is leaning over into his space. He'll have to put on his charm to try and convince the bird, his most effective tactic.

"You're nervous but I can assure you this, I can gain any advantage in a situation, just by talking" He gives him a cheesy lopsided grin.

"What- do you possess the ability to talk someone to death? Boredom? Into sleep, perhaps?" Grian replies in the most mocking and deadpan tone, meeting his energy.

"All of the above!!! Depending on the weather of course," He says, leaning in slightly with a whisper before bouncing back to that quietish tone of his, "and then I steal their stuff!!" Scar grins with more eagerness than Grian has seen in quite some time, causing the glare to let out a slight wheeze of laughter, raising an incredulous brow.

"Wow, you're really starting to sound more like a criminal." He veers his head to the side, grinning widely up at Scar, and bearing his sharp teeth.

Scar retracts his arm from the wall, an unsure look spoiling his smile. He can’t help darting his eyes to the side, almost taken aback by the former statement. "I mean … not if they're the bad guy, right?"

“That's a very rudimentary way of thinking.” Grian's grin falters slightly, that cold look flickering over him briefly, as his eyes narrow. He shakes away whatever thought he had, bringing the prior conversation back.

“Fine, you do you're talking thing then,” the bird swats at the air absently.

“And you'll be my hype man?” Scar bounces on his toes excitedly.

Grian gives too blank of an expression before pushing up his shoulders. “I'll do something,”

“AHA! Be amazed, small friend! At my infectious likeableness,” Scar stands up straighter and puffs out his chest, before moving to turn around the corner between them and the strangers only for sharp claws to gently grab his arm.

“Wait-”

“Oh oh! W-what?” Scar looks around shocked, but nothing is amiss, just the surprisingly warm touch of metal talons.

“You're intending to make a good impression, right?”

Scar splutters awkwardly as Grian doesn’t give him time to answer the obvious question.

“My advice? I'd hide that you're a Vindicator."

“…why?”

“Ah–” Grian awkwardly chuckles, retracting his grip and scratching at his head. “I thought I’d already established that the general public isn't too fond–” he loosely gestures Scar up and down.

Scar raises a brow, leaning on his hip and looking down at the bird. “Really? Are you the general public?” He smirks at his own witty remark.

“Just take my word for it, this definitely isn't Spawn, and I bet you haven't even travelled off planet before. You have that sparkly dumb innocent look in your eyes–”

Scar gasps and clutches his hand to his chest in false offence.

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do the whole friendly talking thing, I'd recommend not immediately making it known that you're a Vindicator.” Grian huffs.

Scar looks down dumbly at the bright blue jacket tied around his waist. Grian follows his line of sight and muffles a laugh, noticing Scar's mild panic at the glaring obvious beacon of his faction, taunting him along with a bright stitched ‘V’ clearly visible even with it tied at his waist.

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

“Oh! Smart!” Scar claps his hands, wincing as the noise echoed against the walls. Grian glares at him.

He fumbles with the jacket, taking it off and turning it inside out before tying it back around his waist, and nodding with satisfaction. He looks back towards Grian, the glare watching him slightly amused. “Now, Bird friend, watch as I charm these members of the ‘general public’ with my insatiable charisma!”

“… You already said that. There's only so much ‘impressed’ I can hand out, I'm afraid.”

Scar ignores him as he brushes off as much dust as he can to look somewhat presentable. He leans forward with a step but stops as quickly as he started when his company doesn't make a move with him.

“You're not… coming with??”

“I am, I just want to linger back, for safety reasons– you know?” Grian still stands with his arms crossed but his face has morphed into something far more neutral, clawed feet firmly digging into their place in the sand.

“Oh! Smart!” Scar replies. He continues, but not before catching the faint flicker of a smile from his companion.

Scar confidently marches towards the strangers, too distracted by his plan to notice the quiet whoosh of feathers behind him.

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

“OH MY GOSH–” both of the strangers scream at Scar, frantically scrambling back in the sand up to a stand.

The shorter one gawks at Scar, their left arm held stiffly as their right tugs on the other's sleeve pulling them both back further. They push themselves in front in an act that almost could have been intimidating if the other wasn't practically two times their size.

Now, up close, Scar takes the two in. The shorter one appears to be a blazeborn, fuzzy and yellow with clothes that looked like they weren't originally suited for the heat, evident by the thick winter coat tied around their waist, mirroring Scar’s, and the torn-off sleeves of their shirt. The other stands several heads taller, also strangely cradling their right arm. They’re far less identifiable, but the several neat feathers that frame their face and shoulders definitely imply that they’re probably at least glare adjacent, even with their height. They’re wearing what can be described as cowboy attire, sans a hat, and look far more in place in this setting.

“Oh, you're just a guy…” the taller one eventually speaks out after their initial panic.

“Yup, just a guy!” Scar stands up straighter, suppressing a wince as his leg braces squeak obnoxiously. “Sorry to cause a fright,” he smiles apologetically.

The two of them glance at each other, then back to Scar with bewildered expressions.

“I think I might be lost! And maybe you are too? We were wondering if you could help”.

“We?” One of them asks.

“OH! Well! I'm Scar and this here is my lackey.” He turns to look for Grian only to be met with the empty, dusty ground and no bird in sight.

“They're …not here?”

“Who-” Scar hears one of them ask. He doesn’t even have time to turn to identify who before a flurry of feathers swoops down and blocks his view.

The two figures scream for a second time as the taller one is pushed roughly aside by brown wings, falling clumsy in the sand and landing in a way that causes them to choke out a yelp.

“OW OW OW, I CAN'T SEE!” They sit up quickly with one arm hanging loosely over their chest, the other grasping and rubbing at their face and eyes in confusion. They continue to yell in panic, “WHAT HAPPENED I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING-”

“Drop whatever weapons you have,” Grian turns, holding the blaze in his grasp. He holds his wings wrapped around them, keeping their arms pinned. He uses one of his clawed hands to cover their mouth, the other holding a blue, glowing blade to their neck.

“What- what happened to the talking plan?” Scar sways on his feet. Too much is happening in such a brief moment, and all his plans for conversations are useless, blown to the wind.

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

The figure in Grian’s grasp desperately tries to muster out a muffled scream against Grian's hand, only causing the bird to tighten his hold and sword to their neck.

Scar feels lost. He looks to the other who is still on the ground, using one hand to touch the sand.

“I can't see!- It's all dark- Tango?!-”

The pure distress in their voices, mixed with the muffled yelping of the other, makes Scar falter, his mind short-circuiting in the chaos. He weirdly feels scared, that same fear of Grian and his cold look is all too familiar to barely a day ago. A fear that he apparently didn't realise still has a frightful hold on him, his shoulder pulsing passively with pain on cue with the memory.

Despite the fear, he can’t help but step forward, reaching out to diffuse the situation.

Strangely enough, Grian flinches back. He stares up at Scar like he had completely forgotten he was there, his confused look immediately being chased away as the trapped stranger shifts in his hold. His expression quickly returning to an unreadable one.

“Let them talk… maybe? Please?” Scar asks slowly. Grian looks up at him with those deep dark eyes, cold and empty before a nearly embarrassed look crosses his face. He lowers the hand that had held the stranger's mouth, but the blade, however, is still pinned to their throat.

Immediately the blaze gasps and begins yelling “Please we're injured, we mean no harm- please-”

“…. Huh,” Grian squeezes tighter subconsciously, as they kick in his grasp.

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

They shove against Grian, his grip loosening just enough for them to push out as he moves his blade. All of a sudden the bird looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell man!” The shorter man scrambles to their partner's side, leaning down and giving them their arm to grab onto. They keep their eyes on Grian, scowling as the other weakly uses their hold to stand up.

In an almost too cheery voice for the situation, the taller one speaks, “I can see again! What was that?”

Their gaze immediately lands on Grian, who tenses under it.

“You’re a bird?” They mutter dumbly after rubbing their eyes and squinting at him.

Grian steps back, still holding his weapon by his side. He gives the tall man a look up and down his expression twisting into something uncomfortable.

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

“Sorry, sorry?” the taller coughs, completely confused, but Grian ignores them.

“You're hurt, both of you?” Grian hums, pointing the end of his sword in their direction as he makes a move to stand by Scar's side, who stands, silently wringing his hands, considering his next steps.

They both nod, fear and anger plain on their faces, each holding an arm tightly to their chests.

A quiet sort of relief washes over Grian as he puts away his sword. His expression morphing into amusement, with a tinge of sheepishness.

“Wow, that's inconvenient! You don't pose much of a threat then, huh?” He tries to joke and smile, the expression faulting only when their company makes no indication of finding that comment funny, at all.

Scar shifts awkwardly to his side, considering many different options on what to do next moves through his head before he steps in front of Grian, a goofy grin being plastered across his lips.

“So… maybe we should start over?”

“You think?” The blaze spits, their shimmering flame-like hair sparking in reaction.

“We were only taking precautions, there are dangerous people in this big universe, you know!” Scar tries to lessen the anger with that same cheesy grin.

“I'd argue, you're one of them! Or at least they are,” They point towards the bird, who does nothing but look away, crossing his arms.

“Just a common misunderstanding, we apologise. Let me reintroduce myself-” Scar tries to step forward with a handshake, but both of them move away from him pointedly. Instead, he retreats to Grian’s side, putting his hands up defensively, giving them more space to feel safe.

“Well, I'm Scar! Like I- already mentioned-” he nervously chuckles the last bit, then gestures to the glare. “-and this is Grian”

“Ah, so we're giving them our names- cool,” the other grumbles, his back practically turned to them, appearing like he’s given up on the exchange.

A tense atmosphere falls heavily on the four as awkward silence fills the air. Scar's eyes glance to the taller of the duo, who meets his gaze with a similar, nervous expression, unlike the blazeborn who stands next to them, festering with an anger that seems to almost crackle off of them in flames.

The tall one eventually finds the courage to speak, unsure and hesitant, without the anger and murderous look that their companion seems to have.

"Well, I'm Jimmy! And this is Tango!" Jimmy speaks with a similar cheer and charisma to Scar.

"Yup," the blaze, Tango, snaps with a slight snarl on his lips. His injured arm tightly held against his body, crossing over his chest as he stares daggers in the direction of Scar and Grian. There’s another pause of quiet that only causes the air to grow more uneasy, so thick with awkwardness that it can be cut with a knife. Tango and Grian stand their ground while Jimmy begins to kick at the sand absent-mindedly and an awkward cough escapes from Scar.

The former can't help but wring his hands once again, standing unsure in the moment before he decides to speak once again, "You seem tense,"

"YOU THINK?" Tango barks out, that snarl only growing angrier as he drops his hand to his side and balls it into raging fists.

Jimmy quickly tries to hop to some sort of defence, "We haven't seen anybody yet- we didn't really expect anyone to-" he’s cut off by Tango's eyes whipping over to look at him, the blazeborn pointing a finger to his neck,

"A KNIFE. TO MY THROAT." He speaks loud and clear making it obvious, if anyone can't tell, why he’s angry.

At that, Grian turns to the conversation, his tail flicking behind him. “Ah- Well, I didn't break your skin and, you know, I apologised.”

“Actually, you haven’t-” Jimmy points out, frowning.

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

He ignores Jimmy turning to Scar with a neutral expression, “Right, Scar, ready to go?“

“What?”

“YOU'RE GOING TO JUST LEAVE US?” Jimmy shouts whilst Tango just looks unsurprised.

“Well, you're both injured so-” Grian says nonchalantly, not bothering to finish his sentence like it’s obvious.

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

Grian doesn’t reply, instead, lightly reaching for Scar, a weird sort of hesitance to his grasp, looking as if he’s going to grab Scar's arm, only to move to pull at his shirt. Scar doesn't move.

“We could- help them?”

Grian looks at him with a troubled look but doesn't say anything in response.

“You know?” He, in fact, makes no indication of knowing. “We have medical supplies, remember?”

Tango's eyebrow shoots up, his angry scowl morphing into intrigue. “Healing?”

“SCAR- Cool now they know our names and our resources-” the bird grumbles, Eying the two with a cold glare. He crunches up his nose, then looks back to Scar. “We're not giving them anything for free.”

“…Well I mean, we could always offer a trade.” Scar tries to smile, trying his best to appeal to Grian with a warm grin.

Grian takes in a deep breath, contemplating for a couple of seconds before he points at the strangers and clicks his tongue. “What do you two have to offer?”

“Do you have an ender chest?” Scar pipes in quickly.

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

Grian hums in acknowledgement then smirks at Scar. “There you go, shall we leave then-”

Tango interrupts quickly as the winged man once again tries to pull Scar away. “We have some knowledge! You said you’re lost! I know some things to help! About this game-”

“Game?” Scar repeats.

“No thank you-” Grian now switches from pulling at Scar to pushing him.

“But aren't you curious? We have theories!”

“All good, we have our own plans, thank you.” He huffs in an effort to try and move Scar, but for once Scar has an advantage over him in height and strength. He barely moves.

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

“SCAR!” Grian stops pushing Scar, instead staring at him like an angry feathered hedgehog. It takes all of Scar’s willpower not to laugh at him.

“We'll only tell you anything once you heal us,” Tango adds.

“Hah! As if that wasn't already a bad deal-” Grian mumbles mostly to himself.

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

Grian finally acknowledges the blaze, as he holds a hand to his chest and baps at Scar with the other. He scowles between them all. “Hey, hey. I'm the one with the supplies, you should be negotiating with me-”

He cuts himself off at the look Scar gives him. His lips press into a tight frown as he crosses his arms and taps his claws, the processing of his thoughts buried deep in his brow.

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

“Ugh fine,” Grian finally relents, before huffing off to the side and making an upset display of sitting down and disrupting the dusty sand with a flap of his wings, the others coughing slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat. Let me heal your stupid bones,” he finally spits when the others don’t make any motion, prompting the pair to finally move.

“Oh, it's really rich of you to think I'd let you get anywhere near to my arm again-” Tango replies, unamused.

“Well you're going to just have to deal with it,” Grian replies to Tango with a sardonic grin, “These are my supplies and I'd like to keep some autonomy in this situation.”

“If it makes you feel any better he healed me pretty well,” Scar chimes in, pulling his tank top aside, to show off the slightly bloody gauze. Tango scrutinises the wound, hissing sympathetically, looking towards Grian who’s trying and failing to look not guilty.

“… I suppose.” Jimmy hums, next to Tango.

Both he and Tango awkwardly shuffle towards the winged man, within arms reach of each other, they sit down in unison, Tango’s tail hooking onto Jimmy's ankle.

“You! Beanpole! Give me your arm” Grian moves closer, sitting up on his knees.

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

“Yes you, I don't see any actual bean poles around here do you? I'm talking to your daft mug.”

“You don't have to insult me so much, man-” Jimmy grumbles as he complies, as Grian makes a start on assessing his injuries.

There’s a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, occasionally interrupted by grumbles and yelps. Scar stands, watching his company. He looks towards Tango, who it keeping a calculated watch on what Grian is doing.

“You didn't expect to be here…” Scar slowly sits in front of Tango. His eyes bright with intrigue.

Tango just turns to look at him confused. “What?”

“Those clothes-” Scar points at the thick coat, cushioning the blaze as he sits crossed-legged.

“Oh! OH, that's actually pretty intuitive.” He smiles at Scar and scoots closer indicating for him to listen.

“Yeah I'm not from here, I was working on a pretty cold planet, before …uh.”

“Waking up with no memories of how you got here?” Scar finishes, beaming.

Tango leans back, his grin faltering slightly. “…Yeah.”

“How'd you know that!?” Jimmy asks from behind them, apparently having been listening in.

“We're the same! Actually! We don't remember at all how we got here.”

“Even him?” Tango gestures coldly over his shoulders, not even looking in Grian's direction.

“Even him!”

“Interesting,” Tango appears to drift into his thoughts before Grian coughs loudly.

“Alright then, if you want me to do this, well, you better start to tell your story.”

Tango shoots him an angry look, then dusts off his trousers before sitting up straight, getting comfortable. He looks at Scar, coughs, and smiles.

“Well, first you gotta know some of my history.”

Scar watches Grian roll his eyes from over Tango's shoulder.

“I worked as… hmmm sorta freelance. I'm an architect, redstoner- weird lil’ guy with a nac for bizarre contraptions. I take all and any kind of jobs I can find across the universe, a travelling mechanic if you will,” Tango grins, pleased. “I'm actually- saving up so I can own a hermit settlement, start a small self-sustaining industry, build all kinds of wacky farms! Just work for me, you know?”

He pauses, waiting for a response only to be met with puzzled looks.

“Uhhh that's beside the point. What I’m getting at is that owning the land to make a hermit settlement is a lot of money and prep. And as it goes, the jobs that pay the most tend to be the most…. questionable. I like to believe I'm a good judge of character when it comes to my clients, I know when the people who are giving me a tempting offer are bad news, and I usually decline. I'm not about putting myself in trouble for a pretty price.”

Tango inhales, his thumb worrying over his knuckle, and continues.

“But there was this one job- These very mysterious individuals offered me a job to create a game! It honestly was a very tempting offer, because they were giving me so much free range with what I built. The only requirement was that any number of people could enter the game and there could only be one winner. And they offered me a lot of money for it.”

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

“So I took it, I took the deal and started designing my game. I uhhh- I sort of made, think like… dungeon crawler type deal.”

“Wait but you said you didn't make dungeons,” Jimmy interrupts.

“Going to be honest, I didn't expect you to hit that nail on the head.” Tango turns to Jimmy, giving him a small smile, before patting him gently on his shoulder. “Pretty impressive.”

Jimmy splutters, his expressions flip flopping between being offended and proud.

“Anyway… as I was saying, the more I worked for them, the more I started to suspect a few things. They kept insisting on things in my design to be more…”

He swirled his hand around “Let's say lethal. And that was before I started noticing how much resources and wealth my employer owned. They kept giving me things with ease, I started even asking for stuff I knew was hard to find like enchantments and whatnot. And they didn't even sweat.”

He cuts himself off, a conflicted look shadowing his face.

“When I put my energy into a project, I put my whole heart in. This dungeon was my… my child! I’d been working on it for months! Almost years! I didn't like how they were twisting it. They kept taking away the things I included to make the game fair. And that was my last straw.”

“I ran, and I tried to take all the important endgame design prints with me. I couldn't let them use my work to hurt people in the gruesome ways that they so clearly wanted to do. And now I'm here.”

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

Nodding Tango stares down at his lap, rubbing at the worn pads of his hands. He looks genuinely sad for a minute before he shakes that look away and carries on.

“Yeah, so what I'm saying is- I got to see enough of the kind of work these people were doing to notice a pattern.”

“The people I worked for were definitely Enders, and I believe they're probably pretty high up considering rather than taking planets and trading pearls, they were employing people to take their enemies and put them into ‘games' for their entertainment.”

“And I think we're in one of those games right now,”

Tango grins wildly, holding a finger up to emphasise his conclusion.

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

“And if my assumption is correct, I think we've all wronged an Ender before, right?”

He shuffles so that all four of them were sat in a circle.

“I mean- me! Clearly, with leaving the job.” He points to himself and then to Jimmy. “You said something about Enders secretly operating in the town you were sheriffing.”

Grian’s gloomy expression immediately gets replaced with intrigue as he looks up from his lap for the first time during the conversation with Jimmy.

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

“YES, I am for a matter of fact, from a small town on the Nether.” Jimmy smiles widely, adjusting his hair confidently.

“Now that's surprising…” Grian remarks to himself.

Jimmy either doesn't hear or ignores him as he continues. “Well it's more a self-proclaimed title, not much goes on in my town and I mostly just… give directions to the elderly and get bullied by local kids,”

“Nevermind.”

Jimmy shoots Grian a dirty look, the latter smirking back before he goes back to working on the supplies in his lap.

“But yes! Recently I tried to uncover a mystery and encountered Enders,”

“And that's the last thing you remember doing right?” Tango inquires.

“… Yeah, actually.”

He looks towards Scar “And you… what about you?”

“Oh.”

Everyone looks at Scar with intrigue. Grian has his head dipped down still, his gaze, though, points, staring straight at him.

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

“Well, I'm a mayor, as a matter of fact.”

Everyone looks at him like it was the last thing they expected him to say, including Grian.

Scar coughs, chasing off the nervous wobble in his voice and he sits up straight ready to prove his charm.

“For a pretty unknown-” Scar awkwardly trails off, not really familiar enough with space life for his own lie. “…hermit settlement! A beloved staple of the community, birds and children sing when I roam the streets.”

The others look at him speechless, he can feel them doubting him. Alright then, maybe he should learn to be more believable.

“The last thing I remember doing, actually, was chasing a criminal down an alley!” He settles on. He sees Grian go still. “It was epic and had glorious explosions and everything, a truly action-filled adventure-”

He stops when he feels Grian subtly thump him with his tail. Hiding the movement by sitting up, done with dressing Jimmy's wounds and moving on to Tango.

Tango ignores him, too interested in Scar’s story. “Was this criminal an Ender by chance?”

“Oh! Yes!” He very almost forgot that was what Tango was asking to begin with.

Tango sits up straighter with a look of triumph and excitement on his face.“That makes three out of four.”

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

Tango finally turns to him, Grian looking up whilst sorting out the supplies he has left.

“What?”

“I'm not telling you my story like we're all sat around a campfire-”

“We're trying to help, isn't that what you asked for?” Tango argues.

“This isn't helpful information, it's just a lot of assumptions and guesses.”

“Calculated guesses! And besides, what else could you possibly know about what's going on? Enlighten me,” Tango challenges him.

“I don't… but I also don't see how knowing all this even helps us in our current situation.”

Grian leans back from where he had been hunched over, closes his eyes, and flings his hand around in an almost smug way. “Yada yada, scary rich people put a bunch of losers into a death game. That doesn't help me whilst we're supposedly in one.”

“You find yourself in a lot of death games then?” Tango grins bitterly.

“I- '' Somehow that waveres Grian’s response briefly, he clears his throat before resuming. “I like information that helps. This doesn't- this doesn't fix a broken arm or get us any closer to escaping.”

“Well maybe it can- we can go ahead knowing that there's probably traps or trials set for us.” Scar says. The two look at Jimmy and Scar who had been quietly observing their conversation.

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

Scar wiggles in the dust with delight. “Yeah! We encountered phantoms on our journey, which is a pretty odd place to find them,”

“Stole my helmet,” Grian grumbles, less happy.

“Yeah… they were definitely placed here intentionally, we almost got killed by them!” Scar exclaims. He sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “But I fought them off valiantly.”

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

“And what about you two- did you guys encounter anything strange?” Scar claps his hands together, intrigued.

Grian rests on his arm and gestures loosely to them. “Strange enough to break both your arms?”

At that both Jimmy and Tango look at each other, coming to a realisation that makes them both grin wildly at each other.

“OH and THAT'S another thing,” Jimmy says far too gleefully.

“The game makers must have included this other mechanic to make it difficult for us!” Tango injects, matching his energy. He and Jimmy talk in slightly hushed yet excited voices to one another, Tango playfully pushing at Jimmy and whispering something about how it all made sense now.

Scar and Grian just blink blankly, clearly missing something. When neither of the two gives them context, instead excitedly making noises at each other over a discovery, Scar coughs.

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

“We are linked! Somehow!” Jimmy exclaims loudly.

“It's probably a curse and enchantment related. But we feel and suffer the same wounds, hence… broken arms'' Tango adds.

“So you both broke your arm?” Scar hums still confused.

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

“Gracefully… from the top of the ravine. I was just walking nearby and received the injury too,” Tango sits back a little and loosely holds up his injured arm.

Scar hums to himself, gaze jumping between his company and their injuries. “So it's a proximity thing?”

Tango sits up fast with a gasp of excitement. “That's a good point! I don't know.”

He leans forward cautiously, still holding his bad arm to his chest as he beckons Scar to come closer.

Both Jimmy and Grian look at each other confused before Tango flicks Scar hard on the nose. Causing him to make a startled yelp noise.

With how they lean over, neither manages to notice as Grian also flinches, hand briefly touching his own nose, before he notices Jimmy watching him and stops.

“Nope didn't feel that,” Tango says, veering back to his previously comfortable position.

Scar reclines back too, leg braces creaking slightly as he rubs his nose and makes a small sad noise.

“Did you?” Tango turns to Jimmy who’s looking weirdly at Grian.

Tango nudges him, the taller shaking out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh- no I didn't.”

He looks back to Grian who’s in the process of not so subtly shifting further from the others.

“Maybe… Are you two together?” Jimmy prompts, pinning Grian specifically with a look.

Obliviously, Scar says, “We just met,” still holding his nose.

“No, he meant the weird pain link thing,” Tango responds with a slight laugh.

“Oh!! Hold on-” Scar excitedly lifts his head up, his sore nose quickly forgotten. He turns to Grian who had been trying his best to not be noticed the whole exchange.

Moving too fast and suddenly, Scar goes to pinch his arm, only to hit his hand against metal. The realisation hits him dumbly, but not before he watches Grian cry out and pull back fearfully with an expression Scar doesn’t think he's ever seen on the man's face before.

Grian regains his composure quicker than Scar. He shakes off the scared look on his face but keeps his arms held close to his chest protectively.

Scar goes to apologise but Grian's voice interprets him. His attention directed away from Scar.

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

“Well, maybe it's a thing specific to us,”

Jimmy pulls a slightly unconvinced face before agreeing. “Yeah probably.”

Grian finishes patching up Tango, ignoring the three as they descend into rambles and theories about it all.

He packs away his remaining supplies, looking pleased with his two patients' bandaged and slung arms, even as they pay him no mind.

He stands up, Scar is the first to look at him with a questioning expression.

“Welp! Considering I'm done… and you've given your less-than-useful information, I think it's our time to leave,” Grian brushes the dust off his trousers and holds out a hand for Scar.

“Scar?”

Scar doesn't move, he looks at the others and back to Grian, a guilty look on his face. “I actually think we should all stick together–”

Grian doesn't respond, instead pulling his hand away slowly. Scar continues.

“There’s clearly something much bigger going on here and I think teaming up is a safer option,”

The bird remains silent, his feathers betraying his blank face as they all pin. He blinks at Scar.

“I agree,” Jimmy speaks up awkwardly after a prolonged quiet.

Tango grins. “You're more than free to go off on your own,” he says snidely.

“Ah, well…” Scar splutters, standing up and holding his hands out, that's not what he meant at all, but Grian beats him to a response.

“No.”

“Wow… what a change of heart, you're scared of being alone?” Tango teases.

Grian pays no mind to the comments, his hurt look settling on Scar instead.

“Scar please, I can protect us both we don't need…” he loses his confidence, the end of his sentence teetering off.

Scar lets his arms hang at his side, as he looks at Tango and Jimmy, still sitting by each other's side. Now with both their arms in slings and, despite Tango's intimating expression, looking slightly pathetic in the hot sun.

“… they're hurting, Grian, I need to help,” he gives Grian a pleading look.

The glare stares at Scar, he seems to take in all of him, annoyed and confused. When suddenly, a brief flicker of understanding fills his features.

“… Grian?” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead, he stares at the dust to his side. Tail flicking at his side in frustration.

“I'm not leaving you,” he says simply. Refusing to elaborate.

A small part of Scar is surprised by Grian's response, his weird protectiveness over Scar, especially in context to how he’d acted towards the others. Scar can’t help but smile softly, even if Grian isn’t looking at him.

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

The bird turns to him with a hard look on his face, a disruption on his tongue before he cuts himself off, face flushing red when he realises Scar is smiling at him with a completely different energy. He bows his head slightly. “I'm staying with you, but I do not trust them.”

—

Scar sits down, explaining their travel plan, which honestly wasn't much since all they had done was travel in the direction of supposed man-made structures that had been spotted, hoping to not die in the process.

Grian positions himself slightly behind Scar as they all start laying out all their possessions. Comparing their resources with each other.

Out of everyone, Jimmy still has the most on him, carrying one container of water, which he apparently had forgotten about, he lets Grian and Scar take a swig, Tango insisting he doesn’t need it as much with being a blaze. They also have Grian's healing supplies, which at this point aren't very much, just a few alcohol wipes and gauze. Then also some dried meat Jimmy had and one package of dried cat treats that Scar had been carrying, and no one seems stoked about potentially eating.

Besides that, all they have is some random useless items in people’s pockets, all laid out in front of them. Anxious, taking in the unfortunate sight of what they have to survive on. Scar sits on his knees, ignoring how the braces creak as he leans on them.

Tango is watching Grian closely, mumbling under his voice like he’s trying to get Grian's attention, but the latter knows and deliberately ignores him.

Tango finally clears his throat and speaks up, tapping the sand in front of Grian to ensure he has his attention. “You have your weapon with you,” he says like it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead rewrapping a rope they had found in one of Jimmy's pockets. The rope rings slightly against his metal digits as he pulls the thread between them.

“So we all have our comms, storage, and defensive tools missing except for you,” Tango states snarkily.

“Well, I also have my comms and other stuff missing. Guess they accidentally skipped out on the knife.”

“How convenient for you,”

Grian deliberately disregards Tango's biting word, looking up at the other two. “We might have enough for a day or two more of travel? Could even hunt along the way… if there are even any animals.”

“The knife will be handy then.” Scar tries, looking at Tango with a cheery smile.

“Could also… maybe… find plants?” Jimmy says, They all look around at the dry, sandy landscape, only occupied by the occasional dead shrub, with dismay.

“How much collective knowledge do we have with foraging?”

“I used to be a baker!” Scar interjects excitedly.

“Cool!- But I don't see any flour or water, don't know how that's going to help us in this situation, bud,” Grian pats Scar on the back.

“Unless you are secretly an enderian and can just … teleport bread to us or something,” Tango adds jokingly.

“I'm not-”

“Are you?” Grian cuts in, the others realising quickly that he’s addressing Jimmy with a weird look.

Jimmy looks up confused, apparently not paying attention to where the conversation had drifted. “What?”

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

Grian goes strangely still, that cold look filling his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses against it, going back to meaninglessly fiddling with a rope.

“Well, it would have been super convenient to be an enderian with y’know …the lack of water,” Tango hums next to Jimmy.

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

“I mean maybe? These kinds of canyons get formed by water, so there's a real chance a flash flood might happen!” At the last statement, he looks nervous. ”Which depending on where we are, could help us or … be bad.”

“How do you know that?” Tango looks up at Jimmy with a gleam of curiosity.

“Well I get bored, and there's this neat little library in the Nether with a lot of unique landscapes and… “

Jimmy and Tango titter off into their own conversation about various formations of rocks and caverns in desert-like terrain. Scar's mind drifts aside as he watches billows of sand blow above them on the top of the ravine. He catches movement out the sides of his eye as Grian shifts.

The sun has moved more in the sky, the shade they had hidden in changing direction. The hot sun finally reaching them, first hitting the feathers on the Grian tail. He must have just noticed as he pushes himself away from it, a scowl on his face while he creeps away and bumps into Scar in the process.

They look up at each other, Grian jumping slightly when he notices he’s being watched, his ears pulling back as he looks away.

“We should get going. You guys rested enough?” He cuts the other two off, Tango drawing in the sand with his claws with Jimmy instructing him.

“Oh sure-” Jimmy replies. He stands, using his large tail to help push him up, before lending a hand to Tango.

Grian stumbles up into a stand on the sandy ground, hissing to himself and mumbling something along the lines of “dumb bird feet”. He looks at Scar who changed to sit with his legs in front of him, inspecting his leg braces and sighing.

“Those aren't meant for the desert, are they?” He holds out a hand which Scar takes, pulling himself to stand.

“Nope! Not really, more like indoor use.”

Grian frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Tango cuts him off.

“Actually…” The blaze moves towards them, holding a hand behind his back, a snarky look crossing his face.

His gaze is glued directly on Grian as he pulls his uninjured hand out, holding it towards them. Grian's hands are still in Scar’s, he feels Grian's grip tighten subconsciously before he pulls his hand away in favour of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tango.

“You want this temporary alliance to go well right?”

“I mean… it would be convenient,” Grian frowns, confused about where Tango is going with this.

“Give me your knife,” Tango flicks his claws beckoning.

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

“I'm not giving you my weapon,” Grian snaps, his hand moving to his side subconsciously.

Tango pulls his arm back, crossing it over with the other. “I still don't trust you, our minds would be more at ease if you didn't have that.” He looks up to Jimmy who’s looking over his shoulder, nodding slightly.

Scar looks at Grian whose back is turned to him, but regardless he can see the anger physically welling up, as his feathers stand up and his tail starts to flick back and forth. His claws hovering right above where the blade sits, ready.

“HAH, what do you think I care, there is no way I'd give it to you.” Grian spits.

Scar hears him take in a deep breath, sensing the start of something terrible happening. He takes a slightly stumbling step between them.

“I could take it,” Scar says simply. Both of them look up at him.

“I mean- you both seem to trust me more, so maybe I could carry it for now?” Scar tries, putting on his most easygoing smile. Tango's frown softens slightly, but that isn't who Scar is worried about most. The bird is now looking at him, a lot less spiked up with his mouth slightly open, his eyes searching Scar for something. He looks back to Tango, who just nods to Scar.

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

Grian pulls out his weapon, quickly, and grins to himself as he watches Jimmy and Tango flinch.

He hands it to Scar and gives him a weird look only he can see before his face morphs into a generally upset pout. Striding past them all, he barks “Follow,” and doesn't wait for them to catch up.

Scar looks at the weapon in his hands, remembering its hold before wedging it into his belt.

—

They continue with their walking, Grian at the front out of frustration over the loss of his weapons. Tango's prying eyes watch him from behind, insisting on being on the lookout for any funny behaviour.

The mood is off. Tango and Grian holding their weird rivalry and Jimmy and Scar lagging behind, looking at each other confused but not quite wanting to start small talk out of fear of getting on the other two nerves. They both opt instead to stare at the ground and savour as much of the shade as they can.

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

He has his head facing forward, the anger in his voice enough to indicate he’s talking to Grian.

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

“Explains why you have your weapon and not us, why you're so reluctant to share why you might be here. And don't even think I forgot about your oh-so-welcoming greeting,” Tango responds with no amusement in his voice.

“What is your problem with me?”

“I think you're an Ender, a man from the inside sent down to watch us.” He says simply, pushing up his shoulders.

Grian snorts, drawing out his words. “Literally all you have against me is that I have a weapon and I’m a bit of an introvert, that's barely anything,”

“That's not all I have. What about your wings?”

The mood changes instantly, from bickering to an icy, quiet cold.

With that Scar finally looks up at the conversation, they have since all slowed down from walking to a standstill. Grian being the one to stop first as he scowls in Tango's direction.

He doesn't say a word. Tango continues with a malicious look on his face.

“And the arms, they're enchanted, right? I can basically smell it from here. You don't come across enchantments like that in the wild. And that's not even mentioning the level of skill that must have gone into those base robotics, for some random stranger– You'd have to be a part of a pretty powerful faction to get robotics like those and I definitely doubt you're a Vindicator.”

Scar watches Grian flash him a very brief glance at that name. Tango continues unaware.

“I've been around Ender technology enough to recognize its signatures, I used to work with it-”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Grian cuts in coldly with a flat tone.

“I think I do.” Tango challenges, bearing his sharp teeth.

“Hey, hey, what about we uhh, calm down a bit?” Scar interrupts, shrugging his shoulders slightly with an open demeanour.

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

“I think you guys might have all come off on the wrong foot! Ahah,” Scar laughs painedly.

He stalls slightly, almost feeling the heat from Tango start to concentrate on him instead.

“I promise you, Grian is not as stabby as he seems.”

“Oh yeah?” Tango responds incredulously. “Is that why you have a stab wound on your shoulder?” He jabs his finger in the direction of Scar's shoulder, the gauze and tank top stained lightly red.

Scar shoots Grian a look, the other's eyes blown slightly more wide knowingly.

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

Tango steps closer to Scar, causing him to stumble back slightly, Jimmy awkwardly drifting over his shoulder placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder briefly. “Why are you even sticking up for this guy? Didn't you say you only just met?” Tango all but growls at Scar.

“Well… We're friends.”

“No, there's something else. Something you're not telling us,”

Scar's mouth finds itself ajar, as he tries to think of what to say. Grian is painfully quiet over his shoulder.

Tango takes another step towards Scar, his mind spinning trying to figure out a believable story.

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

“A deal?” That seems to genuinely take Tango by surprise, his imposing façade faltering.

“Yeah.”

Tango pulls a weird expression before it changes quickly as if struck by an idea. “If you made a deal maybe we could fulfil it instead, then we won't need this guy. I have the contacts, I know my loopholes. If this deal is so much more important, that you'd associate with this guy then choose what I can offer you instead. What even would it be? to you to find yourself associated with someone like him? What was it?”

“I-…” Scar hesitates and turns his gaze to where Grian is standing. The three of them have moved a considerable distance away from him during their argument, but he still stands within audible range, watching quietly.

The bird looks uncomfortable and small, he thinks. His feathers pinning and fingers flicking at his side, right where his blade would have been.

His expression looks complicated, Scar observes, like he’s expecting this situation but still feels a sense of hurt or pain. Weirdly, his gaze is fixed on the blaze rather than Scar, but he can see him fidget and glare as if he knows he’s being looked at, trying his best to avoid eye contact.

Tango coughs shuffling forward in the sand to bring Scar's attention back to him.

Scar had almost forgotten what they had asked. The deal. He wants to know what their deal was. Technically the deal wasn't even that specific, it’s just protection. That's all Grian had promised and even with a weapon, which he no longer had, in comparison to both Tango and Jimmy his usefulness might be matched.

Grian's expression makes sense now, he’s fully expecting Scar to take this deal.

Scar looks back at Grian, catching him looking at Scar before he darts his eyes away.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t understand why Tango is so hostile, it feels unjustified. Like he’s missing something, which is impossible. He's known Grian longer than Tango. Grian is barely a threat, yeah awkward, maybe a little impulsive and snide. But Scar doesn’t believe that justifies leaving him behind. Why is there so much bitterness between his newly acquainted companions? Why is Tango so insistent on Grian being a bad person? These questions circle around in Scar's head as he tries to think of some way he can defend Grian.

“We were going to start up a very specific business.” Scar grins.

“… What?”

“Trading goods. See, I need him because he’s got those fancy wings,” he gestures towards Grian, who’s badly concealing his bewilderment, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, no sound escaping.

“What are you trading?”

Scar mulls it over before looking at the ground and shrugging. “….sand.”

Despite everything, Grian laughs at that. Coughing and suppressing giggles when the blazeborn shoots him a look.

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

Tango taps at his chin in thought. “I- I mean I could maybe…”

Scar interrupts him. “No no no, I'm a dignified salesman. I made a deal and stayed true to my word. I'm sorry but I'll have to decline the offer,” he replies with an easy-going demeanour.

“We're now a package deal now,” he walks up to stand by Grian's side, patting his shoulder roughly.

Grian's only response is to make an awkward noise and to lean away from Scar, but not enough to actually break the space they share.

Tango looks at them both, an angry look directed at the two. Suddenly, Jimmy places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we should just play along, even if we're suspicious of someone. I think we need all the help we can get.” The taller man says down to him, smiling slightly.

Tango takes in Jimmy's look, his frown smoothing out for a brief second before he looks back at Scar.

“Maybe I don't trust you now Scar, you've clearly also got secrets you're not telling us,”

“You're getting too caught up on secrets and mysteries, and supposed ‘them’s,” Scar puts on a wide smile, waving at the air with a nonchalant attitude.

“How about… G!” He slings his arm around Grian and pushes him in closer to the other two, while the bird sputters slightly at the new nickname.

“Promise you won't stab any of us in the back until we're free from this …game?” Scar holds him by his shoulders. Grian flinches slightly as he tries to look up at Scar only to get a face full of sun. The glare looks back at the other two, not saying a word, his ears flicking absently.

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

“Yes, sure,” he says flatly. He crosses his arms. “I promise.”

Scar beams, looking at Tango and Jimmy. “Annddddd do you guys promise not to belittle my friend here for being a bit creepy?”

The both of them hesitate, looking up at each other, exchanging looks.

“I feel creepy is an understatement…” Tango scoffs.

“We promise,” Jimmy says at the same time.

Scar claps his hands together, Grian flinching and holding his ears at the noise. “See! Solved! We're now a team!”

No one celebrates, they all look at each other with uncomfortable hesitation, not at all meeting Scar's enthusiasm. He hops on his toes, ushering the others forward, getting them to start walking again.

“Team… yellow.” Scar looks around at his company, all pulling different forms of confused faces. “Why are you all blond?”

—

After several hours of walking, the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. They were all able to confirm the revelation that this planet has a pretty short day cycle.

The journey had been painfully awkward. Tango and Jimmy spent most of it talking between themselves, sometimes hushed, which Grian pretended not to notice. He’d closed off slightly despite Scar trying to start a conversation with him several times. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the morning. Scar missed their smallest interactions deeply.

At one point Tango had instructed Scar not to walk so close to Grian, mumbling that he could take his weapon back so easily with how close they were walking. Scar tried to argue, but Grian complied, closing himself off even more as he walked ahead of them.

They’re now settling in for sleep, taking turns in pairs, Tango not trusting Grian to be lookout alone.

Tango and Jimmy lay backed up into the shelter of an overhang, while Scar and Grian sit at the entrance, a considerable distance away.

“Wow- it got dark quicker. Darker than yesterday even,” Scar hums. The sky’s a deep, dark blue rather than the red of last night. Scar shivers, it’s also considerably colder.

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

“I bet this is really comforting for you, gloomy dim light,” Scar leans back looking towards where he assumes Grian is sitting, it’s pretty hard to tell.

“Yeah.”

Scar turns back and frowns to himself. It seems Grian is still acting distant, even with Tango and Jimmy snoring peacefully behind them.

“Hmm … wish I could see in the dark though, can't find-”

With far too much force Scar reaches forward, ramming his wrist into a rock wall. He winces. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Grian asks from his side, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

Scar continues to blindly stumble in the dark, searching for his jacket. Suddenly there’s a warm glow, illuminating his surroundings. Scar's mind is slow to process as small flickers of light drift into his peripheral vision, like some combination of fire embers and little lightning bugs.

He jumps backwards, his knee slipping out from under him. “Oh oh oh– what is that!?”

He looks around in shock at the small fiery creatures, before his eyes make contact with Grian who looks completely unconcerned about them. Scar then realises the glare is actually slightly amused at Scars' fright.

“Oh, are you doing that?”

“Yeah… lights to see what you're doing,” Grian mutters somewhat shyly, looking at the space between them. Scar sits back down, reaching for his jacket now that the dim glow has lit up the area.

“Oh! Thanks!” He puts the jacket on, grumbling about the discovery that it isn’t as comfortable inside out. But at least it still keeps the cold at bay so he isn’t about to complain too much.

He watches the tiny lights float in the air. They spin and twirl into themselves, dancing around one another. Scar slowly recognizes the shapes of tiny phantoms, just like the ones from yesterday but smaller and made out of sunlight.

“… Aren't these technically illusion magic?” Scar thinks, not even realising he’s saying it out loud.

He looks to Grian when he hears a shuddered breath, “…oh I guess so,” Grian wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them with a soulful expression.

Unlike the tired apathy he has been carrying, this look is pained and hurt, the little illusions dimming as if in response.

Scar holds his hand out catching one between his fingers. It flutters and whirls in his palm, never quite touching his skin. Scar can swear he can feel its warmth, even though he knows he’s most likely imagining it.

“Well …I like them. They're very cute,” Scar smiles, looking at Grian as he holds one of the tiny beasts in between his hands.

Grian looks up at him, half his face obscured, and that sad look still in his eyes.

“You’re very talented,” Scar pokes at the illusion in his hand, feeling nothing as his finger phases through it. The illusion still dancing and spinning as if it was affected by the force.

“…Thanks,” Grian responds, muffled. A small smile creeps into his features at Scar's compliment.

They fall back into a still quiet state. Scar pushes the illusion back into the air with the others, leaning against the wall as he watches them dance.

“A game huh? I wonder why I'm here…” He muses. Not really expecting an answer from the glare, more filling the air.

“Tango said that we all must have wronged an Ender in our past… But I don't think I have- aside from being a Vindicator… I wonder…” He mulls over ideas in his mind, but there honestly isn't much he can think of. He's never been that involved in the field, and he barely even knows if he'd recognize an Ender if he saw one.

Naturally, Scar's gaze drifts to his company. Grian seems to be as deep in thought as him, his brows deep and ears pinned back, upset.

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

Grian looks up at him, his eyes following each line on Scar's face before responding. “Have you decided if I'm a good guy or bad guy yet?”

Scar tilts his head, that’s a very particular kind of question. He leans his head back, taking in the sandy walls striped with different warm shades of colour.

“I don't…” he sighs. “I think I'm starting to realise it's a lot more complex than I thought it all was.”

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

That oh-so-familiar quiet rears its head again. Scar starts to think he isn't going to answer him until, finally, he’s proven wrong.

“… I don't think I'm either, I don't think there really are good guys and bad guys, at least that it's not so black and white most of the time.”

Scar tilts his head down to look at Grian. The bird has now wrapped his tail around his feet, he's almost perfectly wound, aside from his wings that lay out behind him, tired. He's not looking at Scar, but instead at his own illusions that continue to float in the space between them.

Scar looks at them as well. “… I think you're good.”

Grian shifts uncomfortably, raising his head high enough that Scar can see the pained grin he wears.

“Haha god–” he pulls one arm out from being wrapped around his leg and pushes it hard into one side of his face. “You really need to pick better alliances, you really don't know me…”

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

“Well then tell me… do you think you're bad?” He asks simply.

Grian doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he digs his nails slightly into his scalp and looks to his side, very quietly hissing in a breath.

“… I’m trying to be a better person than I was,” he says, almost below a whisper.

“Well, that's something! Bad people don't tend to want to change,” Scar smiles reassuringly. Catching Grian’s eyes and putting on the most friendly expression he can muster.

Grian doesn't seem to buy it though, he pushes his head back into his knees. This time leaning his face away from Scar.

They both sit there, not uttering another word for a few minutes. Scar looks again at the illusions. He wonders what it was like to summon them, and then to keep concentrating on them. Grian doesn't even seem to be paying them much mind, his head buried in his metal limbs. Yet they still dance softly in the air. Maybe it was a soothing thing to conjure and maintain. Grian's feathers certainly imply he's a lot less stressed compared to how they’ve been most of the day.

Scar watches as Grian taps his long taloned fingers against his arm in boredom, the sound resonating in their small space. Metal against metal. Scar stares absently at them, Grian’s head is turned away, so he doesn't feel so bad about picking up on the smaller details he can see now he's this close.

They look slightly scratched, the deep black of the metal is scuffed in places, turning a dark grey. Up this close Scar notices how the robotics look, unfinished. Like they’re just a frame, the mechanisms, and wires open to the world, no protective shell. He can see some of the wires have tape around them, stuck haphazardly to the inside as if they had been snagged and pushed in deeper to avoid being torn again. It strikes Scar as odd. They look incomplete, yet when Grian taps his fingers they move with the fluidity of an organic limb, the small mechanisms barely even make a sound.

“Is it true what he said about enchanted robotics?” Scar asks spontaneously.

Grian lifts his head, that cold look returning once again. He pulls his arms from being wrapped around his legs into his lap, still curled up in his position.

“So, you do think I'm an Ender,” he says plainly.

“Well– I mean– You're not doing much to refute being one,” Scar tries, chuckling under his breath.

“I'm not an Ender,” Grian responds coldly, the least bit amused.

Moving uncomfortably, Scar breaths in, dropping his smile for a genuine look. “And I choose to believe you.”

Grian looks unconvinced. “But you still think I am,” he says slowly.

“… I don't think anything.” Scar argues, interrupted by a surprising chuckle.

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

Grian giggles to himself, it lays bittersweet on his face when he falls off into silence.

Scar finishes what he’d been saying. “I don't like to assume things.”

With that Grian looks at Scar, really looks at him. The deep dark pools of his eyes squint and scrutinise him. Scar thinks the reflections of the illusions in his eyes look like stars.

“You liked to assume I'm a good person.”

“That's different, I have evidence,” Scar responds cheerfully.

“And what Tango stated wasn't?” He squeaks, baffled, unwinding from his ball more to throw his arms out.

“It didn't feel fair.”

“Fair–” Grian parrots back in disbelief, almost sneering to himself.

“Besides, I feel like it might be hypocritical of me to be upset that you're hiding who you are.”

Grian folds his arms back over himself looking away. “But that's different, I know what you're hiding– I was the one to even suggest it–” He says bitterly.

“Well– maybe I also have my own secrets,” Scar winks.

With a slightly more light in his voice, Grian leans his chin on his knees. “I doubt that– you like talking too much.”

Scar laughs at that, then sits forward holding a finger up as the little illusions swim around him. “You truly underestimate the power of talking, my friend. You can know anything and be given anything by talking, whereas violence enlists the opposite. It cuts you off from ever knowing more. People love talking, and I love secrets. It's an art, really.”

“Why did you become a Vindicator then? If anything they're very for violence and anti-information,” Grian mumbles, looking up at him with a raised brow.

Scar winks again, but this time taps his nose, “For secrets,” he says simply.

Grian rolls his eyes and laughs. “Ah,” He smiles, slipping slightly at the edges. He taps at his arm again. “You sort of concern me,” he huffs. “I don't get you.”

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

Grian cuts him off, waving a hand. “No no, that's not what I'm talking about…” He rests his hand back down onto his knee looking straight at Scar. “You have this inexplicable blind faith in me and I don't understand why,” his nose scrunches up. “Now, either you're really dumb or …”

Scar splutters trying to defend himself, but Grian continues, closing his eyes.

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

“Yeah! If you're not going to tell me who you are, then I guess I'll have to get to know you,” Scar grins.

“Usually when people are investigating someone, they don't straight up tell them to their face,” Grian bobs his head smirking.

“And I'm not investigating you,” Scar argues, “it's called companionship— becoming friends. You do have those don't you?” Scar tilts his head.

Grian grins up at him. “Well, you see—” Leaning forward, beckons Scar to follow his movement, before pulling back suddenly.

“That! Was obviously an investigation,” he laughs unfooled.

“Worth a try,” Scar shrugs, also leaning back.

They both become quiet. A cool breeze blows at the feathers on Grian's tail. The little light illusions move through the air slowly, unbothered by the physical realm. Grian holds his hands out, as they all drift over to him, curling up neatly in his hands.

He looks at Scar who’s watching, intrigued, and flashes his teeth in a smile, before closing his hands together, extinguishing the light. Only slight shimmers make it out past his fingers, as Scar watches him push his palms hard against each other still looking at him.

He opens his hands to reveal one creature, slightly bigger than the ones from earlier curled up in his hands. Its form is slightly more detailed, its warm light shimmering with blues and pink at the tips. It bares its tiny teeth as if yawning, and stretches out from its sleepy curl. Grian pushes it up into the air, the small creature imitating catching air in its wings and drifting off into the space in front of them.

“I uh—” Grian interrupts nervously, pulling Scars' gaze away from the illusion. “Thank you! For sticking up for me back there.” He holds a small smile, pained at the edges.

“I honestly wouldn't have held it against you if you took their offer and ran… but—” He coughs and shakes his head. “I guess what I'm saying is it was nice, very foolish… we literally have so many lies to navigate now, it’s a walking nightmare… but it was very kind of you.”

Scar beams, almost wiggling in excitement. “Hey! We're a package deal now!”

The bird rolls his eyes but keeps his smile. “Ugh.”

He pulls his legs out in front of him, his wings lifting off the dusty floor. He shakes them off from the dust before folding them behind his back neatly. He gives Scar a tired look.

Scar shuffles forward waving his hands out, not done with the conversation just yet.

“Seriously! I like you!” Grian flicks him a nervous look, making a confused noise that almost sounds like a chirp. Scar itches his head and elaborates. “I'm glad we've gotten to meet each other again. Under different circumstances.”

Grian's wide grin falters. His eyes drift to the left side of Scar's face, darting away and looking at the ground instead.

“And let’s hope we leave this one better then, aye?” His hesitant grimaces switch to a small but genuine smile.

“I owe at least that to you,” he adds.

Scar nods.

It never occurred to him that they’ll have to part ways at some point, for some reason that thought never crossed his mind, and it makes him sad. He’s a Vindicator and Grian was, probably still is, a criminal. It would be hard to meet up with someone actively imprisoned, and that’s even if Grian cares enough to risk that. Considering he said the words leave, he must have assumed they'll likely never meet again.

It makes Scar feel a little sour, he was having the most fun time here, even with the lingering death and tense energy directed at his new friend. He'd had more fun being kidnapped and disregarded on some random planet than he ever had on a shift.

Scar watches the illusion spin, he doesn't need to dwell on it too much, this adventure is starting to appear long and treacherous, he should just enjoy what he has left of it and Grian’s company.

Scar puts light into his voice, eyes still set on the glowing creature.

“Now shall we discuss at length about our sand trader backstory?”

Grian snorts.

He looks at him to watch Grian fake an obvious yawn. “Wow! I'm suddenly very tired.”

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

“I’ll be called ‘Scorn’ and you'll be my faithful lackey ‘Giran’”

“They already know our names why-” Grian wheezes, before holding his palms up. ”You know what- nah, actually I'm asleep right now- and actively not engaging” He lays down closing his eyes.

“Best friends,” Scar continues. “Found abandoned as children together in a sandbox, oh that could be where the trading started!”

Grian rolls over away from Scar, pulling his wings pointedly over his head.

“I'M SLEEPING! Can't hear you over how loudly I'm sleeping right now-” he says slightly muffled, starting to laugh. Before he chuckles loudly to himself.

He suddenly sits up quickly and holds his hands tight over his mouth, Scar noticing the noise of someone grumbling tiredly.

He sees a shadow of Tango toss in his sleep before settling again.

Scar and Grian both exchange a look, Grian trying his hardest to hold onto a laugh before he coughs one into his hands, hushing him. Scar joins in wheezing.

They both sit, in a warm glow, laughing quietly between themselves as the night continues.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎*

Pairing: Jisung x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Back scratches, Oral(F), Creampie, Unprotected Sex, that’s it? Talks about multiple rounds. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

Find Request Here (Prompts from my list used: 1. “you drive me crazy” 28. “Do you like them?”)

-🖤

Cuddled up in bed you sighed contently, you kissed Jisungs cheek making him smile. Today you both had off and it was spent enjoying each other’s company and taking much needed relaxing time.

You cuddled up closer to him kissing his cheek again. He flashed you another smile before cupping your face pulling you into a loving kiss. As he kissed you he moved himself over top of you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting past your lips as he lapped at yours. His hands roamed your body lifting up the loose shirt you had on.

His hands drifted over your soft stomach, up your body to your chest. He kneaded the soft skin of your breast before softly pinching at your nipples. He pulled away from the kiss, kissing down your jaw line to your neck. He left small nips at your neck as he fondled your breast. His hand leaving them roaming down further. Finally reaching to your clothed cunt only a thin piece of fabric covering yourself. His fingers pressed against your clit he smirked against your skin feeling a wet patch already had formed.

He kissed down your body pushing your shirt up enough that he could kiss your breast. He sucked at your nipples as his fingers now pinched at your clit. “My beautiful angel” he said softly. He started to kiss down your body once more licking at your cunt through the fabric. “May I?” He said with a grin.

You nodded “you may” you said with a giggle. He shot you a smile back before pulling your panties down. He pulled your thighs open keeping them there as he kissed both sides. He kissed down one thigh getting so close to your core only to turn to the other thigh and doing the same thing.

You whined needed him to actually do something. You were met with another smile he knew full well what you were whining for. He kissed the top of your cunt before moving down. Flattening his tongue he left a long drag up your folds before harshly sucking at your clit.

Your hips bucked up at the sensation moaning out a soft ‘fuck’. Jisung sucked on your sensitive bud, letting his tongue glide down to taste all of you. He loved eating you out, he could do it for hours if you’d let him. He enjoyed knowing he could get you off just with his tongue. However as your noises got louder full of need he became needy himself. Bringing his hands down to strip himself of his shorts and boxers. His lips never leaving your sweet cunt. He kissed up your body making you whine once more in the absence of his tongue.

He kissed you almost desperately, his cock poking at your entrance. “I love you beautiful” he said pulling away. His gaze a bit glassed over as he peered down at you.

“I love you to Ji” you said breathily.

He slowly pushed into you watching your face contort in pleasure only for his head to fall back. The feeling of your warm walls squeezing him so tightly had his head rolling. His pace started off slow taking you all in. No matter how many times you two were intimate like this it always felt like the first time. The love you had for one another only intensified the feeling of love making.

He leaned down kissing at your neck his pace quickening a bit as he was getting lost in the feeling already. He felt so deep, so big. His cock was hitting your cervix so perfectly. You couldn’t help yourself your hands flying to his back digging your nails into it. Leaving scratches down his back as he fucked into you.

He groaned loudly eyes rolling back feeling your nails digging into him. “F-fuck!” He said with another groan. His pace quickened like he was fucking into you somehow deeper. Hips smacking against yours as the air filled with the sounds of skin smacking and your moans. Your walls clenched tightly around him feeling your high about to crash over you. His hands instinctively came down to toy with your clit. “Gonna cum already beautiful?” He said with honey dripping from his voice.

“Yes- fuck- jisung!” You screamed nails digging even harder into his back. He thrusted harder into you, his fingers moving against your flit with his thrusts. Your high washed over you hard, legs clamping around him pulling him closer. He leaned down kissing you sloppily.

“Y/n ah- fuck you’re driving me crazy you know that? God- you feel so fucking good. You’re all mine you know that? All fucking mine.” He moaned out. Your walls still clenching so tightly around him from your high. You moaned out loudly your eyes watered in pleasure. You felt another orgasm rushing over you stronger this time. Your body shook at the pleasure nails digging even deeper into his back.

“So close already beautiful hmm? You just came” he said teasingly.

“Just feel s’good” he moaned out.

“Yeah baby? Tell me how good I feel, tell me how good I’m making you feel” he babbled.

“S’good, so fucking good- you feel so fucking big ji so- ah- so deep” you rambled.

He let out something that almost akin to a growl. He pulled out before pushing back in his high so close. “Gonna- gonna let me fill you?” He groaned out.

“Yes- jisung please! Cum inside! Fuck- ah gonna! I’m gonna cum!” You whined out.

“Me- me too- fuck baby you’re all mine. All fucking mine baby” He said his body lying on top of you. His arms wrapped around your body pulling you as close as possible. He kissed your neck licking at the sensitive skin. “Cumming!” You both moaned in unison.

You both came hard body’s shaking panting trying to catch breaths. His thick cum coating your walls. He held onto you rubbing your body as to bring you back down to earth. He clutched your face kissing you softly smiling against your lips. “Y/n. I love you.” He said.

“And I love you jisungie” you said back.

After a few moments jisung got up to grab something to clean you both up with. When he was in the bathroom you heard him chuckle. “You really marked me up” he said coming back out.

“Yeah? You like them?” You teased.

“Y- yeah- it’s honestly really hot” he admitted before coming down to clean you up. He looked up at you with a smirk “so what do I have to do to get those marks on my chest too” he said.

“Come find out Ji” you teased.

The rest of the night was filled with love making and more marking. Jisung couldn’t deny the proudness he felt having all your marks all over him. Knowing if anyone saw them they’d know how good he makes you feel. The night ended how it started though. Cuddled up to one another after a long shower.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[punkshort]

'roommates' masterlist

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Series Summary: Your roommate, Maria, introduces you to her boyfriend's brother. You hit it off immediately, but when you find out the true nature of his profession, you both decide to remain just friends. But once the four of you eventually move in together, things get... complicated.

-or-

A lovers to friends to lovers fic

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, smut (18+ MDNI), slow burn, cigarette use, some descriptions of porn (obviously), angst, mutual pining, jealousy, possessive behavior, infidelity (reader cheating on OC), alcohol use

Status: complete

A/N: this idea hit me when I was reading @shellshocklove's I Wanna Be Your Lover. If you haven't had the pleasure, I recommend you reading it. It is a great story and very well written.

Chapters:

1. you're joking, right?

2. sparks on the Fourth of July

3. fun in the sun

4. swipe right

5. roll the dice

6. pitching a tent

7. jack and jill

8. forever

9. hold onto each other

10. just us two

One-shots/Requests:

Roll Call 2: reader and Joel watch some of his porn together

Red Lace & Holiday Cheer: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Likes/Dislikes

Floor Plan

Moodboard by @almostfoxglove ❤️

Love Languages

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

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