#i'm slowly getting my footing i think
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vampyroteuthid · 9 months ago
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oh man it's turning into spring and a bunch of my houseplants are putting out new growth
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welcometogrouchland · 2 years ago
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animatic is killing me stabbing me a thousand times and I love it
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fumiliar · 2 months ago
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self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.
your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.
"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.
kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.
"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.
"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.
"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.
"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"
"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.
"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.
"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.
"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.
"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.
"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.
"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.
restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.
"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.
"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.
"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.
"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.
"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.
"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.
"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.
"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.
"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."
kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.
"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.
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drgnflyteabox · 3 months ago
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can't get much better
pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k
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You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.
Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.
You have.
"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.
"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.
"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.
You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.
"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"
"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.
You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.
His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.
Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.
"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.
"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"
"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.
Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 
Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.
"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."
"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.
"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."
The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.
It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.
He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.
"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.
"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.
You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.
He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.
"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.
Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.
"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 
"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.
"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"
"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 
This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.
"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.
"Yes," but that's not what he wants.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.
He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.
The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.
He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.
It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.
"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.
"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.
A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.
You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.
The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.
He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.
He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.
"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."
You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.
"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.
Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 
There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.
Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.
"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."
The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.
Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.
"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”
It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.
"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.
"What's that, sweet girl?"
"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.
"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.
"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."
"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.
<3
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nighttimenothings · 8 months ago
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thinking about slow saturdays. edging my girl all day—fleeting looks and lingering touches. in the morning, touching you gently over your panties while we're tangled up in bed, waiting till your hips are rolling and you're whimpering before stopping.
later during lunch, keeping my hand high up on your thigh, thumb stroking slowly, so close, yet nowhere near where you want me to be. you like that, baby?
in the afternoon, we're on the couch, a movie playing on the tv, but neither one of us is really paying attention because i've got two fingers thrusting slowly in your cunt and my other hand pinching and tugging at your nipples. you're soft little moans become more and more desperate as i bring you close to the edge. and right before you're about to come, i stop. that's my girl. just one more. can you hold on for me?
we're cooking dinner together, i'm stealing kisses, hands trailing over your stomach, waist, and hips. you giggle and tell me i'm distracting you, and i laugh because this is nowhere near distracting.
during dinner, i can see you squirm in your chair when i nudge my foot against your leg. i raise a brow and you flush. you're so easy to fluster, sweetheart. i adore how pink your cheeks are and how shy you get.
cleaning up is simple. you wash and i dry, but today i can't help but stop, stepping up close behind you, pressing you against the counter and sneaking a hand down your panties again. your slick has already leaked all over your thighs and my fingers glide frictionlessly.
i'm touching and tasting, licking and leaving kisses all over your neck. you're so pretty, baby. i love seeing you like this. thank you for being so good for me. my hands are everywhere and i can't stop touching. soon enough, you've given up on the dishes and we're now facing each other.
fingers or mouth, baby? you're voice is breathy and high when you tell me you want both. greedy girl. but you've been so good for me, so i'll give you everything—i'll make sure you can't stand by the time i finish with you.
i get on my knees and i pull down your pants, panties coming off too. there's a string of slick that sticks to your panties and i groan at the sight of it. good god, you're dripping and making a mess everywhere. let me clean you up.
you taste so good. you're thrusting and gasping, fingers threaded in my hair. i have my hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you up as your thighs start to shake and your slickness continues to drip. the sound is obscene, the steady squelch of my tongue in your cunt, my lips sucking your clit.
you beg for my fingers and i oblige, immediately giving you two. you're getting close—i can tell. your breaths come out strangled and your eyes are bleary and unfocused. can you wait, baby? hold on for just a little longer for me? you're so close to crying, i can see the tears clinging to your eyelashes and can hear the way your voice cracks. you tell me you can—that you wanna be good for me.
i add another finger—you whine, high and desperate—and i lick your folds gently. so perfect, so good. that's it. finally, when i know you've reached your limit, i curl my fingers and suck your clit. come for me, baby. you've been so good for me.
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stylesispunk · 3 months ago
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"Did the love affair maim you too?"
Joel miller x f!reader
next part
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Summary: Joel doesn't like you until he loses all his memories.
w.c: 14k> (longest piece I've written and my eyes are dry)
warnings: fluff, mention of amnesia, memory loss, ANGST and angst, and more angst because I love angst. There is smut but you already know I'm bad at writing that. No proof reading, I'm lazy, sorry.
a/n: hello! I got inspired by this "memory loss" type of story. It was supposed to be a one shoot, but I had to split the whole thing so another part is more likely to happen. I know there has been some drama surrounding writers and I want to say that every single person who writes and makes an art with that is amazing! Everyone who is reading this, please give creators here your flowers. With that being said, Happy reading or not 😭💌 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. (come on, talk to me)
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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Joel didn't used to hate women, but man, when he met you for the first time, you crawled under his skin. He had fun with you, making jokes, trying to get on your nerves. For his hell, everyone in Jackson loved you; after all, you were the nurse and the sweetheart. Always looking after everyone, always being sweet to everyone.
It was a sunny afternoon when you first arrived in Jackson, your kind demeanor and skilled hands quickly gaining the trust and admiration of the townsfolk. Joel watched from a distance with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He couldn't understand why everyone was so taken with you. To him, you seemed too soft, too gentle for the brutal world they lived in.
"Hey, Joel," Tommy called out one day, pulling Joel from his brooding thoughts. "We're heading out on patrol. You should meet the new nurse. She's something else."
Joel grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disinterest. He didn't need to meet you to know what kind of person you were. In his mind, you were just another naive newcomer who wouldn't last a week.
But fate had other plans. That very evening, a group of raiders attacked the outer perimeter. The town was thrown into chaos, and Joel found himself side by side with you, defending the walls. He couldn't help but notice your bravery and the way you handled yourself under pressure.
After the attack, as the town counted its injuries and losses, you worked tirelessly, tending to the wounded. Joel watched you, his irritation growing as he saw the way everyone fawned over you, thanking you for your care.
"Think you're some kind of hero, huh?" Joel muttered as he approached you, his voice laced with sarcasm.
You looked up at him, exhaustion evident in your eyes, but you offered a small, tired smile. "Just doing my job, Joel."
"Your job?" Joel scoffed. "You think patching up a few cuts and bruises is going to keep these people safe? This world doesn't care how sweet you are."
You met his gaze, unwavering. "And what would you have me do, Joel? Let them suffer? We're all trying to survive here, and we all have our roles to play."
Joel huffed and walked away, but your words lingered in his mind. Despite himself, he couldn't deny that you were right. Over the following weeks, Joel continued to watch you, his annoyance slowly giving way to a grudging respect. He noticed how you never backed down, how you always stood your ground, even when faced with his relentless jabs.
One day, during a particularly harsh winter storm, you and Joel were sent out on a supply run. The weather was brutal, and the path was treacherous. As the wind howled around you, Joel found himself instinctively moving closer, his protective instincts kicking in despite his irritation.
"Watch your step," he warned, his voice gruff.
You nodded, shivering against the cold. "Thanks, Joel."
As you both trudged forward, the wind picked up, and visibility dropped to almost nothing. You focused on placing one foot in front of the other, barely able to see Joel a few steps ahead. Suddenly, you heard a sharp crack and a thud.
"Joel!" you shouted, fear gripping your heart.
Rushing forward, you found Joel lying on the ground, unconscious, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. He must have slipped on the ice and hit his head on a rock hidden beneath the snow.
Panic set in, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You needed to get him back to Jackson quickly. You checked his pulse, relieved to find it steady, then did your best to bandage the wound with the supplies you had. With great effort, you managed to lift Joel and drape him over your shoulder, carrying him back through the storm.
By the time you reached Jackson, you were exhausted and freezing, but you didn't stop until you got Joel to the infirmary. The doctors took over, treating his wound and monitoring his condition.
You sat by Joel's bedside, watching him closely. Hours passed, and eventually he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented.
"Joel?" you said softly, leaning forward.
He turned his head to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. But then, a slow, almost lazy smile spread across his face. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Did I die and wake up in heaven?"
You blink, taken aback by his words. "Uh, Joel, it's me. Do you remember what happened?"
Joel's smile didn't waver as he looked at you. "I remember everything... except meeting you before. Are you sure we haven't met in a dream?"
You glanced at Tommy, who had just walked into the room, and saw the same confusion mirrored on his face. "Joel," Tommy said cautiously, stepping closer, "do you know who I am?"
Joel's eyes shifted to Tommy, his smile fading into a look of mild frustration. "Of course I do, Tommy. You're my brother. But I'm more interested in getting to know this doll here."
Tommy exchanged bewildered looks with you. "Joel, this is… Ah. She's... well, you two never really got along."
Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Well, I must've been an idiot then because I can't imagine not liking someone like you."
Your heart raced, unsure how to respond to this flirtatious side of Joel, the same who hours ago was trying to crawl under your skin, the same one who had rejected you all this time. "Joel, you really don't remember me at all?"
Joel shook his head, still gazing at you with that same enamored look. "Not a thing. But I gotta say, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time, and I like what I see."
Tommy scratched his head, clearly at a loss. "This is... something else. We need to figure out what happened to his memory."
You nodded, trying to process the sudden shift in Joel's demeanor. You knew the hit on the head did something to his memory, but you didn’t know how to face it. "Joel, you hit your head pretty hard. The doctors said you might have some memory loss. Maybe this is part of it."
Joel reached out and gently took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, if forgetting the past means I get to start over with you, I think I can live with that."
You couldn't help but blush, feeling a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place. Perhaps butterflies are flying all around inside your tummy. "We'll take it slow, okay? There's a lot you need to know."
Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "As long as you're the one teaching me, I'm all in."
Tommy coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment. "Alright, let's give Joel some time to rest and recover. We'll figure this out together."
You nodded, reluctantly pulling your hand away from Joel's. "Get some rest, Joel. We'll talk more later."
As you and Tommy left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of Joel's gaze following you. Tommy put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Just... be careful. He's not the same Joel right now."
You nodded, your mind racing with the implications of Joel's memory loss and his sudden interest in you. The days ahead were sure to be challenging, but you couldn't deny the flicker of excitement at the thought of getting to know this new, more open version of Joel.
A version where he could get to know you and maybe, like, a new story waiting to be written with the both of you becoming friends, and not just acquaintances just having to tolerate each other for the community’s sake.
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The days following Joel's accident were a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions dancing on your mind. Joel's flirtatious comments and affectionate demeanor were a stark contrast to the gruff, often combative man you had known before.
You had started to get used to feeling his nice demeanor towards you. You found yourself happier than before, smiling at the thought of him when you weren’t with him, and he had become your last thought on your bed just before going to sleep, but you were aware his condition perhaps wasn’t permanent and he was going to recover his memories of you, so you didn’t want to take advantage of that, nor did you want to fall for Joel, not when the fear of him waking up one day and hating you as usual was a threat.
His recovery was slow but steady, and you spent a lot of time by his side, helping him piece together the fragments of his memory. Every interaction felt like walking on fire, with Joel's behavior making your heart flutter and your mind racing at thousand miles per hour.
As you were changing the bandage on his head, Joel watched you with a soft smile. "You know, you have the gentlest touch. It's like you're an angel sent to take care of me."
You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just doing my job, Joel. Making sure your pretty head heals properly."
Joel reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're more than just a nurse to me now. I don't know what it is, but I feel this connection with you. Like we're meant to be."
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Joel, a few days ago I was nothing to you. You don’t remember me, so please just focus on getting better."
Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with earnestness. "I get it, but I can't help how I feel. This connection—it's real to me, even if I don't remember our past."
You bit your lip, feeling a mix of frustration and affection. "Joel, you're vulnerable right now. Your mind is trying to make sense of everything, and it's confusing. We need to take things slow."
Joel nodded reluctantly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pulled it back. "I trust you. Just know that I'm here, and I want to get to know you, past or no past."
You gave him a reassuring smile. "One step at a time, okay? Let's focus on getting you back on your feet first."
Just then, Tommy walked in, carrying a tray of food. He cleared his throat, causing you to step back from Joel. "Brought you some lunch, big brother. How’re you feeling?"
Joel's eyes lit up at the sight of his brother. "Thanks, Tommy. I'm feeling better every day. And with this sunshine here, it's hard not to feel good."
Tommy gave you a knowing look, his concern evident. "Glad to hear it. Mind if I have a word with you outside?" he asked, looking towards you.
You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Of course, Tommy."
As you stepped outside the room, Tommy closed the door behind you, his expression serious. "How are you holding up?"
You sighed, crossing your arms. "It's... complicated. Joel is so different now. He's kind, attentive, and he seems genuinely interested in me. But he doesn't remember our past—how much we clashed."
Tommy nodded, his face lined with concern. "I can see how that would be confusing. But you have to be careful. This might just be his way of coping with the memory loss. He's latching onto the one constant he has right now—you."
You looked down, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. I'm trying to keep my distance, but it's hard. He's... he's different, Tommy. And I can't deny that I'm starting to care for him."
Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "I get it. But you need to remember that his memory might come back, and when it does, he could revert to the Joel we knew before. You have to protect yourself, too."
“Am I that unlovable?” you sighed.
Tommy's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not unlovable. Far from it. But the Joel we knew before... he had his walls up, and you know how stubborn he can be. If his memory comes back, he might go back to those old habits, those old defenses."
You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I understand. It's just... complicated."
Tommy gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just take it slow. Don't rush into anything, and remember to take care of yourself too. You suffered a lot before arriving here."
You managed a small smile. "Thanks, Tommy. I needed that."
Tommy smiled back. "Anytime."
Returning to Joel's room, you found him sitting up, his eyes lighting up as you walked in. "Hey, everything okay?"
You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just had a chat with Tommy."
Joel's expression became thoughtful. "You know, I'm really grateful for everything you're doing for me. I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with me like this."
You sat down beside him, taking a deep breath. "It's not easy, Joel, but it's worth it. You're worth it."
Joel reached out, taking your hand in his. "You know, even though I don't remember everything, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time. And I like what I see."
Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check. "Joel, we need to take things slow. Focus on your recovery first."
Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I understand. But I can't help how I feel."
He has repeated the same phrase as before, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself diving into a deep ocean for him.
You squeezed his hand gently. "One step at a time, okay?"
Joel's eyes held a determined glint. "One step at a time."
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The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Jackson settlement as you walked briskly toward the main gate, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You spotted Joel waiting for you, his arms crossed and a scowl already etched on his face.
"You're late," he growled as you approached.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm five minutes late, Joel. I had to take care of a kid with a fever."
Joel grunted, clearly unimpressed. "We have a schedule for a reason. Being late puts us at risk."
"Don't lecture me about risk," you shot back, your patience wearing thin. "I know the dangers out there just as well as you do."
Joel's eyes narrowed. "Do you? Because sometimes it feels like you're too soft for this world. Always stopping to help every stray animal and sick kid."
"Excuse me for having a heart," you snapped. "Not everyone wants to live like a damn machine."
"Having a heart can get you killed," Joel retorted, his voice rising. "Out there, you need to be tough. Focused."
"And maybe if you lightened up a bit, people wouldn't be so scared of you," you shot back, your frustration boiling over.
Joel took a step closer, his jaw clenched. "I don't care if people are scared of me. I care about keeping them safe. And you, with your bleeding heart, make that harder."
You felt a surge of anger and hurt at his words. "You know what, Joel? Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you. Maybe you're so wrapped up in your own pain that you can't see anyone else's."
Joel's face darkened, a mix of anger and something else—something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "You don't know anything about my pain."
"And you don't know anything about mine," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "So maybe you should stop judging me and start seeing that we're all trying to survive in this hell together."
For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. Then Joel turned away, his shoulders stiff. "Let's just get this patrol over with."
You followed him out of the gate, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions. The silence between you was thick and uncomfortable, but neither spoke. The rift between you seemed insurmountable, and you couldn't see how things would ever change.
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You woke up with a pain on your neck. You had fallen asleep on a chair next to Joel’s bed where he was now lay resting, his breathing even and steady. His recovery was going well, but the emotional landscape was far more complex and you wanted to take the risk to discover it.  
You watched him for a moment, taking a mental picture of his face, the creases on his skin, how peaceful he looked like this. feeling the weight of uncertainty and guilt within you.
In that exact moment, Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, his gaze settling on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "Hey, sunshine."
"Hey," you replied softly, mirroring his smile "How are you feeling?"
Joel stretched, wincing slightly but smiling nonetheless. "Better. Thanks to you."
You couldn't help but smile back, the tension easing a bit. "Just doing my job, Joel."
His eyes softened as he looked at you. "You're doing more than just your job. You've been taking care of me, looking out for me. I appreciate it."
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "It's what anyone would do."
Joel shook his head slightly. "No, not everyone. You're special, and I... I think I’m starting to understand that."
You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. "Joel, you don't need to say that. You're still recovering, and things are confusing right now."
Joel's gaze remained steady, his expression earnest. "I mean it. There's something about you... something that's been here all along, and I was too stubborn to see it."
Your heart ached with the weight of his words, knowing how complicated the situation was. "Joel…”
“Did I care about you before?” he asked, gaze locked with yours.
You shook your head “No. Not really.”
You shook your head, feeling the sting of the truth. “No. Not really.”
Joel looked troubled, his brows knitting together. “I find that hard to believe. Because right now, I can’t imagine not caring about you.”
You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Things were different before, Joel. We didn’t get along. You were... closed off, and I guess I was just someone who got under your skin.”
Joel’s expression softened with regret. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did to make you feel that way. I wish I could remember, but all I know is that right now, I see you, and I feel... connected.”
A memory from the past surged forward, vivid and painful. It was a cold evening in Jackson, just after a particularly difficult supply run. You and Joel had been at odds all day, and the tension between you was palpable.
"Why do you always have to be so damn difficult?" Joel snapped; his voice harsh as he slammed the door behind him.
You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. "Maybe because you treat me like I’m incompetent! I’m trying my best out there, Joel. We’re supposed to be a team."
Joel scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "A team? You’re a liability more than anything."
The words cut deep, but you stood your ground. "That’s not fair, and you know it. I’m just trying to help, like everyone else."
Joel’s face twisted with frustration. "Help? You call what you do helping? It’s a wonder anyone here can stand you."
The hurt was immediate and sharp, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "At least I’m trying to do something good. You just push everyone away."
Joel stepped closer, his expression dark. "Maybe there’s a reason for that. I find it hard to believe anyone could actually love you."
The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, disbelief and pain warring within you. Without another word, you turned and left, unable to bear the weight of his cruelty.
Back in the present, you blinked, trying to dispel the memory. Joel was watching you closely, concern etched into his features. "What’s wrong?"
You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "Just... remembering something."
Joel reached out, gently taking your hand. "I wish I could remember too. So, I could make it right."
You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Maybe it’s better this way.
Joel squeezed your hand gently. "A fresh start sounds good. But I still want to know everything. About us, about what I did wrong. So, I can be better."
You nodded, taking the risk and pushing your luck.
You and Joel could become friends, right?
"You and I... we could become friends, right?" you asked.
Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he smiled. "Friends sounds like a good start. We can build from there."
You felt a surge of relief. "Friends it is, then."
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The days passed, each one bringing closeness between you and Joel. He had got better, slowly starting to get back to his tasks. The community noticed the change in him, how he was more open and approachable. You often found yourselves working together, whether it was on supply runs or him visiting the infirmary when you were there working.
One afternoon, you were busy organizing medical supplies when Joel walked in, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Hey, need any help in here?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
You looked up, smiling back. "Joel, what are you doing here? I thought you were out patrolling.”
Joel shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Finished early. Thought I’d come by and see if you needed a hand."
He, in fact lied. He switched places with another guy just to spend time with you again. He could feel your fear irradiating but he wanted to get to know you better. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he didn’t like someone like you and he wanted to change that.  
You chuckled, shaking your head. " Sure, you can help me with these supplies. There are some boxes that need to be sorted."
Joel rolled up his sleeves and joined you, his presence filling the small room with a comforting warmth. As you worked side by side, you found yourself stealing glances at him, marveling at the changes in him. He was more relaxed, more open, and undeniably more attentive.
"You know," Joel said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, "I think I like helping out here more than patrolling."
You raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Oh? And why is that?"
Joel grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend more time with you."
You blushed, focusing intently on the box in front of you. "You’re just saying that."
"No, I mean it," Joel replied, his tone sincere. "I like being around you. You make everything better."
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "Well, I like having you around too."
The truth was that stealing glances at him now felt like interlocking fingers without even touching his skin, there wasn’t precisely a sexual tension or possessiveness over him, but a warm incandescent glow within every time he smiled at you. That was something you hadn’t felt in so long, and this time felt so right yet so wrong.
You both continued to work in comfortable silence, the rhythm of your tasks interrupted only by the occasional exchange of smiles or a shared joke. The closeness was undeniable, and you could feel the lines between friendship and something more starting to blur.
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One afternoon, you were out on a supply run together, scanning the area for anything useful. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the landscape. As you bent down to pick up some supplies, Joel suddenly appeared by your side, his proximity making your heart race.
"Need a hand?" he asked, his voice low and warm.
You looked up at him, finding it hard to concentrate with him so close. "Sure, thanks."
As you both worked, the conversation flowed easily. Joel's presence was comforting, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn't before.
"You know, I never really thanked you properly," Joel said, his tone serious.
"For what?" you asked, genuinely curious.
"For saving my life. For being there for me when I needed it the most," Joel replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache.
You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips. "You don’t need to thank me, Joel. I did what anyone would do."
"Not anyone," he insisted, his gaze intense. "You went above and beyond. You always do."
You blushed, the warmth spreading through you once again. "Well, I care about you. I can’t help it."
Joel's expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I care about you too. More than I ever thought possible."
The moment hung in the air, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the pull between you, the undeniable connection that had grown stronger with each passing day.
"Joel, this is complicated," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to take things slow."
"I know," he replied, his hand lingering near your face. "But I’m not going anywhere, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Joel's feelings for you had grown stronger. He found himself being smitten and completely in love by you, by your beauty, your strength and your soft heart. You were everything that was good with this world. Where everything and everyone was people with shadows dying out of melancholy, you were an angel wrapping your warm arms around him, making his world brighter. He had learnt how to savor the colors again.
As you continued your days together, Joel couldn't help but find ways to be close to you. He would always volunteer to accompany you on supply runs, ensuring you were safe and cared for. He would show up at the infirmary with small gifts – a flower he found on his patrol, a cup of your favorite tea, or a book he thought you might like. His gestures were always thoughtful and sincere, each one a testament to the depth of his feelings.
Joel couldn't take his eyes off you. You were kneeling in the ground, your hands deftly cleaning something you had found, your face serene and focused. Joel felt a swell of emotion, unable to keep it to himself any longer.
"You know," he began, his voice gentle, "I used to think this world had nothing left to offer. But then I met you."
You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. "Joel..."
He knelt beside you, his hand covering yours. "You make everything better. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were."
You felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension. His words were everything you wanted to hear, yet the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on your heart. "Joel, this is all so new and complicated. We need to be careful."
Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes full of determination. "I know it's complicated, and I know we've got a lot to figure out. But I can't ignore what I feel. I want to be here for you, with you, through everything."
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I want that too, Joel. But we need to take it one step at a time."
He nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I will make you fall in love with me," he said, his voice full of determination and warmth.
You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "You're quite confident, aren't you?"
Joel chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "When it comes to you, I am."
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You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. "Let's get back to Jackson," you said, standing up and brushing off your clothes. Joel stood with you, offering a hand to help you up.
As you made your way back to Jackson, the conversation flowed easily. Joel told you stories from before the outbreak, sharing pieces of his past he hadn’t opened up about before. You found yourself laughing at his anecdotes, feeling a growing sense of connection.
When you finally reached the gates of Jackson, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the community. People greeted you both warmly, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor. He was more relaxed and more present, and it was clear to everyone that you had a positive influence on him.
Tommy approached, a knowing smile on his face. "Good to see you both back safe and sound."
Joel clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It was a good run. Found some useful supplies."
Tommy nodded, then looked at you. "And how about you? Everything alright?"
You smiled, feeling the warmth of Joel’s gaze on you on your face. "Yeah, everything's good."
As the evening settled in, you and Joel made your way to the communal dining hall. The chatter of the community filled the air, and you found a spot to sit together. Joel’s hand lingered near yours, his touch reassuring and steady.
Tommy, Ellie, and Maria soon joined you at the table. Tommy was carrying a tray laden with food, Ellie trailing behind him with a mischievous grin, and Maria gave you a warm smile as she took a seat.
"Good to see you two back," Elli said, setting down the tray and passing out plates. “How was the run?" Ellie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"It went well," Joel replied, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he continued. "Found some useful supplies and had some good company."
Ellie smirked, elbowing Tommy. "I bet you did."
You blushed, focusing on your plate as you filled it with food. Maria, ever perceptive, glanced between you and Joel with a knowing smile. "It's good to see everyone together," she said, her tone light and warm.
As you all began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally. Tommy and Maria talked about the latest updates in the community, Ellie shared stories from her day, and Joel occasionally chimed in with his dry humor, making everyone laugh.
At one point, Ellie leaned over to you, her voice low enough so only you could hear. "Joel's been different lately. In a good way. You've been good for him."
You looked at her, surprised by her observation. "I hope so. It's been... a journey."
Ellie nodded, her expression sincere. "Just keep being you. That's all he needs."
The meal continued, filled with warmth and laughter. Joel's hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending electricity down your body.
Just as you were starting to relax, a woman approached the table, her presence causing a ripple of unease. It was Lori, one of the women Joel used to date. Joel visibly tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate as Lori stopped beside him, her smile a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place.
“Joel," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Joel looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Lori. Uh, hi."
Lori glanced around the table, her eyes settling on you for a moment before she looked back at Joel. "I was just passing by and saw you all together. Mind if I join?"
Before anyone could respond, Tommy jumped in. "Sure, why not? There's always room for one more."
Lori pulled up a chair and sat down, her presence adding a layer of tension to the dynamics. Joel seemed uncomfortable; his usual confidence was replaced by nervous energy.
"So, Joel," Lori began, her tone light but probing. "How have you been? It's been a while."
Joel cleared his throat, glancing at you briefly before answering. "Yeah, it has. I've been... good. Just busy with everything here."
Lori nodded, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "I can see that. Looks like you've made some new friends." She said, bitterly, “The last time I knew from you was when you left my house after our night, and then you hit your head and never spoke to me again.”
The table fell silent, tension crackling in the air. Joel looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to his plate. You could see the guilt and confusion in his eyes as he tried to process Lori's words.
"I'm sorry, Lori," Joel finally said, his voice low. "I don't remember much from before the accident. It's been... complicated."
Lori's expression softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes remained. "I get that. But it still stings, you know? You just disappeared."
You felt a pang of empathy for Lori but also a fierce protectiveness over Joel. "It's been hard for him,” you said gently, trying to ease the tension. "Joel's been working hard to piece things together. He's different now, and we're all just trying to move forward."
Lori glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "I can see that, but it seems like you had taken advantage of the situation; he couldn’t stand your ass before his accident, and suddenly you have him like a little puppy following you everywhere.”
Your heart drops to your stomach, feeling warm spreading to your cheeks.
Joel's jaw tightened, and he quickly interjected, his voice firm. "That's enough, Lori. You don't know what you're talking about."
Lori raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I just find it convenient, that's all."
Tommy leaned forward, his tone calm but authoritative. "Lori, we're all trying to move forward here. It's not fair to make accusations."
Ellie, always quick to defend those she cared about, added, "You weren't here to see what she did for Joel. She saved his life and has been helping him every step of the way."
Lori's gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just needed to understand."
Maria nodded, her voice gentle. "We all get that, Lori. It's been a tough situation for everyone."
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. "You took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll take some fresh air,” you said, standing up, not even looking down at Joel, who seemed sad at your whole dementor.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. I—" you paused, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. "I’ll take some fresh air," you said, standing up abruptly. Avoiding eye contact with Joel, who looked sad and concerned, you made your way outside.
The cool evening air was a welcome relief, and you walked a little way from the dining hall, finding a quiet spot to gather your thoughts. You leaned against a tree, closing your eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.
After a few moments, you heard footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes to see Ellie standing there, her expression filled with concern. "Hey, you okay?"
You nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I just needed a moment. That was a bit embarrassing."
Ellie walked over and leaned against the wall next to you. "Lori was out of line. You've been amazing with Joel. Anyone with eyes can see that."
“So, don’t you think I’ve been taking advantage of him?” You asked, really concerned.
“What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you.” She replied, laughing.
Ellie laughed, shaking her head. "What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you."
You sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I know, but sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells. It feels like he is going to wake up from his trance and he will hate me again."
Ellie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I've seen the way he looks at you. He’s happier, lighter. You’ve brought out a side of him I didn’t think existed. And trust me, if he didn’t want this, he’d make it clear."
You took a deep breath.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked.
“Me, falling in love with him,” you answer.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked, her tone light but sincere.
You sighed, the weight of your fears pressing down. “Me, falling in love with him,” you answered quietly.
Ellie gave you a sympathetic look. "And why is that so bad?"
"Because," you began, struggling to put your feelings into words, "what if his memories come back and he realizes he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if I fall in love with him and he changes back to the old Joel, the one who couldn’t stand me?"
Ellie nodded, understanding. "That's a risk, sure. But you can't let fear keep you from living. You've been through so much together, and it's clear he cares about you deeply now. Maybe that won't change."
You bit your lip, the turmoil inside you reflected in your eyes. "I just don't want to get hurt, Ellie. And I don’t want to hurt him either."
Ellie squeezed your shoulder. "I get it. But if you keep holding back, you'll never know what could be. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith."
You let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Maybe you're right."
Ellie grinned. "Of course I'm right. Now, let's get back in there. Joel's probably worrying himself sick."
You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay, let's go."
As you walked back into the dining hall, you found Joel still sitting at the table, his eyes lighting up when he saw your return. He stood up as you approached, his concern evident.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a breather."
Joel looked relieved, and he gently took your hand. "I'm glad you're back."
The evening continued with easy conversation, and as you all eventually made your way out of the dining hall, Joel walked beside you, his presence a comforting constant.
"Thanks for dinner," he said softly as you approached your door.
"Anytime," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. "It was nice, being with everyone."
Joel nodded, his eyes lingering on you. "It was. And I meant what I said today. I’ll make you fall in love with me.”
You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at his words. "You're really set on that, aren't you?"
Joel nodded, his expression serious but with a hint of a smile that made you go crazy. "I am. Because I know what I feel now, and I’m not going to let it slip away."
You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Joel, this is new for both of us. We need to take it one step at a time."
He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Am I that unlovable?”
You blinked, taken aback by his question. "What? No, Joel, you're not unlovable at all. It's just... complicated."
Joel's eyes softened, and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "I get that. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as it takes."
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "I appreciate that, Joel. And I do care about you. A lot. It's just..."
"Scary?" he finished for you, his voice gentle.
You nodded.
Joel's expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get it. It is scary. But sometimes, the best things come from taking a leap of faith."
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "It’s not just about taking a leap. It’s about making sure we’re ready for whatever comes next."
Joel squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand. And I'm ready to take it slow to give you the space you need. Just know that I’m here for you, and I’m not giving up on us."
You felt a mix of relief and trepidation, but Joel's unwavering support gave you strength. "Thank you, Joel. That means a lot to me."
He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. "We’ll figure it out, one step at a time."
You nodded, closing your eyes for a brief second, allowing yourself to savor the closeness and the promise of what might come. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Joel’s smile—a smile that made you believe in the possibility of a new beginning.
"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice tender, holding back the desire to cupp your face and kiss you.
"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, your heart fluttering, feeling the same as him.
Now standing, this close, face to face, skins touching. One of you would give in before, and once that happened, there was no going to be a way to stop two hearts beating this fast.
Joel's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze revealing the depth of his emotions. You could see the conflict within him, the longing that mirrored your own. His hand lingered near your face, his fingers almost brushing against your skin, his breath warm and steady.
The moment felt suspended in time, the air between you charged with unspoken words and electric anticipation. You both stood there, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from each other, your hearts racing in sync.
Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you, but I also don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel this.”
You swallowed, your own voice trembling slightly. “I feel it too, Joel. But we need to be careful.”
Joel nodded, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. “I know. And I want to respect that. I just...” He hesitated, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t want to miss this chance with you. I’ve never felt this way before.”
Joel’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the desire and uncertainty evident in his expression. His hand gently cupped your face. His touch was tender, as if he were afraid to break the spell that bound you both.
You felt your heart race, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Joel’s fingers brushed softly against your cheek, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His breath grew shallower, and his eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.
Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a whisper of warmth and affection that sent a shiver down your spine. The moment felt both exhilarating and comforting, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that had been building between you.
You responded instinctively, your lips moving softly against his. The kiss deepened gradually, a sweet exploration of new and uncharted territory. His hands moved to frame your face, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were cherishing every second of this newfound closeness.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes locking in a moment of shared understanding. The kiss had been more than just a physical connection; it was a promise of something more, something that neither of you fully understood yet but were both eager to explore.
Joel’s smile was tender and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up that day at the infirmary,” he admitted softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his confession. His words made your heart flutter even more, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.
"I'm glad you did," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been feeling the same way."
Joel's smile widened, and he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. "I didn’t want to rush things or push you. But now... now that we’ve shared this, I hope we can figure things out together."
You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and warmth. "I think we can. I want to see where this leads."
He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "No pressure, just... being here with you."
You smiled, feeling a sense of calm and excitement. "I would like that.”
Joel nodded; his expression full of affection. "Good. Now, how about we get some rest? Tomorrow's a new day, and I want to spend it with you."
You felt a burst of warmth at his words and, inspired by the new closeness between you, you hesitated for just a moment before speaking up. “How about we go inside for a bit? I’ve got some tea. It might be nice to relax and talk more.”
Joel’s eyes lit up at the invitation, and he nodded with a smile. “That sounds perfect.”
You led the way to your house, the familiar surroundings now feeling different with Joel by your side. Once inside, you made your way to the kitchen and began preparing the tea. Joel watched you with an easy smile, clearly content.
As you waited for the water to boil, you and Joel chatted about lighter topics—how his recovery was going, plans for the community, and small anecdotes from your days. The conversation flowed easily, and the atmosphere between you was comfortable and warm.
When the tea was ready, you poured two cups and handed one to Joel. He took it with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. You both settled into a cozy corner of your living room, the soft light of a lamp casting a gentle glow around the room.
Joel sipped his tea, his gaze occasionally meeting yours. “This is nice,” he said softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Joel looked around your living room, the peaceful ambiance a stark contrast to the harsh world outside. He took another sip of his tea, then turned his gaze back to you. “You know, before all this, I had a pretty normal life. A family, a daughter named Sarah. She was... everything to me.”
His voice carried a tinge of sadness, and you could see the pain in his eyes. You nodded, sensing the weight of his memories. “I’m sorry, Joel. I can’t even imagine.”
Joel’s expression was somber but grateful. “Thanks. She was everything. When the outbreak happened, she... she didn’t make it. It’s been hard, you know? Trying to keep going and make sense of it all.”
You felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing how devastating such a loss could be. “I understand. I lost my fiancé in a storm during the outbreak. We were caught outside, and he was... gone before I could do anything.”
Joel’s eyes softened with empathy. “That’s so tough. I’m really sorry you went through that.”
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your own memories. “It was the storm that made me afraid of them. Every time the weather changes, it reminds me of that day. I try not to let it control me, but sometimes, it’s hard.”
Joel reached out, placing his hand gently on yours. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. It’s brave of you to face it every day.”
You looked at his hand on yours, feeling a comforting warmth from his touch. “It’s been a struggle, but having people like you around makes it a little easier.”
Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “We all have our battles. But we’ve found ways to keep moving forward. And maybe together, we can make those battles a little less daunting.”
+++++
The days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Joel grew stronger. The bond you shared was evident in the way you looked at each other and the ease with which you interacted. People in Jackson had noticed the change in both of you, and there was a sense of warmth and contentment surrounding your partnership.
One afternoon, as you were working in the infirmary, organizing supplies and checking on patients, Joel walked in. He had that familiar, easy smile on his face, and his presence was a comforting one amidst the hectic pace of the medical work.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”
You looked up, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “Hey, Joel. Just busy as usual. How’s everything on the patrol?”
Joel shrugged, walking over to where you were working. “Not too bad. But I figured I’d come by and keep you company. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time here.”
You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah, I’ve been needed here more often lately. But it’s good to see you.”
Joel moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “I’ve missed you. It’s different when you’re not around.”
You felt a surge of affection at his words. “I’ve missed you too. But this is important. People need help, and I want to make sure I’m here for them.”
Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get it. Just remember to take care of yourself too. I’d hate to see you running on empty.”
You chuckled, appreciating his concern. “I’ll try. But having you here now brought a smile to my face.”
He smiled, his gaze lingering on you. “Well, I’m glad to be here. Can I help with anything?”
You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, if you could help me restock some of these supplies, that would be great.”
Joel moved closer, his hand gently brushing against yours as he began helping with the supplies. The shared task created a comfortable silence between you, with only the soft sounds of organizing supplies filling the space.
As you worked side by side, Joel’s gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made your heart race. Without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The kiss was a sweet proof the connection you shared, and you responded with equal tenderness, savoring the closeness.
Just as the kiss deepened, the door to the infirmary swung open, and Dr. Ramirez walked in. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of you and Joel but quickly masked her surprise with a professional smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her tone warm but slightly teasing. “I came to check on things and see if you needed any help.”
You and Joel pulled away; a bit flustered but smiling nonetheless. “We were just finishing up,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Everything’s in order.”
Dr. Ramirez nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Joel with a knowing look. “Alright, if you need anything, just let me know.”
As she moved to her office, you glanced at Joel, your cheeks still slightly flushed. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
Joel chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Yeah, but I guess it’s a good thing everyone know you’re my girl.”
You looked up at Joel, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I suppose it is. It’s nice to be able to be open about us."
Joel’s expression softened; his gaze warm. “It is. And I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”
You squeezed his hand gently, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It makes everything feel more real, more... solid.”
Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Do you want to have dinner at my place?” he asked.
You looked up at Joel, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of spending more time together. “Dinner at your place sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”
Joel’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to have something good ready for us.”
You both made your way to Joel’s place, the evening air cool and crisp. The walk was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, a comforting routine that had become a cherished part of your days.
When you arrived at Joel’s house, he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. The interior was cozy, with soft lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. He led you to the kitchen, where a simple but inviting dinner was laid out on the table.
Joel’s cooking was surprisingly good, and as you enjoyed the meal together, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite memories, plans for the future, and the little things that made you both laugh.
After dinner, you moved to the living room, where Joel had set up a comfortable spot with blankets and pillows. You both settled in, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate.
Joel looked at you with a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Me too. Tonight has been perfect.”
He wrapped his arm around you, his touch warm and reassuring. “Here’s to many more nights like this.”
You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”
As the evening wore on, you both talked about your past experiences and shared stories from before the outbreak. Joel spoke about his life before everything changed—his family, the dreams he had, and the struggles he faced. You shared your own experiences, including the loss of your fiancé and the challenges of adapting to this new world alone.
Joel listened intently, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as if to reassure you. “It’s amazing how much we’ve both been through,” he said softly. “And yet, here we are.”
You nodded, feeling a deep connection. “Yeah. It feels like we’re building something meaningful despite everything.”
After some time, you both decided it was time to call it a night. You stood up, stretching slightly as you gathered your things. Joel walked with you to the door, his presence a comforting constant.
As you reached the door, Joel hesitated for a moment, then gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving. He looked at you with a mix of hesitation and hope in his eyes. “I was wondering… would you like to spend the night here? It’s been nice having you around, and I’d love to have you stay.”
You looked at him, surprised but touched by the invitation. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice made it hard to resist.
“I’d like that,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face.
Joel’s expression brightened, and he pulled you into a gentle hug. “Great. Let’s get you settled in.”
Joel led you to his bedroom, a space that felt both lived-in and welcoming. The room was simple but comfortable, with a bed covered in worn but clean linens and a few personal touches that spoke to Joel’s character—photos of his family, a well-loved guitar leaning against the wall, and a small stack of books on the bedside table.
He gestured to the bed with a slightly sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s home.”
You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance. “It’s perfect.”
Joel nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad you think so.”
You both prepared for bed in comfortable silence, the familiarity of the routine helping to ease any lingering tension. Joel showed you where you could find anything you might need—extra blankets, a lamp for reading, and a small cabinet for any personal items you might want to keep nearby.
As you both settled into the bed, Joel turned off the lights, leaving only a soft glow from a nightlight on the dresser. He slipped under the covers, and you followed suit, the warmth and comfort of the bed providing a welcome respite from the day’s events.
Joel turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice tender.
You smiled, feeling a sense of peace as you settled closer to him. “Me too. It feels right.”
He reached out and gently took your hand, interlocking your fingers. The simple gesture was filled with meaning, and you could feel the connection between you growing stronger.
“Goodnight,” Joel whispered, his voice carrying a note of affection.
“Goodnight,” you replied, your heart fluttering with contentment.
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A few days later, you and Ellie were seated at a table in the bustling dining hall, enjoying a well-deserved lunch. The room was filled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils, creating a comforting background noise.
Ellie, always full of energy, was animatedly talking about a new comic she’d found. “You won’t believe this,” she said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “but this one hero has the power to control weather. I’m telling you, if I had that power, I’d totally make it sunny all the time.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many comics. But I suppose a bit of sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”
Ellie grinned, grabbing a bite of her sandwich. “True, true. But, seriously, how are things going with Joel? You two seem... really happy.”
You smiled, feeling a warm flush at her question. “We are. It’s been nice, spending time together. He’s been really supportive, and I think we’re figuring things out.”
Ellie’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased with your answer. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s been a lot happier since you two started spending more time together. It’s like he’s found a new spark.”
You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “It’s been good for both of us. We’re still taking things one step at a time, but it feels right.”
Ellie’s expression turned thoughtful. “I know it’s been rough with everything that’s happened, but it’s nice to see people finding happiness again. Especially you and Joel.”
You appreciated Ellie’s support and her ability to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Ellie. That means a lot.”
Ellie glanced around the dining hall, then back at you with a mischievous grin. “So, are you guys planning any big adventures together? Or just sticking to the small stuff for now?”
You laughed softly. “We’re sticking to the small stuff for now. Just enjoying the moments, we have together.” You paused, “I’m still a little bit scared of him waking up hating me again.”
Ellie’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get that. It’s natural to be scared after everything you’ve both been through. But you’re doing great, and Joel is different now. He’s not going to just wake up one day and hate you.”
You sighed, a mixture of relief and lingering concern in your expression. “I hope you’re right. Sometimes, it’s hard to shake that fear, especially after everything that’s happened.”
Ellie nodded thoughtfully. “I think you both just need to keep talking and being honest with each other. The more you communicate, the more you’ll build that trust. And remember, it’s okay to have those fears. It just means you care.”
You managed a small smile. “Thanks, Ellie. It’s reassuring to hear that.”
Ellie grinned and took a bite of her lunch. “Anytime. And if you ever need someone to talk to or just need a distraction, you know I’m here. We can have a comic marathon or something.”
You laughed, feeling the warmth of Ellie’s support. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
As you and Ellie finished your lunch, you stood up to clear your plates, the conversation easing into a comfortable silence. Just as you were about to head to the serving area, you suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a warm embrace. A soft, affectionate kiss was placed on your cheek, making you feel a surge of happiness and surprise.
You turned your head slightly, finding Joel’s smiling face close to yours. “Hey there,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to steal a moment with you.”
Ellie watched with a grin, clearly pleased with the sight. “Looks like someone’s got a fan club.”
You blushed slightly, leaning into Joel’s embrace. “Hi, Joel. I was just catching up with Ellie.”
Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently resting on your side. “I figured I’d come and see how you were doing. Plus, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a walk later.”
You smiled, feeling content in his arms. “A walk sounds nice. I’d love that.”
Joel nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Great. Let’s finish up here and head out.”
You and Joel exchanged a tender glance before you both started to clear your plates. Ellie gave you both a playful nudge. “I’ll leave you two to your walk. Enjoy, and remember, I’m always here if you need me.”
+++++++++++++
“So?” you asked, as Joel was smiling in complete silence.
“So what?” he asked without erasing that smile from his face.
“Aren’t you going to talk?”
Joel chuckled, his smile widening. “I guess I’m just enjoying the moment. It’s not every day I get to be this content.”
You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “Oh really? And why’s that?”
He looked at you, his gaze tender. “Because being with you like this, just walking and talking, it’s exactly what I’ve wanted. It’s simple and perfect.”
You smiled, feeling a warm glow from his words. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. So, what’s on your mind?”
Joel glanced around, taking in the scenery before meeting your eyes again. “I was thinking about how nice would be if you go to my place tonight. Ellie’s gonna spend the night with Dina and I want to spend the night with you.”
“That sounds wonderful,” you said with a smile. “I’d love to spend the night with you.”
Joel’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and he took your hand, gently squeezing it. “Great. I was hoping you’d say that.” He leaned and kiss you on the lips, “No I gotta go helping Tommy, see you later, sunshine”
You pouted, grabbing his hand before he could go anywhere “Wait? That was all?”
Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought I’d surprise you with the invitation, and I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy spending time with you.”
You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “Well, I didn’t realize the evening was just an invitation and a kiss goodbye.”
Joel grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, alright. If you want more, I guess I’ll have to come up with something better.” He pulled you into another kiss, this one longer and more lingering.
You smiled against his lips as you pulled away. “That’s more like it. But seriously, I was looking forward to spending time with you.”
Joel’s gaze softened, and he cupped your face gently. “I’m looking forward to it too. Just had to help Tommy out with something. I promise, I’ll make up for it.”
You nodded, still holding onto his hand. “I’ll hold you to that. See you later, Joel.”
He gave you one last smile before heading out, leaving you with a warm feeling and the anticipation of the evening ahead.
+++++++++++++
When you arrived at Joel's place, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the surroundings. Joel greeted you at the door with a welcoming smile and a quick, affectionate kiss.
"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, taking your coat and hanging it up. "I’ve got a few things planned, but we can start with something simple if you’d like."
You stepped inside, feeling the comforting familiarity of Joel’s home. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned will be perfect,” you replied, smiling at him.
Joel led you into the living room, where he’d set up a cozy area with blankets and cushions. The room was softly lit by lamps, and the atmosphere was inviting and warm. A few candles were flickering on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow.
“I figured we could start with some dinner and then maybe just talk or something else” Joel suggested, his eyes reflecting the soft light.
You nodded, feeling content with the simple but thoughtful setup. “That sounds great.”
Joel moved to the kitchen and returned shortly with a plate of homemade food—something comforting and hearty. He set it down on the table, then joined you on the couch.
As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily, just like it had during your earlier moments together. You talked about your days, your plans, and even some light-hearted topics. Joel’s presence was reassuring, and you felt completely at ease.
After dinner, Joel suggested putting on some music. He rummaged through his collection, finally settling on a classic that he thought you’d enjoy. You both snuggled up under the blankets, the music playing softly in the background.
Joel occasionally glanced at you, his hand resting casually on your knee. The song played, but most of your attention was focused on the comfort of being next to him, the warmth of his touch, and the quiet contentment that filled the room.
Joel turned to you, his gaze tender. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this. Just being here with you, it feels right.”
You smiled, leaning into him. “I feel the same way.”
Joel’s hand moved to gently brush your hair back from your face. “What’s your biggest fear?” he asked out of the blue?
You sighed, leaving his gaze for a moment “You waking up and forgetting you love me”
Joel’s brow furrowed slightly at your answer, a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes. “Why would you think that? I don’t see any reason why that would happen.”
You took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as you shared your fear. “It’s just….you knew I told you we didn’t get along before, in fact you hated me, Joel.”
Joel’s eyes softened as he listened to your concern. He took a moment before responding, his voice steady and reassuring. “I know things weren’t easy between us before. And yeah, I didn’t handle things the best way back then. But that’s in the past. What matters now is how we are right now.”
He reached out and gently took your hand in his. “The truth is, I’ve changed. And I see you differently now. I see you for who you are, and I realize how much you mean to me. Whatever those old feelings were? They’re gone. What we have now is real, and I’m committed to it.”
You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. “But what if one day you wake up and those old feelings come back? What if something changes?”
Joel shook his head, his gaze intense and full of conviction. “I don’t believe that’ll happen. I’ve come to understand how much you mean to me, and how deeply I care about you.”
He squeezed your hand gently, his expression earnest. “I’m not going to let those fears control us. We’re building something strong, and I want to keep building it with you. I’m here, and I’m committed to making sure we have a future together.”
You felt a wave of relief and warmth at his words. “Thank you, Joel. That really means a lot to me.”
Joel smiled softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m glad. And if you ever need reassurance, just ask. I’m always here to remind you of how much you mean to me.”
You nestled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of comfort and closeness. The fears that had been troubling you began to fade as you focused on the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice.
Joel’s gaze lingered on yours, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and resolve. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a careful exploration of newfound trust and affection.
As the kiss deepened, it became more passionate, conveying all the emotions and reassurances that words alone couldn’t fully capture. Joel’s hand cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring as he pressed closer.
You responded to the kiss, your own hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss felt like a promise, a shared understanding of where you both stood and where you hoped to go.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads touching as you gazed into each other’s eyes. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment of closeness.
Joel’s smile was soft, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I needed to do that. To show you just how much you mean to me.”
You smiled back, your heart full. “I needed that too.”
Joel gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.
After that, everything happened in a flash. Neither of you realized when you removed your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch; you wanted to discover how his fingers could leave a mark on you, tracing invisible lines across your body.
He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.
With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth.
He was hovering over you, giving you a passionate kiss. He was between your legs, exactly where you wanted him.
He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at you. To appreciate the features of your face and the nature of your body to admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.
“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination.
You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs with his gently touch, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.
And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to everything you had experiencing before. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs.
This time he was making love because he had drowned himself on your religion.
Both of you gasped aloud the moment he began to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours, interlocking them as he kissed you softly, muttering, "You're so beautiful like this". He was mesmerized by the way you were nervously giggling and cocking your head back in delight. He bit your neck, prompting your hands to move up to his neck, and his hands ran down your entire body without a layer of clothing on you, focusing on every thrust and diving deep to ensure he was making you happy.
You opened your eyes and stared back at him, entirely focused on you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as his hands massaged your breasts while he continued to devour your lips. Your back arched, followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so fantastic, you couldn't help but think you were in the celestial realm You could tell you were getting closer as you squeezed him and kept your gaze fixed on each other. He pushed harder, one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping your knee to guarantee you fell apart.
The noises you made drove him insane, as he felt himself reaching the edge of the cliff. He wanted to stare at you under him as you came and with a loud gasp, he did it at the same time falling over your exposed chest, your heartbeats mingling.
You moaned softly beneath him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, flashing him a cute smile he hadn't tired of, as you kissed him on the lips.
"I love you so much," he replied, gazing at you with admiration. “I’m so in love with you.”
I love you.
I’m so in love with you.
Those three words were echoing in the shadows of your mind. Your expression softened and you felt your blood rushing. You were sure they had had an impact on you.
“And I love you so much” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your emotion.
Joel’s expression softened even further, and he brushed a tender kiss against your lips once more. The connection between you was undeniable, a blend of passion and deep affection that had grown stronger with each passing day.
You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath you. The world outside seemed distant and unimportant in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, everything felt perfect, and you allowed yourself to fully embrace the love and happiness you had found with Joel.
Joel gently ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
You nodded, your eyes closing as you savored the moment. “Yeah, we have. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Joel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. Here’s to more moments like this, and to whatever the future holds for us.”
You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment and anticipation for what was to come. “To us,” you agreed, your heart full of love and hope.
+++++++++++
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You stirred, waking up with a smile on your face. The previous night’s intimacy and love still lingered, and you turned to look at Joel. He was sleeping peacefully beside you, a contented expression on his face.
As you watched him, you felt a surge of happiness and affection. You reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart full of love for him.
But as Joel’s eyes fluttered open and he met your gaze, his expression shifted dramatically. His sparkly brown eyes filled with love, widened in horror, and a look of confusion and fear crossed his face. He pushed himself up, scrambling back slightly.
“What...What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear.
You were taken aback, your smile faltering as you tried to make sense of his reaction. “Joel, what’s wrong?”
No. It couldn’t be that, right?
Joel’s eyes were filled with a pained realization. “Oh my god, you came to my house trying to seduce me into sleeping with you?”
You felt a sharp pang of pain at his words, and your heart dropped. The warmth you had felt earlier was replaced by a cold, unsettling feeling.
“No, Joel, that’s not what happened,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the hurt. “We’re in love”
He chuckled. “In love? Me in love with you? I could never” he said.
Your chest tightened, and the hurt in Joel’s words felt like a physical blow. You struggled to keep your composure, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
“Joel, you can’t mean that,” you said, your voice shaking. “Last night, you said you loved me. We shared something real.”
Joel’s expression was a mix of confusion and pain. “I don’t remember saying that. Last night I was with Lori”
That’s it. You were back at were you used to be.
The weight of Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of betrayal and heartache, as the realization sank in. The warmth and affection from the night before felt like a cruel illusion.
“So, what? You’re saying last night meant nothing?” you asked. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. “You really don’t remember? You don’t remember how we talked, how you told me you loved me?”
“I don’t love you.” He said, sternly.
“But I’m your sunshine” you sobbed.
Joel’s laughter pierced through you like a blade, and you could barely stand the weight of the realization. Each word he spoke seemed to tear away at the fabric of your heart, unraveling the dream you’d clung to so desperately.
The room felt colder, the air heavier, as you fought to control your sobs. Every touch, every shared moment that had once seemed so real was now reduced to nothing more than painful echoes of a memory that never truly existed.
He didn’t remember the stealing glances, the kisses, the touches and the promises than now seemed to fade with the cruel destiny meeting the ending meant to be.
You had taken a risk at falling in love with the version of a Joel who loved you back, and he didn’t exist anymore. He had faded just when he had told you he loved you.
He didn’t remember falling in love with you, he didn’t remember all the time you spent together, and he didn’t remember loving you, but you didn’t think this would hurt this much.
“Joel” you said, pleading him to remember.
“Out.” He said, gritting his teeth.  
You stood there, the pain in your chest almost unbearable, as Joel's harsh words echoed around you. The warmth and affection you had shared just hours before now seemed like a cruel illusion, shattered by his denial.
"Joel, please," you said, your voice trembling. "Just think about everything we shared. It was real."
Joel’s eyes were hard, and he crossed his arms defensively. “I don't remember any of it. And I can't fake feelings I don't have.”
You felt a deep, profound sadness, the weight of his words making it almost impossible to breathe. The life you had envisioned, the love you had felt, seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers.
“Please, just—” you tried to reason with him, but the look in his eyes made it clear that any further pleading was futile.
Joel’s expression remained firm, a mix of regret and frustration. “Everything I know is that you took advantage of me.”
The sting of Joel's words cut deep, each one echoing the finality of a dream you had cherished. The accusation of taking advantage of him felt like a betrayal, intensifying the emotional agony you were already struggling with.
You took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the fragments of your composure. "Joel, I never did that. We have something—"
Joel interrupted; his voice cold. "I don’t want to hear it. You need to leave. Now."
The finality in his tone left no room for argument. With a heart heavy with sorrow, you nodded, unable to find the words that might change his mind.
You were only on one of his shirts, trying to find your clothes.
You stumbled through the room, your movements disjointed as you searched for your clothes. The pain and confusion made every action feel like an immense effort. Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his face a mask of distant resolve.
You found your jeans, but it was crumpled and stained, and you struggled to put it on with trembling hands. The fabric felt rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you had felt just hours before. You glanced around for your other belongings, the room now feeling foreign and unwelcoming.
“I... I can’t find my blouse,” you said again, your voice a whisper filled with desperation and trembling.
Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “Don’t worry about it. Just wear my shirt. I won’t wear it again.” His voice was cold and icy, not more softness as when they used to whisper things on your ear.
The coldness in his words made it clear that there was no room for negotiation or further conversation. You nodded numbly, the shirt you were already wearing now feeling like a heavy shroud setting your skin on fire.
As you finished dressing, you glanced around the room one last time, trying to memorize the space you were leaving behind. The sight of the room, so filled with the promise you fooled yourself onto believing.
There was an intensified the ache in your chest.
Joel stood by the door, his posture rigid as if he were bracing himself for something. His eyes didn’t meet yours, focusing instead on some distant point. The silence between you was heavy with the weight of the broken bond that never existed.
As you pulled on your shoes, your heart cracked completely sank in deeper. You looked up, meeting Joel’s eyes one last time.
“Joel, I’m sorry for everything,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant to cause any harm. I just wanted—”
Joel cut you off with a slight nod, his face still set in a hard expression. “Just go. Please.”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost making it impossible to speak. The intensity of Joel's gaze, filled with a mixture of pain and indifference, made it clear that any further words would be futile.
With one last, lingering look at him and the room that just yesterday had witnessed three empty words that now didn’t meant anything, you turned and made your way down the hall. Each step felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even as the burden of what you were leaving behind pressed heavily on your heart.
As you reached the front door, the cool morning air hit you, providing a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt just hours before. The quiet outside was a jarring reminder of the world that continued, indifferent to the personal turmoil you were experiencing.
With every step, you tried to reconcile the reality you faced with the memories of what you had thought was true, a momentary field of dreams. The pain was sharp and immediate. How would you continue life after losing another love?
+++++++
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deathc-re · 8 months ago
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you hate getting sick, who doesn't? but a part of you loves it at the same time. why? because your boyfriend always treats you so good.
he'll dote on you hand and foot. you want tea? he knows just the one. you want noddles? steaming bowl in front of you. you're too hot or cold? thermostat adjusted to the perfect temperature for you, forget him.
you wanna be close to him, be held and cuddled? anything for his sweetheart. but...what about when you're horny? when this cold/ fever takes you over right in the middle of your ovulation? it's anything for his baby, and that includes slowly torturing himself while you cock warm him under the covers. you're body basically burning up, hot to the touch against his cool skin. moans and whimpers escaping you from the aches and pains in your body but also from the feeling of his cock filling you so good.
you're so weak and tired, basically in and out of consciousness but your dripping all over him and squeezing him so tight.
when he catches that your awake again he rubs your back slowly, "baby," he breathes "can i move? please? you just- fuck-- you feel so good i can't take it."
you muster up a weak chuckle and nod your head, wrapping your arms around him tighter. slowly he switches your position, moving you onto your chest and places a pillow under your hips. the loss of him and the blanket made you whine but when he pushed back into you, you melted into the bed.
it felt like every touch to your body was heightened. your fingers gripped the sheets weakly as you arched further into the soft bed. you heard your lover moan but you were too focused on your own body, every drag of his dick along your walls felt like heaven. when he reached down to rub on your clit a jolt ran through you.
before long you were seeing stars, tired body even more tired as you gasped and whimpered into the sheets, a drool pool forming by your mouth.
your boyfriend, oh so loving, restrained every muscle in his body to keep at this pace. the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. but you felt like heaven, warm walls wrapped around him so tight, your noises, the look of pleasure and daze on your face.
he gripped your ass and leaned down to nip at your ear, "i'm sorry sweetheart but i have to go fast-" he was cut off by your quick nod, reaching a hand back to grip his wrist. just that action made him twitch.
he gripped you tighter and angled his hips upward, speeding up his pace just a bit but increased the force of this thrusts by a lot. your ass shock in waves every time his pelvis met you. like energy was being pushed into you your moans got louder, more urgent, the cord in your belly tightening.
you both came almost exactly at the same time, heavy breathing filling the room. you were out, sprawled onto the bed, barely awake. your lover chuckled at the scene and leaned down to kiss your temple.
"you want a bath my love? i'll make the water extra hot for you." he called while walking to the bathroom. you hummed a response and curled into yourself, drifting off. the warm cum running down your thigh barely registering in your mind.
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FAT GUM, aizawa, DEKU, kirishima, sanji, corazon, connie, gojo, CHOSO, geto, SUGAWARA + whoever else you think
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auroralwriting · 3 months ago
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poker face
spencer reid x fem!bau!reader
spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.
word count: 2.0k
warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh
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"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.
Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.
"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.
Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."
Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"
"What about me? What?"
"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.
Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."
You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."
"No," Rossi shook his head.
"Why not?" Emily frowned.
"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.
Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."
Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."
"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.
Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.
"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.
"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."
Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"
"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"
"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.
You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"
"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."
That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"
"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."
Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."
"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.
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Oh, this was not what you expected at all.
Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.
The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.
"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."
"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"
Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."
The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"
"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.
"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."
Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.
Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.
"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.
The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."
"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."
"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"
"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"
Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."
"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.
"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.
"I'll call."
"Call?"
Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."
Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"
"That is just-- that is nuts."
It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.
You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.
The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.
"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.
"She's reaching for my chips!"
"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.
The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."
If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."
Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.
You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.
"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.
After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.
"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.
"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.
You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."
After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"
"I was playing my part," You argued.
"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"
Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"
"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."
Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."
"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.
"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.
Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."
"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"
Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"
"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."
Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."
"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.
Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."
"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.
"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.
"What do you think?" You retorted.
Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.
"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.
"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.
Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.
"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.
You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"
"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."
"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."
Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."
Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.
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angelicdanvers · 11 months ago
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THE CLEARING | luke castellan.
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user
summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k
a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3
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camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.
and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 
often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.
she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.
this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.
clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.
then what in the world kept nagging her?
she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.
sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.
the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.
inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 
a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.
submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.
squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.
smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.
and then the sun was gone.
her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.
“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.
he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”
“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”
the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”
“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”
he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 
y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”
“yes ma’am.”
y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 
how could she say no after that?
she found him quite intriguing as well.
luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 
“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 
“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.
“you know, i could admire you all day.”
“and why is that?”
he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”
y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”
"who are you giving those pearls to?"
"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."
luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.
“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.
“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 
without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.
the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.
breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.
“i love you, luke.”
their admiration could only grow from there. 
or so they thought.
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ssahotchnerr · 4 months ago
Note
I hope you meant it to be dropped here 🥺
So, about jealous Y/n: I had been thinking about this after seeing the episode where Beth (that runner-woman?) appears. I thought about the scene, with "y/n" either getting to know he was handed a paper with a number
Or maybe Aaron and "y/n" had been running together and Beth approaches without any care and reader just is like: 🤨 watching the interaction, lol
knowing you
🤭 cw; JEALOUS fem bau!reader, teasing banter (hehe r and aaron are sooo in love), suggestion/sex allusions (i'm blushing), based off of aaron and beth's first interaction in 7x10 wc; 1.3k
"Okay, okay." You panted, coming to a stop. You directed your voice forward, loud enough for Aaron to hear you, a few feet ahead. You resumed walking, slowly, hands on your hips. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"
"What's wrong?" Aaron asked as he met you halfway, a teasing smirk growing on his face. "Can't keep up?"
"I can keep up jus' fine." You insisted, still catching your breath. The afternoon breeze blew into your face, cooling the sheer layer of sweat that had collected. "Just... not for a prolonged amount of time. There's a," Another staggered breath, "difference."
"Is there?" He asked humorously. His chest rose up and down, regulating his own breathing as well. "I can easily go another mile or two.
"Fantastic. I'm so happy for you." You quipped sarcastically, causing him to laugh and a smile of your own pulling at your lips. "And that's why you're the one participating in the triathlon. Not me."
"You know..." He began proposing in a light tone of voice, eyebrows raised wittingly. "There's still time for you to sign up."
"You know, you're funny." You bantered back, a pained expression pulling onto your face at the mere thought. You shook your head, "I think my time is better spent cheering you on from the sidelines, along with the others. And then reviving you afterwards."
"Oh yeah?" He chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. All banter aside, he switched tactics, softening to a sweet sincereness. "I appreciate you accompanying me. Seriously. You know you don't have to run with me, although you do inspire me to persistent. Gotta impress you, keep you interested."
"Please, as if there's anything you could do to cause me to become uninterested." You poked a finger at his chest. "And if running means I get to spend an extra hour with you, I'll gladly accept. Besides, there's something in it for me too. Makes it all worth it."
"And what's that?"
You looked around, spotting a park vendor supplying drinks, playfully brushing his question aside. "Want a water?"
The warm glint in his eyes lingered, admirably amused. One that read: you were the most difficult person he'd ever met, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "Sure, sweetheart."
"I'll grab it," you began walking, "You stay here. Catch your breath."
Aaron grabbed your hand the moment you had stepped a foot away, smoothly drawing you back with just an equally suave grin. Once in reach, he placed his lips onto yours, interrupting your growing smile.
Your nose scrunched when the two of you parted, "You're all sweaty."
"That's never been a problem before." His smirk returned, the wet cowlicks draped over his forehead bringing a multitude of images to come to mind.
This is why you ran with him. You'd never deprive yourself the hot visual, one you'd never get tired of. The overexertion, the sweat, the defined athletic wear clinging onto his body, the heavy breathing too.
You playfully rolled your eyes, granting him another kiss before you trailed off. You steadied your breathing again, in attempt to slow your heart rate a second time.
Retrieving the waters couldn't have taken you more than five minutes: waiting in a small line, supplying cash, issuing a thank you. But when you turned back towards Aaron, your feet already moving to their own accord, you stopped short - suddenly. As he wasn't alone.
He was talking to some woman - brunette, in workout clothes of her own. Her backside was facing you, so you couldn't see any specific features; to determine who she was, a familiar face or not.
You tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of jealousy filling your body, drawing the conclusion that she wasn't an old friend rather quickly. It started from the bottom of your stomach, crawling up your spine, spreading widely to your limbs.
Could it be harmless? Sure, that's what you were telling yourself, until the woman in question handed him a small piece of paper. She began to retreat - finally - causing a breath of relief to escape you, until Aaron calls after her.
When she turns, you're able to see her face. She’s cute, all smiles and outwardly confident. She responds to whatever he said, follows it with a laugh, before continuing her jog. 
You bit your lip, returning to Aaron with a bit more urgency, your ponytail gliding swiftly between your shoulder blades.
"Here," You handed Aaron his water, your gaze moving past him and continuing to watch her leave. As if she can feel your stare, she looks back. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn she gave you a cunning smirk.
Your jaw clenched, nothing but that red-hot jealousy overtaking you. It blocks out all of your surroundings - Aaron's going on about something, but you don't hear him. He's muted, fuzzy, far away. You don't realize he's talking to you until he says your name, with a tad more volume.
You startle, blinking, "Sorry, what?"
"I said, do you want to go again? Or we can take a slow, evenly-paced walk back." His lips turned upwards humorously, taking a drink. "More your speed."
He's attempting to resume the ongoing, fun banter to draw your focus elsewhere, knowing you.
"Who was that?"
"Oh, nobody." He shrugged, securing the cap. "She just, er, handed me this." He explained carefully, holding up a small piece of paper.
He did it quickly; again, making it as nonchalant as possible. But even at the heightened speed you're able to see her number scrawled across the surface.
You immediately impede forward-
"Sweetheart," Just as he expected - he grabs your arm, holding you back from any impending confrontation you were set on.
"She gave you her number?" You looked at him, perplexed. The audacity. "Did you see the way she looked at me? She probably saw us kiss and yet-"
"I know, I know." He comforted, his voice a deep contrast compared to yours, hardening the more you spoke. He can practically feel you vibrating in fury. "Hey, it's okay. I'm discarding it, of course." He crumbled it in his fist, "Have zero need for it."
"But that doesn't excuse what she just did." You try to look past him again, but he uses his body to shield your view. "And I don't like it. Not at all."
"You're right, it doesn't, but it's okay." Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering his next sentence into your skin. "I'm yours. Nothing changes that."
"Damn right you are," you huffed, crossing your arms. Despite the distance (she's almost long gone by now), you're at the ready to grab Aaron, to kiss him fiercely if she ever so lightly takes a peek back.
"Forget about it, and I don't mean that in a dismissive way. Look at me when I say this," He tossed the paper in the nearby trash, grabbing ahold of your shoulders instead. "I'm uninterested. Unfazed. Utterly in love with you and greatly anticipating showing you how much once we're in the privacy of home. Preferably in the shower, and then again in bed afterwards."
He manages to pry a smile out of you, a blush forming at your cheeks, although it doesn't dissolve your pout just yet. "But..."
"But what?" He asked gently as he releases his hold, swiping his thumb across your cheek soothingly.
"What if she can run faster than me." You mumbled pitifully. You said so half jokingly, half seriously.
Aaron laughed warmly, spanning an arm over your shoulders and pulling you directly to his chest. "I highly doubt that."
"You promise?"
"With every ounce of me."
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2blockseast · 3 months ago
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i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it (logan howlett x gn reader)
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summary: logan adores admiring you before leaving for an early morning job author's note: hi all! this is my first ever post on here-- how exciting! i'm still new to tumblr so please bear with me as i figure everything out. i like writing things based on music i enjoy (mostly their titles), and i thought this would be a fun little drabble to start. i hope you like it :] writing is purposefully in all lowercase. tags: logan howlett x reader, reader's gender not mentioned, fluff, domestic, established relationship word count: 449
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i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it
logan hated mornings like this, when he had to wake up early while you stayed in bed sleeping peacefully. it was always because of the x-men: calling him in early for a mission or a meeting before the kids woke up, which was, of course, also before you woke up.
he hated having to leave you before you had woken up. although you would barely notice his absence as you slept, he couldn’t help but feel that he was somewhat abandoning you. you tended to cling onto him like a koala when you slept, and having to push himself out of your embrace only made him feel worse. 
he would slowly and gently pull out of your grasp, often replacing his now vacant side of the bed with a stuffy to keep you company. you would rustle around for a moment, confused by the sudden lack of warmth, but would eventually settle back into your calm slumber. he would smile as he watched you, thinking of how beautiful you were. logan always loved to admire you, but there was a kind of softness that came with doing so as you slept.
logan always made sure to let you know how beautiful you were, but you were often quick to reject his compliments, making jokes about how he was a good liar or about how he must’ve been talking about himself. it hurt him a bit, being able to feel how self-conscious you were despite his attempts to show you otherwise. you were so beautiful, yet so unaware. but when you slept, he could coo at you as much as he wanted without protest.
“you’re so beautiful, baby,” he would say, gently stroking your hair. he would trace the details of your face with his eyes, further committing your beauty to memory. 
“i wish you knew how stunning you were,” he would say, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 
he would sit on the edge of the bed complimenting you and kissing your face for several minutes, often making him late to whatever made him get up so early in the first place. despite the x-men’s grumbles about logan being late every early morning, he never cared about being late. looking over you like this had become routine for him, and it always helped him start his day on the right foot. this was like his morning cup of coffee, but 10x sweeter.
as he gave you your final gentle kiss of the morning, you rustled and quietly mumbled: “please don’t go”. 
logan softened, lightly blushing as he stroked your face again. he leaned down and softly kissed your cheek before whispering: “i’ll be back before you know it, beautiful”.
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witchywithwhiskey · 6 months ago
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tempting fate on the terrace
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pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader
summary: you're relaxing on bucky's penthouse terrace and eating ice cream when he tempts you into something more
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, come play, light teasing, light overstimulation, finger sucking, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, little bit of exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff
word count: 2,900ish
a/n: y'all have @biteofcherry to blame for this follow up, because i couldn't get her idea out of my head and i just had to write it 😅 i'm so so so so so happy with how this turned out. i kind of can't get enough of these naughty little lovebirds, i just love them so much!!! and i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! ♡
tempting fate in the park (part 1)
tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)
tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)
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The spring sunshine was perfectly warm on your face, and you stretched your legs out, sinking further into the soft cushions of the outdoor sofa as you considered whether you should trade in your Brooklyn brownstone for a Manhattan penthouse. Specifically a penthouse with a terrace as pretty as the one belonging to Bucky Barnes. 
You licked your ice cream cone thoughtfully, gazing through the greenery that had been set up around the edge of the terrace to give it a sense of privacy. The whole of Manhattan seemed to sprawl beyond the edge of Bucky’s penthouse and you enjoyed the view almost as much as you loved the tree-lined Brooklyn street where you lived.
But your brownstone didn’t have a concierge to go buy ice cream and cones so you could have a delightful treat after being ruined by one of the most powerful CEOs in the city—who also happened to be your father’s business rival. That said, your apartment did have a bagel store around the block with the best bagels in New York City…
You were distracted from comparing the benefits of your home to Bucky’s by the door to the terrace sliding open with a soft sound. The man who had been nothing more than your father’s business rival—until he’d become much, much more—paused just outside the door, his hands slipping into the pockets of his lounge pants while he stared at you lazing about on his outdoor sofa.
You grinned, taking a long lick of your ice cream as you stared right back at him. He looked deliciously comfortable in his lounge pants and simple gray t-shirt, the soft cotton pulling tight across his broad shoulders. His brown hair was a little disheveled from how much you’d run your fingers through it, and his blue eyes sparkled in the golden late afternoon light. 
“Y’know, darling, I could get used to seeing you looking so comfortable in my home,” Bucky rumbled as he prowled over to the sofa, lifting your legs and sitting down so they sprawled across his lap. Since he was closer, you could better see the way his eyes darkened as he raked them along your body. “And I could definitely get used to seeing you wear my clothes.” He fingered the bottom hem of the button-up shirt you were wearing—the one you’d stolen off his floor and put on because it smelled like him. “In fact, maybe it should be a rule that you only wear my clothes when you’re here.”
You laughed, the sound bright and airy as you tipped your head back, and you were still smiling when you looked back at Bucky. “You already made it a rule that I can’t wear panties while I’m here,” you pointed out, kicking him lightly with your bare foot. “At this rate, I’ll have to walk around naked, and I love your terrace too much for that—your neighbors are going to see me and we’re actually going to get that public indecency charge.”
Bucky’s hands had begun to massage your calves, slowly working their way up your legs but he paused in thought, his gaze going distant as he stared out over the city. “Y’know, I don’t think you can get charged for public indecency if you’re naked on a private terrace,” he said, then turned mischievous eyes on you. “Why don’t we test it out,” he teased in a deliciously warm tone, his hands slipping up your thighs to push the hem of your shirt up, revealing your bare pussy to his gaze.
“Jamie—someone could see!” you cried, laughing and pushing him away half-heartedly with one hand while you tried to hold your ice cream cone stable in the other. But Bucky turned and wedged his body between your legs so you couldn’t close them, his gaze heating as he stared down at the apex of your thighs.
“Christ, your pussy looks pretty with my come spilling out of it,” Bucky muttered, almost to himself, his fingers trailing through your still sticky folds. Your hips stuttered up against his fingertips and you sucked in a gasp as he brushed gently against your sensitive clit. “So fucking pretty, darling.” 
“Jamie.” That time, when you said his name, it was more of a whimper, the sound so desperate it made heat flood your cheeks. You and Bucky had already fucked three times since you’d arrived at his penthouse, it was amazing that your body was still hungry for more. It felt like you’d be hungry for Bucky for the rest of your life.
Bucky looked up at you, grinning when he saw the needy look on your face. “You might want to finish your ice cream, darling, because I’m fucking another load into your pretty cunt the second you’re done,” he said, his voice low and gravelly and making you shiver as warmth pooled between your thighs. 
Grabbing the collar of Bucky’s shirt, you pulled yourself up to sit, your legs wrapped around his waist from the side and held your treat out to him. “Help me finish, Jamie,” you begged in a playful tone, giving him a sweet smile as if you didn’t hear the double entendre of your words. 
Bucky held your gaze as he leaned forward and took a big bite of your ice cream, chomping on some of the cone and making you laugh. But the warm spring sunshine was hot enough that the ice cream was soon dripping down your fingers and you quickly licked it up. Bucky watched you for a moment before he wrapped a hand around your throat and dragged you in for a messy kiss, the sweet taste of ice cream filling your senses just as much as the rich taste that was all Bucky.
Together, the two of you finished off your ice cream, laughing and kissing and tasting each other. When the cone was gone, you licked the sticky sweetness from Bucky’s fingers, your tongue teasing over his skin while you watched his blue eyes darken with desire. Once you were done, he tortured you in much the same way, his tongue sliding between your fingers in such an obscene way, you let out a soft moan as you imagined his warm mouth pressed between your thighs instead.
By the time every trace of ice cream had been licked from your skin, you were soaking wet and desperate for Bucky; you pulled him in for a kiss. He made quick work of unbuttoning the shirt you wore and pushing it down over your shoulders while your fingers dove beneath his t-shirt. You raked your nails lightly through the dark hair that decorated his chest, delighting in the softness of it against your fingertips. He groaned into your mouth, breaking away only to pull his shirt off. 
Then he was laying you down on the sofa and pushing his lounge pants off to pool at his feet before he climbed over you, covering your body with his broader form. His hips settled between your thighs, his hard length nestling perfectly between your slick lower lips. 
“Fuck, you feel good, darling,” Bucky rumbled on a moan, moving his hips back and forth, just enough to slide the hard ridge of his cock against your puffy clit. “Wanna be buried in this cunt every fucking moment of the day—you’re tuning me into some pussy-drunk idiot,” he growled, kissing and nipping at your jaw while his hand circled your throat, his fingers digging lightly into the sides.
You huffed a sound that was half laugh, half shuddering moan, your legs hooking around the backs of Bucky’s thighs and using the leverage to grind against his bare cock. “If it makes you feel any better, all I can think about is how badly I want to be your cockdrunk little slut,” you murmured in his ear, nuzzling your cheek against the scruff on his jaw and delighting in the delicious rasp against your skin. “I think about sitting under your desk in your office, your cock in my throat, keeping you warm while you work.”
“Oh fuck—fuck, darling,” Bucky groaned, rocking against you harder, his cock growing wet and slick with your juices the more he slid through your pussy lips. “When you’re not here and I’m stroking my cock, I think about fucking you at one of your father’s boring galas,” he rumbled, his words coming faster to match the speed of his hips. “I think about sinking my cock into you and pumping you full of come and making you go back out to the party with my load dripping down your thighs beneath your gown.”
You raked your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, clinging to him while your hips kept rocking together. His hard cock was rubbing your clit and his words were spinning delicious fantasies and it was too much. You felt your release swelling within you, threatening to overwhelm you, but you didn’t want to come against his cock, you wanted to come on his cock.
“Jamie,” you cried on a gasp, babbling words that you hoped made sense so he’d know what you wanted, “I can’t—I’m gonna—please, inside me—come, please!” 
Thankfully, Bucky understood your nonsense and he chuckled against your cheek. “Remember to be quiet, darling,” he rumbled, the warmth in his tone telling you he was grinning. “Don’t want the neighbors to hear you and risk finding out about whether we can get a public indecency charge on my private terrace.”
Before you could even think to respond to his teasing, Bucky pulled back, the tip of his cock needing no guidance to find your dripping hole. He slid inside easily, stretching you out around his cock. Your cunt was so wet, and you were so close to coming, it felt like your body was sucking him in deeper, your inner walls clinging to him as he split you open with his cock.
Despite Bucky’s warning, you groaned loudly—not because you wanted to find out about the indecency charge, but because you simply couldn’t control yourself. No matter how many times Bucky fucked you, every time he pushed deep into your cunt, it felt so good your mind went fuzzy with pleasure. You never wanted it to end, you wanted him inside you all the time, always and forever.
When the head of his cock pushed against your cervix, he grunted in pleasure while you moaned your own delight. Bucky dug his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat, cutting off your sound of ecstasy while he lifted himself up enough to see you. His eyes roved hungrily over your face, eagerly drinking in the way your expression twisted in pleasure as he pulled back and thrust inside you again, his hips clapping against your thighs. 
“Dirty, filthy girl,” Bucky grunted, thrusting into you to punctuate each word. “Can never be quiet when I tell you.”
You tried to smirk up at him, but another hard driving thrust had your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open on a silent moan. With what you thought was a valiant effort, you mannaged to huff, “That’s because I like it when you make me be quiet, Mr. Barnes.” 
Bucky’s eyes narrowed on you and his mouth twisted into a determined snarl. “You know I prefer when you call me Jamie,” he growled, fucking you harder and faster, pressing his face close to yours so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your cheek. “You call me Jamie when my cock is deep in your cunt and I’m about to pump you full of my fourth load today—d’you hear me, darling?”
It was so much fun riling Bucky up, and you were enjoying the result of your efforts, your body lighting up from within as he pounded into you. But you knew he wanted an answer to his question, so you parted your lips and babbled, “Yes, sir, you feel so good, Jamie—love it when you fuck me hard, Jamie, please!”
“There’s my good girl,” Bucky rumbled, his tone as warm as the sunshine falling across your bare skin. He brushed a kiss to your cheek and pushed your thighs wider, fucking you in deep, grinding thrusts that had his pelvis rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Now come on my cock, darling, wanna feel your cunt choking my dick like I’m choking your pretty throat.”
As if you could resist an order like that. 
At Bucky’s filthy words, you came undone. The swelling pleasure in your core burst, and your body went taut as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation washed over you. Your lips parted in a scream that Bucky made sure stayed silent, his big hand gripping your throat so tightly, it made your entire being focus in on everything your body was feeling, every little spark and fizzle of pleasure that came from his cock, his hand—him.
“Good girl, so good, feel so fucking good, darling, fuck—fuck,” Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting wildly between your thighs until he pressed deep and let out a low grunt. His cock twitched and throbbed inside you and you knew he was coming, your clenching pussy milking every drop of his load from his balls. 
“Jamie,” you murmured when he loosened his grip on your throat. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.” Your chanting words were a plea and a prayer, which Bucky seemed to understand because his arms dug beneath your body so he could cradle you tight to his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. You rode out your releases like that, your bodies writhing together, clinging to one another, unwilling to let the other move even a millimeter away. 
Slowly, eventually, the two of you settled, your body melting beneath Bucky’s while his cock softened inside you. His come spilled from your slit, sliding down between your ass cheeks. But you couldn’t be bothered by the mess the two of you had made, not when it felt too good to simply lay with Bucky, both of you naked and basking in the golden spring sunshine.
“Sooo,” you began, drawing out the word as you trailed your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair. He rumbled a short hum of acknowledgement. “D’you think any of your neighbors heard us?”
That had Bucky chuckling. He pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips finding the same spot where his fingers had dug in, making you shiver. “What’re they gonna do, tell me I can’t fuck my girlfriend on my own private terrace?” he grumbled. 
You went still beneath him and Bucky could feel the change in you, immediately lifting himself up so he could see your face. At his questioning look, you whispered, “That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend.” You hated how small your voice sounded, but you were suddenly very afraid it was a slip of the tongue that Bucky would take back the second you pointed it out.
But he didn’t. Instead, his eyes went soft and he ducked down to press a sweet and firm kiss to your lips. “You’re my girlfriend,” he said resolutely, but then paused and gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Unless you don’t want to be.”
Your eyes widened and your fingers dug possessively into the back of his neck. “No, no, I want to be, I want to be,” you assured him quickly, smiling when he looked relieved. You pulled him down for another kiss, though it was difficult because you were grinning so hard. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend, Jamie?”
“Of course I am,” he growled, nipping playfully at your lip and making you giggle.
“OK good,” you said with a happy sigh, going back to raking your fingers through his hair. “Then as your girlfriend,” you began, a teasing lightheartedness in your tone. “I demand my boyfriend get me another ice cream cone—since he ate half of mine.” When Bucky cut his eyes to yours, you gave him your best innocent pout, even though you knew he saw right through you. 
“Anything for you, darling,” he rumbled, dropping a kiss to your lips before he extricated himself from your body and sat up. He pulled his lounge pants back on and then tugged his t-shirt on over your head, a pleased smile curving his lips at the sight of you wearing his clothes. 
When Bucky dragged you up from the sofa, you tugged the hem of his shirt down over your ass, not wanting to flash any neighbors who might be looking, even though the greenery around the edge of the terrace would likely block you from view. Still, if you ever happened to move into Bucky’s penthouse, you didn’t want to have a reputation for walking around naked.
Not that you could see yourself giving up your beloved Brooklyn brownstone. 
Probably.
Unless Bucky asked you to move into his penthouse…
Thankfully, you were distracted from what a future with Bucky would mean for your housing situation by the man himself pulling your favorite flavor of ice cream from his freezer. He turned to you with a happy grin, looking devastatingly handsome and at home in his penthouse kitchen.
Right then, you decided you weren’t going to be tempting fate on the terrace again. It had been fun to fuck your boyfriend where any of his neighbors could have overheard or caught a glimpse of you, but you didn’t want to risk it again.
Just in case you did end up moving into Bucky Barnes’ penthouse.
tempting fate in the park (part 1)
tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)
tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)
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cutielando · 11 days ago
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vacations with osc | l.n.
synopsis: in which Lando finally agrees to go on vacation with Oscar and Lily
a/n: based in this request! i'm really sorry if it sucks, but it was really rushed and i did my best
my masterlist
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Lando had always had a great bond with each of his teammates ever since he joined Formula 1. 
He was always the younger one in the team and he was always taken under Carlos’ or Daniel’s wing. 
When Oscar joined the team, Lando was more than happy to play the big brother for the young Aussie, making sure his transition into F1 went as smoothly as possible. 
The dynamic between the two of them was refreshing, too. Oscar was very introverted and quiet, which is the complete opposite of what Lando was, talkative and loud and energetic. They balanced each other out perfectly, and you had noticed Oscar slowly coming out of his shell as time went by and he got more comfortable around your boyfriend.
They weren’t best friends, but they had become friends, maybe even close friends at that. 
Which is why it didn’t come as a surprise to you when Lando told you that Oscar and Lily would be joining you in Mallorca for 1 week during the summer break. 
To say that you were excited to spend some time with Lily was an understatement. You two had become the beloved McLaren wags, always together whenever Lily would have some free time and would join Oscar for races.
She was the sweetest person ever, her personality fitting Oscar’s perfectly, and she was such a kind person to talk to. She made the weekend more fun for you because you constantly had someone to share opinions with that wasn’t part of the official team of mechanics.
When it was time to finally leave for Mallorca, the 4 of you flew there together, which meant utter chaos on the plane from Lando and Oscar.
“Osc, that’s not how you play, mate” Lando was raging out over playing UNO with Oscar, the both of them operating on their own set of rules.
“Don’t tell me how to play UNO, mate. The rules say that I can put down a +2 over your own +2” Oscar argued, staring incredulously at your boyfriend.
You and Lily were both silently watching your boyfriends bicker and fight over the cards, snickering and whispering quietly so they wouldn’t hear you.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Oscar so worked up about something before” you whispered to Lily, watching the heated exchange between them out of the corner of your eye.
She giggled, nodding her head.
“He’s really passionate about UNO, so he basically turns into a menace whenever he plays” she explained, making you nod.
A couple more minutes passed and the boys had finally come to an agreement, now silently analyzing their cards. 
Lando was not the best player when it came to UNO or any card game in general, but he was damned if he was going to let Oscar beat him at something.
The rest of the flight was spent in the same manner, the boys arguing over game rules and you and Lily just gossiping away from the chaos.
Upon touching down, the four of you got into different cars that had been waiting for you at the airport and drove towards the villa you had rented for the week.
As soon as you stepped foot into the house, both Oscar and Lando immediately ran upstairs, screaming at each other about who was claiming which bedroom. You and Lily looked at each other, shaking your heads at the little children you both called your boyfriends.
After you girls unpacked your suitcases and put on your swimsuits, you dragged Lando and Oscar down at the beach, which was a mere 2 minute walk from the house you had rented, eager to not waste any time to get some sun.
While walking towards the shore looking for a good spot, you fell into step with Lando behind Lily and Oscar, taking his hand into yours.
“It was nice of you to invite them” you murmured quietly to him, making sure your friends were out of earshot.
Lando smiled and nodded, looking at the young Aussie with fond eyes.
“He’s a good kid. I know how tough it is to be the new guy, so I wanted to make sure he felt welcome and he was comfortable with me. We do have to help each other, at the end of the day, for the sake of the team” he explained, making you nod in understanding.
It was true. Even though on track it was everyone out for themselves, Oscar and Lando had massive respect for each other and, at the end of the day, they both had to do their best for the team, make sure that even though they were competing against each other, they didn’t forget to work together when necessary for the benefit of the team.
And you were glad they got along as well as they did. 
The way went by as smoothly as any vacation day would.
You and Lily spent the entire day enjoying the sun and tanning while the boys joined you or played in the water for a while.
But they both mainly just watched the two of you, engaged in a passionate conversation about the latest books you’d both read, Lily’s studies and her work, gossiping about what you’d heard in the paddock and catching Lily up with everything she had missed.
It was a sight to behold for the two young men, who were both thinking the same thing: how did we get so lucky with them?
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osarina · 6 months ago
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ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.
(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone
It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 
The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 
The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.
“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.
Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.
He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.
When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.
Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 
You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.
You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.
His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.
He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.
He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.
He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.
He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.
He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 
But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 
Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.
“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”
He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.
“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”
You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 
Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 
“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”
I love you.
He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.
You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.
“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”
He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.
“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”
Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.
He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 
He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.
He does.
“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”
Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.
“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.
Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.
“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”
Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.
He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.
You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 
“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”
Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.
“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”
You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.
He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 
Then you ask: 
“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”
Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 
Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.
He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.
“Yes.”
“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.
Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.
You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.
You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”
He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.
“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.
“Yes.”
Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”
He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 
He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.
You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.
“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 
Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”
You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.
As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.
“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”
“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”
Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.
Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.
“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”
“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.
“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.
Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”
His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.
“You did,” you confirm.
Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.
“Truth,” he murmurs.
You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”
“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 
He voices his first lie, “No.”
You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.
He refrains, if only barely.
You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.
“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”
“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”
“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”
Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”
If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.
The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”
Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 
“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”
He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 
After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”
The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.
He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.
“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”
For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.
He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.
Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.
But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”
Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.
“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”
Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?
Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.
Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?
He knows his next question.
“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”
He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.
You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”
“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.
“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”
He halts.
His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.
Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.
So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”
You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”
He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 
You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”
“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”
“We were never even dating, Daz-”
“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”
“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.
“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”
“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”
Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.
“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 
Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.
He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.
“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”
He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.
“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”
He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.
“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”
His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 
Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”
Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”
Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”
“He was,” you confirm.
Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 
He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.
“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.
He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.
Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 
Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.
After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 
For better or for worse, you’re not most people.
In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”
Dazai snorts.
“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”
“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”
“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”
Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-
No. Dazai refuses to believe it.
 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”
“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”
Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”
“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”
Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”
You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 
“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”
“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”
You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”
“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.
“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”
Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.
He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.
He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.
After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.
“Are you happy?” you ask quietly
Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.
“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 
He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”
You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.
So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.
But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?
“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.
There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.
He forces it out anyway.
“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.
A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…
Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.
Your lashes flutter before you speak.
You lie for the first time that night.
“Yes.”
Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”
“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”
Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.
“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”
“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”
“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”
“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.
There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”
Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.
“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”
Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.
So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.
No.
“Yes.”
“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.
You don’t.
The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.
“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.
God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.
His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.
There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 
All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.
He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.
He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.
Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 
His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.
The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”
Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.
Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 
You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.
His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”
He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.
Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 
“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 
You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.
“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”
“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 
“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 
“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 
“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.
He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.
He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.
He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 
Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.
It was a very lonely four years without you.
“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”
You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.
“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.
This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.
“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.
You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”
His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 
12:35
He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.
You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”
He doesn’t waste any time on that.
His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.
Then, he ruins the moment.
“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”
Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”
“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”
“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.
Dazai gags.
“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 
“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”
You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.
“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”
“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.
“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.
Dazai squints at you hard. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”
“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”
“How-”
“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”
Okay. 
Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”
It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”
Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.
“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.
He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.
The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”
Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.
It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.
No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.
His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.
But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.
But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.
He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”
He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 
Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 
“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”
“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”
“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.
“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.
Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.
“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 
You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-
And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”
A trick. 
Dazai knows it. 
You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.
He knows it.
He falls for it anyway.
Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.
“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 
Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.
“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.
He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.
He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.
His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.
“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.
“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 
He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.
His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.
He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.
“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”
“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”
And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.
Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 
He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 
It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.
He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.
“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.
You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”
The rest of our lives.
Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”
“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”
Of course, you know.
He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.
“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.
Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.
“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”
The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-
“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”
Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 
(I love you, he means)
“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.
(I love you too)
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pickingupmymercedes · 1 month ago
Text
Can't check out - Lewis Hamilton NSFW
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request: "yn and Lewis are secretly dating and yn works in Mercedes, they have an argument and after work yn doesn’t go to his room to sleep, but goes to hers, and Lewis gets even madder and goes to her room, and then you know what happens" - anon
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: unprotected sexual activities, angry sex
Wrap it before you tap it.
wordcount: +4k
a/n: I've had this one half written for a bit but couldn't quite get the switch right, the past two gp's were perfect for it though. Hope you like lovely.
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT
______________________________________________________________
The door to the engineering room slid open with a soft hiss, and Lewis stepped inside, still carrying the frustration from the debrief. His hand firmly grasped on his phone as his eyes searched the dimly lit space.
Rows of desks and computer screens cast a pale glow over the one engineer still hunched over her workstation—Y/n, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, fingers dancing over the keyboard.
“Y/n,” Lewis called, his voice low, almost casual, as he approached her station.
She didn’t look up, her focus entirely on the screen. Her jaw was set, brows furrowed in concentration.
Anyone could see the stress in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her fingers moved like they had something to prove.
“Y/n,” he said again, this time with more insistence as he stopped by her desk. “You’ve been here all night. Come with me. Let’s grab something to eat.”
“Can’t, Lewis” she muttered, still not sparing him a glance. “I’m in the middle of something”
Lewis sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t in the mood for this, not after the nightmare of Baku and now Singapore. The car still nowhere near where it needed to be.
He could tell she was taking it personally, that the car’s performance was something she couldn’t separate from her own self-worth, but it was eating her alive.
“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “Come on, take a break. You’ll think better after some food.”
Finally, Y/n looked up, and her eyes were burning with irritation. “You think this is about ‘taking a break’? Really?” Her voice sharper than he expected.
He frowned, caught off guard. “I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying,” she cut him off, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. “You think it’ll be fine if I take break because you’re just fine coasting through this weekend. But I can’t afford to do that, Lewis.”
“Coasting?” His tone hardened, the frustration he’d been pushing down starting to come up. “You think I’m coasting through this?”
She stepped closer, eyes flashing as she met his gaze. “Aren’t you? I heard what you said in that interview today. You’ve already given up on this weekend. Hell, you’ve probably already given up on this team.”
His jaw clenched. “Y/n”
“I know you’ve got your perfect seat at Ferrari next year,” she snapped, her voice rising, “but I need this job to work for me, Lewis. I can’t just check out.”
Lewis’s face hardened, the weight of her words settling heavily between them. She’d always been the one to back him up, to understand when things were tough.
“You really think that’s what I’m doing?” His voice was quieter now, but there was a simmering anger underneath it. “You think I’m just here, going through the motions, like none of this matters to me?”
Y/n’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re not the one whose career is tied to this car’s performance.”
Lewis stepped back, running a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “You think I don’t care about the car? About this team?” His voice was tight, but controlled. “You’ve no idea how much pressure I’m under. But sure, keep assuming I’m checked out because I’m not losing my mind over it.”
She didn’t answer, the tension between them suffocating.
“I’ll be at the hotel,” he finally said, voice flat. “I’ll wait for you, if you decide to actually talk instead of throw knives.”
Y/n stood there, staring at the door long after he’d gone, her heart racing, frustration still boiling under her skin.
She hated that he’d gotten to her, but she hated even more that she knew she had messed up.
The soft ping of her phone snapped her out of her trance. Yet another message from Lewis.
Where are you?
It was nearly 2 a.m., and Y/n was now in her own hotel room, but still working.
Her eyes burned from hours of staring at data, her body aching from the tension she carried in her shoulders. She knew she should have stopped hours ago, that the night races in Singapore didn’t excuse her pushing herself this far, but she couldn’t help it.
The car was nowhere, and every setup she ran through still led them in circles.
She ignored the message, her fingers pressing harder into the keyboard, trying to drown out the gnawing frustration.
There were moments where she could forget that outside these numbers, setups, and telemetry, there was more—her life, her relationship with Lewis, her sanity. But tonight, wasn’t one of those moments.
His earlier words still lingered in her mind like a bad taste.
"Coasting through the weekend," she muttered bitterly to herself.
Another ping. She looked at her phone for a second and then shoved it back into her pocket. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not that night, at least.
Time passed in a blur, the numbers on her screen blending together until her concentration wavered, exhaustion settling in.
2:45 a.m. A knock at the door.
Her heart sank. She knew exactly who it was.
Y/n slowly walked to the door and opened it, revealing a very irritated and slightly disheveled Lewis.
He was dressed in his sweats, his face drawn with concern and annoyance. His eyes scanned her face, clearly taking in her exhaustion.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat.
Lewis crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
“Busy. What do you want?”
He stepped closer; the frustration evident in his posture. “You’re busy? It’s almost three in the morning, Y/n.”
She shrugged, keeping her voice cold. “I don’t have the luxury of clocking out when things don’t go well.”
Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “Not this again, Y/n”
Y/n crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “I think you don’t get it, Lewis. You’re already halfway out the door. Ferrari’s waiting for you, and you’re just counting the days. I’m the one who’s stuck here trying to figure out how to make this work.”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You really think I don’t care about what’s happening?”
“I think you’re putting your feelings ahead of everything else,” she shot back, the words laced with bitterness. “I’m out there trying to make something of this car, and you—” She gestured at him, frustrated by his calm demeanor. “You’re here playing the ‘it’ll be fine’ card. It’s not fine, Lewis. It’s a disaster.”
Lewis’s gaze darkened, his voice steady but firm. “I never said it was fine.”
“Might as well have,” she retorted. “You think I don’t see it? The way you’re handling things, pretending it doesn’t affect you, when deep down, you’ve already checked out.”
His expression shifted, the cool, nonchalant mask cracking just slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t I?” Y/n scoffed, feeling the anger bubble up inside her. She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting.
“What happened to the guy who fought for every inch on track, the one who wouldn’t rest until everything was perfect? Now you’re here, telling me to relax, to take it easy. It’s bullshit, Lewis.”
Lewis stared at her, his silence only fueling her frustration. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking tone.
“Where’s the cutthroat guy who would have had me pinned to the wall by now? Instead, I’ve got this—” she waved her hand at him dismissively, “mushy, emotional guy in front of me, trying to make me ‘feel better’.”
Something shifted in Lewis’s eyes, and for a moment, she regretted saying it. His gaze hardened, his jaw clenched, and the tension in the air changed.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice low. He was danger.
But Y/n wasn’t backing down now. She wanted to push him, to make him snap, to break through that controlled, calm mark. “Oh, I absolutely do” she shot back, her chin tilting up defiantly.
Lewis’s eyes flickered with something possessive, and in an instant, he closed the distance between them.
His hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers dug into her skin, his grip firm and unmistakably dominant.
“You think you want that?” he murmured; his breath hot against her ear. “You think you want the guy who doesn’t give a damn? Be careful what you wish for.”
Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, her body reacting to the sudden intensity between them, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back down.
“Show me” she whispered, her voice steady, though her pulse raced. “Show me you still give a damn.”
And that was all it took.
The last thread of Lewis’s restraint snapped, and before she could even blink, he had her pinned against the narrow table in the small entryway to her bedroom, his hands gripping her wrists, his body pressing into hers with a force that left no room for doubt.
His breath was hot against her neck. His body pressed her into the hard surface, and Y/n could feel the tension in every inch of him—the controlled anger, the dominance she’d just provoked, and the raw desire that lay beneath it all.
She felt the dominance it in the way his hands moved—fast, precise, as if he’d already decided she wasn’t ever in control.
His grip on her wrists loosened for just a second before his hands slid down her body, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach.
His touch was rough but deliberate, and she gasped at the sensation, already anticipating what was coming next.
Lewis’s other hand hooked around her waist, pulling her hips back into him, his body pinning her even harder against the table. “You want this?” he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it “You want me to stop being soft?”
She barely had a second to catch her breath before his hand slipped lower, under the waistband of her pajama bottoms.
His fingers found their way instantly, brushing over her clit in a way that made her hips buck against him involuntarily.
“Lewis—” She started to say something, but he cut her off.
“Don’t even think about it” he growled, his fingers working with slow, maddening precision. “You don’t get to talk. Not now.”
Her breath hitched as he continued to tease her, the pressure of his fingers circling her clit increasing just enough to drive her crazy, but not enough to push her over the edge.
He was keeping her on a leash, and it was driving her insane.
“You think I don’t give a damn?” Lewis’s voice was rough, a contrast to the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to remind you?”
Her legs trembled as he worked her over, her body arching into him despite the way he had her pinned to the table.
She was already close, too close, and she knew it. She could feel the tension building inside her, the heat pooling in her stomach, the familiar rush of pleasure that came before she—
But just as she just about reached the edge, he pulled back, his fingers leaving her completely.
Y/n gasped in frustration, her body shaking from the sudden denial. “Lewis!” Her voice cracked, but he wasn’t having it.
“You don’t get to come yet” he said, his voice firm, unrelenting.
She was panting, her body already strung so tight it hurt, but before she could protest, Lewis flipped her around, pressing her back into the wall.
His eyes were dark, his expression hard as he lifted her to place her effortlessly onto the edge of the small desk.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively and his hands found her hips, holding her in place as he leaned in, his lips crashing into hers. The kiss was rough, all teeth, his frustration matching hers as their bodies clashed against each other.
But he was still in control, and Y/n knew it. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way his hands moved as if he knew exactly how close he was driving her, how close he was to breaking her down.
He pulled back from the kiss, his breath heavy against her lips. “You don’t get to have it easy” he murmured. “Not after all the shit you said.”
His lips were on her neck then, trailing rough kisses down to her collarbone, his hands sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, the sensation sending another jolt of heat and Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a shaky moan.
And Lewis wasn’t even close to being done with the torture.
His mouth moved lower, kissing his way down her stomach until he was on his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wide for him. He pulled her pajama bottoms down, discarding them somewhere behind him before his lips found the inside of her thigh, biting down gently on the sensitive skin.
Y/n’s body jerked in response, the anticipation nearly killing her as his lips moved higher, closer to where she needed him
“Please, Lew” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he parted her with his fingers, his mouth finally descending on her clit.
The sensation was electric, his tongue circling her slowly. Y/n’s hips kept on buckling involuntarily, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she moaned, unable to hold back the sound.
Lewis took his time, licking and sucking in a way that drove her to the edge all over again.
She felt it building, her body shaking as she neared the point of no return, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
And just when she thought she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped, again.
“Fuck!” she cried out, her hands tugging at the wood in frustration, but he didn’t relent.
“Not yet” was all he said, his voice hoarse as he looked up at her, his lips glistening.
She was a trembling mess, her body desperate for release, but Lewis wasn’t giving it to her. He stood up, towering over her as she panted, her chest heaving from the intensity of it all.
“Bed” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Y/n stumbled off the desk, her legs shaky as she moved without questioning toward the bed, Lewis right behind her.
He grabbed her waist, pushing her down onto the mattress, his body covering hers as he kissed her again, rough and demanding.
His fingers slid between her legs once more, finding her dripping, and he smirked against her lips. “You think you can take one more?” he asked, his voice mocking as he teased her, his fingers sliding inside her just enough to make her hips jerk.
“I can’t” she gasped, her body completely overwhelmed.
“Too bad” he growled, his lips brushing against her ear. “You don’t get to say when this is over.”
His fingers worked her over once more, slow and purposeful, pushing her to the brink for the third time.
Her body was shaking, every nerve on fire as she begged him, her words slurring in a desperate plea.
“Lewis. Please, I need—”
Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he let her go.
Y/n’s orgasm hit her in waves, her body convulsing as she cried out, her nails digging into his back as she came hard, trembling uncontrollably beneath him.
He didn’t stop though, his fingers still working her as she rode out the intense release, her vision going white from the force of it.
And when it was over, when her body had finally stopped shaking, she was a wreck, panting and boneless beneath him.
Lewis leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. “You still want more?” he asked, his voice dark and teasing.
Y/n was barely coherent, her mind fogged with pleasure, but she managed a weak smirk and chuckle.
Lewis growled low in his throat, flipping her onto her stomach. “Of course, you do.”
Lewis didn’t waste a second, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her up onto her knees.
Y/n’s face was pressed into the mattress, her breath still ragged, but she managed to turn her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him behind her, his chest heaving.
“Arch your back, love” he commanded, a low rumble.
Her body, still trembling, responded instinctively. She pushed her hips up, her back arching as she spread her knees wider.
She could feel the cool air on her slick skin, and her body ached with the need to be filled, to have him finally inside her.
But Lewis wasn’t in any rush.
His hands caressed her ass, rough palms running over the soft skin as he admired the way she trembled beneath him. She felt the unmistakable teasing of him collecting her juice with the tip of his dick.
Then, without warning, he brought his hand down sharply against her ass, the loud smack echoing in the room.
The sting was immediate. Y/n gasped, her body jolting forward as her muscles clenched in response.
Lewis chuckled darkly, leaning over her, his chest pressing into her back. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.
Y/n moaned, her fingers curling into the sheets as she tried to steady herself. “Fuck you” she breathed out, though the defiance was weak, barely a whisper.
Lewis laughed again, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he positioned himself behind her. “Oh, you will.”
And then, without another word, he thrust into her, filling her completely at once.
Y/n let out a loud cry, her body arching even more at the sudden invasion.
He was deep, too deep, and for a moment, all she could do was gasp for air, her hands gripping the sheets as he stayed still.
“Fuck,” Lewis groaned, his voice strained as he gripped her hips harder, his fingers digging into her skin. “You’re so fucking tight.”
Y/n couldn’t form words, couldn’t even think straight as her body struggled to accommodate the overwhelming fullness.
But then he started to move, pulling out just enough before slamming back into her, setting a brutal pace that left her not only wordless but breathless.
With each thrust the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Y/n’s moans mixed with his grunts, her body rocking forward with the movements of his hips.
Lewis was relentless, pounding into her with a force that left her dizzy. His hands moved up her back, fingers tangling in her shirt as he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch even more.
Her face was buried in the pillow, muffling her moans, but Lewis wasn’t having that.
“Let me hear you,” he growled, his hand tightening as he yanked her head back, exposing her neck. “I want to hear every fucking sound you make.”
Y/n cried out, her voice raw as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her entire body shake.
Her walls clenched around him involuntarily, the intensity of it all too much, but she couldn’t stop it. Every thrust got her closer to the edge, and she could feel it building again.
When she was almost seeing starts and her walls kept on clenching around him, he pulled out of her, leaving her trembling and empty.
Y/n let out a whimper of protest, her body aching for him to fill her again.
“Turn over,” he ordered, his voice firm, commanding.
Y/n, barely able to move, managed to roll onto her side, her body weak and shaking from the force of it all. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Lewis didn’t waste time. He grabbed her leg, pulling it up over his arms as he positioned himself between her half-closed thighs.
His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flip.
“You still think I don’t give a damn?” he asked, his voice rough, almost taunting as he pushed into her again, filling her completely.
Y/n’s head fell back against the pillow, a loud moan escaping her lips as he thrust into her at a new angle, hitting that spot deep inside her that made her breath hitch.
His hands held on to her ankle, and the way he was angled was driving her crazy, his hips slamming into her ass with an unrelenting force.
“Lewis—fuck—” she gasped, her hands clawing at his arms as he leaned over her, pressing his body into her side as he fucked her hard, each thrust pushing her closer to the brink.
Her moans were uncontrollable now, her body completely at his mercy as he pounded into her. She could feel the tension building again, the heat coiling in her stomach, but this time, she knew he wasn’t going to stop.
He wasn’t going to deny her. Not again.
Lewis’s eyes were locked on her face, watching every twitch, every moan, every breathless gasp as he took her apart. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice strained with exertion.
She couldn’t respond, her mind too fogged with pleasure, her body too overwhelmed. But her hands reached up, grabbing onto his neck, pulling him down to kiss her.
It was messy, but it didn’t matter. They were both too far gone to care.
Lewis groaned into her mouth, his thrusts becoming more erratic, harder, as if he was losing control. Y/n’s nails dug into his skin, her body trembling as she felt herself teetering on the edge.
“I’m so close,” she gasped against his lips, her voice barely coherent.
“I know, love” Lewis growled, his breath hot against her mouth. “Come for me. I want to feel you.”
With one final thrust, she spiraled, her body convulsing under him as her orgasm ripped through her, more intense than the ones before.
Y/n’s body arched off the bed towards his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders as she cried out, her walls clenching around him.
Lewis couldn’t keep himself for far too long. The way she tightened around him pushed him over the brink, and with a deep, guttural moan, he only had time to pull out, spilling himself over her ass, his body shaking with the force of his release.
For a moment, neither of them moved, their bodies spent and trembling, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Lewis then collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Y/n lay there, completely wrecked, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her only movement was her hand stroking his arm, her mind too fogged with him to think straight.
But then Lewis’s hand was on her cheek, gently caressing her skin, and she turned her head to look at him.
His expression had softened, the intensity of before replaced with something tender, affectionate.
“Relax,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ll take care of you.”
Y/n’s heart swelled at the softness in his voice, and she nodded, too tired to speak.
She watched as Lewis got up, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a towel. He cleaned her up carefully, his touch gentle, his gaze focused solely on her.
When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling her into his arms.
Lewis gently stroked her cheek as she lay against him, her breathing still uneven, though now from exhaustion rather than anything else.
His thumb brushed over her lips, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead softly, letting out a deep, contented sigh.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice tender.
Y/n nodded, her body limp as she sank into the comfort of his chest. "Just tired."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "You sure you don’t want to sleep?" His hand ran soothingly over her arm, drawing lazy patterns on her skin as he held her closer.
She shook her head lightly. "Not yet. My mind’s still buzzing." Her voice was soft, a little hoarse, but she didn’t regret a second of it.
Lewis chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Well, let’s calm that buzzing down." He reached for the phone by the bedside, quickly ordering pasta for the both of them. "Have you eaten at all?"
Y/n smiled faintly; her eyes half-closed. "So now you care?"
Lewis arched an eyebrow, lifting her chin so her gaze met his. "Always did, babe." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, his gaze soft but serious. "I know it’s been tough, and I know I’ve been a prick sometimes… but I do care. About you. About your career. All Mercedes."
Her lips curved into a small smile, her exhaustion making her emotions raw. "I know. I’m sorry for what I said"
"I meant what I said earlier—you’ve gotta find to take care of yourself. It’s not all on your shoulders." he pushed, brushing his thumb across her face.
She closed her eyes, her body relaxing into his touch. "Yeah, maybe you’re right."
He laughed softly. "I’m always right." He kissed the top of her head. "And if it takes rough sex to get you out of your own head… well, I’m happy to help."
Y/n snorted; her face buried in his chest. "Really, Lewis? Really?"
“I care about you, okay?” he said quietly, almost hesitant, as if the vulnerability was something new.
Y/n nodded against his chest, her eyes already closing as the exhaustion overtook her. She was too tired to speak, but she knew. Deep down, she had always known.
______________________________________________________________
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wileys-russo · 6 days ago
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Mai i request a blurb or fic with Alexia or leah in their home with
"Oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."
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the collection II l.williamson
"babe!" you faintly heard your girlfriend call from downstairs, attention diverted from the laptop in front of you in the home office you and leah had turned your second bedroom into.
"yeah?" you called back, unable to hear her response. "babe? oi did you hear me?" leah yelled again as you sighed, closing your laptop and pushing away from the desk.
"lee, baby we've discussed this so many times that i cannot hear you unless you're in the same room or not-" you began to tell her off as you jogged downstairs but stopped as you saw the likely reason for her yelling.
"my package!" you squealed happily, almost bowling leah to the floor with the speed in which you zoomed past her and plucked the box from her hands, the blonde scoffing as you sat down on the edge of the sofa.
"this is what i was yelling about." you made an indignant noise as before you could even rip the box open leah appeared in front of you and snatched it from your hands, promptly pushing you back down onto the couch with her foot to your chest as you tried to stand.
"leah!" you huffed, smacking her sock covered foot away with a grimance as she tucked the box under her arm. "you, my girl, have a problem." leah began sternly, finger wagging at you as your eyes rolled.
"oh and do tell what is this so called problem i have?" you sighed, settling back into the couch with arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked in challenge toward the defender in front of you.
"you're addicted to online shopping." leah claimed boldly as you made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a choke as you shook your head. "i am not! leah this is ridiculous, give me my package." you demanded, wiggling your fingers at her expectantly as she firmly shook her head.
"this, is the fifth box to arrive on the doorstep addressed to you this week, and thats just whats arrived while i've been at home!" leah warned raising an eyebrow right back at you as you both stared one another down, unwavering.
"it is not the-" you were silenced by a fierce look from your girlfriend who suddenly went marching out of the room as you hurried to follow her, fingers itching to get a hand back on your package still tucked away in her arms.
"leah where on earth are we going?" you groaned in annoyance as again you tried to reach for the box and she darted out of your reach, marching through the house and right out the back doors as you sighed heavily and followed.
"exhibit a!" the english woman announced, having lead you around the side of the house and gesturing wildly to the near overflowing recycling bin hidden from public view.
it was due to go out tomorrow night as you made a mental note to remember to do that since leah was renowned for forgetting which is how the bin had ended up so full in the first place.
"what are you on about williamson?" you sighed deeply, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to the side as you stared her down with pursed lips.
"evidence babe, cold hard undeniable evidence." leah held up a finger as if to pause whatever strange investigation she seemed to think was going on.
you groaned quietly as she placed your package down on the pavers, behind her and still out of your reach as, dramatically, she flung open the lid of the recycling bin and gave you an accusatory look.
"lee this is ridiculous just give me my package and-" "see!" leah interrupted, grabbing out an amazon box from the win and waving it about.
"a box? groundbreaking investigatory skills babe, consider me thoroughly impressed!" you clapped slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm as leahs eyes narrowed.
"you will see, exhibit b, the name on said box!" leah spun it around and tapped the label aggressively as you snickered and she glanced down, quickly flipping it around the right way and repeating the action.
"you mean to tell me a box was delivered to our home addressed to someone who lives here? scandalous!" you gasped, voice still alight with sarcasm as leah rolled her eyes and tossed the box onto the ground.
"exhibit c, d, e, f, g-" leah listed off, grabbing boxes of various shapes and sizes out of the bin, flashing your name on each one and tossing them into the growing pile on the ground as you watched on unamused.
"okay yeah leah alright you've made your point!" you finally snapped, stepping forward and promptly slamming the recycling bin lid closed, narrowly missing your girlfriends fingers as she whistled.
"touchy at the truth are we babe? ready to admit you've got a problem?" leah grinned happily as you shook your head and stepped forward.
"okay love you were right. i do have a problem-" you started with a small pout, hands coming to rest on leahs hips as she nodded in agreement. "-and that would be you." you promptly pushed her out of the way, snatching your package off the ground and striding away.
"don't forget to put those boxes back in the bin williamson!" you yelled over your shoulder, hurrying inside and ignoring the swearing and grumbling of the disgruntled blonde you left behind as you rummaged through the drawers for some scissors.
slicing down the tape you wrestled with the box for a moment before the flaps opened and you gasped, clapping happily and pulling its contents out, holding it at arms length with delight written clear on your face.
"oh you are fucking joking me! another one?" leah appeared at the back door, clearly nowhere near as impressed with your latest purchase as you were as you ignored her.
"you have about ten of those already! you do have a fucking shopping problem, i'm blocking your cards." leah huffed, attempting to snatch the plush pumpkin from your grip as you held it protectively to your chest.
"i do not! honestly and you say i'm dramatic leah?" you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. "and good luck considering i'm the one who deals with our finances." you blew her a kiss and ducked past her, only as you did she managed a hand on your latest stuffed friend and snatched it from you.
"leah! give it back-" you grunted, trying to wrestle it back but it was a fruitless task as she easily held you off with her other hand. "come." the defender barked, pushing you away again and headed for the bedroom as you scrambled to follow.
"exhibit...whatever bloody letter i was up to." leah waved it off, again shoving you away as you reached for the pumpkin she had in her grip. "babe, look! one, two, three, four, five, six-" your girlfriend began to count the series of jellycats sat on the bed.
"you have a problem!" leah poked at your chest as your eyes rolled and you mocked her under your breath. "say it, go on then." the girl demanded clapping expectantly as she tossed the pumpkin on the bed.
"no baby i can't, because we promised we wouldn't lie to one another." you pouted sarcastically, trying to reach past her to grab the pumpkin and squealing in shock as you were tackled to the bed.
"admit it! say you have an online shopping problem!" leah grunted, moving to sit on top of you as you wheezed and fought to throw her off.
"get off you haven't showered since training and you'll ruin them!" you whined, leah's eyes narrowing as she managed to pin your hands beneath her knees, not much taller than you but most certainly the stronger considering she was a professional athlete.
"oh? ruin these?" leah grabbed another jellycat in hand, this one a lime as you'd been on a bit of a food related kick with your purchases lately, and holding it up with a smirk.
"leah. put. it. down." you warned seriously, her smirk only growing. "i wonder what would happen if bella got a hold of one of these?" leah pondered, the two of you dogsitting for the week as amanda was away on a girls holiday.
"you do that, you'll be single faster than you can say north london forever williamson. put it down!" you growled as your girlfriend rolled her eyes, moving as if to place it down before she tossed it over her shoulder and you gasped.
"say you have an online shopping problem." "no!" this time it was a bright green frog which hit the bedroom floor and you gasped again. "say it babe."
"i do not have a problem. this is a hobby! like you collect vintage arsenal kits!" you accused, wriggling beneath her and groaning as you had no luck at all in throwing her off or getting a hand free.
"a hobby! please." leah scoffed. "i wear the kits, they have a purpose. these stupid little mounds of feathers or cotton or whatever the fuck they're made of just sit here all day. absolutely useless waste of money!" leah huffed as you inhaled sharply.
"they are not! they're loveable plush characters who have been around since the 90's with names and backstories and-" "oh my god if you buy one more stupid little plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch!"
"oh you'll kick me out will you miss needy?" you scoffed, raising an eyebrow in challenge, your girlfriend at her most clingy when the two of you were wrapped up in bed together of a night.
"if i need to. but these are just the tip of the iceberg of your online shopping problem! before this there was the stupid rocks-" "crystals." "then it was the stupid little action figures-" "pop vinyls." "then it was the fridge magnets-" "hey you said you liked that our fridge has personality now!" "and lets not forget the knitting, the colouring in, the necklace making kits, the paint by numbers-" leah listed off on her finger the countless hobbies you admittedly had invested quite a lot of money into before growing bored and moving onto something else.
"fine fine fine! i may have....some ever so slight difficulties with online shopping." you begrudgingly admitted, puffing our air with a scowl as leahs face softened.
"thank you. now was that so hard to admit?" your girlfriend smiled as your scowl only deepened. "get off me leah, right now."
leah rolled off of you as you couldn't wait and practically shoved her to the point she nearly fell off the bed as you stomped out of the room.
"babe! come on its out of love, i want to help you cure this problem." leah yelled out after you, hearing your footsteps thump back upstairs where the office was and sighing, already preparing her apology in her head before they sounded coming back downstairs and she paused.
"what are you-" she frowned seeing the odd assortment of objects in your hand, clearly looking as if you were struggling not to drop them as you carefully placed them down on the edge of the bed and leah scooted out of the way leaning back against the headboard.
"the hoverboard, the laptop dj set, the VR gaming headset, the rollerskates, the indoor golf set, the dartboard, the-" you listed off, pulling more things from under the bed or the back of the cupboard as leah suddenly seemed to run out of things to say, falling silent and blushing.
"now tell me, what are these leah?" you questioned the now quite large pile of leahs own dead hobbies on the bed as your girlfriend winced, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.
"um...presents?" "oh? and who bought you these then? were they for your birthday? christmas?" you asked, hands on hips and staring her down as leah cleared her throat and chuckled uncomfortably.
"um. presents to me...from me?" "mmm, so...you bought them online. correct?" "...not all of them." leah clarified as you scoffed.
"right, right. so..." you trailed off, raising your eyebrows expectantly as the blonde let out a deep sigh and slowly crawled forward so she was sat at the end of the bed on her knees.
"my beautiful, smart, gorgeous, sexy-" "not the time for flattery williamson." "i am very very sorry for-"
however before she could finish the front doorbell rang diverting both of your attentions, right as your phone dinged and leahs once sorrowful eyes narrowed, the two of you locked eye to eye.
you began to slowly back out of the room, hearing the doorbell go again as your phone started to ring and leah hopped to her feet, stalking after you with a knowing look as you chuckled nervously.
"leah no!" you squealed as within seconds she was sprinting past you, holding you off with one arm and a leg as she cracked open the door, the poor delivery man jolting in shock as just leahs head appeared and her hand came to cover your mouth, keeping you at bay with her foot pressed to your stomach.
"delivery for a-" "oh no i'm sorry for the mix up mate but nobody by that name lives here, better return to sender if you would!" "leah catherine williamson!"
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