#imagine if she focused her energy on something useful like housing

[united-federation-of-trek]

hahahahahaha I hate it here.

Danielle Smith: I don’t want young kids to permanently change their bodies!

Danielle Smith: So they won’t be allowed to use puberty blockers, the effects of which are basically entirely reversible, until they’re fifteen, which is well into puberty and often towards the end of puberty for AFAB kids!

Danielle Smith: this makes sense and I am so smart! This will not have the effect of making trans youth even more vulnerable than they already are and that definitely wasn’t my intention.

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Pleasure Equation: When the Nerd Solves Everything, Including You

Nayeon x Male Reader

word count: 8.2k

a/n: Yo, my first published smut. I hope you like it. Feel free to tell me what you think.

��

You're lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering why, in the 21st century, universities still think pairing people for projects is a good idea. Plus, you're terrible at this subject. Advanced Calculus? They might as well call it "How to Ruin My Weekend." The only saving grace is that your partner, Nayeon, the biggest nerd in class, will handle most of it. For you, it seems like a golden ticket: she does the work, and you pretend you helped. It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

The doorbell rings. Of course, it’s her. You were expecting it—you could almost time Nayeon's nerdy punctuality. And, as always, she looks like the picture-perfect good girl—cardigan, glasses, skirt, that innocent, serious air of someone more interested in spreadsheets than in people. The kind of girl most guys wouldn't look at twice. But you, well, you had to look. It was obligatory since she was going to carry your weight in this project.

You open the door, and there she is, laptop under her arm, shy smile and everything you imagined. The nerd who's here to save your semester.

What you didn’t know—and God knew you were about to find out—is that Nayeon had planned a different type of study for this project.

She walks in with that confident stride that only people who are either extremely smart or who know the subject is your lifeline have. And honestly, you’re not ready for the energy she brings.

“Hi,” she says, glancing around your house, skipping any small talk.

“Hey, Nayeon. Nice to have you here.” You try to sound more enthusiastic than you really are. “Want anything? Water, juice, tea?” you offer, hoping to buy yourself a few more minutes of procrastination before facing the project.

“No, thanks.” She looks at you over her glasses, almost as if she’s analyzing your soul. “I think we should just get started. The sooner we finish, the better.”

“Yeah, better,” you think. And with that, off you go to your bedroom. Yes, the bedroom, because it’s the only place in the house that seems even remotely presentable. There are piles of books (that you haven’t read, just skimmed for the basics), notebooks with ridiculously short notes you took, some clothes scattered here and there... oh, and your unmade but perfectly comfortable bed, where you sit on the edge. It was a clinically tidy room compared to the living room or the kitchen.

Nayeon doesn't seem to care about anything. She sits at the desk chair and opens her laptop.

The project, of course, is about "Modeling Algebraic Functions for the Optimization of Industrial Processes." Or something equally mind-numbing that only Nayeon seems to understand. You’re more lost than someone trying to solve a Rubik's cube in the dark. And it’s all because of your dad, who, in his non-threatening way, persuaded you to follow the family career path. Damn Engineering (and tradition).

Nayeon, as always, is already deep into the work, fingers flying over the keyboard while her glasses slip to the tip of her nose, balancing dangerously between focused nerd and, well... ¿sexy? nerd?

Not that you’d admit that.

She glances at you, and for a second, you almost feel like she expects you to say something useful. Which, of course, would be a grave miscalculation. Literally.

“So, I thought you could start with the part about differential equations,” she says, making the suggestion with the ease of someone asking you to hold a cup, when what she’s really offering is a grand piano. “And then the graphs…”

You pretend to be genuinely interested. Which means nodding in a way that could be mistaken for understanding if someone looked quickly, but in reality, you're utterly lost.

“Oh, sure, differential equations…” you repeat, as if the words held any special meaning. They don’t.

Nayeon sighs and goes back to typing, clearly aware of the level of uselessness you're operating at. She’s probably already mentally dividing the entire project, calculating how many extra hours she'll need to cover for the fact that you're, essentially, dead weight.

“Maybe you could review the introduction,” she suggests, polite but with the patience of someone talking to a child who still doesn’t know the difference between shapes.

You scratch your head, pretending to read the introduction she’s already written. One, two lines. Everything looks very... professional. You attempt to seem helpful:

“You know, I think you’re... um... doing great with this. Maybe... maybe I should focus more on the creative part of the project, like... the presentation design?” you suggest, smiling, as if making a PowerPoint full of silly animations was an undervalued talent in academia.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Design?” Nayeon asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “In an Advanced Calculus project? You want to fill the presentation with glitter and stars, is that it?”

“Hey, glitter makes everything better,” you reply, defensive, but unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe throw in some memes to lighten the mood… People love memes... I guess.”

“I’m not sure if you're joking or if you've completely given up on life,” Nayeon mutters, with a short, dry laugh, returning to the keyboard.

You shift on the bed, trying to find a position that seems less like a desperate student and more like someone slightly focused on the project. The silence is broken only by the sound of her typing and your occasional murmur of fake approval: “Hmm, sure, that makes sense…”

It doesn’t.

Then, out of nowhere, Nayeon looks at you again, but this time with a different kind of curiosity. There’s something in her eyes, something that goes beyond pure calculation—and we’re not talking about the equations.

“You live alone, right?” The question comes casually, almost innocently. Almost.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you answer, a bit confused by the sudden shift. “Why?”

“Just... curious,” she replies, but the smile she gives is far from innocent. “It must be nice living alone. I bet you can do whatever you want, right? No one around to hear...”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Like... I can have pizza for breakfast without being judged. And play video games late. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

Nayeon laughs, but in a way that makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, like she knows something you don’t.

“And... what do you mean by ‘do whatever you want’?” you ask, hesitant but unable to resist the curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, looking away for a second. “Just thinking... it must be interesting. Having that kind of freedom.”

She pauses and looks directly at you again, her fingers sliding slowly across the keyboard, as if the project was now the last thing on her mind.

“Tell me something... what’s your type?” The question lands like a stone thrown into a calm lake, sending ripples of confusion through you.

You almost choke.

“My... type?” you repeat, as if it’s a math problem with too many variables.

“Yeah, like... what do you find attractive in someone?” Nayeon continues, her voice far too casual for the situation. She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours.

“Well, I dunno.” You shift uncomfortably. “I guess... someone fun, you know? Someone who can make me laugh.”

“Hmm. And me?” Nayeon tilts her head, her glasses now low enough to reveal her sharp eyes behind them. “Do I make you laugh?”

You freeze, because the right answer to this feels like a trap.

Sure, Nayeon’s made you laugh plenty of times, especially when she freaks out over losing half a point on a test. But that doesn’t seem like the kind of "laugh" she’s asking about.

“Uh, yeah, of course!” you respond, quickly. “I mean, in a good way. Not that I’m laughing *at* you, but... you know what I mean, right?”

She smiles, and you’re not sure if she’s satisfied with your answer or just amused by your nervousness.

“You know,” Nayeon continues, “I think I prefer guys who... know what they want. Guys with attitude.”

You nod, trying to process what’s happening.

“Oh, sure. Attitude is always good, right?” you reply, having no idea where this conversation is heading.

She looks at you in a way that feels almost predatory, and you realize that, somehow, whatever control you thought you had over this situation (even a little) now belongs entirely to her.

“Do you have it?” she asks. “Attitude?”

At that moment, you realize two things: first, Nayeon isn’t interested in solving differential equations today. And second, you probably should’ve agreed to do the graphs.

You feel the pressure of the question like a multiple-choice exam where all the answers seem wrong.

"Now?" you stammer, as if time itself is about to collapse. "Uh… I don’t know, I think we’re in the middle of a project, right? I wouldn’t want to interrupt��"

"Interrupt?" She lets out a short laugh. "I think work went out the window a long time ago, don’t you?"

With that, she stands up, closing the laptop, and starts walking slowly around the room, as if inspecting the space, or maybe just teasing you on purpose. Every step she takes seems more choreographed than anything you’ve ever seen on stage.

Suddenly, she stops, untying her hair and shaking it loose.

"You know," she continues, turning her gaze back to you, "I thought of a way to make things more interesting."

Your brain, of course, is already in full panic mode, but your mouth, as always, insists on trying to sound casual.

"Really? Interesting how?" you ask, hoping the answer isn’t something like "Russian roulette."

She crosses her arms. You realize that, at some point, you completely lost any chance of controlling your own fate.

"A game," Nayeon says, with a sly smile. "Let’s play a game. What do you say?"

"What kind of game?" you ask, already regretting letting curiosity win over survival instinct.

"Oh, don’t worry, nothing too crazy," she replies, shrugging as if the suggestion were perfectly innocent. "Something fun, to relax, since the project clearly isn’t going anywhere today."

She steps closer to you, with that conspiratorial air of someone about to suggest something really dangerous.

"What do you think?" she whispers, lowering her voice. "You up for playing with me?"

"Err... depends on the game, right?" you reply, trying to sound laid-back.

Her eyes gleam behind her glasses, and the smile on her lips is pure provocation.

"Let’s see… How about something simple?" she suggests, her eyes never leaving yours. "Questions and answers. To test what you've been learning in the course."

"Just that?" you ask, half skeptical, half curious.

She speaks with a lightness that contrasts the intensity of her proposal:

"Of course not. For every question you get right, I’ll take off a piece of clothing."

You blink. Blink again. And then a third time, just to make sure you heard correctly.

"What?" you blurt out, a laugh escaping before you can control it. "You’re kidding, right?"

Nayeon crosses her arms, that crafty smile still on her face. Apparently, she’s not kidding.

"I’m dead serious. And if you manage to make me take off everything, I’ll give you a prize."

"A prize?" You try to keep your composure, but all you can think about is that maybe studying Calculus isn’t so bad after all. "What kind of prize?"

Nayeon doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she lifts her skirt just enough to reveal a glimpse of her panties — white, of course, because even in this, she has to be precise and teasing.

You swallow hard, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Suddenly, the temperature in the room rises by five degrees, and it has nothing to do with global warming.

"Hm... okay, let’s go," you respond, trying to sound casual, but in reality, your mind is a complete mess. Who knew the class nerd had this side to her?

"Great." Nayeon giggles before adjusting her glasses and kicking off her shoes to, let’s say, get more comfortable. "First question: What’s the basic principle of algebraic function modeling applied to industrial process optimization?"

You stare at her. Of course, it wasn’t going to be an easy game. Your brain tries, with herculean effort, to remember what the hell that means.

"Hm… I think… it’s using equations to simplify a complex process?" you guess.

She smiles.

"Well, close enough. You got the general concept," she says.

She starts with the most innocent pieces, of course. The cardigan that you barely noticed she was wearing, because let’s be honest, your focus was more on the project — or on how not to do it... Well, at least that’s what you thought. Now, the focus has definitely changed. Every button that opens feels like a small personal victory. And before you know it, the cardigan is on the floor. She looks at you with a sly smile.

"Shall we continue?"

"Damn right, I’m enjoying this!"

"How do you define an improper integral?"

You blink. Of course, she’d come up with one of those questions you never knew the answer to.

"An… improbable integral?"

She laughs, a clear, almost musical sound that fills the room. If Nayeon were the type of person who enjoyed academically torturing others, she was definitely on the right track.

"I’ll give you a hint," she leans forward, just enough for you to see part of the top underneath her perfectly white blouse. "It has something to do with limits."

Limits. Of course. Yours are being tested in a different way. You vaguely remember the professor mentioning something about this, between naps.

"Oh, right! It’s when the interval goes to infinity, right?" you venture, your heart already beating faster.

"Correct!" She claps her hands, feigning innocent excitement that definitely doesn’t match the way her hands move toward the buttons of her blouse. One button, two, three... and soon, Nayeon’s blouse is off, revealing a black camisole, tight enough to show that she had planned all of this meticulously.

You exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Now, you’re invested in the game.

"Next question: What are the three most common methods to solve a system of linear equations?"

Linear equations? Of course, you slept through that class. But then… things start to click.

"Elimination, substitution, and… matrices."

"You’re getting the hang of it, huh?" she says, her voice almost a purr.

Without hesitation, she leans back a little and, with a slow, sensual gesture, removes the black camisole, now revealing a delicate white bra, almost the same shade as her skin.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but somehow, you’re starting to enjoy the game, and oddly enough, math too. Well, this is definitely a more rewarding way to learn something you don’t like.

"Now an easier one," she teases, as if giving you a break. "How do you calculate the area under a curve?"

You swallow hard, not because of the question, but because Nayeon is crossing her arms in a way that’s far from casual, emphasizing even more what’s... well, on display.

"Definite integrals," you answer quickly, perhaps with more enthusiasm than necessary.

She gives a small round of applause, but this time doesn’t make any immediate move to take off anything else.

"Very good! But... are you sure you want to continue?" she asks, tilting her head, as her fingers rest on the zipper of her skirt.

You’re not sure if you want to continue the game or skip straight to the “prize,” but whatever it is, you need this girl naked. But for that you need to concentrate, but how would you do it? It's certainly not easy. Not when she runs her fingers, provocatively slow, to the zipper of her skirt.

“Alright, just one more, then,” she says, with a false lightness that only adds to the tension in the air, “a simpler one, I promise. If you get it right, I’ll take off one more piece. If you get it wrong… the game’s over.”

Your mind is racing, a mix of nerves and pure curiosity. After all, how did you end up here, being quizzed by Nayeon, The Nerd™? And now, The Nerd™ was about to strip.

Weird world.

“Okay… ask the question,” you say, trying to seem calm. Just trying.

Nayeon raises an eyebrow, still toying with the zipper of her skirt, but not pulling it down at all, just… waiting. “What’s Stokes' theorem?” she asks.

You almost laugh. Not really, more like a nervous chuckle that escapes before you realize… crap, you actually don’t remember.

“Erm…” you begin, desperately searching for some vague memory of a class you definitely slept through.

Nayeon doesn’t miss the look of panic on your face.

“Ah, struggling?” she asks, her voice sweetly sadistic. “How about a hint?” She leans in, the skirt still untouched, but in a deliberate move, she adjusts her bra, already more revealing than it should be, giving you a clear view of her generous cleavage.

You clear your throat, dying a little inside but trying to maintain your composure.

“Uh, it has to do with surface integrals, right? Something about flows… and vectors…”

“Exactly! Flows and vectors,” she repeats, satisfied. And then, in an almost innocent gesture, as if she were merely taking off an uncomfortable shoe after a long day, she pulls the zipper of the skirt, which slides down her legs, hitting the floor like it didn’t even matter, revealing her bare legs and white panties. Her thighs are even more perfect than you imagined—toned, lightly defined. Your throat dries up as if you’ve just run a marathon, but the only thing racing is your heart.

Honestly, you’re never really prepared for every time she gets more and more exposed. She places a hand on her hip, looking at you with that expression that makes you wonder how you never realized this before—that yes, Nayeon, the “nerd” of the class, was a girl far more complex than any Stokes theorem.

“So, what now? Want to continue or… are you satisfied?” She pouts adorably, challenging you, and you know, at that moment, that she wants you to keep going. After all, she’s having way too much fun.

You take a deep breath, determined, even though your mind is light-years away from any coherent thought.

“Sure. Next question. I’m going to win my prize.”

“What a determined guy,” Nayeon chuckles softly, with that teasing air, as if you were on a quiz show and not in some sort of erotically torturous strip game for the brave. “Alright then… explain the principle of superposition.”

She knew you had no idea. You knew that she knew. But what did it matter? What mattered was that your eyes were glued to every movement she made. She tilted her head, playing with the strap of her bra.

You think for a moment. Superposition… electric fields… sure, you got this.

“It’s when, hmm…” your voice cracks, but you force yourself to sound confident. “It’s when the sum of the effects of multiple causes is equal to the sum of the individual causes. Each field acts like the others aren’t even there.”

She leans in, subtly, fiddling with the strap of her bra, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Exactly,” she says, letting the strap fall with a slow motion from one shoulder. And then, from the other. “Congratulations.”

The bra falls to the floor.

You try, honestly try, to keep your focus on what’s happening, but there’s a problem. Actually, two, and both of them are right in front of you, fully exposed. No matter how much your mind insists that you need to concentrate on the game… you simply can’t.

“J-just one more question, right?” You stammer, desperately trying to focus on your shoes, the wall, anything but… well, Nayeon, and the fact that she was now practically naked.

She leans forward slightly, arms “casually” crossed, and you’re convinced she did this just to make sure your brain imploded. One of her breasts lightly brushes against her arm, and your mind screams something between HELP and THANK YOU.

"Exactly,” she says, and there’s a hint of malice in her voice, that tone that indicates she knows by now you’re one step away from a complete meltdown. “One last question. If you get it right… you win your prize. If you get it wrong… you’ll do the entire project alone.”

Your head throbs, struggling to focus on anything besides her smooth skin and the hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

“Alone?” you repeat, dumbfounded. A simple word, but you can barely get it out.

She bites her lip, enjoying herself. And then, in the most seductive voice possible, she drops the bomb:

“Of course… if you mess up now in the final minutes, you’ll have to do it all on your own. But if you get it right, you’ll see what’s under this,” she pulls at the side of her white panties slightly, just enough to let your imagination spin. “And who knows what else…” Her voice is a caress wrapped in pure temptation.

Yeah, it’s worth the risk.

Focus, you tell yourself, as if that’s remotely possible. Here you are, in a state of complete mental confusion, and Nayeon is there, almost naked, suggesting there’s just one question left before… well, paradise. And hell, too, because clearly, you wouldn’t survive doing this fucked-up project alone.

“Alright, let’s go,” you force the words out. “What’s the last question?”

Nayeon smiles in a way that says, I got you. And of course, she did. She leans in again, this time closer, her panties still firmly in place, but for how long?

“Ready for this?” she murmurs, with the tone of a final temptation. “What law of electromagnetism describes the relationship between the circulation of a magnetic field along a closed path and the electric current passing through the surface enclosed by that path?”

You freeze. Your mind is almost there, trying to grab the answer from some corner not focused on the fact that Nayeon is practically naked in front of you.

“Uh…” you begin, Nayeon sways her hips as she waits. “It’s… it’s…” you struggle. Nothing. Your mind is completely blank, a screen of static.

Nayeon sighs, as if she’s genuinely disappointed. Of course she’s not. She’s having way too much fun for that.

“Need a hint?” she offers, with a smile as sweet as it is devastating.

You nod desperately. Anything, for God’s sake, anything to help!

She whispers softly, “This law introduced the concept of ‘displacement current.’”

You blink, and then, as if by some miracle, the answer comes to you. But before you can speak it aloud, Nayeon leans in again and your traitorous eyes glance at her exposed breasts.

You almost forget the answer entirely, but a slip or whatever that was makes you say, “Ampère-Maxwell’s Law,” your voice trembling, unsure if physics is about to save you or be the last nail in the coffin of your sanity.

Nayeon looks you up and down.

She approved.

Slowly, as if savoring the moment, in a exaggeratedly calculated movement, she pulls her panties down, revealing everything.

Her curves are so smooth they seem hand-carved by some Renaissance artist with a thing for naughty nerd girls. Her entire body is a work of art, every inch of her pure perfection, and as she moves closer, you feel like you’re about to lose control for good.

Nayeon sits beside you, her legs slightly apart so you can see her tight little pussy. She looks you up and down, the same look that used to seem like someone fully focused on her studies, now carrying much more obvious intentions.

"Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice low and seductive.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem as out of control as you really are.

"Yeah... Very much..." you respond, your voice rougher than usual, and before you know it, Nayeon is leaning in closer, her body heat practically radiating onto you.

"What are you waiting for, then?" she whispers, her lips just inches from yours. The suggestion lingers in the air, and your body seems to move on its own. Your hand rises, hesitant, until it reaches her breasts, your fingers feeling the smoothness of her skin and the firmness that makes you forget about any equation or college project. You squeeze lightly, and Nayeon lets out a soft sigh that drives you even crazier.

She leans in more, her lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes are gleaming.

"I’ve always liked you, you know?" she confesses, lightly biting her lower lip as her hand slides down your chest. "I've always thought you were really hot… and smart, too. You just needed a little help focusing on what matters. You’ve got potential, you just need to get rid of the distractions."

You chuckle nervously, still trying to process what’s happening.

"I never imagined you were like this… You always seemed so… well-behaved." The words come out with difficulty, your mind still reeling between what you thought you knew about Nayeon and what you're discovering now.

She laughs softly, amused, her eyes half-closed as she replies.

"You can’t judge a book by its cover," she says, her voice almost a whispered secret, as if she’s letting you in on something few people are privileged to know.

She then pulls your hand to her waist, and you squeeze, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body under your fingers. Nayeon’s body fits against yours in a way that feels almost orchestrated. Her hands, agile and confident, slide down to your thigh, in a way that makes your breathing quicken even more.

And then you feel her touch on your groin. It’s a slow tease, and she looks into your eyes with a smile that’s almost victorious.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" she asks, her voice thick with desire.

Your heart is racing so fast you can barely think of a coherent response, but you nod, without hesitation.

"I do." The word escapes your lips, more of a groan than a response.

Nayeon smiles, that wicked smile you would never have associated with the girl who sat in the front row of the class.

"I’ve been dying to," she murmurs, the heat between you two rising with each second, promising much more than just an intellectual debate.

Nayeon kneels between your legs and prepares to take off her glasses. At that moment, it seems like the last facade of the “well-behaved nerd” is about to fall along with them. But you, in a sudden impulse of something even Freud would hesitate to analyze, reach out and say, almost automatically, “No, leave the glasses on. I like you like that.”

She stops, her fingers still hovering over the frames, and smiles in a way only someone about to change your fate could.

"Really?" She tilts her head, clearly liking the idea. Not just liking it—loving it. The kind of smile she gives you is one of someone who’s just gained a new strategic advantage in the game.

"Can you… do it… with the glasses on?" you ask, and honestly, now that the words are in the air, the question seems less weird than it should.

"Of course. If that’s what you want," Nayeon replies, the smile gaining an edge of provocation that makes you wonder if she hadn’t planned this all along.

She reaches for your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear. Nayeon touches your cock, and the sensation makes you realize how small her hands are. With incredibly soft fingers, she grips it firmly, as if evaluating something rare, a treasure she’s just found. Her eyes, still behind the lenses, look up at you.

"Wow..." she murmurs, impressed. "It’s so… big and thick.”

If you had any chance of keeping your composure, it vanished with that sentence.

"Your hand… is so soft," you manage to say, your brain desperately trying to keep up with what’s happening.

Nayeon smiles.

"Oh, if you liked that, just wait until I put it in my mouth."

And that’s exactly what she does. Nayeon spits into her palm, the quick, indecent sound echoing in the room, and starts stroking you, her touch now sliding with the ease of something well-lubricated, almost clinical—if it weren’t absolutely pornographic.

And then, with little warning, she swallows.

Just like that. As if she’d been trained at some secret school of forbidden pleasure, her mouth wraps around your cock, warm, wet, and with a desire bordering on voracious. She looks up at you from below, her glasses still firmly in place.

You writhe in pleasure. Nothing else matters. Not the project, not life’s worries. Just Nayeon, and the way she sucks, kisses, and takes you deep, with a dedication that would make anyone believe she’s indeed “studying” something.

"I’m going to use my breasts now," she says, stopping briefly, her voice slightly hoarse, as she adjusts her breasts, squeezing them around your cock.

Ah, Nayeon’s breasts. Warm, soft, and incredibly seductive, they create the perfect “pillow” as she starts giving you a titjob. And the glasses? Still there, perfectly framing her face, turning this whole thing into an improbable, yet wonderful fantasy.

The sensation of her breasts pressing against your cock is a next-level delight. Nayeon, with a mischievous look and a voice barely above a whisper, asks, "Are you enjoying this, babe?"

You can only groan in response, the sensation so intense that words refuse to form properly. Her breasts move up and down, creating a warm, sweaty pressure that’s almost indescribable. She adjusts the rhythm.

"This is..." you manage to say, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Fuck, this is amazing."

The pleasure builds, a rising heat that seems to have a life of its own as Nayeon keeps working her magic. Her breasts, pressing and rubbing with delicious intensity, create waves of pleasure that only get stronger.

As the rhythm quickens, Nayeon gives a satisfied smile. Her breasts continue to move up and down, the sensation around your cock hot and wet, and you feel the pressure and heat mounting.

You start to squirm, the sensations growing more and more intense. The pleasure is so overwhelming it feels like your body is on the verge of exploding. Nayeon adjusts the pressure and pace, making every touch and movement you feel even more intense.

“Am I making you feel good?” Nayeon asks.

You can only nod, the feeling of being on the brink of climax almost overwhelming. Your moans become more frequent, and you can feel yourself nearing the point of no return... something Nayeon hadn’t anticipated.

Then, just as the pleasure reaches an almost unbearable level, you cum. The first spurt surprises her, landing on her face. She stays there, wide-eyed and gasping, her glasses now smeared with your semen. She accepts what happened and keeps stroking you, and the second, weaker spurt drips down onto her breasts, slowly trickling. She finishes the job by rubbing your cock on her chest, spreading your cum all over her breasts until they’re thoroughly messy. When she stops, you exhale, feeling like you’re in paradise.

“Fuck… that was so damn good, Nayeon…”

She stays still for a moment, her expression a mix of surprise and indignation. The intensity of your orgasm seems to have caught her so off guard that even she needs a moment to process it.

“Why did you cum?!” Nayeon asks, removing her glasses, her voice filled with a mix of irritation and unfulfilled desire. “You haven’t even fucked me yet!”

Breathless and slightly embarrassed, you try to defuse the situation.

“Well, take it as a compliment,” you say, a sheepish smile forming on your face. “You’re just too hot for me to handle.”

Luckily for you, this makes Nayeon smile, the irritation melting into a flush. She relaxes, though still with a teasing edge.

“Tsk. But next time, don’t cum on my glasses,” she says, her voice softer now. “But if it felt good for you, I guess I can forgive it. Just know that I’ll make sure you get hard for me again,” she says with an authority that makes her even more irresistible.

Nayeon moves closer, slowly, like a predator about to capture its prey, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and mischief. You feel the air shift as she approaches, as though the entire room is holding its breath for what’s about to happen.

“Take off your clothes,” she commands, her voice low but filled with an authority that makes you obey without hesitation.

In an instant, you’re naked, sitting on the bed, vulnerable, your heart pounding faster. Nayeon watches you, a smile spreading across her lips, like she’s admiring a masterpiece she’s about to perfect. She sits beside you with a calculated calm, and before you know it, her lips are on yours—soft at first, then more intense, as if she’s learning every inch of your mouth.

Between kisses, her hand starts exploring your body, moving slowly, until it reaches exactly where you want it most. Her fingers wrap around your cock, and the touch is... electrifying. It’s not just any touch; it’s the kind that knows exactly what it’s doing. She strokes you lightly, almost teasingly, while her lips pull away just enough for her to whisper in your ear:

“Remember that time in class when the professor asked me to help you with an assignment?” She pauses, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you to fuck me until I came.”

The effect of her words is immediate. Your entire body reacts before your mind can even catch up. Your cock pulses hard in her hand, almost as if it’s following an unspoken command. She feels it and giggles softly, a sound just as provocative as every move of her fingers.

“Look at you…” she says, her voice full of amusement and a hint of mockery. “You’re getting hard for me again, aren’t you? What a naughty boy.”

Your heart races, and you can hardly respond. All you can do is gaze at her while your desire skyrockets. Her hand moves slowly and deliberately, teasing every part of you, while her eyes stay locked on yours, as if savoring every second.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?” Nayeon asks, her voice soft but filled with a promise you know she’ll fulfill.

“So much,” you reply, almost breathless, anticipation taking over every inch of your being.

She smirks—that dangerous smile that says, "Exactly what I wanted to hear." Her lips return to yours, but this time there’s more urgency, a hunger building with every passing moment. Her hand moves with more intention now, and your excitement grows at an unimaginable rate.

“I knew you were like this…” she murmurs between kisses, her lips nearly glued to yours. “Such a horny little thing, always wanting more.”

She tightens her grip slightly, making you squirm, the pleasure coursing through you with every squeeze, every word whispered like a secret shared only with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her eyes glint as her hand continues its strategic work. “You like me teasing you.”

“Yes,” you manage to say, your voice shaky with desire.

Nayeon pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her smile blending amusement with seduction.

“Good, because I love teasing you…” she says, then leans down, as if she’s about to do something even more daring. Her lips brush against your neck, lightly biting as her hand slides lower, teasing and gripping, leaving you on the edge of collapse.

“Think you can handle another round?” she asks, her voice now full of challenge.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you respond, trying to keep your composure but knowing you’re completely at her mercy.

“Let’s see then,” she whispers against your skin, and before you know it, she’s moving down, her lips traveling across your body, and you lean back onto the bed. She leaves a trail of kisses and bites along your chest and stomach, making her way lower.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and with one final mischievous smile, she leans back up just enough to brush her lips against yours without fully kissing.

“Are you ready to fuck me now?” she asks.

And without a doubt, you are.

Nayeon lies back on the bed, slowly pulling you on top of her until you feel the warmth of her body against yours. The way she molds perfectly beneath you feels like she was made for this. Your hands trace the contours of her breasts, fingers pressing gently against her skin as you slide into her slowly, savoring every second. Your lips meet hers in a slow, intense kiss, tongues moving in sync with the rhythm of your hips—thrusting in and out, deepening with each stroke.

She moans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through your whole body, making you speed up a little while still keeping control. Nayeon breaks the kiss, throwing her head back, eyes closed, and you take the chance to kiss her neck, tasting the salty sheen of sweat. "You like this, don't you?" you whisper in her ear, your voice low and husky as you keep thrusting, feeling how tightly she clenches around you.

"Fuck… yes," she breathes out, her nails now digging into your back, scratching you with a mix of pain and pleasure. "Fuck me harder."

You obey without thinking, picking up the pace, each thrust deeper and more deliberate. Her moans grow louder, almost turning into screams, and it only drives you to go harder. You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, sucking her lower lip between yours as your hips move in a nearly frantic rhythm. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixed with her broken moans and your own heavy breathing.

"You're so fucking hot," you say between kisses, softly biting along her jawline as you lose yourself in the sensation. "So tight… fuck, Nayeon."

She opens her eyes, looking at you with a mix of challenge and pleasure, her face flushed and sweaty. "Come on, fuck me harder… don’t stop," she pleads, pulling you down for another kiss, this one desperate, as if she needs every touch of yours to survive. You oblige, thrusting harder, while her moans turn into muffled cries as your mouths stay connected.

But then, you decide to switch positions. Science, after all, is about experimentation. You position her at the edge of the bed, Nayeon's legs lifted and spread wide, her pussy on full display—pink and pulsing, inviting. The sight makes you lose control for a moment as you grab her thighs, pulling her closer to you. With one hand, you line up your cock, the tip already slick with excitement, before sliding it inside, feeling the warmth wrap around you completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with both your moans.

Nayeon looks up at you, a wild gleam in her eyes, completely different from the girl everyone thinks they know. "You're such a filthy pervert," she growls through gritted teeth, her voice low and dripping with lust. "Fucking your study partner like this, so dirty… Do you see what you've done to me? The little nerd everyone thinks is so innocent, and look where I am now, all spread out for you…"

The sound of her voice, the moans slipping out as you fuck her harder and deeper, only makes you lose more control. "Innocent?" you mutter, your breathing ragged. "You pretend to be the good little student, but with me, you love being a slut, don’t you?"

She lets out a wicked laugh, cut off by a louder moan as you thrust even deeper. "I fucking love it. I love how you make me forget everything… I love being your little slut. I’m all yours, and you can do whatever you want to me."

Your movements grow faster, each thrust pulling louder moans from her. You grip her thighs tight, pulling her into you with each thrust, your eyes fixed on the sight of your cock sliding in and out, completely soaked. "Look at you," you growl, your voice dripping with taunt. "So depraved… No one would guess that the nerdy girl from class is here, begging to be fucked like a whore."

Nayeon lets out a long, drawn-out moan, almost a scream, her body arching beneath you, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. "Yes! Fuck me harder, fuck! I want you to know this is what I love… I love being the little nerd only you can fuck like this. Faster, harder!"

You don't hesitate, your hips slamming against hers in a frenzied pace, the heat and pressure of every thrust consuming you both. Her legs tremble, and you keep pounding with force and precision. "Admit it, Nayeon," you say through gritted teeth, picking up the pace. "You love being my little slut…"

She opens her eyes, staring at you with an almost possessive intensity. "Fuck, yes! I’m your slut. Fuck me more, fuck my pussy like I’m only yours…" You lower yourself onto her, kissing her hard, pouring every bit of your heat into her through the kiss as you keep thrusting, and between desperate, erratic kisses, she gasps, "Take me from behind now. I want you deep inside me, you filthy pervert!”

You pull away from her, and Nayeon promptly positions herself on your messy bed, arching her back, ready. Your approach is almost reverent. You position yourself behind her as you lower your head slowly, your eyes tracing the sight she offers—her wet pussy, swollen with excitement, and just above, her tight little ass, teasing you. She’s so exposed, so vulnerable, yet there’s a confidence in her, like she’s fully aware of what’s coming. And that’s exactly what turns her on.

Before making a move, you let your warm breath brush against her skin, sending shivers through her body. Nayeon lets out a shaky sigh, and her back arches even more. “Don’t make me wait…” she murmurs, a mix of urgency and need in her voice.

With a sly grin, you lower your mouth, and your tongue finally touches the slick entrance of her pussy. The taste is addictive, just as you suspected. You start with soft, long licks, gliding along the length of her lips, savoring every drop of her juices. Nayeon responds immediately, letting out quiet moans, her breathing already quickening.

“You… know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” she asks, her voice broken by little gasps.

You chuckle lightly between licks but don’t answer. Your hands firmly grip Nayeon’s ass, keeping her in place as your tongue slides deeper, exploring her sensitive folds. Each time you graze the entrance of her pussy, it clenches, almost begging to be filled, but you refuse to give her everything at once. Instead, you decide to tease her even more.

Sliding your tongue upward, you slowly trace circles around her tight little asshole, making it wet with your saliva. The reaction is instant—Nayeon’s body trembles, and her moans intensify. “Oh my God… keep going… please…” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea.

You alternate between quick, gentle licks, sometimes focusing on her swollen, slick pussy, other times on her sensitive ass, driving her to the brink of losing control. Your tongue dances between the two spots, teasing and pleasing her at the same time. With every new touch, Nayeon’s moans grow louder, more urgent.

“You… you like this, don’t you, you pervert?” she asks with a muffled voice, her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I love how you taste,” you murmur against her skin.

She lets out a breathy laugh, somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Of course you do, I’m… delicious.” And you can’t help but agree. Your tongue continues to explore, licking deep into her pussy and then sliding up to her ass, enjoying the way her body reacts to every touch. Your fingers dig into her ass cheeks harder, leaving red marks on her pale skin.

Nayeon’s moans mix with uncontrollable whispers, each word escaping between ragged breaths. “Please… you’re killing me,” she begs, her voice thick with pleasure, her eyes half-closed in pure lust. “Fuck me… just fuck me already!”

Her plea is desperate, loaded with an almost imperious urgency, and you, with a mischievous smile, position yourself behind her, watching as she pushes her ass higher, her slick pussy begging for more. “You sure you can take it?” you tease, your hands already gripping her hips, but before she can even respond, you pull her back, aligning yourself with precision, the head of your cock brushing against her lips.

“Just do it, fuck,” Nayeon shouts, her tone commanding but dripping with so much desire that you can’t resist. In one swift motion, you thrust into her, and the wet heat of her pussy envelops you completely. Pleasure shoots through you like an electric current, and she arches her back, pushing against you, as if begging you to go deeper, faster.

You start slowly, savoring each thrust, each inch sliding in and out of her, but soon the pace picks up, driven by the uncontrollable moans pouring out of Nayeon. “Faster… harder,” she moans, her voice faltering with each deeper thrust, and you don’t hesitate. Your hands sink into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her steady as you speed up, the thrusts becoming more intense, more brutal.

“Look at you, so prim and proper in class, but here…” you say between thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Here you’re just my little slut. The nerd who loves being fucked like a whore.”

Nayeon moans loudly, her voice breaking into wicked laughter. “Is that what you want, huh? To know the nerd loves being fucked like this, like a depraved little slut… Make me scream, fuck!”

With each slap to her ass, she moans louder, her pale skin turning red with every hit. “Hit me harder,” she begs, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, her voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. And you oblige, slapping her harder, leaving red marks as you bury yourself deeper inside her.

“You’re an unbelievable slut,” you growl, picking up the pace, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate moans from her. “You pretend to be so good, but look at you now… begging for more.”

“I’m your slut,” she screams, pushing her ass back against you even harder. “Do whatever you want with me… I love being fucked like this, fuck! Make me yours, make me cum.”

You keep going, your thrusts becoming frenzied, your hips moving with an uncontrollable speed and intensity. “Fuck, look at you,” you taunt, feeling your own pleasure building. “You love being treated like this, like a desperate little whore. Scream for me, Nayeon.”

“Yes, yes!” she screams, her voice thick with pleasure, almost hoarse. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, babe!”

Her body trembling as her climax approaches. Suddenly, she arches her back, pushing her ass harder against you, and her voice cracks as she screams, “I’m... going... to cum!”

Her pussy clenches tightly around your cock, pulsing and shaking as she’s overtaken by the orgasm, her whole body shuddering in ecstasy while your relentless thrusts continue. But you don't stop. Her pleasure only drives you further, each thrust pulling everything out of her, Nayeon’s body writhing, each scream feeding your own growing desire.

“Yeah… Fuck me, make me yours,” she keeps begging, even in the middle of her own climax, completely surrendered to the sensation.

You can feel your own orgasm building, heat rising fast, pressure mounting. “I’m going to cum,” you warn, your voice rough and broken, unable to stop as the final thrusts send you both over the edge.

The feeling of her pulsating pussy around your cock pushes you to the brink, and with one last frustrated groan, you pull out. Nayeon gasps for a moment, recovering from her orgasm as she kneels down on the floor, almost like she already knows what to do – and, honestly, she does. Her eyes lock on you, her face slightly flushed, and her mouth already open, waiting eagerly like the diligent student she is.

You grip your cock with one hand, still throbbing, and bring it to her lips. With her mouth wide, Nayeon wraps her lips around you once more, sucking softly with a gentleness that almost belies the fevered desire etched across her face. You pull out of her mouth, stroking yourself quickly, feeling the pressure mounting further.

Nayeon waits, obedient, with her tongue stretched out, her eyes hungry and fixed on you, knowing exactly the effect that has on you. When the moment hits, the first spurt of cum lands on her warm tongue, and Nayeon doesn’t even blink. She takes it all in with pleasure, as you empty yourself into her mouth, your body shuddering, nearly out of control.

She keeps her mouth open the entire time, her tongue coated in your cum, and when you finally finish, she closes her lips, licking them as the taste spreads. With perfect manners, she shows you her full mouth, eyes full of playful mischief, and then, without breaking eye contact, she swallows it all in one gulp, her throat moving slowly.

“See?” she says with a satisfied smile, as if she’d just passed a test with flying colors. “I swallowed it all without spilling a drop.”

But, of course, Nayeon, ever the overachiever, wasn’t finished. Before you can catch your breath, she leans in again, taking your sensitive cock into her mouth, sucking with an intensity that makes you moan involuntarily. The jolt of pleasure is so sharp that you try to pull away, your body trembling, but she holds you firmly, her mouth working at a pace that borders on cruel.

“Fuck!... I can’t take any more!” you try to protest, your voice breaking, but Nayeon just hums in response, pulling you out only long enough to say, “Not yet,” before closing her lips around you again, sucking you until, finally, she decides she’s satisfied.

When she releases you, you’re left gasping, almost paralyzed from the intensity of it all. Nayeon smiles sweetly, victorious, wiping the corner of her mouth with her fingers before saying with calm satisfaction, “Mmm, Now that was delicious.”

—

As you desperately gulp water from your bottle, the silence that follows your impromptu "study session" lingers heavily in the air, a strange return to reality. Nayeon had stood up, her hair still slightly messy and a small smile playing on her lips, before heading to the bathroom. She walked with the confidence of someone who had just solved a particularly tricky math problem.

And now you're here, staring at the bathroom door, listening to the sound of water as she washes her face and cleans her glasses, removing any trace of... well, *you*. Then, because life loves to remind you that nothing is ever simple, your mind starts to wander. What, exactly, just happened? Oh, right. You were working on a project. A project that, incidentally, hasn’t moved an inch forward.

Nayeon steps out of the bathroom, picking up the discarded clothes from the floor, dressing herself piece by piece, taking her time, like you were a couple with decades of shared intimacy. She finishes by adjusting her glasses, almost like she’s putting a crown back on after a victorious battle. She sits back down in her chair, opens the laptop as if nothing had happened, and lets out a satisfied but determined sigh.

“Alright,” she says, as if she hadn’t just left you weak-kneed. “Let’s get back to the project.”

You stare at her, incredulous. As if it were possible to get back to the project after that.

And then you realize you’re still naked. You quickly slip on your boxers and pants.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can focus on my part right now,” you admit, your voice still a bit hoarse.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” She smiles that smile—a mix of mischief and... surprisingly efficient academic prowess. “As long as you keep fucking me, of course. I have to be rewarded somehow.”

You’re speechless for a moment, because, well... you don’t exactly have a counterargument. In fact, it seems like the best deal you’ve ever made in your life.

“Deal,” you say, trying to sound cool, as if you weren’t absolutely thrilled by the arrangement.

Inside, though, you’re jumping for joy.

She adjusts her glasses, watching you for a moment, and you notice that glint in her eyes—a mix of ego, intelligence, and... something else that makes your heart race. Or maybe it’s just the recent sex.

Hard to say.

“But,” she cuts through your thoughts with a serious tone, “no one can know about this. We have to meet in secret. No telling anyone.”

“I swear I won’t tell.”

You wonder how you ended up in this situation, but the answer seems obvious. Who in their right mind would turn down a request like that?

She smiles, satisfied, and turns her attention back to the laptop, as if everything were perfectly resolved.

“Besides,” Nayeon adds, without looking up, “if you need help with any other subject, you can count on me. After all, I think we work well together, don’t we?”

You just nod, but there’s something about her—something between the proud nerd and the bold confidence—that drives you wild. Wild with desire, of course, but also something deeper. And as you watch her, so focused, adjusting her glasses like she’s planning the next phase of a secret mission, you realize that you’re falling for the class nerd.

Yes, she’s hot. Yes, she has a way of disarming you at every turn.

But it’s more than that. It’s as if every time she looks at you with that “know-it-all” air or talks about a complicated academic concept, your mind equates it with something incredibly sexy. And suddenly, your love life has turned into an equation you can’t—and don’t want to—solve.

And, of course, the fact that she’s amazing in bed doesn’t hurt, either.

“Should we meet tomorrow?” you ask casually.

Nayeon doesn’t even look up, just gives a small “mm-hmm” of confirmation, her fingers still typing away.

“Your place again. Same time. Clean up your room... And answer the door in your boxers.”

She glances at you slightly, smiling, and you know exactly what that smile means. And, well, you’re not in any position to complain. In fact, if studying had always been like this, maybe you'd have been the best student in class.

—

As you walk Nayeon to the door, you can’t help but think that maybe you’ve uncovered the true secret to academic success. And who would have thought it was a sexy nerd with glasses who secretly turned out to be a naughty girl who liked sneaking off for sex?

As she leaves, you can’t help but smile when your eyes meet one last time. Not just because of the deal you’ve just made, but because, for the first time in a long while, you’re genuinely excited to "study" with someone. Suddenly, the academic world seems a lot more interesting.

You close the door, but something lingers in the air. Maybe it’s the smell of your sweat—you still haven’t showered, after all. Maybe it’s the trace of Nayeon’s perfume. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of one of the most unexpectedly erotic adventures of your life.

-----------

A/n: Please forgive any typos or grammatical errors, English is not my first language. Thanks for reading.

[woso-story]

Summer Bliss

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The off-season was finally here. After months of watching Alexia pour every ounce of herself into her game—captaining her team, dominating the pitch, and carrying the weight of so many expectations—you were thrilled to finally have her all to yourself. And what better way to celebrate than a sun-soaked vacation?

The first leg of your trip took you to Ibiza, where Alexia’s closest teammates joined you for a few days of fun. But the real highlight of your summer would be the quieter days in Mallorca, just the two of you in a private villa with nothing to distract you but the sea and the stars.

---

Ibiza was everything you’d hoped for—beaches that shimmered under the sun, music that kept the nights alive, and an energy that seemed to loosen even Alexia’s famously focused demeanor.

The villa you shared with her teammates was perched above the coastline, its infinity pool blending seamlessly with the sparkling Mediterranean beyond. By day, you all lounged on the beach, sipping cold drinks and diving into the warm sea. By night, you explored the island’s nightlife, dancing until your feet ached.

Alexia was in her element, laughing and teasing her teammates, her relaxed smile a rare treat you couldn’t stop staring at. She noticed, of course.

“You’re staring again,” she teased one night at a club, her lips brushing your ear as she leaned in to be heard over the music.

You smirked, your hands slipping around her waist. “Can you blame me? You’re stunning.”

Her cheeks flushed, though the confidence in her gaze didn’t waver. “Keep saying things like that, and I might not let you out of my sight.”

You couldn’t imagine a better scenario.

---

The days passed in a blur of sun and laughter. One afternoon, Alexia challenged you to a volleyball game on the beach, her competitive streak flaring even during vacation.

“I’m taking you down,” she declared, her eyes glinting with mischief as she served the ball.

Predictably, she won every round, her athleticism and sharp instincts impossible to match. But you didn’t mind losing—especially when she celebrated by lifting you off your feet and spinning you around, her laughter ringing out over the waves.

---

After a heartfelt goodbye to her teammates, you and Alexia boarded a flight to Mallorca. From the moment you stepped into the private villa, you knew this was going to be special. The house was perched on a hill, surrounded by lush greenery, with a pool overlooking the sea.

Alexia let out a soft sigh as she dropped her bags, pulling you into her arms. “Finally,” she murmured, pressing her forehead against yours. “Just us.”

You spent the first day exploring the property, marveling at the beauty of your surroundings. That evening, you cooked dinner together, sharing laughter and stolen kisses as you navigated the small kitchen.

Afterward, you sat on the terrace with glasses of wine, the stars twinkling above you. Alexia looked completely at peace, her head resting on your shoulder as she traced lazy circles on the back of your hand.

“This feels perfect,” she whispered.

“It is,” you agreed, brushing a kiss against her hair.

---

The next morning, you woke to the sound of birds and the faint scent of the sea. Alexia was already outside, her lithe form stretched out on a sunbed by the pool. She wore a black bikini that hugged her toned body perfectly, her golden skin glowing under the sun.

You stepped outside, your gaze lingering on her abs—the defined muscles that spoke to her dedication and strength. She noticed your stare and smirked, pushing her sunglasses down slightly to meet your eyes.

“See something you like?” she teased.

Blushing, you walked over and sat beside her. “Maybe,” you admitted, letting your fingers trail lightly over her stomach. Her abs tensed under your touch, and you felt her shiver slightly.

“Careful,” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like the heat,” you shot back, grinning.

Her laugh was soft but full of warmth. She pulled you down beside her, her fingers brushing your cheek before she kissed you deeply.

---

Later that afternoon, the two of you were splashing around in the pool when Alexia challenged you to a wrestling match.

“You sure you want to lose again?” she asked, her smirk infuriatingly confident.

“Who says I’m going to lose?”

She laughed, lunging for you with ease. You tried to fight back, but her strength and precision were impossible to match. Within seconds, she had you pinned against the edge of the pool, her hands gripping your wrists gently but firmly.

“You were saying?” she teased, her face inches from yours.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart racing as you leaned into her. “Fine, you win. But only because you’re ridiculously strong.”

She released you with a grin, her fingers brushing over your sides as she stepped back. “At least you admit it.”

---

That night, after a simple dinner on the terrace, Alexia pulled you onto the couch to watch the stars. She looked so relaxed, her hair still damp from her shower and her skin glowing from the day in the sun.

“You’re staring again,” she said softly, her lips curling into a smirk.

You didn’t even try to deny it. “Can you blame me?”

She leaned in, her hand sliding to the back of your neck. The kiss started slow, but it quickly deepened, her body pressing against yours. There was something about the privacy of the villa, the freedom to be as loud as you wanted, that made your heart race.

She pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Bedroom?”

You nodded, letting her lead you inside. The night was a blur of heated touches, whispered words, and the feel of her hands exploring every inch of you. Alexia was strong yet tender, her confidence on the pitch carrying over into moments like these. She took her time, making sure you knew just how much she adored you.

---

On your final night, you spread a blanket by the pool and lay beside Alexia, staring up at the clear night sky. The stars were impossibly bright, their reflection dancing on the water.

Alexia turned to you, her eyes soft. “Thank you for this,” she said. “I needed it more than I realized.”

You brushed a strand of hair from her face, your heart swelling at the tenderness in her gaze. “You deserve it, Lex. You give so much of yourself—I’m just happy I can give something back.”

She pulled you close, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was full of promise.

By the time the vacation ended, you were both glowing with renewed energy, ready to face whatever the season would bring. As you boarded the plane home, Alexia squeezed your hand, her smile brighter than ever.

“Best off-season ever,” she said.

And you couldn’t agree more.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜'

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters' . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 2.6k

⟢ warnings: abusive parents, blood, cuts, head injury

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ masterlist

note: i wrote this for fun and never expected to be posting it so i hope it's not bad... i actually never expected to be posting ever again but here i am ;) anyway i’d like to give this a part two (or more!) but i’m not sure what should happen next

An eerie silence overtook 12 Grimmauld Place on what had so far been an unremarkable summer night. 

Not even the usual sounds of activity fell upon your ears. No creaks from the old floorboards in the hallway outside your door. No scratches against your window from the oak branch that desperately needed trimming. 

No cracks from your father smacking one of your brothers for ‘disappointing’ him. No shrills from your mother fussing about whatever she decided would upset her that night. 

Nothing. 

It was complete, utter silence—a silence that would send a shiver down most people’s spine in a house like this. 

As ancient as it is, the walls had witnessed countless tragic displays from the Black ancestors who came before you. These walls are soaked in dark memories, and any visitor would attest that they seep negative energy, drowning those that stay too long. As a resident, you’ve grown used to the sinking feeling in your stomach that comes with being in this house of horrors.

Silent nights like this were something to be grateful for. You could lie in bed, close your eyes, and imagine you were anywhere else. Tonight, it was Hogwarts that you longed for. 

Perhaps you were in your dormitory, about to drift off after a long day of classes. 

Or perhaps you were in the library, studying in the quiet lull of busy students focusing on their work. Perhaps you were even there on a study date with a certain brunette Quidditch captain. Your brother would certainly have a conniption if he knew this particular boy invaded your daydreams. 

You almost drifted off to sleep as this fantasy played like a film on the back of your eyelids. Were those hushed voices you could hear? Had your imagination become so powerful that you could hear students whispering about their assignments? 

Certainly not. The voices were real and coming from somewhere in the house. Your brows furrowed and you strained to listen. Not to eavesdrop, but rather to determine where exactly these voices were coming from. 

You held your breath to listen more closely. Had the voices stopped? Just as you were settling back down to lose yourself in your imagination again, a long, blood-curdling scream jolted you upright from where you lay in bed. 

If you learned anything at the hands of your parents, it was how to discern what was happening just by the sound of your brothers’ screams. You could tell that the scream belonged to a very much in pain Sirius. But the intensity of it was nothing like you’ve heard before. You itched to run to his aid. 

"Don’t do anything."

A memory of Sirius’ voice echoed in your mind. 

"No matter what you hear, you stay in your room and you wait for one of us to come to you."

You always did what you were told, no matter how much you ached to check on your brothers in moments like these. After all, as your brothers claimed, it would only hurt them more if they had to watch what happened to them happen to you, especially if it was just because you wanted to see if they were okay. 

You were the youngest, technically only by two minutes when it came to Regulus, but still, both of your older brothers were fiercely protective over you.

Another spell of silence settled over Grimmauld Place after your brother’s scream. The only noise you could hear now was your heart beating out of your chest. 

That’s what you listened to for twenty long minutes. Your heart rate maintained its rapid pace, as it always did until you saw one of your brothers in the aftermath of the assault. 

Apart from your trembling hands, you sat completely still, waiting and waiting for one of them to come. The longer it took, the more fear built up in your stomach. 

Finally, the sound of booming footsteps landed on your ears as someone barreled up the staircase. Two steps at a time, heavy, and fast. This step pattern was easily distinguished as Sirius’, and you finally stood up from your bed, staring at your door impatiently. 

Sirius burst into your room like a bullet escaping the barrel of a gun. In one swift motion, your brother hauled your empty trunk out from under your bed and dropped it on top. 

He unlatched it and tossed it open, “We’re leaving. For good. Pack only the important stuff.”  

“What happened?” You reached for your brother's arm to force his attention toward you. He hadn’t looked you in the eye once since entering your room. 

His clothes were completely disheveled. As you scanned every thread that was out of place, you noticed that his body was twitching every now and then. His hands trembled, and there was blood on his fingertips. Looking up at his face, you saw the source of blood—a wound hidden behind his hair. He had smeared away what blood had trickled down his forehead with his hands. 

“You need to sit down.” You worried he could have a concussion. 

Sirius took you by the shoulders and thrust you in the direction of your wardrobe. “What I need to do is find out where our parents hide the bloody floo powder. Pack.” 

Sirius’ tone was authoritative and his grave expression made your mouth run dry. Before you could utter words of agreement, he was gone. 

With a wave of your wand, your school books and supplies packed themselves. Meanwhile, you tore through your wardrobe, grabbing the essentials. You moved on quickly to grab whatever else you couldn’t live without: photographs of you and your brothers, letters of love that were hidden behind mirrors, gifted trinkets that you’ve grown attached to, and an ancient bracelet adorned with emeralds. 

As you clicked your trunk shut, Sirius appeared once again with a crystal jar under his left arm, which also balanced his own trunk. His wand was held defensively in his other hand. 

“Let’s go,” Sirius said flatly.

You followed him closely down the stairs to the drawing room. 

Sirius placed the crystal jar on the mantle of the fireplace. You glanced back in the direction from which you came.

“And Regulus?” You asked, wondering where your twin brother was. He would be joining you, wouldn’t he?

Sirius had an unreadable look on his face as he paused to answer you. Before he could, the shrill voice of your mother interrupted, “What do you think you are doing!?”

Sirius grabbed you forcefully by the arms and shoved you into the fireplace. Your right elbow scraped across the brick like chalk as Sirius was acting too fast to be careful. 

“Don’t you dare!” your mother bellowed and began casting hexes straight at you and your brother, aiming to maim. Luckily, Sirius was quite skilled with protego after all these years. 

In between casting protection spells, Sirius shoved his hand into the crystal jar and collected a heap of floo powder. He thrust the soft, emerald powder into your palm. “Go to the Potters! I’ll be right behind you.”

As always, you did what your brother told you to. In a flash, you were stumbling into the cozy living room of the Potter's house in Godric’s Hollow. 

Your eyes and mouth were filled with soot, and you nearly tripped on the carpet as you stumbled blindly away from the fireplace. Instead of falling, you ran right into something solid. Calloused hands landed on your upper arms. You blinked soot from your eyes to meet the gaze of James Potter. 

“What’s happened?” His tone was laced with worry as he scanned your body for injuries. He gently picked up your right arm, inspecting the scuffed, bleeding skin. He winced as if the injury was his own. 

You didn't answer. Instead, you turned to watch the fireplace. Feelings of anxiety swirled in the pit of your stomach as you waited for your brother. You thanked Merlin when he arrived just a few moments later. 

He was coughing when he stepped in and fell to the ground almost immediately.

James regarded you briefly, holding his hands out to you as if to say “hold on” before leaving your side. He rushed to his best friend and yelled for his parents as he tried to determine the problem. Sirius’ skin began to swell and turn sickly shades of red. You recognized this as the effects of your mother’s stinging jinx. 

James’ parents rushed into the room with panic written across their faces. They were in their nightwear and had their wands at the ready to defend their boy from any trouble he might be in. As they took in the scene in front of them, they discarded their wands and quickly came to yours and your brother’s rescue. 

Fleamont Potter offered to take you to a guest room, insisting that you shouldn’t see your brother like this. You refused, wanting to stay with Sirius as Euphemia worked quickly to counteract the stinging jinx. Fleamont, like James, couldn’t hide the worry from his face as you settled in on the couch. 

Your eyes were trained on your brother, but you began to feel sick watching him in all that pain. You shifted your gaze to the empty fireplace and wondered if Regulus would be the next to come through. You tried to shut out your other brother’s groans and cries as you stared desperately into the fireplace. 

With a mix of Euphemia’s healing spells and the application of some herby poultice that was perviously prepared by Fleamont, Sirius’ swelling subsided and his groans turned into occasional whimpers. 

You were able to stomach looking at Sirius again, but your face still showed levels of worry and unease. 

Almost as soon as your eyes fluttered back to Sirius, James took notice of your worry. Confident in his mother's ability to tend to any other injuries Sirius may have, he to came you. 

He moved slowly, as if approaching a frightened cat. You didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Y/N,” He called gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You tore your gaze away from your older brother to look into the young Potters’ eyes.

“I don’t know why Regulus isn’t here,” you told James. You just wanted someone else to share this concern with. 

James chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Well… when Sirius is better, we’ll find out what he knows about that. Okay?”

Your lower lip trembled as you choked out, “I’m scared for him.”

James offered a sad smile, “I know. We’ll find out as soon as we can, alright? But all we can do for now is make sure you and Sirius are okay. Let me take care of you, yeah?” 

You let your gaze drift away from James and back to your brother once again. He seemed to be in good hands with Euphemia and now Fleamont. 

You nodded, giving James the okay. He had a gentle hold on your upper arm as he led you up off the couch. You followed him through his house until he guided you into the bathroom and sat you down on the lid of the toilet. 

James sifted through the bathroom cabinets until he pulled out a yellowing pouch, stained with age, and a washcloth which he saturated with warm water. 

James held out a hand toward you. “Can I take care of that elbow, m’dear.”

You placed your forearm in James’ palm while his other hand got to work on cleaning your cut skin. As gentle as James was being, you winced anyway. Seeming fearful of causing you more pain, James managed to be even gentler.

Once satisfied, James lost the washcloth and dipped his hand into the pouch that he recovered from the cabinet. The contents he pulled out look considerably fresher than the bag itself, thankfully. 

First, he took out bandages, followed by a clear jar that contained a sticky looking yellow jelly. He scooped up a generous amount on his pointer finger and applied it to your skin. 

As he worked, he kept stealing glances at you, building up the courage to ask what all the Potter’s were surely wondering that night. He decided to bite the bullet, “Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

You explained all that you knew, detailing the events from the moment you heard your brother’s scream to the moment you fell into James’ arms. 

“Don’t know what they did to make him scream like that.” You shuddered at the possibilities. 

James was applying a bandage to you now. “‘S okay. He’s doing better now. My parents probably have him all tucked in bed and fast asleep.” 

James endearingly tapped your nose, “Let’s do the same for you, yeah?”

“I wanna talk to Sirius,” you protested.��

“Like I said, my parents probably have him in bed by now. Come on, I promise we’ll get all your questions answered first thing in the morning.”

You sighed but agreed. James led you through his house once again: up the stairs, down the hall, and through the third door on the left. It was a small room with just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. 

“Just a moment,” James said and disappeared into the hall. Seconds later, he was back with a Gryffindor t-shirt and some sweats. “Here, you can wear these. I’ll bring your trunk up in the morning.” 

James dipped out of the room once again to give you privacy to change. As you removed your shirt, you noticed bloody fingerprints on the shoulder and sleeves where Sirius had held onto you. You threw the shirt into the bin under the desk. 

Once dressed in James’ loaner clothing, you sat on the bed. Light knocks peppered the door and you called for, presumably, James to come in. James entered with a glass of water in hand. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a few sips from the glass before handing it back. He placed it on the desk for you. 

James then helped you settle into the flowery, purple sheets, “Comfy?” 

You nodded up at him. 

“I’m, uh, just across the hall, alright?” James turned to leave. He stopped by the light switch and looked back at you. 

He took notice of your expression, which brought a frown to his lips. Your eyebrows were drawn in as you stared straight ahead at the wall and the corners of your mouth were turned down slightly. You barely even blinked as James studied the far away look in your eyes. 

James wanted to be by your side. He wanted to kiss you and hug you and tell you everything would be alright. But something about kissing you while your brother, his best friend, lay injured and clueless down the hall made him feel guilty. 

James sighed and flicked off the light. The door was pushed into its frame, but James hadn’t left the room. Instead, he approached the bed and sat on the edge of it by your feet. You pushed yourself up on your elbows to look at him curiously. 

“Gonna keep you company till you fall asleep, that okay?” James whispered an explanation. 

You’re not sure if he could see your nod in the dark, but you were too tired to use your voice. 

You sank back into the pillow and allowed your eyes to shut. A light pressure could be felt on your calf. James had rested his hand there, over the blanket. He slowly dragged his hand up and down, and you let his stroke lull you to sleep. 

The last thing you heard before drifting off into a dream was a quiet whisper from James' lips, "'M gonna keep you safe here."

next part

[wayward-dreamer]

Do Something About It

Square/s filled: Free space @jacklesversebingo |

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Word count: 2,056

Summary: Y/N goes to the Radio Company concert in Austin to support her boyfriend, but gets more out of the show than she thought she would.

Warnings: Swearing, sweaty Jensen (yes that comes with its own warning), smut: dirty talk, bathroom sex, public sex, v fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), fluff.

A/N: I've been working on this one literally since the concert happened, and it took finally being in the same room as @hintsofhoney (still can't believe that happened!) for me to finish it lol Thanks for beta'ing babe! Happy reading everyone!

The room was sweltering.

No one could figure out if it was hotter inside or outside, but it was probably the former considering the scorching display in front of the crowd. The band was electrifying, the backup singers were angelically soulful, Steve was absolutely crushing it but Y/N only had eyes for one man on that stage.

Beads of sweat dripped down the length of Jensen’s neck, the vein glistening as he threw his head back, combed his hands through his drenched locks and stood in front of the mic again. The black tank he wore exposed his muscular arms, a rare sight which was gladly received. The heat was getting to everyone, but his presence in the room was either making it more manageable or worse. She couldn’t decide. She suddenly wished she could’ve been at the first night’s show as well. Maybe it could’ve prepared her better for what she was currently witness to. Or maybe it would've been the precursor to this final nail in the coffin.

Between the way he looked and the way he sounded - that deep husk that only increased as he sang - the need to squeeze her thighs together grew. The perspiration that ran down her back was nothing compared to the wetness between her legs the longer she stood to the side of the room. Just about every erotic thought she had about him came to mind, her brain not knowing when to chill out and forgetting she was in public. All she knew was she needed a cold drink and even colder shower once this was over. Or maybe her vibrator and some time alone with those thoughts was what she really needed. Or maybe she needed him; those strong arms around her, hands bruising her skin in the best way possible, his cock slamming into her roughly…

She dropped her head, closing her eyes and willing those images away, but it was no use. Especially when she looked up again and caught a glimpse of his gaze on her through the crowd, his green eyes intensely focused on her as he crooned the last words of the song. With his attention solely on her for what felt like forever but in actuality was probably only a moment, she knew she’d have to give way to the fantasies.

His cute little dance and sultry roll of his hips as the beat played out only added to her wild imagination, and as Steve announced the last song she was more than grateful. The first thing to do was splash water on her face and calm the fuck down once this was over.

As the final number reached its crescendo, the crowd cheered and applauded as the band continued with their incredible energy. With one last riff, the boys said their goodbyes and walked off the stage, the room going dark as the people still clapped and whistled. As the house lights came on, Y/N followed behind a group of people as they made their way to the exit. Spotting the sign for the restrooms, she walked towards it, going down the narrow hallway. Just as she reached the women’s, she heard the door across the hall open behind her and a tug on her hand, dragging her back. She almost screamed, but the hands at her waist turned her around and pulled her close, a pair of familiar green eyes staring down at her.

“Fuck, you scared me!” she exclaimed, slapping his sweaty, tattooed arm.

He hummed, leaning into her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her pulse. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to.”

“How’d you know I was coming this way, anyway?” she asked, her hands resting on his soaked tank.

“I had a feeling,” he shrugged, his face close to hers.

His lips captured hers in a long, sultry kiss. The kind that always had her needing air as soon as he pulled away. Only this time it deepened as he walked her back towards the sink, his mouth refusing to leave hers as he bent a little, supporting her thighs and lifting her onto the ledge. Her legs instantly wrapped around him, her arms draped over his broad shoulders as her fingers played with his wet locks. An obscene moan escaped him as she lightly bit down on his bottom lip, causing him to briefly shift away and glare down at her.

“That’s not very nice, Y/N,” he husked.

She scoffed, flipping his shirt up slightly and reaching for his belt. “No, what’s not nice is you giving me that look on stage while you’re dressed like this.”

He grabbed her wrists in his large hands, holding them down to her sides. “I can give you whatever look I want, sweetheart. It’s you that should know you don’t talk back to me.”

“So take me home and do something about it, then,” she challenged.

“Who said anything about going home?”

Jensen lifted his eyebrows suggestively as he moved down and kissed her, passionately. She tugged roughly at his shirt, pulling him as close as he could get to her. His lips drifted down her cheek, jaw and neck, leaving small nips and kisses along her skin as her nails scraped through his hair, eliciting a deep groan from him. She had a brief thought that this bathroom might not be the best place to do whatever he was planning, but she forgot all about that the second his calloused hands pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs. He pulled away for a moment, his breath fanning against her mouth as he lifted his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers against her bottom lip. Knowing exactly what he wanted, she softly sucked at the digits and let them go with a wet pop, a low moan leaving her in anticipation of what was coming.

His hand drifted down between her spread legs, their eyes locked as she felt him pull her underwear aside and slide his fingers up and down her folds. Her head fell back slightly, leaving her neck open to attention from his plump lips.

“So fucking wet already,” he muttered, one side of his mouth pulling up as he stared down at her.

Before she could respond in any way, his fingers moved into her tight heat, causing a loud moan to fall from her lips. He pulled them out a little before sliding back in, building up the pace gradually to one that had her whimpering in his ear just the way he liked. She gripped his shoulders tight, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him hitting that sweet spot inside her.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” he groaned, nipping at her pulse. “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock…”

“Jay, please,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him.

“What, babe?” he whispered against her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“W-Want-” she shook her head, unable to think straight.

He clicked his tongue as he smirked down at her. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

His fingers slid in a little deeper, making her cry out in wanton pleasure as she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. Her hands stroked down the front of his top and reached for his belt once more, but he stopped her just as quickly as before.

He pulled away from the kiss, his gaze darkened as he removed his fingers from her and undid his belt himself.

“Fuck, Jensen, just fuck me already,” she whined, her breath heavy with impatience.

He smirked as he unzipped his white jeans, taking that small moment to relish the way her fingers kneaded into his shoulders, tugging at his black shirt as she waited for him to do something.

“You gotta ask nice, darlin’,” he teased.

“Please,” she begged, draping her arms around him and pulling at the ends of his hair. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he praised, giving her lips a quick peck.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, her legs locking around him. She held tight to him as he took hold of his hard cock, lining up to her entrance. Without wasting another second, he shifted his hips and pushed into her, her walls sheathing him completely as he sank deep. Her mouth fell open in a hushed moan, their eyes on each other as he grinned at her reaction. He set a steady pace, his hips rolling as he moved within her, a growl escaping him as her fingers combed through his sweat streaked locks.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he husked, pressing his forehead to hers. “Feel so fucking good, so tight and perfect just for me…”

“Shit,” she hissed, her head dropping down on his shoulder. “F-Fuck me harder, Jay. P-Please.”

The words had barely left her mouth before he was picking up the pace, his pelvis smacking against her spread thighs as he pounded into her. She cried out as she buried her face in his face, panting against his skin as she held on for dear life. It was everything she had envisioned as she watched him perform earlier, and then some. Beads of perspiration ran down his throat, causing her to softly nip and lick them away, tasting his tangy musk on her tongue. That clearly did something for him because the sound that came out of him - somewhere between a growl and a moan - only encouraged him to thrust deeper into her, his cock pressing against that spot inside her with precision.

It was hot inside that bathroom. She knew that they’d have to take several showers once they were home, but at that moment she couldn’t give a shit. Their hands roamed over each other’s sweaty skin, their bodies moved perfectly together and she was gaining on that sweet bliss, feeling the beginnings of that heat in her core.

“You’re close, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” His voice was low, the rumble vibrating against her. “I can feel it… you wanna cum, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she moaned, the sound echoing off the walls, but she no longer cared if anyone heard her. “I-I wanna cum, baby, please. Make me cum.”

He hummed, biting his lip as he stared down at her. “How bad do you want it, Y/N?”

“So bad, Jensen, please,” she pleaded, her nails digging into his biceps.

He held her tighter, feeling his cock pulse as he slammed into her repeatedly, knowing he wasn’t too far from his own release. He pulled her hips forward with each thrust, her pleasure gaining volume as they both headed toward that euphoric peak. The rhythm faltered slightly as they grew closer to the edge, her desperate whimper enough for him to know she needed a little help. He brought his hand down between her legs, his thumb flicking over clit, circling the swollen nub as she clung to him, their eyes locked as her mouth hovered over his.

“Take it, darlin’,” he groaned, kissing along her jaw. “Take what’s yours… make yourself cum on my cock.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N’s eyes rolled back as she cried out his name just as the coil snapped. Her body convulsed as her walls contracted around him, feeling her wetness cover his cock as it throbbed inside her. His neck strained as he let out a deep grunt, the vein popping against his glistening skin as he followed soon after her, ropes of his cum flowing into her. He shuddered as he pulled her close, her nose nuzzling against his neck and up to his jaw. His lips found hers in a slow, passionate kiss before they pulled away, sharing a small laugh.

“Can we leave now, please?” she asked, pushing him back lightly. “We need to wash this place off us.”

“Sure,” he chuckled, before his voice dropped down as he leaned into her. “And I’m gonna take my time with you once we get home.”

Feeling a shiver run down her back as she fixed herself and popped down from the counter, she took his hand in hers after he made sure he was decent. She pushed up on her tip-toes to kiss him, roughly, letting him know everything she needed with one passionate embrace.

“You better."

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Consequence Last night I was met with major consequences of my actions. 

A buddy of mine asked me to come over and help him set up his house, as he just moved. I said yes (as any friend should) and we worked for a few hours straight. 

His wife is quite the cook. She’s made us countless lovely meals that are by all accounts quite lavish: plenty of fresh vegetables and herbs, finely cut and marinated meats, perfectly prepared noodles or rice or soup, and even at times delectably indulgent desserts. They are a modest family but often there is enough to eat seconds or thirds if one desired, and she has often welcomed or encouraged it, as that is how she was raised. 

Last night she made a huge pot of noodles and sausage and cut vegetables, even with fresh spices and homemade sausage. Truly some of her best yet. I helped myself to 4 portions or so…there was tons and only 3 of us, and no one was in the kitchen when I got mine. 

I sat down at the table and got to work. It took deliberate effort by the end of my absolutely piled plate to finish it all. My poor gut was so filled up I had gotten to a point where I was having to hide my heavy breathing. Luckily both my friend and his wife were preoccupied with a phone call and the tv, so I could gorge with little fear of being noticed. I finally finished it all. I took a deep breathe and just kinda zoned out in a blissful, food induced daze. I was quickly snapped back to reality by her. She sort of just appeared out of nowhere to get my plate. 

She asked if I liked it. I said it was great. She asked if I wanted more. I was looking down to grab my plate and hand it to her. I struggled to find a nice way to say I was so full I couldn’t have anymore, and then I looked up. She was almost…frowning? Maybe pouting? I couldn’t bear the thought of turning her down then, she looked so distraught…so I said sure. 

She practically jumped forward to take my plate, and she was beaming. A big smile flashed on her face and she expressed how thrilled she was to get me some more and that I liked it so much. 

I could hardly imagine eating any more. My stomach was already packed full. I absolutely dreaded her return. In just a minute or two she came back with my plate, and dear goodness it was stacked. She had chosen the choicest slices of meat and more than I got the first time as I was being modest with something such high quality. She had given me the nicest looking vegetables, and plenty of the fresh herbs. She even made sure my noodles had plenty of sauce. I was shocked. It was easily rivaling the portion I got earlier, but she chose so many delightful pieces of everything. With an excited, grateful word she set my plate in front of me. She was smiling ear to ear.  I had no choice now.

I said thank you and accepted my fate. Every forkful was laborious. Every mouthful tougher to swallow than the last. My mouth was overwhelmed with wonderful textures, flavors, and shapes. Truly this was the best plate you could’ve gotten. Yet I could barely stomach it. I ate so much of my own accord earlier that I ruined this finely prepared second portion. What should have been a happily welcomed indulgence was now practically a punishment. Slowly but determinedly I stuffed it all down. The chewing was just getting to hard. Not because it was tough or poorly done, but because I had eaten so much that my jaw became fatigued. 

Finally it was all inside me. I finally ate it all. Nothing remained on my plate, and I could barely imagine getting up. I sat there at the table, focusing on my positively swollen gut. I felt it strain my shirt differently, and my body was starting to focus all its reserve energy on processing all this food. 

I grew more tired then I had been. Food was supposed to be rejuvenating after a break from work, but I had now eaten so much I was starting to fight off sleep. 

Eventually I got up, and lugged my heavy belly back to work. I was so full I had to focus on breathing normally and annunciating  my words. My belly was this hefty, sagging sack of lard on the bottom(like usual) but the top was jammed full of simply too much food, and it had stretched and distended so far that my 5XLT shirt was starting to look a little tight in the middle. 

My choices finally caught up to me. My unchecked gluttony was finally taking its toll. I was being inadvertently punished for pigging out so intensely. 

honestly, I was hoping she would ask me if I wanted 3rds.

[sixhours]

haunting me

What if Joel was a ghost?

Rating: Teen Words: 4.9k Tags: Major Character Deaths, The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Tess Servopoulos, Marlene, Tommy Miller, canon divergence, not really a happy ending sorry, ghost AU, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, implied sexual assault, Joel is a ghost so he's dead, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: This is a bit different from my usual style, just in time for spooky season. 👻

This time, the guy doesn’t miss.

And the guy is a girl. A fuckin’ teenager.

Either she’s a crack shot or she got really fuckin’ lucky, because he’s on the floor with a bullet in his brain before he can warn Tess.

It should be a relief to be dead.

He waits for the light. For whatever is supposed to happen now. He’s never been religious, but he always believed there had to be something more…after.

Because Sarah deserved that.

He, apparently, does not. Because he’s forced to watch this exchange between Tess and Marlene and the little shit who murdered him, and he’s not going anywhere.

Well, shit.

He fails at everything.

He failed to protect Sarah.

He failed to keep Tommy from running off with the Fireflies.

And now he fails at fuckin’ dying.

He has no legs, no arms, no body that he can see. He appears to be attached to Tess. She’s grabbed the kid by the arm and they're hauling ass, and he’s forced to drift along.

The fact that she doesn’t shed a tear over his dead body should probably hurt more than it does. What does he care? He’s dead.

He tries to stay. Focuses all his energy on just…staying put.

It works until it doesn’t.

Tess gets far enough away and he starts to feel this…pull. Someone is ripping out his guts, using them like a tether. Not that he has a body to speak of, not that he can feel pain, but it’s…bad.

Assholes like Robert used to say that Tess kept Joel on a short leash.

Guess they weren’t wrong.

~*~

They leave the QZ.

Time has gone sideways. It’s like he’s in a fever dream, cycling in and out of consciousness.

The kid falls asleep, and he’s forced to watch as Tess breaks down–as much as Tess ever breaks down. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen her cry.

It’s maybe a couple tears, that’s what his life means to her. It’s more than he deserves.

It’s the first time he tries to interact with this strange un-body. He focuses all his energy on reaching out, imagines himself with a hand, with fingers–and surprisingly, it works. It’s faint, but he can feel it, an extension of his essence, a literal phantom limb.

Just one touch. A hand on the shoulder. That’s all he needs.

I’m here.

He gets a violent shiver for the trouble. She pulls her jacket more firmly around her shoulders and wipes her eyes.

So much for that.

~*~

Sometimes he could swear the kid can see him.

She looks at him like she’s–well, like she’s seen a damn ghost.

The State House was a fuckin’ mess. If it were up to Joel, they’d have turned right the fuck around and took the kid back to the QZ and washed their hands of it.

Besides, the little murderer shot him. He’d like to remind Tess of this fact.

He can’t.

And Tess is too fuckin’ stubborn. Stubborn and hopeful. The worst combination.

So they’re going to Bill and Frank’s.

~*~

Bill and Frank are dead.

Joel holds out a tiny bit of hope for their ghosts to linger.

He never much cared for talking in life, but it turns out hanging over the shoulder of your partner without any way to talk to her is pretty fuckin’ lonely.

But there’s nothing there that Joel can see or feel or hear. No trace of their souls, just two more bodies. He makes the mistake of floating through the locked door to their bedroom and wishes he hadn’t.

He supposes they didn’t have any unfinished business.

Joel didn’t think he did, either, but…here he is.

There’s a letter–addressed to him, ironically–and the keys to that piece-of-shit Chevy S10.

That's why men like you and me are here: We have a job to do.

~*~

He learns more than he ever wanted to know about his murderer.

Her name is Ellie. She’s fourteen, orphaned. Really desperate to hold a fuckin’ gun, but thankfully Tess is holding firm on that count. She won’t shut the fuck up.

She’s immune.

But what does he care? Dead people can’t be infected.

The kicker is, Tess likes the damn kid. She doesn’t say it, but he can tell.

He always thought she’d be a good mother. He’s pretty sure she was, once. Outbreak Day, both of them trashed and she said his name under her breath like a prayer.

Charlie.

Tess has never heard his daughter’s name.

It seems really fuckin’ unfair to be dead and still feel like he’s dying.

~*~

They’re camped out somewhere in the forest in Western Massachusetts when she asks.

“Tess?”

“What?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

The kid is looking right at him the whole damn time. It’d be unnerving if he had any nerves.

Tess snorts. “I dunno, kid. Why do you ask?”

A long pause. The kid’s eyes on him are fire-bright.

“No reason.”

~*~

It’s a long fuckin’ drive. Joel spends most of it disassociating, or whatever the ghost equivalent is.

At some point, the little murderer pulls out a book of shitty puns and he wishes he were dead for real.

Tess pretends to be annoyed but he catches her smirking before long.

She’s so good with her. It hurts to watch.

He learns to ignore the kid’s looks. Sometimes he channels that energy, reaches out a hand–it’s getting easier with practice–and it’s like she jumps when he touches her. Like she actually feels something more than a chill.

Tess still isn’t any closer.

He doesn’t sleep. Not like he can get tired, anyway.

He wanders their campsite like a guard. As if he could do anything about it if something goes bad aside from giving their attacker a bad case of goosebumps. But they don’t run into anyone.

Not ‘til Kansas City.

~*~

She shoulda gone the fuck around.

It feels like he’s watching a horror movie. No matter how much he screams, the outcome never changes.

They make it through the first shootout, but Tess doesn’t see one of ‘em coming. Then she’s on her back being choked and Joel can’t do a damn thing about it.

What happens if Tess dies? Does he die, too?

Again?

Seems like he’s about to find out.

Desperate, he goes to the little murderer. He knows she has a gun now, knows she stole it from Bill and Frank’s when Tess wasn’t looking.

No time to think about it.

He summons his energy and tries with all his might to guide her hand.

The shot that killed him must have been a fluke because she almost misses the kid from point-blank range. But Tess is saved.

Close fuckin’ call.

~*~

They barely make it out of the city alive.

He watches helplessly as Tess snipes at the infected and tries to clear a path for the kid to get free. Tess was never as good a shot as him, but she’s holding her own.

By some miracle, she manages not to shoot the damn kid.

(Why he gives a shit about that, he doesn’t know.)

Tess has grown attached. He can see it in the way she looks at her, sees the fierce, protective mama bear she must have been. Is becoming.

Best not to think about that.

Neither Henry or Sam seem to feel Joel’s presence, and that’s just fine.

They don’t last long, anyway.

~*~

It’s a long fuckin’ walk to Wyoming.

The little murderer still looks at him weird sometimes, but after the whole Henry and Sam thing, she’s mostly quiet. Tess ain’t too chipper, either.

By the time they cross the state lines, it’s cold. Or Joel assumes it’s cold–there’s snow underfoot and the wind blows Tess’ golden hair around her chapped cheeks.

God, he wishes he could feel those strands between his fingers one more time.

Why she hasn’t given up on this little mission is beyond him. More than once, he wishes she’d drop the damn kid at the nearest QZ and call it a draw.

But no. Tess remains stubborn, and she likes the kid, and Joel is tethered to his partner for whatever godforsaken reason.

Fate is a weird son-of-a-bitch.

Because now they’re looking for Tommy.

~*~

Joel died looking every one of his fifty-six years and then some.

Tommy looks like he’s aged backward. Joel can practically smell the rosemary oil in his hair.

Damn, he missed his brother.

Tess gives Tommy some shit about his little disappearing act. Not nearly enough, in Joel’s estimation, but it’s not like he gets a say.

Tommy sheds a tear over Joel, but he doesn’t look surprised. The asshole went and got himself married. They’re having a kid.

Idiot.

Joel tries to hug him. Just once. When he’s standing with his new wife at the movies.

It goes about the way he’d expected. Tommy checks the doors for a draft.

There’s some Firefly base down in Colorado. They’re going south.

~*~

Colorado.

The hunters come, four of ‘em.

All he can do is watch.

~*~

Tess is gone.

To give the kid credit, she’s resourceful in a crisis. Manages to get Tess to a nearby house, clears the place the way she was taught, gets her on a mattress and drags her to the basement.

But it’s not enough. She’s bleeding too much.

Joel watches his partner slip away.

He waits to disappear. No more leash, no more tether. Nothing chaining him to this world.

When that doesn’t happen, he waits for her to appear beside him. Maybe he’ll have company.

But she doesn’t.

And then…there’s still the damn kid.

She’s pretty broken up about it. Curled over Tess’ cold body, pleading and swiping at her eyes. Joel almost channels his energy into trying to comfort her then thinks better of it. So far all he’s managed to do is make people cold.

Then she looks up. That uneasy stare, squinting. Right at him.

Wide eyes, big brown saucers in her too-small head. Her breath is a wisp of vapor in the stale basement air.

“I knew it!”

~*~

“You’re–you’re the–the one I–”

There’s no fuckin’ way.

“Are you a fucking ghost?”

“I–”

It’s the first time he’s tried to speak since he was killed. It comes out as a rasp, a moan.

It scares her.

It scares him.

“You–you can…hear me?”

She nods jerkily, pressing herself against the far wall with Tess’ body between them. Her chest heaves, fast and shallow.

“Kid, don’t–”

She passes out.

~*~

He’s kneeling beside her. Floating, more like. Although something about her recognizing him has him feeling…more solid. Corporeal.

She jerks awake at his touch, the faintest drag of a finger against her cheek.

She screams. He cringes.

“You’re a fucking ghost! How the fuck–what–”

He doesn’t have an answer for that.

“I–I shot you,” she says. “I killed you. You were–you were dead and I thought–I thought I saw–holy fuck.”

His damn mouth won’t move. He’s forgotten he can speak.

“Joel? That’s your name, right? Tess said–said you were Joel.”

She can hear him. She can see him.

Holy fuck is right.

She reaches out and he feels it. He feels her hand on his arm. It’s not like before, more like…like the way you can feel a cloud. But it’s there.

Then she pokes at him. Again and again, jabbing her finger into his cloud-arm, scrunching her fingers, testing him like clay. He feels every single touch.

“Cut that out,” he snaps, voice still rusty. She jerks back as if afraid.

Then she grins.

“This is so fucking cool.”

~*~

No time to figure it out.

They were followed.

Shoulda seen that coming. Blood trail and hoofprints from where Tess fell, it was only a matter of time. So fuckin’ stupid.

But she’s just a kid.

“You gotta go,” he says. “Go to Tommy. Go north.”

She nods, swallows hard. Then she’s pounding up the stairs. He hears the garage door rattle open, the sound of hoofprints overhead. He ascends to the surface so he can watch her disappear.

She’ll be safe. Tommy will take her in.

And then he feels that awful, sickening pull.

One last look at the body on the mattress, his partner. His friend. His…

He sends the thought out to the ether before he’s dragged away.

Tess? I’m sorry.

He’s been attached to the damn kid this whole time.

~*~

Things get real bad after that.

She doesn’t make it out of the suburb before the horse is shot. Joel is forced to watch as she’s thrown, knocked unconscious.

They’re dragged to some shitty resort town; her by the bad men, him tethered to her.

When she wakes, he’s the first thing she sees.

They’re in a cage. Or she is. At least he can look around, get the lay of the land. For all the fuckin’ good it does.

He can feel her fear like a physical ache.

“Joel,” she pleads in a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

This kid, the kid who fuckin’ shot him.

“I know,” he says, promises: “We’re gonna get you out.”

~*~

Turns out being a ghost makes him pretty fuckin’ useless.

He casts himself out of the building as far as he can. He finds the bodies strung up like slaughtered hogs. He finds the dead horse. He finds her backpack.

He can’t do a damn thing about any of it.

When David comes back, she breaks his finger and he bloodies her face against the bars of the cell.

The sight sets a fire inside him.

Then they haul her out. Chopping block. Joel throws himself at the assholes but it does no good. It hurts, like there’s some kind of force field, a black edge he can’t cross.

Meanwhile, Ellie struggles and uses that smartass mouth to get herself free. Attagirl.

She keeps her eyes on Joel the whole time.

She ain’t stupid, this one. Then there’s a cleaver embedded in one of their necks, and Joel yells at her to run.

She does.

So does David. Cat and mouse through the whole goddamned restaurant. She sets the place on fire.

If Joel had a heart it would be clawing at his ribs like a wild animal.

Then she’s straining and struggling underneath the leader of the fuckin’ cannibal cult.

Joel doesn’t think, all his protective instincts send him lunging forward. He throws his whole being into it, past the black edge, past the force field, until he feels the resistance give and their bodies merge and the shock of it stills the other man for one precious, infinite second.

It takes everything he has to hold him. It’s just barely enough.

Ellie grabs the cleaver. Joel is flung out of David’s body like a rubber band snapping violently back.

There’s so much blood.

The whole town burns at their backs.

Good fuckin’ riddance.

~*~

Later, bruised and bloodied and holed up in a shack somewhere.

“You need to go back to Tommy. He’ll take care of you.”

“I need to find the Fireflies.”

“Kid–”

“We’re going to Salt Lake City.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

“You have to come with me. You’re, like, stuck to me, right? You don’t have a choice.”

She’s not wrong about that.

The little shit.

But he has to try, one last time.

“Kid, you can’t–you’ll never make it alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

~*~

Never mind infected or raiders or cannibal cults, the kid will be lucky if she doesn’t freeze to death. Tess taught her a lot on the road, but not enough to get her through a brutal winter in the mountains.

At some point, they have to admit defeat. Or she does. The snow’s too deep, the wind too biting, the resources too scarce.

They hole up in an abandoned town to wait out the cold, and he shows her how to survive.

Gotta have somethin’ to pass the time, anyway.

That’s what he tells himself.

~*~

“Can you fly?”

“No.”

“Do you get tired?”

“No.”

“How did you get to be a ghost?”

“Someone shot me,” he says flatly.

“Okaaaay, guess I deserve that. But I mean–I mean why didn’t you go toward the light or whatever?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, there must be some reason. Do you have, like, unfinished business?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still here, man?”

“Wish I knew, kid.”

“Oh, oh wait! Are there other ghosts? Can you like, see dead people everywhere? Like in that movie?”

She’s practically vibrating. This fuckin’ kid.

“No.”

“But what if there are? What if–”

“You ask a lotta fuckin’ questions,” he sighs.

“Yes,” she says, smug little thing. “I do.”

~*~

Turns out, Joel is pretty good at finding game. He’s silent, no tread to scare off the rabbits or deer, and he has a decent range–maybe half a mile or so. Can even get some height if he focuses enough, scanning the woods from higher up.

He shows her how to track, how to set snares, how to scavenge.

The kid’s a decent shot…when she’s not talkin’ his fuckin’ ear off.

She does the bloody work of dressing their kills. He walks her through it step by step and soon she’s eating roasted rabbit over a roaring fire, grease dripping down her chin.

Pearls of teenage wisdom fall from her lips like rain.

“They should call it undressing. Because it’s like, y’know. Undressing…from the inside.”

Jesus Christ.

~*~

He can’t hunt, but he can teach her how.

He can’t build a fire, but he can wake her up when it starts to die.

He can’t fight for her, but he can keep watch.

He can’t keep her warm, but he can keep her company.

Maybe he’s not so useless after all.

~*~

Sometimes he forgets she’s just a kid.

Until it’s the middle of the night and she’s shuddering awake and leaking tears and struggling for breath. Alone, but not.

Tess always shivered.

Ellie doesn’t. She leans into him before he can stop her, seeking comfort like another little girl a lifetime ago, and it’s almost…warm. Almost like before.

He didn’t know he could miss it so much.

When he puts his arms around her for the first time, he feels more alive than he has in years.

“You’re okay, baby girl. I got you.”

~*~

She survives the winter.

They walk for days.

He tells her about Tommy. He tells her about life Before. He teaches her about football and contracting.

He tells her about Sarah.

He watches her face light up at the sight of a giraffe.

Everything inside him wants to turn tail and run back to Jackson. He can’t, because she won’t.

Won’t stop him from tryin’, though.

“You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t owe Marlene, you don’t owe the Fireflies, you don’t owe ‘em anythin’. You can go back to Jackson. Be a normal kid.”

She scoffs, looking at her arm.

“I passed normal a long time ago, dude.”

~*~

And then they find the hospital.

He has to remind her to stop looking at him when she talks to Marlene.

“They’re gonna think you’re nuts.”

“I’m talking to a fucking ghost. I probably am.”

They settle her in a room. Marlene explains what will happen. It will be soon; tomorrow.

“It’s a straightforward procedure. No pain. We put you under, we do the op, then we’ll send you on your way.”

He has a bad feeling about this.

~*~

He wanders the hospital halls while she sleeps, drawn to a low light, hushed voices. Early morning sun just cresting the horizon.

He hears brain surgery and harvest and no recovery.

He hears chance and theory and hopefully.

“And you’re sure someone won’t come looking for her?”

“I told you, she’s an orphan.”

“But how the hell did she make it here by herself?”

“Jesus, Jerry. Relax.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to fucking like it. You just have to do the operation.”

~*~

He shakes her awake.

“We gotta go. They’re gonna kill you.”

“What? But Marlene said–”

“She lied.”

She’s hesitating. Why the fuck is she hesitating?

Her voice goes small. “What if…what if I still want to do it?”

“You’re not understandin’ me, kid. They don’t even know if this thing’ll work, and you’ll be dead. Gone.”

She’s picking her damn cuticles bloody.

“But…but all this…can’t be for nothing,” she says. “Riley and Tess and Sam and Henry, and–and even you. You died because of me. Don’t you want that to…to mean something?”

“Look, kid, I've been both places. You make meaning by livin’. Not dyin’.”

She doesn’t believe him. She has to believe him.

Hand to her shoulder, he gets in her face. “Do you trust me?”

She swallows hard, nods.

“Ellie? Who are you talking to?”

Too late.

Marlene, at the door.

~*~

In the end, Marlene doesn’t give her a choice.

They get more than they bargained for, but one underfed little girl is no match for a team of soldiers.

Dragging her under her arms as she screams and claws. She fights all the way to the table, she fights as they’re putting the mask on to sedate her, she fights until her last breath.

And Joel fights, too. If he did it with David, he can do it again. He has to fuckin’ try.

There’s that resistance again, that force field, that dark black line. He presses into it, pushes past the pain, and finds himself in control.

He has…a body. He looks down. Sees hands and arms and legs and feet and a torso clad in blue scrubs. Feels the paper mask over his face and the heat of his own breath.

Not his own breath.

His control wavers. Something is fighting him. He’s trapped inside the other man, using him like a tool.

It feels wrong. It feels amazing.

No time to waste.

He picks up a scalpel. The doctor slits his own throat.

~*~

As before, he’s slammed violently out of the doctor’s body when the man begins to die. Three nurses scramble to stop the bleeding, but Joel only sees the girl on the table.

He’s gotta get her out.

“Ellie!”

He puts his whole ghostly being into it. She stirs, but doesn’t wake. Fuck.

“C’mon, kid, you gotta wake up.”

Nothing.

“Please, Ellie,” he murmurs, faint brush of a hand to her cheek. “Ellie. Please.”

The warmth of her skin against his fingers.

He can touch her.

If he can touch her–

He picks her up. Carries her like he used to carry a different little girl to bed.

To the terrified nurses, her body appears to float off the operating table. He leverages Ellie’s limp form to open the swinging door and they tumble into the hallway.

Shouting. Panic. Fireflies running at them.

Gunshots.

No. Not again. Not again not again not–

“Don’t fucking shoot!”

Marlene’s voice, frantic and frayed.

Wouldn’t wanna damage the fuckin’ cargo.

Joel runs.

~*~

He’s never been more thankful to be dead. Lacking a body’s demands for oxygen and blood and muscle, he doesn’t tire, doesn’t slow, doesn’t leave tracks.

He carries her until she starts to turn in his arms, eyes blinking and struggling to focus. He can’t open doors or carry her through walls.

Shit.

Barring a better option, he tucks them into an alley. No idea how far they’ve gone from the hospital, no idea how many are following, no idea how they’ll get out of the city.

She’s shaky on her legs. Weak. Cold.

But she’s alive.

~*~

It’s another long haul back to Jackson.

Nothin’ they can’t handle.

“What if they come for me?”

“Tommy can protect you.”

“But–what if–”

“You saw Jackson…you saw the walls. There’s a place for you. They’ll keep you safe.”

“...you really think so?”

“I know so.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I, like…shot you.”

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

Not like she can take back the bullet. And if she could, well…she wouldn’t be alive right now.

Looking back, he’s not sure what he was doing could be called living, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

~*~

They’re almost to Jackson when he starts to fade.

It’s subtle. He feels it like a weakness, a breathlessness without breath. Feels himself growing less…solid. Like if he were to try to put a hand on her shoulder, it might pass through.

He doesn’t tell her. What would be the point? Not like he can control it.

But it worries him all the same.

“Joel! You coming?”

She’s excited. Cheeks flushed from the hike, eyes bright.

“Yep. Should be just over that ridge.”

~*~

He feels like an intruder in his brother’s home.

S’pose he is, in a way. A haunt. A spook.

Ellie’s leg is shaking, knee bouncing up and down. She’s chewing on her goddamned nails again. Gonna get an infection if she keeps that up.

He grabs her hand. The connection feels weak, but he can still hold on.

For now.

They’re waiting in the kitchen for Tommy.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” she hisses.

“Just tell him the truth.”

“You know what they do to fifteen-year-olds who have imaginary friends, right?”

“I ain’t imaginary.”

“Says you.”

Just for that, he pinches her. Not hard, just enough.

“Ow!”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Ellie jumps. Tommy, at the door, fresh as a fuckin’ daisy.

“I…I need to tell you something.”

~*~

“So he’s…right here?”

“Yep.”

“An’ you can see him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, kid–”

“I know, it sounds fucking crazy. But he’s here. He’s been with me the whole time. Since I–y’know.”

She mimes firing a gun. Tommy has that look on his face like he’s sucked on a lemon. Well, Joel probably would too, if he weren’t already dead.

Well, he’s pretty sure he can fix this, at least. He tells Ellie what to say.

“Joel says…her-man-eat-oh? Is that–is that like, code or something?”

Tommy’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat. “You, uh, you speak Spanish?”

Christ, his brother can be dense as a brick.

“No, I don’t fucking speak Spanish,” Ellie huffs. “Joel said I should call you that. And that…ugh, do I have to?”

She looks up at him, grimacing. He nods.

“So fucking gross,” she whispers. “He says…he says you have a birthmark on your ass. It’s shaped like a heart.”

Tommy’s face goes white as a sheet.

Huh, Joel’d been expecting beet red.

Who’s the ghost now, little brother?

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes, voice breaking. “I–I can’t–fuck. Joel–”

Ellie tells him the rest.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Take care of her.

~*~

He lingers.

As though whatever twist of fate or chance or universal decree brought them together wants to make sure she has a place.

But for the first time since he died, he’s tired. The kind of deep, aching exhaustion that even decades of sleep can’t fix.

He’s still tethered to her. It takes more than he has to wander, so he doesn’t. He goes where she goes. To the stables, the cafeteria, the school.

She learns how to ride. She makes friends.

She holds his nephew.

Tommy makes a damn good father of two.

~*~

The first leaves are just starting to turn.

Ellie sketches in her journal on the porch swing, Joel at her side.

She puts down her pencil. Looks over at him.

“You’re flickering again.”

He knows. He can feel it, the world around him is a radio frequency tuning in and out.

“Sometimes it’s like…I look around and you’re not there,” she murmurs. “Then I blink, and you’re back.”

She leans into him, barely there, picking at her fingers. He plants a kiss on her forehead, imagines he can breathe her in.

“I’m scared…one of these times…”

The thought stays unfinished. The swing rocks gently beneath them.

“I know, baby. I know.”

~*~

She’s wrapped in a blanket, curled on her side, fighting sleep. Eyes fixed on him.

Like she knows he won’t be there come morning.

The pull is different this time. Gentler. He doesn’t fight it, doesn't have the strength.

He tries to wipe away her tears. He can’t, can’t make the connection last. The most he can do is stir the wispy hairs at her temple and then it takes all his effort. He settles for putting his hand over hers, the sensation tingling faintly like static electricity.

Tommy and Maria will protect her. She’ll be safe in Jackson, safe within the walls. She’ll have a home, a family, a life. The kind of love he never could have given when he was still breathing.

Because he had a job to do.

He’s so damn tired.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

Voice thick, eyes wet. “Where will you go?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Will you remember me?”

“Always, baby girl.”

It’s a promise.

Her sigh trails off in a yawn. “Can you stay? ‘Til I fall asleep?”

It takes no time.

Her eyes flutter shut, her breathing deepens.

He falls asleep holding her hand.

~*~

Early morning sun pouring through the windows, golden rays of pure light. Ellie is a glow beside him, so full of life it’s blinding. He has to look away.

Then a familiar voice crosses twenty-years of memory, calling him home.

Dad?

[reallyromealone]

We want more of this please 🙏🥺

https://www.tumblr.com/reallyromealone/735239715115106304/i-can-already-imagine-what-will-jean-and-barbaras

Title: meeting the in-laws

Fandom: genshin impact

Warnings: male reader, fluff, innuendos

Notes: none

☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️

(name) was jovial with his life, his beloved husband even going as far as to build a small temple for (name) in the grand mansion they lived in. Pantalone learned fast that fancy gifts didn't hold the weight that love and time did, the spectacled man often making time in his busy schedule to make it home for dinners or lunches when he could, of course never leaving without some loving from his sweetheart.

"A letter from my sister's!" Pantalone learned that (name) was the middle sibling of three, a younger sister who took his mantle of Deaconess at their church and an elder sister who was a knight, something that made Pantalone hesitant "they wish to meet you!" His precious bunny seemed over the moon that his beloved family wanted to meet his husband "they couldn't come to the wedding so they wish to meet you! They're coming to visit next month!"

Pantalone didn't know how to approach this, his sweet little snow bunny so happy that his sisters were visiting but he knew them both and knew the elder would be at his throat in a second...but not if (name) was present.

He was like a cute little shield.

With each day passing (name) could barely keep his excitement contained, Pantalone having to fuck the energy out of the other to keep him less of a tornado.

"They're here!" (Name) said rushing down to the foyer to see his two sisters in winter attire "(name)!" Barbara squealed as she ran to her older brother who beamed "how are you (name)?" Jean asked she looked over her younger brother who beamed "I'm great! Come in come in! I want you guys to meet my husband!" The two sisters were sceptical, they saw the wedding photos that were sent and were less than impressed that (name) was stolen by one of them.

"This is my husband, pantalone! These are my sister's, Barbara and Jean!" The two sisters glared daggers at the fatui who in turn smiled charmingly, though the two could tell it was smugness "pleasure to meet you both, (name) speaks quite highly of you both" Pantalone said cooly as they went to the parlor, the room warm and inviting as (name) put photos of family and events, weddings and birthdays in ornate frames.

"He has spoken of you as well" Jean said through gritted teeth as they sat down "big house... You two planning on children with a house this grand?" Barbara asked absentmindedly, knowing (name) wanted little ones "maybe in the future, for now I just want to show (name) all I have to offer" he wanted to be able to do lecherous acts wherever he wanted without little eyes watching. "(Name) wants many children, think you can handle that?"

"As long as my beloved is happy" (name) happily slipped his drink, fully unaware his family were all arguing Silently, passive aggressive remarks and rage from the sister.

(Name) showed them everything, Pantalone investing in a whole large room for (name)s prayers and such, it was quite beautiful as if it were a micro version of the one back home.

"(Name), are you happy?" Jean asked earnestly as (name) beamed "I never been this happy, he's wonderful..." He said softly as pantalone had to leave to work, he was a busy man after all.

"Just... Please visit us sometime, promise?" Barbara asked softly to her older brother"of course barbs"

It was ten months later when the two sisters,

Received a letter with a photo, it was (name) and pantalone with a little one year old, a precious little girl they adopted and (name) was beaming ear to ear.

Pantalone was just happy (name) had something to focus his attention to while the banker had to attend his work, banking and other activities.

"Still hope pantyloner stabs himself in the foot" jean grumbled as she framed the photo, focusing on her brother and nephew.

[dumbkiri]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 『2』

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇ

Blessed energy comes with a price of unwanted memories. Sukuna may have kept [Name]'s ancestor locked away from her true lover. But in this life, it wasn't going to happen. Satoru and [Name] are a perfect match like Shoko said.

Song used in this fic: Davy Jones by Fia Orädd

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“Satoru, this is a lot of stuff,” [Name] tried to stop Gojo from presenting her with so many gifts. Yet the man did not agree with her. His sunglasses slipped down the bridge of his nose to gaze into her pretty [e.color] eyes. 

“I need to make sure you have everything for your new garden. Shoko will have you divorce me if I don’t provide you with things you need for your hobby.” He set the fertilizer bag down on the floor and walked back to the entrance of the grand estate. 

Yes, [Name] was quickly moved into his house and her servants were also moved into the place. The lonely heirs were welcomed to make a home with each other. She found it best that Gojo was the only one for her. They were friends in high school after all and [Name] would be lying if she said that she didn’t have a crush on Gojo. 

“Well, that was towards different men, Satoru.” [Name] followed her fiance to the backyard and the size of it caught her eyes. It was a blank slate, with only green luscious grass planted for her imagination to take over. 

“It’s amazing, huh?” Gojo startled her and he set the multiple bags of fertilizer down on the grass. “It didn’t take a long time to get rid of whatever was back here. Some trees, ugly boulders, old fountains…and more. I couldn’t wait to get rid of the old stuff and see what new things you can make.” 

[Name] smiled happily and wiped the tears out of her eyes before Gojo could see them, but he was already teasing her. “You cryin’, pretty girl?” He leaned in front of her face and smirked at her. 

“No,” [Name] stubbornly denied and looked into his sparkling blue eyes, “again, thank you, Satoru. You’re doing a lot for me now.” 

Her genuine thanks pulled him out of his teasing and he backed up, ignoring her piercing gaze. “Yeah, it’s no problem at all. By the way, we should talk about marriage stuff.” 

“Oh yeah,” [Name] ran into the house and came back with a blanket to set on the grass. She fixed it up for both of them and sat down on her knees looking up at Gojo expectantly. Gojo followed and sat across from her. One leg was stretched out to her and the other was bent so he could rest his elbow on his knee. 

“Obviously the old men want an heir from my family and yours, so it’s hitting two birds with one stone. But I don’t want to be rushed and I know you don’t either. When we have a kid on the way, we should expect them to try to make the leash on us tight. Well they can try to tame me, but you,” Gojo took his glasses off and set them in between his legs, “You need to fight them off. I don’t want you to take orders from any of them.” 

“Satoru, that’s easier said than done. You actually have the will to fight them,” [Name] looked away from him and focused on his glasses, “I’m just a woman in their eyes.” 

“You’re different, you’re my woman. You’re Gojo [Name] now. The same way I belong to you, you belong to me. The same way I argue with them and flaunt my strength, you can as well. Don’t be afraid of them, they can’t do anything to you.” 

His words made her heart flutter and a blush fanned across her cheeks. She looked up at him and sighed. The blush went away with the thoughts that clouded her mind. .

“There’s something you should know, Satoru. About my family and why I’m the only one alive.”

[Name] let her hand hover over the grass and let it tickle her palm, “My mom was a reincarnation of the King of Curses’ concubine. Her name was [L.Name] Nami and it’s said that Nami was Sukuna’s favorite. My mother told me that the blessed energy we carry is because Nami prayed to God for protection from that abomination. And God has seen how faithful she had been to him and he sealed her gentle spirit in a red rose.” 

“Red rose? You mean the flower at the center of the garden at the school contains [L.Name] Nami’s spirit?” Gojo curiously asked, he turned on his side and put his head in his hand. He watched [Name] nod her head and she confirmed it, “Yeah, no one can get past the blessed glass if they are not a [L.Name]. I am the only one capable of releasing Nami’s soul, but I was only told to do so if she wanted it.” 

“And how would you know if she wanted it?” 

[Name] shrugged her shoulders and whispered, “My mother passed away before she could explain it. But I was tasked with keeping Nami at peace by singing, dancing and gardening. I love flowers just as much as she did. I planted as many flowers and cared for them as much as Nami did. I sing any song she wishes and I dance like she used to do. It allows her more freedom than Sukuna ever granted her.” 

Gojo sat up and held her attention by saying, “Well then, my dear [Name], to make the mood lighter. I have a gift for you!”

“Another one, Satoru?” [Name] asked, relaxing her shoulders and raising an eyebrow in question. 

Her fiance laughed and showed off a box that contained a sparkly diamond ring inside. She could see how hard he tried to keep the simplicity for her, but she saw how hard it was for him. Because the ring was anything, but simple. “Oh, Satoru, a simple band would have satisfied me,” She placed her hand over her chest and could feel her heart beating fast in excitement. 

“Nope!” He disagreed and set the box on the floor to pull her closer to him. His large hands rested on her waist and he dragged her forward, her knees in between his legs. Gojo picked the ring out and held his hand out for hers to be placed in it. 

[Name] beamed in happiness and set her hand in his. She felt his thumb rub her knuckles and take a firm grasp onto her hand. With the ring, he slid it onto her ring finger and picked her hand up to witness it dazzle in the sun’s light. 

“It’s perfect, Satoru.” 

Her voice called out to him and she interlocked her hand with his and she leaned forward. Her nose touching the tip of his own. “Satoru, do you remember our first kiss?” 

“I do,” He whispered with a childish grin, “You were practically begging me with those pretty eyes of yours. I couldn’t resist.” 

“Are you going to resist today?” She asked innocently. 

Gojo slipped his other hand behind her neck and shook his head, “I never can.” Then he planted his lips onto her waiting ones. This blooming love was going to grow this time, Gojo promised within. He wasn’t going to let his regrets and sorrows hold him back. He pushed her away once and she never fought back. 

Now that he had her, he wasn’t going to let her go. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Gojo was showing Yuji around the school after he was allowed to freely walk the school grounds. He was excited to start a new life at this school and make new friends. His new teacher was babbling about life at Jujustu High when a voice growled at him.

“Oi, brat.”

Yuji could hear his sensei’s voice fade away when Sukuna spoke to him. That cursed being was louder than his own. It was quite annoying. 

“What is it this time? Gojo-sensei irritating you again by-”

“Shut up and listen.” 

Yuji closed his mouth and there was a soft melody that caught the attention of his ears. It sounded nice and peaceful. Before he knew it, his feet were taking him in the direction where the soft melody was playing. 

And his eyes looked at the entrance of a garden. There was an archway of sunflowers while the main entrance was filled with different colored rose bushes. A bench was on the right side with a trash bin, then the stone path led into a maze-like area where more flowers were planted. 

“Wow, who knew the principal and Gojo-sensei could take care of a garden like this.” 

“This isn’t the work of stupid men. This is a woman’s touch.”

Sukuna growled in Yuji’s head and the teenage boy could agree with him a bit. Was he going to admit it? 

“You don’t have to. I can hear your thoughts.” 

Yuji rolled his eyes and continued to go into the garden. Although the soft melody stopped, he felt that he was going the right way because of the atmosphere. There was something that was calling out to him and Yuji felt at home the closer he got to whatever he was looking for. 

After a few minutes of walking in the maze, Yuji’s eyes scanned the new area he was in. If he was right, he knows he’s at the center of the garden with the hedges towering over him. The area was circular with shallow pools around the smooth arches. He spotted koi fish swimming along the lily pads and dragonflies resting on them.

The smooth pebbles crunched beneath his shoes as he walked along the path into the center. What caught his eyes the most was the single red rose that sparkled in the glass container on a stone pillar. He was so mesmerized by the image and he walked closer to it. 

His hand reached out to the glass container and he pulled back instantly when a voice spoke to him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He peeked around the single rose and saw a woman kneeling down on the pebbles behind it. She was wearing a red blouse and black slacks with her red heels by her bag of fish food. “That glass container is surrounded by blessed energy, it’ll hurt the demon inside you a lot.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry for intruding!” Yuji bowed a million times and the woman chuckled with her hand lifted up to her smile. She pushed herself off the floor away from the koi fish that begged for her attention. She grabbed her heels in one hand and walked to the pillar that showed off the rose.

“You can touch it if you want though. It won’t hurt you as much as it will for him.” 

Yuji tilted his head in confusion while Sukuna snapped, “You better not! I’ll kill you!”

Yuji looked from the flower and back to the woman who proceeded to give him a kind smile. She gestured to the flower with her soft hands and cooed, “I promise you it’ll just be a tingle of electricity for you, Yuji.” 

He didn’t question how she knew his name. Instead he reached his hand out to the glass and palmed the top of the oval shape. Yuji chuckled and felt the tingles of electricity traveling up his arm and looping around his whole body. “Whoa~ You’re right! It’s like waking up my foot when it falls asleep! It’s so weird!” 

[Name] hummed and asked, “How does Sukuna feel?” 

Yuji released the hold on the glass and wiped his hand on his uniform. He wasn't hearing anything from the cursed king. “Uhhh, he’s not saying anything actually. He’s very silent right now.” 

[Name] pressed her lips in a thin line and said softly, “Good, that tends to happen when blessed and cursed energy clash. Blessed energy will always overpower cursed energy, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. With blessed energy, I can exercise curses with a swipe of my hand. I can heal wounds inflicted by curses. But it takes a lot of energy out of me. Lowering the barrier for you to interact with the glass was a risky move, but Sukuna is weak right now.” 

The woman laid her hands on the glass and a flash of gold blinded Yuji to which he covered his eyes quickly. Then he blinked a few times to see thorny vines rise up from the ground to wrap itself around the pillar then the glass which the red rose was in. 

“Please, don’t touch this glass anymore. The barrier is much stronger and the electric shock can stop your heart.” 

Her voice was gentle, but the warning was harsh. Yuji swallowed the lump in his throat and he looked around the area awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say next. He doesn’t even know how to leave the maze. 

“So what’s your name?” He asked stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“My name is [Name], but respectfully, it is Go-”

“Sing that wretched song, whore.”

Yuji slapped the mouth that appeared on the side of his cheek suddenly and he looked at [Name] nervously. “It-It seems Sukuna is back from the dead…aha..”

[Name] stared at Yuji with wide eyes as she walked up closer to him. Her hand laid gently on his and she pulled it away from the smaller mouth that cursed at her. “And what song is it that you want to hear?” She asked and resisted the urge to poke Sukuna’s one eye ball underneath Yuji’s eye. 

“Traitorous bitch, you should know what song I’m talking about. The melody you played to catch my attention and led me into the garden. That song.”

“Ahh~” [Name] whispered and backed away from Yuji, “that song is for her lover. It’s not meant to be sung for you. I only played that melody on the music box to ease her soul. She felt you, you know? Your disgusting energy doesn’t mix with her holy one.” 

“Sing that song!”

Yuji flinched from the outburst Sukuna had and he was surprised to see the woman stand tall and confident in his presence. Without saying anything, she pulled a small music box from her pocket and set it on the pillar. [Name] twisted the knob sticking out and let the melody play. 

She walked up to Yuji and took his hands into her own. She laid his right hand on her waist and kept his left hand in her right one. She began leading him into a dance and Yuji fumbled a bit while Sukuna scolded him, “Don’t mess up the flow. She won’t connect with us if you don’t follow her lead.” 

“What are you talking about? I seriously have no idea what’s going on!” Yuji silently yelled at Sukuna as he watched the woman’s [e.color] eyes flicker with a hint of gold in them. 

“Cruel and cold, like winds in the sea.” [Name] sung softly to Yuji and Sukuna leading them in her dance of song. 

“Will you ever return to me?” Yuji subconsciously followed [Name]’s footsteps as he began to lose himself in her beautiful eyes.

“Hear my voice, sing with the tide.” They danced around the red rose and it was starting to glow the same golden color that was in her eyes.

“My love will never die.” Yuji looked back at the woman and the scenery changed around them when he did. The air around them was warm and he felt his bare feet dig into the sand below him. “Wait, where are my shoes?” He questioned and looked around him again. 

They weren’t in the garden instead they were at a beach and the woman was kneeling down in the sand holding onto a red rose desperately. “Sukuna, where are we?’

“Shut up and pay attention.” 

Yuji stopped asking questions and from the corner of his eyes he watched a man with white hair approach the woman with [h.color] hair. The woman didn’t stop singing nor did she acknowledge Yuji’s presence anymore. 

“Over waves and deep in the blue.” The man with striking blue eyes raised the woman to a standing position.

“I will give up my heart for you.” The woman smiled up at the man and handed him the rose with a loving look in her eyes.

“Ten long years I’ll wait to go by. My love will never die.” The man accepted the rose and pulled her in for a kiss until they both stopped to look straight at Yuji. The woman’s eyes were full of fear while the man was full of anger.

The man put his hands on her face and sang to her, but it was still the woman’s voice, “Come, my love, be one with the sea.” 

“Rule with me for eternity.” The man was pleading with her as he tried to shake her from her stupor. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off Yuji. 

“Drown all dreams so mercilessly and leave their souls to me.” The warm atmosphere was turning cold and Yuji felt a shiver run up his spine. The once blue sky was turning into a deep red color and the sea was dark and murky. 

“Play the song you sang long ago.” The man with white hair released her and stood in front of her protectively. His deadly blue eyes staring directly at Yuji to instill fear in him. It worked, Yuji was afraid, but his feet dug deeper into the stand. 

“And wherever the storm may blow, you will find the key to my heart. We’ll never be apart.” The man raised his head up high, challenging Yuji to take away his woman. But the teenager wasn’t that dumb. There was no way- What the?!

Yuji’s body started moving on its own towards the couple and before the two could start fighting, the woman stepped in between the two with tears in her eyes. Yuji could see her giving up herself to him to save her lover from his rage. 

Yuji roughly grabbed onto her arm and dragged her across the sand. He was suddenly stopped when the woman was grabbed by her lover. The white haired man stared into the woman’s eyes and sang, “Wild and strong, you can’t be contained.”

Yuji watched the woman look up at her lover and harshly jerked her wrist away from his tender gaze and grip.  “Never bound nor ever chained,” The man reminded her and tried to get her to stay with him. He put the rose back into her hand.

But inside, Yuji knew she wasn’t going to let a war break out because of her choice. The man stared at her with his hair shadowing his eyes and his hands crackling with electricity, “Wounds you caused will never mend and you will never end.”

Yuji successfully took the woman away from the stranger and the scenery changed. He saw mangled corpses of humans littered across the floor and houses were destroyed in his wake of rage. When he saw his temple, Yuji tossed the woman into a cell and she sang the last part of the song. She crumbled to her knees, not even casting a glance his way.

The red rose was still in her hand, blood dripping down her arm as she clenched the thorny stem in her grasp. The blood ran down as fast as her silent tears did. 

“Cruel and cold, like winds on the sea. Will you ever return to me? Hear my voice, sing with the tide. My love will never die.” 

Yuji blinked and he was back in the garden with the woman staring at him with mild surprise. “That was all new for me. I’m sorry Yuji for letting you see that old memory of sorrow.” She apologized and bowed her head down in regret. 

Meanwhile Yuji waved his hands and pointed at his cheek where Sukuna would pop out from, “If anything he should apologize! Seriously, don’t worry about it! To be honest, I had no idea what happened. Was I…Was I Sukuna?” 

[Name] nodded her head and stared at the floor, “What you and I saw was a memory of the spirit that resides in that rose.” She pointed at the guarded rose and continued to explain to the teenage boy, “[L.Name] Nami was considered to be Sukuna’s lover by many sorcerers. They were further from the truth as Nami did not love Sukuna back and Sukuna could never love anyone. Instead she loved that man we saw at the beach. He was a powerful sorcerer and he rivaled Sukuna’s strength. He loved Nami more than she loved him, though she did love him immensely.”

Yuji felt extremely light headed as she explained the memory in depth. He saw quick flashes of the pictures again. “That man was willing to put his life and other lives at risk in order to save her from Sukuna. Yet she did not want that to happen. Nami did not see war as a solution, so she resigned her fate to be left in Sukuna’s hands.” 

“That…How did her soul get sealed away in the rose?” Yuji asked feeling remorse for Nami. He couldn’t imagine the horrors she witnessed being locked up in a cell and being used by Sukuna.

[Name] placed her hands on her hips and looked at the rose intently, “God heard her pleas and provided her comfort in the thing she loved most beside Him and her lover. He let her soul rest peacefully in the red rose she cherished.” 

“There you are!”

[Name] looked up and saw her fiance standing next to Yuji with his blindfold over his eyes. He clamped a strong hand down on Yuji’s shoulder and dipped down to his height to ask with a hint of a threat, “What did you do to my wife to make her blessed energy flicker in stress? You didn’t let Sukuna out did you?” 

“Satoru,” [Name] spoke up for Yuji, “All Sukuna did was ask for me to sing a song. And my stress came from a memory Nami made Yuji and I see. I was afraid that this would harm Yuji, thankfully he is okay.” 

Gojo removed his hand off Yuji’s shoulder and he walked up to [Name] with his hands holding her face. He looked down at her with deep admiration and…love? Yuji blinked and saw the couple at the beach before flickering back to reality. Was [L.Name] Nami’s old lover a member of the Gojo Family?

Yuji heard Sukuna chuckle darkly saying afterwards, “I’ll rip her from his hands again. Then I’ll show her who she truly belongs to.”

Yuji clenched his hands into tight fists and his eyes glared at the floor. He wasn’t going to let that happen. His sensei looked happy with [Name] and he was going to keep Sukuna far away from her. 

“Satoru, please, not in front of Yuji,” [Name] bashfully backed away from Gojo’s kiss and the grown man pouted. 

“Just one kiss!” Gojo shouted and [Name] quickly pressed a delicate kiss on his cheek. 

“That should be enough for you,” She said, ignoring her pestering fiance who squeezed her in a giant hug demanding for more. 

“It’s weird,” Yuji thought, analyzing the couple, “they look so much like the couple, but they’re different. [Name]-sensei is happy and full of life while Gojo-sensei shows no anger or murderous intent.”

That was only because Sukuna was not in their life. In this life, they could be together with no one separating one from the other. 

[misschiuahua]

Summary: Wave was feeling a bit... Needy.

One of her witch friends suggests a small summoning to scratch that itch.

Wave didn't expect quite that many tentacles, but she isn't actually complanining.

Rating: Explicit

***

Wave didn’t like to think of herself as desperate.

She wasn’t.

She was just ridiculously horny and her vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore.

She was also tired of stupid men and women. Did people forget how one-night stands worked? Some would get emotional and want to keep seeing her, and those who understood the idea, tended to suck in bed.

And perhaps, summoning a demon just to fuck her was a bit much, but then again, why the hell not? She was one of the good witches, and one demon-fucking wouldn’t change that.

Besides, Ashley had assured her it was fine. There was no soul to be given in exchange, no harm done. The demon was there for the same reason she was -except he -it?- didn’t fuck for fun, but for nutrition. Ashley told her he -it? -fed from her ‘juices’ so it had an extra incentive to make her cum a lot.

Ashley had done it, she was alive and well, so it was probably safe.

So Wave decided to give it a try. Ashley explained the ritual to her, told what she needed to get it done and gave her a wink before leaving.

Wave felt really nervous about this. She’d done small summonings before, but nothing even close to this -or for the same reason. What if something went wrong?

What if something went right?

Wave decided to trust Ashley and try it. Her friend wouldn’t set her up for something dangerous.

That night, she took a long bath and really pampered herself. She even bought a nice silk robe to use. All of those things were more for her than the demon -she didn’t particularly think it would care -and Wave hardly ever did things like that for herself, so it felt nice.

She put on only her robe -no need for more clothes -and prepared her living room for the ritual -she lived in a neighborhood with nosy neighbors, so she couldn’t just do this outside, even though it was funny imagining their faces if they saw it.

Wave pushed the furniture away, creating enough space to draw the summoning circle on the ground. She followed Ashley’s directions carefully, since summoning demons was always risky, and this time it felt even more so.

Kneeling in front of the circle, she double-checked her preparations, then closed her eyes and focused. She recited the chant she’d memorized, feeling power coursing through her. Energy sizzled, as a wind swirled around the room.

Wave spread her hands as she said the last words, and with a mighty wind, all the candles went out, leaving the room mostly dark.

Wave took a deep breath in. “Alexa. Turn on the lights.” She called.

The light in the living room was turned on, and she found herself face to face with… Tentacles.

A bunch of them, coming from her floor.

That was exactly what Ashley said it’d happen.

Wave risked a look at the hole on her floor, but it was just an open portal. Great. She rented this house and a good orgasm wasn’t worth losing her deposit.

“Hi.” She said, feeling stupid. But what else was she supposed to say to tentacles?

The tentacles -she counted eleven, but she had a feeling there might be more -turned to her, like they were paying attention to her. They were purplish in color, some thicker than others, but all very… Octopus-like.

“I’m Wave.” She told the tentacles, feeling more absurd by the moment. “I called you here. So… Yeah.”

One thick tentacle came forward and touched her face -quite sweetly. She raised her hand carefully and patted the tentacle. She’d thought it’d be more slimy then it was.

Like this was some kind of permission, the other tentacles moved in her direction.

“Oh. Just a minute.” She said, and they all paused. She opened her robe and let it fall to the ground. “Okay.”

The tentacles moved in her direction with more purpose now. One wrapped around her waist and lifted her up from the floor. Wave gasped in surprise as she was carried, and other  two tentacles wrapped around her, giving her more support, so she wasn’t just hanging like a ragdoll. She was deposited gently on her armchair and encouraged to lean back.

The other smaller tentacles started running over her body, like they were caressing her, and Wave relaxed in their hold. She could feel the suction cups on them sucking gently at her skin, as if they were giving her kisses.

It felt like a slow seduction, which was a weird way of seeing this, but Wave had no complaints. She deserved this.

Tentacles wrapped around her breasts and gave them a firm squeeze, making the witch sigh in pleasure. Two cups followed their path and attached themselves to her nipples, their suction really similar to someone sucking on them.

“Oh.” Wave squirmed, enjoying where this was going.

She started to move her fingers towards her cunt, but tentacles wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hands away, and holding her back from touching herself.

“Hey.” Wave complained but it lacked heat, since the cups suckling on her nipples were really doing it well.

Other tentacles wrapped around her thighs, spreading her wide open. Oh they were finally getting to the good part.

A thinner tentacle started rubbing itself gently around her clit, making her sigh again. When her hips started moving on their own, it slid down and pushed inside her body. Before she could complain about the lack of attention to her clit, another tentacle was already there, circling it a bit harder than before.

The small tentacle started fucking her slowly, before increasing its speed. Suddenly she felt a second tentacle pushing inside as well, but this did something she could barely comprehend. It used its suction cup inside her, against her G-spot and Wave’s back came out of the armchair.

“Oh yes, there! Please.” She babbled, her body shaking and an orgasm coming fast.

The tentacles never stopped their work, and -as if they really could understand her and know how close she was - they fucked her faster and harder.

Wave’s first orgasm was a strong, solid one, making a long moan leave her mouth. It was a good way to start this.

The small tentacles immediately pulled away when she came, even startling Wave in the process. However, before she could ask if there was something wrong, a larger, thicker tentacle was already there, pushing its way into her cunt.

Wave’s head fell back and she hissed a ‘yes’ as the tentacle entered her, stretching her just right. As it was so much thicker than the other two, she could feel the texture of the cups as it entered her. The tentacle pushed as far as it could go, hitting her cervix which had only happened rarely to her before.

The tentacle fucker her harder this time, making her whole body bounce every time it moved. Another small tentacle came around, attaching its cup to her clit and pulling. Wave screamed at the unexpected sensation, but it was in no way a bad thing.

She squirmed and moaned as the tentacle fucked her harder and hard, the cup pulled at her clit. Her next orgasm crept out of nowhere and it was much harder than the first. The scream she let out could probably be heard from the street.

Wave wouldn’t care about that just then.

Her whole body was still shaking from the orgasm when the tentacle pulled away again. This time Wave yelped in surprise when she was pulled at by the other tentacles. She was still a bit out of it from pleasure and the sudden movement confused her.

Only when she was facing the armchair did she realize she’d been repositioned. Her knees were on the floor and elbows on the armchair - with tentacles still holding her wrists together. Her legs were pulled apart and another tentacle was already pressed up against her cunt.

“Hey, I think I might need a…” Her words were cut as the tentacle entered her again.

She couldn’t see from this angle, but this one was yet another tentacle, even thicker than the last. This was dancing the line between pleasure and pain as it stretched her.

But this time the tentacle entered her slower, letting her feel every bump of every cup, letting them suck their way into her. Wave’s forehead fell against the seat in front of her and she tilted her ass up. Suctions cup found their way back to her nipples, suckling gently, as if to ease her into this

Once the tentacle went as far as it could go, it stopped there, giving her a minute - which was really kind of it. Then she noticed… Something way too close to her ass.

A smaller tentacle was pressing against that entrance, quite sneakily. Wave opened her mouth to say something, but the tentacle inside her started to pulse, which turned her words into a moan. The smaller tentacle used her distraction to push into her.

“That was a dirty trick.” She groaned, and the only reaction from her tentacles was to pat her comfortingly on the back.

Those tentacles were probably male then.

The tentacle on her cunt started moving slowly at first. Wave’s eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open. This was a whole other thing.

The thickness, the bumps on it, even the smaller tentacle currently fucking her ass while everywhere else there were tentacles caressing and comforting her… It was heaven.

The bigger tentacle started fucking her so hard that others had to wrap around her to keep her in place to take it. Wave’s moans were echoing around her house and sweat covered her body.

The smaller tentacle left her ass without warning, only to be replaced by another one that was thicker. Wave was so out of it she barely pretended to complain about it.

The nice sucking cup went back to her clit, pulling at it hard, which made her come immediately. However, instead of letting her go again, the tentacles just kept on going. Her body went limp, but they picked her up from the floor and Wave was suspended as they kept fucking her mercilessly.

She didn’t think she could cum again -she really didn’t - but it was as if they forced it out of her -an orgasm so brutal that she blacked out.

When Wave woke up again, she was lying on her couch and the tentacles were using their cups to… Yep, ‘drink’ all her juices. They were traveling up and down her leg and thigh in a way that was not sexual at all.

“Hey.” She whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. “You done?”

A tentacle came near her face and caressed it, which made her chuckle. “Thank you for the orgasms.”

The tentacle booped her nose. Then they gently covered her with the quilt on the back of the couch and retreated to the hole on the floor until they disappeared completely. The hole closing right after.

“Well… Fuck.” Wave would think about cleaning and wondering what her neighbors probably heard tomorrow.

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany

Chapter Eleven

Ravenna threw herself into anything that kept her from thinking too hard about Cassian. She’d spent most of the week leading up to Starfall in and out of Rhys’s study, and the library, mentally preparing to see Fetrin again. And avoiding Cassian. She’d been unable to shake the way she was feeling about him, so she decided it was better to just shove all thoughts aside instead, at least for right now. Her plan had been working quite well, until the Friday before the Ball. 

The healer had been in the library, losing herself in a book for the prior four hours that had passed since she’d arrived. When she ran out of positions to be in that didn’t cause her neck to ache, Ravenna closed her novel and rose to stretch her limbs. She rolled her neck, then decided to make her way back to her room to steam her gown before the following night's festivities. Upon realizing she hadn’t set foot outside for the entire day, she changed course and decided she’d allow herself to watch the sun continue to make its slow descent from the rooftop of the House. 

She yawned as she ascended the stairs to the roof, the well-manicured turf and asphalt of the training ring coming into view. Ravenna inhaled the warm evening air, the sky just beginning to turn a shade of pale pink, and took a seat on the top row of one of the bleachers that sat adjacent to the stairs she’d just come from. She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze that circulated so high in the mountains; something about it felt like home to her. Ravenna watched the sun sink further and further, the sky turning from pink, to purple, to periwinkle, to blue, to black and sprinkled with stars. When the sky had finally gone dark, the lamplights that surrounded the training ring flickered on and illuminated the darkness with fluorescent light. She closed her eyes one more time to breathe in the evergreen air before heading inside, only to be jolted back to awareness all at once.

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Ravenna’s eyes shot open to find Cassian leaning against one of the lamp posts at the far end of the ring, giving her a small smile. She imagined she turned a bright shade of pink at the sight of him in only his leathers, his shirtless chest illuminated by the light above him. She swallowed, trying to ignore the flood of thoughts and feelings that broke the dam she’d put up over the past week at the sight of him.

“I was watching the sunset,” she replied softly. “What are you doing?”

“Came up for a nighttime training session. It’s been the only time I have the energy.”

Ravenna nodded, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Have you used a sword yet?” 

“I’ve held one. Lifted, carried, ran with one,” Cassian replied, lackadaisical as he made his way to the small armory cage at the other end of the turf. “Haven’t actually used one yet, like to fight with,” he finished, as he chose a hefty Obsidian sword from the wall and shifted its weight in his hands. Ravenna watched him carefully, leaning back on her palms and observing his wings when he turned his back to her for a moment. They looked like they were healing perfectly, although she could still make out the scars she’d created mending the skin back together.

“Bring it on, then,” Ravenna said a moment later, rising and heading for the armory herself. She’d gulped down whatever feelings threatened to spill from her head, focused now on the fact that Cassian had been trying to train and get back to his pre-injury level. Cassian raised an eyebrow at her, but smiled so radiantly that Ravenna had to look away. She perused the weapons on the wall, settling on a more slender, lightweight Obsidian and moved to meet him in the center of the training ring. 

“I didn’t know healers even knew how to hold a sword!” Cassian jabbed.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Ravenna answered, slicing a diagonal line through the air dramatically as she approached. “I happen to be very talented with this thing.”

“Let’s see it,” he dared, laughing a little and widening his stance. She lunged, and his sword caught hers as it fell, sending her balance the opposite direction. Ravenna recovered quickly, and the two began to spar as night continued to fall on Velaris. Ravenna thanked the gods her body could count on the muscle memory of hand to hand combat she’d learned so long ago, long abandoned unless she really needed to defend herself without magic. It also helped that Cassian was not at full strength, otherwise she might’ve grown tired after twenty minutes.

After a good half hour more, Ravenna wielded a particularly hefty swing in Cassian’s direction and was surprised to hear a grunt and a thud as he hit the ground. She caught her breath, but Cassian stayed crouched with his head down, and her heart dropped.

“Are you okay?” she asked, dropping her sword and moving towards him. When she had nearly reached him, face etched with worry as she went to examine his wings, he turned around faster than she could comprehend and tackled her to the ground in one swift motion. She squealed as they fell, both of them laughing like children upon impact.

“I thought you were hurt!” Ravenna protested, smacking his chest from where she lay encompassed by his wings. Cassian flinched slightly, faking shock at her assault, but continued laughing. Their eyes met for a moment and Ravenna felt that familiar sensation begin to spread through her chest, down somewhere deep within her where she felt exposed, as if he could see right through her. Her smile faded as she began to panic once more, that feeling of vulnerability that so terrified her and threatened to destroy their friendship rising in her throat. She pulled away, and pretended to be shocked by what time it was. 

“Oh shit,” she said, pushing off of him and rising to her feet. “It’s so late. I still need to steam my gown before tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You should,” he said quietly, as she re-racked her sword and made for the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cass,” she called, looking back one more time before she disappeared back down the stairs and into the House. Cassian remained, still sitting on the pitch with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the door she’d left through. 

“See you then.” 

-

Ravenna was out of breath by the time she made it back to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She tried to slow down her breathing as she started the process of steaming her gown for the following day. As she hung the black silk from a knob in her bathroom, she thought about everything she’d been feeling and had just felt. It became very evident to her, as she filled the steamer with tap water, that she could not continue to ignore the way she felt about Cassian. She was scared to ruin their friendship, yes, but she was coming to the conclusion that avoiding him so intensely was also ruining their friendship. She couldn’t go on like this forever.

Ravenna decided she was content with coming to that realization tonight, and took a few more deep breaths. Her mind shifted to the most imminent threat now, the fact that she had less than twenty four hours until she would see Fetrin again. She was unsure how to feel about it, now that it was so close. Instead she focused on the wrinkles in the gown, more specifically, on making them non-existent. This was a mind-numbing enough task that eventually her heart rate began to slow, and by the time she finished she was exhausted and more than ready to fall into her bed. 

When Ravenna woke the next morning, there was a split second of bliss before she remembered that tonight was Starfall and she would be attending the Ball in an attempt to sweet talk her ex-fiance. It all sounded like something Ravenna might read in one of her novels, not something that would actually happen in her ordinary life. But here she was. She still stayed in bed as long as was virtually possible, before she hauled herself up. 

She rose from bed slowly, and drew a warm bath for herself, tossing a few lavender sprigs and herbs in with the hot water. It was still early enough, and she wanted to at least try to enjoy her morning without the crushing weight of anxiety in her chest. When she was sufficiently clean and bathed, she wrapped herself in a towel and sat at the mirror to comb her hair. The black locks had been tangled and the de-tangling process took quite a bit of effort. After about ten minutes of combing, her dark hair fell in tendrils down her back, still damp. 

She surveyed herself in the mirror once more, admiring the way her features looked when she was completely clean-faced, free of makeup or alteration. Her Fae-ness was almost more evident in the natural slopes and lines of her face, the thick black lashes that framed soft, round eyes. Ravenna dressed in a simple maroon tunic and leathers, heading for the dining room to get breakfast. 

Ravenna found Mor at the dining table alone, thumbing through some sort of magazine and eating a banana. 

“Hey sister,” Ravenna said, tousling Mor’s hair as she passed to take the seat across from her with a blueberry scone in hand. 

“Ravenna! Just who I wanted to see,” she mused, turning towards the healer with wide, brown eyes. “We should get ready for the Ball together.”

“Yes please! I’m going to need help doing something with my hair. I’m not very good at any of that,” Ravenna replied, running her fingers through the ends of her curls.

“I’m not either, but maybe if we combine forces we’ll put out an acceptable finished product,” Mor replied with a smile. “How are you feeling about it all?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m excited about the Fetrin side of things,” she said, taking a chunk of muffin and popping it in her mouth. “But I’m honestly kind of looking forward to dressing up and looking pretty.”

Mor smiled again. “I never thought I’d hear you say such a thing! Don’t say people never change,” she replied. Ravenna rolled her eyes playfully and continued in on her breakfast. “Well why don’t you come to my room around 4:00 and we can get ready together and then go over there?”

“I’ll see you at 4:00 then, champagne or wine?” Ravenna asked.

“Mmmm…. Let’s do champagne. Tamer, so you can still focus. You’re gonna love it though, seriously. I was over at the hall this morning and the floral arrangement is ridiculous.”

Ravenna laughed as she finished the rest of her muffin, pushing up from the table once more. “See you at 4:00 then.”

-

At 3:57, Ravenna made her way across the House to Mor’s suite on the opposite end, two bottles of champagne and a luxury gown in tow. When she arrived, she found that Mor already had a record spinning at full volume on the huge wooden record player atop her coffee table, next to which was an open bottle of gin. Ravenna’s mood lifted almost instantly, and she joined her friend, popping the first bottle of champagne and pouring them each a glass.

The females perched in front of the expansive bathroom mirror that framed the double-sink vanity, applying various rouges and glitters. Mor opted for a scarlet red lip, while Ravenna stuck with more of a black cherry color. The more the bubbles spread through her chest, the more confident Ravenna felt. Mor had helped her to braid her hair back into a neat plait that crowned her waves. By the time she was ready to put on her gown, she was sure she’d catch Fetrin’s eye immediately. Rhys had assured her he was, in fact, planning to make an appearance. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to have known that or not. Fortunately, after her second glass of champagne, she had nearly forgotten how nervous she was.

Once she had her gown on and zipped, cinched in the places she wanted it to hug her body more, she zipped Mor up, and they were on their way. Mor wore a stunning crimson gown that was every bit her style, yet somehow elevated even further. Her golden hair was tucked nicely into a low bun that Ravenna was sure would come undone by her fifth drink tonight. 

Rhysand and Azriel, who had offered to fly the girls to the Ball, met them on the balcony. Ravenna resisted the urge to ask where Cassian was, and doubly resisted the urge to provoke his voice in her head. She knew he would be there, she just hoped he would be nearby in case something happened, she explained to the voice in her head. Ravenna flew with Rhys, who she scolded for the turbulent ride that made her head spin at times. 

“Remember, we’ll always be around,” Rhys said to her as they coasted. “I’ll introduce myself to him personally as well.”

“Thanks,” she answered. “I’ll be okay, I think, honestly. One more drink and I’ll be a social butterfly.”

“Cassian and Az will be keeping a constant eye out regardless,” Rhys said, glancing down at her.

“What?” she said, furrowing her brows at the High Lord above her.

“What?” he repeated.

“You made a face,” Ravenna replied.

“I did not make a face,” Rhys answered coolly. “I’m just telling you that Cassian will be there, he’s just not with us right now.”

Ravenna didn’t respond for a moment, looking out at the sky around them. “I didn’t ask,” she answered. “But thanks, anyway.”

They landed smoothly, and Ravenna only stumbled slightly upon impact. She straightened out her skirts, smoothing the gown against her legs. The fabric hugged the fullness of her hips comfortably, cascading up to hold the weight of her breasts up, while the rest of the open back was covered with the sheer cape imbued with rhinestones. She took a deep breath and took Rhysand’s outstretched arm, allowing him to lead her into the hall with Mor and Azriel right behind them. She held her head high, allowing a smile to grace her lips. Rhys led them to the bar, a move that Ravenna appreciated deeply. 

The healer ordered a glass of wine to sip on, the last ingredient she needed in order to have the confidence to do what she needed to. Mor hadn’t overexaggerated when she said the hall had been decorated beautifully. There were marvelous strings of lights illuminating the cathedral-like room, the entrance adorned with an archway of flora and fauna of greens and whites and golds. It was beautiful. She decided to make her way out to the balcony at the end of the room, as the sun was setting quickly behind the mountains and she wanted to catch it from such an amazing space.

She rested against the railing of the balcony, admiring the sun on her face as it made its departure behind Velaris. Ravenna continued sipping her wine, focused on enjoying the change from day to night that made Starfall so magnificent. 

I like the gown.

Ravenna turned from where she stood at the rail of the balcony, her heart picking up speed in her chest and her head feeling the rush of the champagne that made Cassian’s voice in her head sound like it was dripping honey. He stood before her now, in a sleek, all black suit, adorned with gold. His hair was half tied back, wings looming behind him. He smelled like he had just stepped out of the shower, freshly shaven, like clean laundry and evergreen. His brown eyes widened as their eyes met, and once again, she watched Cassian’s gaze drift down her body and then back up to her face, an almost glazed look on his face. She’d never say it out loud, but she loved the way he was looking at her.

Thanks. You look nice too.

Ravenna almost felt lightheaded, looking up at him, his scent becoming overwhelming, intoxicating. His face was illuminated by the faintest glow of the moon that was beginning to replace the sun, and she could see the stars starting to freckle the dark sky behind him. He looked beautiful. She hoped she hadn’t accidentally said that into his mind too.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by someone Ravenna had not seen in about 30 years, and had not spoken to in centuries. 

“Ravenna Annric,” he breathed, and suddenly she felt as if she’d been transported to a different time, looking up into eyes darker than her own, jet black hair that showed no hint of change from when they were seventeen. She let it shake her for a split second, until she blinked and started playing the role she’d been practicing for.

“Fetrin?” she gasped, eyes wide, as if she’d thought she’d never see him again (she hadn’t). He leaned forward to embrace her, and she fought the urge to get lost in his scent and the memories it triggered. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he breathed. His picture perfect smile revealed the lines near his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they’d spoken. He looked like he’d grown up at some point. Ravenna made sure to blink slowly, looking up at him with round eyes and soft lashes.

“You too,” Ravenna mused. “I thought I’d never see you again… after the way we left things. It was a shot in the dark that I sent that invitation.” She turned to introduce Cassian, but found that he was no longer next to her. 

“I’m glad you did,” Fetrin answered, looking at her intently. Ravenna sipped her wine once more, for another boost of courage. She sensed that she did have the upper hand in this dynamic; that perhaps he felt ashamed of the reason she had left him.

“Well, welcome to the Night Court,” she said, resting a hand on his arm and guiding him back inside. “I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been up to, after we get you a drink.” He allowed her to lead him through the glass doors from the balcony into the greater room. Ravenna scanned the room quickly, but still could not place Cassian, though she saw Rhys chatting with a group of Winter Court officials across the throng of Fae. 

Ravenna exchanged her half empty glass of wine for two champagne flutes from a nearby waiter, handing one to Fetrin. 

“To reconnecting with old friends,” she said, raising her glass to him. He tipped his head to her, clinking his glass to hers, and they both sipped in silence for a moment. She met his eyes over her glass, looking away again quickly. 

“So what have you been up to all these years?” Fetrin asked as he scanned the room. “I never knew where exactly you went after you left.” His voice grew quieter towards the end.

“I became a healer for the Night Court army,” Ravenna answered. “I’ve mostly been here ever since, healing for the High Lord and his battalions. I’ll introduce you later.”  

“Of course,” Fetrin breathed, “healing always made you shine.”

She smiled up at him. “I was made for it, I think.” He grinned back at her, then let his eyes wander, taking her in from head to toe. Ravenna pretended she didn’t notice. 

“What about you?” she asked. “What have you been doing?”

“I do a lot of diplomatic work right now,” he answered, looking around again and then leaning in closer to her ear. “They just offered me Lead Emissary.”

Ravenna pretended to be surprised and utterly wowed by this admission, gushing over his accomplishment. “I’m so proud of you, that is so exciting! I always knew you’d get it.”

“I don’t even know how I got the position, honestly. There were so many other great candidates.” Ravenna knew how he got the position, as the outgoing Lead Emissary was Fetrin’s father. 

“No one is quite as good as you, Fetrin,” she cooed, leaning into him as he puffed his chest out a little more. Ravenna was almost shocked at how easy it was. Just by chance, Ravenna caught Rhys’s eye across the room at that moment, and he moved to make his way through the crowd of High Fae in their finery. She patiently awaited his arrival, sipping on the champagne she still held.

A/N: I tried to make this chapter a little longer and was going to keep going but decided I need to break it up a little because I've been writing for too long tonight LOL. Do we prefer shorter or longer?? Let me know. I also kinda wanna share my vision for the looks for the Ball because ugh so cute. Anyways, enjoy <3

Epiphany Masterlist

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest: 6:42 pm, a private stage, and Arthur Fox please. My ao3 is katsudonforthesoul. Congratulations on the followers!! It's so kind of you to give back to us as a way to celebrate, especially on top of all the other things you do!

thank you so much for your kind words! the not so secret part of the ficlet fests is that all y'all's prompts are so fucking cool that i have an absolute BLAST writing them <3 for once the Arthur feels are non-angsty, which is exciting for all of us, frankly. enjoy!

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

6:42pm, a private stage

“O, for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention!”

No one becomes an actor hoping for small audiences. 

Famous actors can wax poetic all they want about how “reaching even one person is meaningful,” but at their core, in their secret egos, all actors want to be able to interact with the largest possible audiences. That dream is why Arthur tolerates filming; the reach is so much greater than live theatre. Even so, he’d much rather be on a stage, in front of a live audience. That feedback, that energy of a crowded room, solely focused on him and the story he’s telling is intoxicating.

“A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, and monarchs to behold the swelling scene!” Arthur winks at Catherine as he finishes the line, making her giggle. As much as he loves a packed house, there’s something special about performing for her alone, hidden away in his flat for once. She’d worn down her PPO’s enough that they’d grudgingly allowed her to stay the night, and that they’d monitor from down the hall instead of right outside his door after sweeping his place. Arthur can’t stop looking at her, casual in a way she rarely is, even in her own rooms in Kensington, completely at home here with him. The next line, something about Mars and hounds, pours out of him automatically, years of muscle memory serving him well, but Arthur couldn’t have told anyone what it actually is right now. He’s too distracted trying to memorize the precise configuration of laugh lines around her eyes.

He comes back to the text in time to appreciate the irony. “But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraisèd spirits that hath dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.” It’s one thing to try to imagine vast battles and courts of ages past when you’re watching from The Globe, the building itself drenched in echoes of people imagining the same things for centuries—it’s another thing altogether to try and imagine fantastical settings and the grand scale of the story with a backdrop of worn out floors and his amazingly shit telly. Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France, indeed?

“Or may we cram within this wooden square the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?” Arthur recites, swapping “O” for “square” to reflect the shape of the room, grinning when Cat catches the change. She’s a princess, and she’s bloody brilliant, and she’s dating him. And if she wants him to perform Shakespeare for her, he’ll do it with bells on.

He bows a little at the next line. “O pardon, since a crookèd figure may attest in little place a million, and let me, ciphers to this great account, on your imaginary forces work.” Arthur meets her bright gaze steadily, as the lines ask her to imagine mighty monarchies and proud-hoofed horses.

Arthur paces forward and kneels before her where she’s perched on the couch. “For ‘tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings carry them here and there, jumping o’er times, turning th’ accomplishment of many years into an hourglass.”

“Did you mean, my entire life?” Cat snorts. 

Arthur just chuckles in response and takes her hand for the last line. “Admit me chorus to this history, who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray gently to hear, kindly to judge our play.”

Cat twines her fingers with him and leans her face close to his. “I can’t believe you memorized a scene that wasn’t your own from Henry V, you gigantic nerd.”

“It’s a good monologue,” he protests. “And you like that I’m a gigantic nerd.”

“God help me, I really do,” she admits, standing up and pulling him up after her. “Now, let’s put a different gigantic part of you to work, shall we?”

“Well, if you absolutely insist…” Arthur fakes a heavy sigh, but lets her tow him toward the bedroom, more than happy to do her bidding.

[multiverse-of-fanfic]

It’s still September 1st here! So I wrote this little back-to-school Drarry blurb I’m calling:

New Beginnings

If feels a touch cliché to Draco to think this coming school year brings hope and a fresh start, feels juvenile, even. But feel it he does, despite himself.

It’s impossible not to.

Not when Mother walked with him to the gate at the edge of the grounds, unable to accompany him to King’s Cross due to the terms of her house arrest, and hugged him. A tight, warm, utterly un-Malfoy-like show of affection.

She leaned in, her breath warm against the shell of Draco’s ear, and whispered, “Take this chance to become a man you would be proud of.”

It startled Draco to hear something so unlike the things he’d been told growing up. Being told to conduct himself in a manner befitting of the Malfoy name and heir he was used to. But that was uncharted territory.

Draco pulled away and looked at his mother. Her eyes clear, sharp, and piercing. A summer of purging the Manor of its dark aura had done wonders for both of them, and he didn’t feel as bad leaving her alone. He read her fierce expression, the words still ringing in his ears, for what it was. An order. An apology. A plea. Do the right thing for once. Live for himself. Make a name for himself in a way mother and father would never be able to do again.

They’d never been a family for grand verbal gestures, but when Draco Apparated to London, he did so with an all-encompassing love for his mother burning in his chest.

Now, sitting in a near empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express across from Harry Potter — a smiling Harry Potter, no less — Draco feels sick with optimism.

Draco fiddles with his newly returned wand, the Hawthorn wood humming gently against his skin. “I never thought I’d see this again, to be perfectly honest,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

“Er.” Draco looks up at Potter, his cheeks stained pink, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. I meant to give it to you after your trial, but everything was so hectic after they read your sentence.”

Hectic is putting it kindly. Draco had never seen so many camera flashes all at once.

Draco nods. “Thank you regardless. You didn’t have to return it,” he says softly, gaze dropping to the ten inches of dark wood in his lap.

Always hyper aware of Potter’s presence, Draco feels him lean in, the air between them crackling with energy. But he isn’t prepared for the gentle hand that lands on his knee.

“‘Course I did.” Draco peeks up from under the curtain of his fringe, Potter’s lopsided grin shining, backlit by the sun pouring in through the window. Draco looks away, feeling suddenly flushed.

Potter clears is throat. “Anyways, I er— that’s not all I wanted to say to you.”

“Oh?”

Draco looks up to see Potter’s hand outstretched, hovering in the air between them. He’s suddenly taken back seven years, a near identical scenario. He swallows, dearly hoping he’s not misreading the situation. The heavy look he sees in Potter’s green eyes tell him he’s not.

Take this chance to become a man you would be proud of.

When he takes Potter’s hand in his own, he’s surprised by how warm it is. It complements Draco’s own, icy for as long as he’s remembered. But Potter doesn’t so much as shiver. If anything, he holds on tighter.

Breaths turn shallow, shaky with something Draco can’t quite name. Potter seems just as affected as Draco, at least in that he can take comfort. Surely they’ve held on longer than is proper, but he finds he doesn’t care. Potter mustn’t either.

Draco dares to break the silence, but it takes him a few moments to find his voice. “For years I imagined what it might have been like if you’d taken my hand.”

“How does this compare?” Potter asks, a fragile whisper, barely a huff of air. His eyes are focused solely on Draco, the verdant weight just as staggering from behind those bloody round frames.

Dropping Potter’s hand, Draco smiles, and says, “It’s better. Much better.”

Potter doesn’t say anything, but he offers Draco a smile so bright that he has to turn back to the rolling hills outside the window. Potter makes no move to leave, instead turning and leaning back against the wall, drawing up his legs on top of the cushions. Draco smiles to himself. Another chance indeed.

Cliché though it might be, but Draco likes his chances.

[alsoanyways]

@transgender-scout @1ight wait fuck now i have to compile them okay okay okay i have a feeling this is gonna get long so I'm gonna put it under a cut haha but for real thank you for asking!!

First things first! This is how I imagine the flock is able to disguise themselves. There's no going undercover at an actual school for them, but I don't think anyone's looking twice at a bulky coat, especially if it's set in the future. Not too far in the future though, still in the 21st century. I have no ideas for a plot restructuring or anything, I never read past Nevermore and I barely remember anything past the fourth book, so most of my headcanons are character dynamics and such. I do have some that aren't focused on the flock but not many. Anyways.

(also idk if most of this can even be considered headcanon bc its basically fanfic at this point)

A couple things I should've added to the design post are Toto's Total’s nonexistence (I'm sorry if you like him but I do not lmao) and the fact that their hair is feathers. Like those very fine and very long feathers that roosters get. The flock also doesn't develop superpowers.

In my version of things, there's a small town close-ish to the E shaped house. Far enough that no one in town is gonna drop by for a visit, but close enough to fly down to for some groceries, which they'd do after Jeb left and until the money was gone. I think he would've taught them how to forage for things and that's how they get by since then.

Max (21) isn't The Leader TM either, I think leadership is shared more with Fang/Friday and Iggy. She likes volleyball and usually the one to go foraging. She's never thought about it but if she did, she'd probably consider herself agender.

Fang/Friday (22) gets his name from a Friday the 13th DVD cover, Jeb thinks he wants to be called Jason when he first points to it. He used to help Nudge/Dora and Angel with their hair when they were little and still does occasionally. He likes to draw and he's the go-to when someone needs to be comforted. There's no way in hell I would let him be anything less than bisexual.

Iggy (20) is the one that probably hears Friday's voice the most. He was also taught braille and Jeb got them a labeling machine. He's still the best cook and he's very protective over the vinyls/tapes/cds in the house. He mourns the loss of them when they have to flee the house, but he is excited to finally have access to new music. He's also gay. Because I said so.

Nudge/Dora (17) still wishes she could live a normal life, but has accepted that it's just not a possibility. She clings to "Dorothy" when she learns it. Being talkative and into fashion are still part of her character, but now she also loves bugs. She tags along when Max goes foraging so she can try and get pictures of any new bugs she hasn't seen before. Friday often gets to hear which bugs and what they were doing when they're sketching together.

Gazzy/Gizmo (14) gets his name when he watches the Gremlins movie for two months straight and starts mimicking the mogwai noises. He almost kills everyone when he mixes a couple cleaners from under the kitchen sink. He's quickly enamored with the chemistry books he's given afterwards. Like any other teenage boy, he likes video games and has too much energy for his own good. Max offers to race him when he's particularly amped.

Angel (11) is the only one out of the group that wasn't experimented on and she doesn't get the protectiveness or why they never go anywhere. She likes sitcoms and never refuses an offer to forage with Max. She also took a liking to helping Iggy cook things. She was very quick to tell people she wasn't a boy once she had the vocabulary.

Ari (15) has chronic pain. Being turned to goo and rebuilt into something different will do that to you. It doesn't get better the second time. Nor the third. He used to live in the E shaped house, before Jeb brought Gizmo, back when he was a regular kid. He's always liked animals, caring for them. He wanted to be a farmer or something when he grew up. After he joins the flock, he and Gizmo are fast friends. (Watching him and Gizmo dick around is what makes Friday realize that he really is just a kid.)

Maya/Em (21, kinda) my identity issues queen!! Cloning keeps the original memories intact and then they were further messed with to ensure her allegiance. She has a hard time coming to terms with that, with not being Max, not being who she thought she was. Her friends aren't her friends, she didn't watch Gizmo and Angel grow up, she didn't go to Friday after another nightmare, or call Dora to come catch a spider. That wasn't her. Having time away from them before she joins the flock helps. She renames herself Em during that time, distinct enough from Max but not removed from it completely. She learns that she likes cooking and she discovers cheerleading. She thinks she'd like that if she got the chance to participate. She's also aroace. She wants nothing to do with any of that.

Dylan (21) sticks closest to Em, but he eventually grows close to Iggy as well. They share a soaring/gliding wing shape and Iggy is grateful to have someone who can fly as long as he can (recreational flying is always cut short in his opinion, because the others have to work harder to stay airborne and get tired). Dylan likes to tinker around with motors and mechanisms, trying to get them to work again or building them from the ground up. Not that he has an abundance of opportunities to do that, but being able to fix a busted car comes in handy. He's one of them gays that can drive.

Lastly, I do have ideas on Erasers and different classes of them and their usages but jesus christ this did in fact get very long and I need to go eat something lmao so that'll have to be a separate post for another time.

[rea-grimm]

My dragon warrior 4

You clung to the dragon even after you thought the light was gone. You were no longer blind and you had solid ground under your feet, but you still refused to open your eyes. You had the impression that the crystal was responsible, and so you knew that you were dizzy every time. 

That's why you wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. The dragon's body shifted beneath you and you heard the dragon growl. More enemies? You thought. You finally resolved to open your eyes when you heard a familiar voice.

"This is my house. You will not growl at me here. Keep that somewhere in the woods over there," your grandmother's voice said sternly. Within moments, you opened your eyes and were greeted by a familiar house. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted from your heart. You let go of the dragon and ran to hug your grandmother. You were glad to finally be home.

"You can't imagine how glad I am to finally be home," you said as you hugged her, not wanting to let go at all. 

The dragon, meanwhile, had settled in a little better and was looking around the house.

You only pulled away from your grandmother when there was a crash that shook almost the entire house. You looked up at the dragon who was murdering your ceiling with his eyes, plaster falling from it.

"I think we'd better move somewhere with more space," Grandma said, seeing the damage the dragon had done to her house and imagining what more it could do. "There, I'll look at your forehead and you can tell me what happened to you," she said as she headed out. You followed her, glad it was summer and nice.

The first thing your grandmother focused on was you and the cut on your forehead. She washed away the dried blood and applied a good layer of disinfectant. You hissed in pain.

"How did that even happen?" She asked.

"I honestly don't even know. I guess it happened when we got shot out of the sky. I don't even remember us hitting the ground and then I woke up with this on my head," you searched your memory and this seemed the most likely.

"You better start from the beginning so I know what you were doing getting shot down in the first place. You're not supposed to be flying around the sky, you're supposed to be looking for a boyfriend," your grandmother shook her head as she stuck a Band-Aid on you.

"Grandma," you snapped back at her. You didn't understand her way of thinking at all. You could have died there and she cared about this?

"What grandma? I want to live to see my grandchildren too," she replied promptly. You didn't have the energy for that and instead launched into a recounting of your entire brief adventure in another world.

As you recounted the incident with the strange man trying to drag you away, the dragon growled something before exhaling a cloud of smoke in your direction and turning its head away from you.

"Think what you want, but that's the way it was," you snapped in his direction before continuing your story.

By the time you got to the part where you and the dragon were at home, your grandmother just shook her head at that. You were expecting some sort of reaction, but definitely not this. 

Instead, she turned her attention to the dragon, fixing it with her gaze. The dragon straightened up and looked at you as well. It became a staring contest, which the dragon eventually loses as he lowered his gaze elsewhere.

Eventually, you even managed to break the lock on the collar around his neck and treat his wounds. Some were still fresh from being shot at in the hallway.

Once he was treated, you went to wash your hands of all the ointment. 

But no matter how much you scrubbed, there was still a black spot on your wrist. Like you had something written on it, but it was so smudged from the water. It still wouldn't come off. You were a little worried, so you showed it to your grandmother.

"You don't have to worry about that. It's the other world working on you. Because there, everyone has their soulmate's name on their hand," Grandma explained with a smile.

"Soulmates? That sounds more like a fairy tale," you replied dryly. How could it know who you'd be happy with? You didn't even know yourself.

"And how do you think I found your grandfather," your grandmother replied before walking away for a moment. When she came back she had a small box in her hand.

"Here," and she handed you the box. You opened it carefully. It was a compass with a red crystal in the center of it. But it didn't seem to point north. Rather, it was pointing in the direction you had tilted it. "This compass will help you find your soulmate. Unfortunately, it only works in the other world," she explained, noticing your expression. You thanked her and put the compass in your pocket.

As time passed, the wounds slowly faded and you began to get used to living with your grandmother and the dragon. Though you still had no idea what to call him. Calling him simply dragon didn't sit well with you, or him. Since he was big and didn't fit much in the house, you let him sleep outside under the pergola. When you couldn't sleep, you'd sometimes go outside to see him. 

He was curled up like a snake. Sometimes you'd bring him a blanket to keep him warm, and sometimes he'd let you lean on him and tell him what was on your mind. Then you'd cover yourself and him. And then one day you fell asleep right there with him. Truth be told, you felt safe and comfortable with him.

You were checking the dragon's wounds one day when your grandmother sent you into town to get some ointment. She said you were low on it at home and needed more stuff. You got the list, the money, and went to town. As soon as you were out of sight, Grandma came out to the pergola where the dragon was resting.

"So you can change. Now that Y/N isn't here, no one is stopping you," Grandma said as if it was no big deal. The dragon lifted his head and frowned. He didn't like this ordering, and he especially didn't trust your grandmother. You did, but not her.

"You've been in this form for quite a while. Quite the risk of dragon sickness," she said with a mysterious smile. "Plus, you live in my house, so you better listen," she added more sternly, seeing that the dragon wasn't about to change. He thought about it for a moment before a pale blue light enveloped him, reminding him of his fire. The dragon's figure began to shrink and change under the light. Once the light dissipated, a man stood there instead of the dragon.

"Sit down. I have a few questions for you," said the grandmother.Those few questions turned into intense questioning.

"... It's nothing but work," Hanzo explained. It was originally a job too, since he had been assigned by HQ to investigate the strange energy near where he found you. Since then, he's felt like he's been drawn to you.

"Show me your hand," she told him. Hanzo obeyed and did so. His grandmother took his hand and twisted it so she could see his wrist, where his soulmate's name was written. When she read the name, a smile appeared on her face. She let go of his hand and measured his gaze again. The smile disappeared after a moment, however, and she grew serious.

"If you do anything to her, or anything happens to her because of you, don't wish me away," she said sternly. After that, his grandmother warned him even more about dragon sickness and even offered to let him stay in the guest house until the crystal recharged. 

Hanzo refused this, however, as he was content to sleep here. Besides, he didn't want to worry you with the sudden change. When you returned, the dragon was huddled under the pergola, apparently resting.

That evening you were with the dragon again. You lay on it and scratched its scales. You thought it had fallen asleep because it wasn't moving. When you stopped scratching, he lifted his head and looked at you pleadingly.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" you sighed, smiling. The dragon huffed something at you before he laid his head close to yours.

You swiped at the scales on his head before finding the right spot between his ear and horns. You got the impression from the way he relaxed that this was it. You were surprised when he wrapped the tip of his tail around your legs. The fluffy fur on the end of it was pleasantly warm.

A week later, the amulet finally charged and you were able to travel to the next world again. You wanted to go back there for two reasons right away. The first was that you wanted to return the dragon. The second reason was that you wanted to find out more about soul mates and maybe even try to find yours. 

Though you didn't want to say goodbye to the dragon for the hundredth time either, since it had grown quite close to your heart over the last while. It was strange how he accompanied you almost everywhere, and even seemed cuddly when your grandmother wasn't around. 

It was little things like that, when he rubbed his head against you or wrapped his tail around your legs. But it was always just a brief moment.

Grandma wished you a safe journey as you bid her a proper farewell. You walked over to the dragon and touched the crystal. As soon as it began to emit light, you hugged the dragon tightly, hoping to get it back that way.

As the light began to grow in intensity, you closed your eyes. Even though you had lost your footing, the dragon's body was both supportive and reassuring.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[magdaclaire]

starshine, a poem about my girlfriend @legalespeon

to cait: you're my favorite. to everyone else: hope you enjoy.

transcript under the cut or in the alt text image descriptions.

signed,

m a morton

i told her once that meeting her was like turning the lights on

and i don't know if there's any better way to describe it 

how else can i say that it feels like she reached into me and pulled every good thing about me back into the light

reminded me that there's more to this house than the shadows and the gloom

the creaking staircases and drafty windows

that she spilled color back into the world

or maybe she just reminded me to look for it

she opened the front door and the handle didn't even stick

didn't even catch on the swollen door frame

storm damaged in more ways than one

nobody's ever done it like her

people have shouldered through the door and they've climbed through windows

they've left the first time they were denied entry, 

mistaken the hesitance for occupancy,

it didn't even hesitate for her 

like the door was made for her to walk through.

meeting her was flicking on a gas stove

tick, tick, tick, catch,

the potential was always there,

stored energy waiting to be sparked into a flame,

i've cooked more in the months since i met her than i had in the previous two years.

every day, we do the connections together

that new york times game, something i would have never gotten into without her

i only like doing wordle with her

i get bored otherwise,

too caught up in my head to even stay focused on a game you only get six tries to get right

so why do i feel so perfectionist about it anyway

but that's not the point.

the point is that things are more fun when i can hear the sound of her laugh

i've always hated looking at menus but it's fun when she's telling me all the things she wants to try

when she's looking at restaurants in my hometown and curious about the brussel sprout salad

(which, of course, i order)

we looked through the attraction pages of three zoos together

we've contemplated dates in my hometown

the place she used to live

the place she's moved to now

the city where i stay when i'm with my brother

every place i am, i want her to be

i wanna see my comfortable places through her bright eyes

see how my girl sheds starlight, pixie dust from her fingertips

her delighted laughter, her open excitement,

i want to take her to every nook and cranny of childhood i have left in this world

let her know the creature consigned to this body

how it has come to heel beneath her gaze

how deeply and embarrassingly and ardently she's been needed for longer than i've known her.

she worries she doesn't help me as much as i help her

as if that worry in itself isn't more care than any partner has ever treated me with

like there isn't care in every look she regards me with

as if i haven't slept better since meeting her than i have in years.

and it can be said,

hey man you met her in the same time as getting on some new meds, maybe correlation isn't causation?

the new antidepressant is called auvelity and it started working before i ever knew her name

gave me energy again and the ability to cry and i started cooking again

day by day wasn't a slog for the first time in years and i hadn't felt that good since high school

(as fucking terrible as high school was).

the whole world still dim like milky twilight, damp with humidity

the frogs and the crickets so loud (or maybe the walls so thin) that you can hear them standing in the center of the house.

the lights didn't turn on without her.

she wraps joy around me like a borrowed coat, sits me down in the living room and tells me about the future,

and for the first time, i can picture one with me in it

for the longest time that idea was so vague to me

the abstraction from self it took to imagine survival past day by day by unforgiving day

with her, i can imagine turning 25

26, 31, 45 

if she's there, i want to be there too

and that's a lot to put on someone's shoulders

and i cannot be one more burden in her Atlas sky hands.

she'd tell me that i am not burdening her but stepping shoulder to shoulder with her, bearing the weight together

or she would tell me that i'm one of the reasons that all this tension is worth carrying

or she'd tell me that she's tired,

that she'd like to let go of the world and lay down with me,

and i would grab her hand and smile,

say fuck the world, come home with me

and in this imagining within an imagining

i picture how carefully she would set down the sky,

like placing a child back onto their feet

and how this is how she does everything,

with so much care it makes your chest ache

makes your eyes hurt

starlight girl supernova bright in my mind's eye,

my heartbeat catching on the lines of her smile.

sometimes, she and i sit looking at each other through cameras and phones and hundreds of miles

and i feel closer to her than any lover to ever touch my skin

there was an ocean between us and still that was true

four hours time difference we still found a way

i don't know what to do with a partner that actually thinks i'm worth the effort.

pushed out to sea by every moment i'm not with her,

pulled back in by the tide of her breathing,

my starlight girl moon in the sky,

and i the wrong kind of cosmonaut but enamored anyway,

there's not a way i can imagine this where i don't want to follow where she goes.

she's got one of those gaming computers with lights where lights truly do not have to be

it's colorful and whimsical and i'm sure that there's functional purpose

i want to build her the world with my own two hands but i imagine a computer like that might be easier

circuits and wires and logic and programming and ducks, from what i hear

i've never been for going about things the easy way anyway.

that's the scariest thing sometimes,

how easy things are with her

i'm used to loving folks like pulling teeth from my own mouth

service comes easy to me, gifts i can make,

but expressing love aloud has never been easier than when i'm pushing it past her lips

pouring love into her with lip and teeth and tongue

whisper her my love affair fire with smoke passed between our mouths

she breathes me in and i am taken in,

perfect and peaceful.

i'll never stop wondering why

she chose me but i'll choose her back every day if she'll let me

my sunshine, my north star

everything i need.

once, i told her that talking to her helps,

but I think I'll miss her til I have her in my hands, and every time she's not after that too

she says to me you say the most romantic shit sometimes,

asks me if she's supposed to  be normal about it,

as if making her feel that way isn't the goal of my every sentence;

letting her know how special she is through words alone is impossible

but sometimes I get close.

sometimes i think she can feel just how badly I need her,

split seconds of oh, you love me flash of recognition on her face

as if loving her wasn't what I was made for,

as if the sound of her laugh isn't music to me,

as if I don't hang off her every story time run-on sentence,

her unique ability to circumnavigate her point so much that it's like she's telling ten stories at once,

I love that about her.

I love the way she needs me to know every single detail and every single reason and how she knows him and how they know them,

how she invites me into the house of her soul just as easily as the door opened to her,

I love how much she trusts me.

I love trusting her just as much.

my good morning texts to her always start the same way

good morning, starshine! the sun says hello!

a bastardization misremembrance of something my mother quoted to me as a child that tastes like home on my tongue,

the home I provide to her will always live more on love than anything else,

and as well as I can, I won't let her be lonely in the home we share.

I was a lonely kid, in a way

in the textbook for the psychology class I took the semester before I met her

there was a small definition of what autism is, which began with

autism is a disorder characterized by extreme aloneness,

the goal here to be able to communicate exactly how much people like me live in our heads more than our homes,

open door and song birds singing,

and i don't think i've ever looked into a two way mirror and saw myself so profoundly as in that simple sentence,

that deep well of loneliness bubbling within me so suddenly.

i've never liked learning new things in public

it takes me time to adjust to information, to incorporate things

i can play a good game when it comes to the gambit of conversation

adapt as quickly as i can and keep quiet while things slide into place in my mind

i've never met someone more understanding of the oddities in me than she is

never been able to ask for the space she gives me naturally

slow but not far

an arms length intimacy that we close the distance of when we're both ready,

i wonder if she loves figuring me out as much as i love the vice versa,

standing in that push and pull of learning every single thing about her,

letting the ocean tide bite at my ankles just for the pleasure of standing in the sea spray,

i've always loved the water but never like this.

my love for her ocean vast and trench deep,

i have no idea how to end a poem about her

i'll spend the rest of my life with her

and i still don't think i'll ever be able to properly form the words,

tell her exactly how much she means,

how much i need her.

so instead, i'll prop the door open

write her poem after poem after poem of hello i love you,

good morning, i love you

how did you sleep, i love you

did you get something to eat, i love you

drink some more water, i love you

let me take care of you, i love you,

and i will take her hand and i will give her the keys, say

this house is yours now

i know you'll treat it well.