#instead of writing out over a hundred things that I enjoy that make me go feral

[era-of-rosemary]

Why is it so hard to remember my interests 😭 I think I like too many things. Someone will be like, "What's your favorite -?" And I'll think of a different thing every time and then overthink all of the other options I have that I love that I completely spaced on and forgot about until it was way far past it 😭 I'll forget about something I love love love for months then BAM, I see something relating to it or it claws its way to the front of my brain and eats all of my other thoughts as all I do is pull out my entire filling cabinet of lore/hcs/memes and go insane for a few days to months

[connorsui]

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[pi-creates]

I can’t stop being upset about Veilguard’s writing, and apparently the only way I can get it out of my thoughts is to put it down in words, so here we go…

I’m frustrated, I’m upset, and the longer I think about the way this game was written, the more problems present themselves… and I bloody hate that. It feels like a first draft writing effort, and every time I’m reminded that this game was in development for so many years, I cannot fathom this being the end result. Dragon Age 2 had 16 months of development, and it feels more cohesive and put together writing-wise. I can see the years of polish in the visuals, but the spectacle of the game doesn’t blind me to all the problems in the writing.

Naturally, these are personal opinions, I am genuinely thrilled for people who have played the game and enjoyed it – I wish I could be there enjoying it with you – but clearly these things get under my skin more and spoil the experience for me when they aren’t problems for you. And I also acknowledge there are genuine good parts of the game which I enjoy, but those moments aren’t enough to overshadow the negative experiences that irk me.

And because this post has apparently gotten away from me… I’m gonna put some headings to summarise the problems I’m having, because otherwise this is just a massive rant with no structure.

Show me things, stop just telling it to me.

So much of the game feels like writer’s notes where they put “what the player should take away from this scene” and instead of being creative with how they do that, they just say it verbatim. My immersion in this game was being broken by the game reminding me it’s a video game – which yes, I know it is, but I want to be invested in this world and feel like I’m part of it.

Varric and the game’s own pop-up system is the main problem that’s consistent through the whole game – constantly dropping narration or mission summary where they have zero problem dropping exposition on us and/or spoiling future content. Forget letting me explore these things and reach my own conclusions, the game is going to make sure I know exactly the interpretation I’m meant to have for every moment.

And it’s so damn frequent, I feel like they don’t think I’m paying attention and therefore need to constantly poke me with reminders instead of trusting me to reach my own conclusions. Do they not trust me to have an attention span long enough to go on a walk with Davrin without reminding me at the end of the walk that I did that?

To add to that problem, I absolutely hate how the writing just has people know things – they shouldn’t know this, they shouldn’t be talking to us about this, all evidence points to them not being able to know or be ok discussing this, but for some reason they do.

The Veil Jumpers suddenly just know how to translate and interact with ancient elven artifacts, ignore how the Dalish have been trying to do that since the fall of the Dales (and realistically, even before that) and their efforts over those hundreds of years were a scrap, a pittance of what could be known. But I guess the Veil Jumpers are just better than those hundreds of years in the few years they’ve been active.

Oh, and the scary reputation of the Dalish is just gone? These people just go to the elves they have deemed “savages” because they simply know these ones have good intentions? This world has been established as very untrusting of the intentions of other groups, but that’s simply gone now for this one – I wish I was shown how this started in some way instead of just being told it’s chill now.

And don’t get me started on Strife and Irelin and their seemingly endless knowledge that they shouldn’t have. I read the comics, I get that they’d probably know about the Dreadwolf and have a vested interest in learning more once that particular bit of information was revealed to them – but they somehow also just know about the mask Cyrian is wearing? They know it will influence him but not control his will? Why do you know this with no doubt whatsoever?

Why can’t these things just be presented as theories? Or give us something to find and reference where that information comes from? I want to learn things without just having characters tell me things they know.

And overall, I hate how this game decides to just exposition dump information on us, then we sit around and talk about the exposition dump – it’s overwhelming in magnitude. It feels like such a passive way to have us engage with everything, and this is supposed to be an interactive experience. Instead of being force-fed exposition in big chunks, drip feed details, let us put the puzzle together, let us gather and discuss what we learn with multiple interpretations like the RPG this is meant to be.

And this exposition problem also ruins the stakes in the game for me. Personal interpretation, probably, but the stakes in this game feel artificially inflated to me via having characters constantly tell Rook they are going up against the biggest threat ever. We bring in past heroes of the series to reiterate that, how they think we’re up against worse things than they faced… and I don’t feel that. Telling me constantly how hopeless things are, but every obstacle ends up being overcome relatively easily and without great losses… no, I don’t feel the stakes are real.

Oh, and hearing the talk of how all of Thedas is in trouble, there is so much destruction and only Rook can save them… why don’t you find a way to show me that? Because I’m not feeling that, I’m not seeing it, and I’m starting to think the Inquisitor is making stuff up so Rook doesn’t ask them to get involved again when they’re so busy.

This is a lore problem in the series…

Plot holes and wonky lore can happen, it’s not surprising… especially when there are three games prior to this as well as several books, comics, and other branches of the universe. There have been inconsistencies since the start, and a lot of it doesn’t matter – I don’t care if the second moon is forgotten about, the moon not being there isn’t going to make a problem with the way the story is told since that moon is never something elaborated upon in the plot.

This game though… it has problem that are both related to information in this game not being consistent with previous games, and information within its own contained plot contradicting itself.

I’m not going to beat the dead horse of “this isn’t how the previous games did it/explained it”, people who played the previous games are aware, I don’t see a point of elaborating in detail all the instances of this. Just take some dot points of the one’s I noticed:

The Crows are a horrifying organisation that are suddenly presented wholesome

The Qun offering to rehabilitate Karash is horrifying and it’s presented wholesome

Slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter, but we don’t see that

Racism is supposed to be rampant in Tevinter (and other nations, but particularly here for any non-human), and we also don’t see that

Handling pure lyrium is fine now (unless you’re Harding)

Adult Dalish without vallaslin (Elgar’nan’s captives)

Fenharel’s agents are just gone now – as are all signs of mass elven exodus from cities

Solas’ opinion on blood magic is suddenly negative instead of neutral

Spirits dying is given the same weight as people dying

Flemeth…….just everything about Flemeth and Morrigan

Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction

Isabela’s attitude towards Shathann sending Taash away without their knowledge (the comics make me doubt she’d be cool with this)

Non-Dalish elves knowing things about ancient elves and elven language

Blight sickness and how darkspawn are “born” (some leeway for this one since the blight is overall just different in this one, but it does feel less interesting this way)

Morrigan naming the Crossroads in lieu of the true name being lost to time, but everyone uses the term now

Crossroads looking different through elven eyes

You can’t just make people be magic/not magic (me side-eyeing Illario and his random ability to do magic now)

This is a contained problem in this game…

What troubles me more is the inconsistencies within the same game… that isn’t just deciding “this is how it works now in this iteration”, this is a problem that they wrote into existing, then either didn’t notice or didn’t resolve appropriately. And granted, some of these things aren’t inherently plot holes, but when you put certain aspects under inspection, it doesn’t make things look good.

For starters… I have to talk about Varric. Or more accurately, not-Varric.

I’m under the impression that not-Varric is simply Rook’s memory of Varric being projected for them. I personally don’t think there’s some extra level of Solas interference in what Rook is seeing moment to moment… and I feel the need to state that because Rook’s memory cannot conjure up information that Rook doesn’t know.

So why does not-Varric point out that the ritual dagger is the dagger from DA2?

Rook could not recognise it, there is absolutely no reason for Rook to even theorise that – so not-Varric should not be able to impart this knowledge to Rook. And what makes this worse for me, aside from being an impossible situation as the plot presents it, is that this observation doesn’t matter in the slightest. They put this backstory to the McGuffin Dagger and I don’t know why since all it does is create a plot hole. The only purpose I can see for this moment existing at all is to bolster the illusion that not-Varric is real and trying to help with the cause in whatever way possible.

Then there are other issues with Varric not being alive which makes other character’s lack of talking about him feel awful. Like, it’s not natural the way people avoid mentioning him when it would be very appropriate to do so – and I understand that to an extent, the game’s gotta game – they want to surprise us and therefore the characters aren’t going to blatantly give the surprise away early. But the Inquisitor doesn’t ask after him at all? Doesn’t mention how Kirkwall is coping now that the viscount is dead? Dorian doesn’t say anything after learning Varric found Solas in his city and then died? Isabela has nothing to say about Varric until after the illusion is broken for Rook?

It makes it feel like Varric’s friends (aside from Harding, the only person who seems to actively mourn him at the start of the game) don’t give two shits that he’s gone.

That’s not even accounting for how characters don’t bother to check in with Rook who is constantly talking with the companions about their various issues of mourning, hearing voices or apparitions, and just checking in with them overall – but none of that is seemingly reciprocated.

Frankly, this makes me feel awful. I feel awful for Varric being seen as so disposable that his friends don’t mention him or his absence. I feel awful for Rook who is apparently not worth the direct effort that they offer others.

And I try to think of how a new player to this series would feel about all of this – because Varric was just some guy who walked us through a tutorial in this game. Most of our time with him is fake, any connection I saw form between Rook and Varric in this game isn’t real – but then Rook mourns Varric more than he mourns the companions we have spent most of the game with.

I don’t like it.

And I don’t like the utilisation of returning characters. Morrigan, or as she’s utilised in this game deus-ex-Morrigan, has a new view of Flemeth and therefore she will take on Mythal’s soul fragment so she can again swoop in and save the day by handing us the means to get a reconciliation type ending… it couldn’t be something that characters in this game figure out, just have a returning character provide us with the magic solution. Also ignore how the whole reason Morrigan was afraid of her mother in the DAO and DAI was that her body would get taken over by her spirit… but I guess that doesn’t happen now. We can just create new rules for this iteration because it’s easier to tell the story this way.

Solas is also just… I’m so upset by what was done with him. He was a character in DAI who told half-truths or lied by omission, leaving others to assume false information without him actually saying it – it was never just blatant lies to take advantage of others. And his motivations were about restoration of something he felt he had robbed the world, it was about righting what he viewed as a mistake which lead to such a cascade of problems that he needed to somehow rectify it. Whether you agree with his point of view or his desires doesn’t matter, his principles remain the same in terms of what motivates him.

Then this game happens and he’s just a liar constantly, and not even a clever one if you can apparently just trick him up with a “woopsie, this isn’t the real dagger”, and he also apparently has no insight into the idea that Rook would anticipate that.

They make him act like the worst interpretation someone could have of him, the thing he actively was trying to tell us was a false interpretation in DAI and the comics. But history was written and remembered by those who experienced the negative outcomes of his choices, and they remembered that as the greatest evil in comparison to what else could have been. But apparently in this game, that’s the truth now. His motivation is about his desires and he cares nothing for the people who has hurt or will be hurt. But it’s ok, because just as easily as his motivation changed between DAI and Veilguard, it will be changed again at end game if you listen to deus-ex-Morrigan.

Then there are smaller things, but things that really would have been caught if someone was just paying a little bit of attention…

Like Harding and Emmrich going camping in Fereldan… which if we’re to believe the things the Inquisitor was saying about Southern Thedas, I don’t think you’re going to have a fun trip. But I’m glad they’re able to find some time for a vacation while the refugees are getting blighted all over.

Or Rook actively saying “I should talk to Varric” directly in front of characters in the lead up to end-game, and those characters choosing to completely ignore that.

Or in Neve’s companion story, Aelia deciding to interrogate the witness to the red lyrium deal right next to where it happened. She didn’t need to be in the area, she was puppetting the smuggler, and she clearly has insight into what the person is seeing and doing while puppetting them. So I guess she’s just there so we can figure out she was involved.

Or the game telling us that Anaris need Cyrian to perform rituals for him since Anaris doesn’t have a physical body to do them himself… except he apparently doesn’t because he can kill Cyrian when he disobeys. I still would like to know if Cyrian ever died originally, by the way, and if so how he’s back and seemingly normal – this game likes to answer big lore questions like it’s nothing, but they just gloss over details like this.

Or how in Emmrich’s missions, Manfred’s spirit dies and can just be brought back to life… so I guess spirits dying means nothing if they can be brought back with their memory and personality intact. So that Solas flashback where we were supposed to be appalled that spirits died? Apparently there was nothing lost there, someone just needs to revive them and they can carry on as normal.

Or how the rewrite of DAI’s ending cutscene implies that Solas killed Flemeth/Mythal… before he had the power to do so since the whole reason he has been able to do anything in this game is because he absorbed her amassed power. So Flemeth/Mythal would have to let her power go willingly since Solas should not be able to forcibly take it, but clearly, she didn’t since the dialogue we’re given is her being reluctant. Solas apparently has the power he needs to do things when the plot demands it, but also no power when the plot demands it (aka, when Rook needs to prove they’re better than him).

Or the crew making a fake Ritual dagger near end game. For no reason whatsoever. They just decided to do that knowing it would only be a prop, but they had no plans that even involved a prop at that point – so they just did this because the plot told them they had to.

And speaking of that Ritual dagger… all the old elves want that dagger for one reason of another, but they never seem to try to get it when they can, or they don’t seem too concerned when it’s not in their grip anymore. Solas doesn’t try to hold onto it after Varric gets stabbed. Elgar’nan doesn’t try to pick it up after it kills Ghilan’nain, in spite of him knowing it’s the one thing that can kill him… nope, just leave it there and peace out.

Or my personal most hated thing – Isseya and her stupid motivation making no sense.

I cannot fathom the logic of having Isseya, a warden who was forced to blight griffons, who came to resent this order as she watched the griffons go mad, made it her mission to safeguard a clutch of eggs, takes the blight from the eggs into herself while using magic to put the eggs into status, then goes off to her calling which doesn’t actually end in her death… and somehow, 400 years later, she’s decided that since those eggs have hatched and the griffons are healthy and unblighted, the thing she wanted, but they’re in the hands of wardens which she doesn’t really like, so now she’s gonna go get those griffons to blight them.

Literally doing the thing that made her so mad at the wardens. Because she wants to save the griffons from the wardens and their cruelty… by repeating it… I just… this is nonsense.

If she’s capable of articulating that she’s mad at the wardens for their cruelty to the griffons, then she shouldn’t be repeating it thinking she’s saving the griffons. If she was just keeping the griffons captive to keep them away from the wardens, then I could buy that, but adding the element of her wanting to blight them just makes this nonsensical.

Oh and never talk the First Warden down – it will make the final scenes with Isseya even worse if he tells you about the feather from her griffon and show it to her. Because I don’t even think Isseya dies in that variant of the cutscene, she just says sorry and rolls on the floor while I guess Rook and Davrin let the griffons out…

Who is Rook?

Usually, in a game like this, choices are what make us feel like an active participant in the world. It helps us build up our own character and determine how/why they behave the way they do, and also how the world around them is shaped by the consequences of those moments.

But this game feels so stripped of choice, especially choice which is any way related to morality or priorities that aren’t standard ‘Hero traits’. Rook will always do the right thing, they can’t be motivated by personal desires, excitement, monetary gain, fame, etc…. and when Rook is forced to make a choice, there is no option which would be looked at as unreasonable by companions. They might give us an approval/disapproval pop up, but it never really feels like Rook is capable of being incompatible with anyone, they will always be seen as justified in companion’s eyes. And to me, this makes Rook as the game presents them incredibly bland.

Most of Rook’s unique characterisation happens in the character creator – the game gives us minimal chances to expand or form a personality for Rook that is significantly different from any other person who plays the game. We do the heavy lifting here, we transpose qualities on Rook because the game won’t give us meaningful opportunities to do that.

And not only do I feel like the game lacks choices that would help us define Rook, it lacks decisions that make me feel like I’m having any impact on the world overall. I can defend Minrathous or I can defend Treviso… this is the one choice we make which seems to actually shape the world we play in.

And it doesn’t even come up as something Rook can regret in the sequence about regrets… Rook apparently is faced with only regrets that are the result of other people’s decisions to volunteer to do something. But the one thing where Rook actually has to actively choose something, something they are actually responsible for the suffering on the side they don’t defend… that isn’t something they can regret.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Surely, if Rook should regret anything it should be the thing they feel direct responsibility for, no? But Rook doesn’t. Because Rook doesn’t regret anything they do, because they aren’t written with choices that they can regret since they aren’t seen as responsible for negative outcomes.

Honestly, that sequence might as well have been about mourning or sadness rather than regret, because Rook has to be upset at the loss of companions, we don’t get to influence that. But Rook isn’t regretful – that’s how they get out – but I can’t help but wonder why they didn’t then make us able to actively regret the legitimate choices we make, rather than feeling regret for our companions deciding to risk themselves.

Rook feels like an outside observer to everything that happens around them. They are the mediator, the sounding board, the magic-8-ball for decision making when companions need a push because they’re stuck. Sure, they do things, but for an RPG the way they go about things feels so linear.

And on another note… why is Rook seen as important? They start championing Varric’s cause in his absence, they want to stop the veil coming down and that starts with stopping Solas, then stopping Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. But to the outside observer, Rook is just some guy who says they are on an important missions, and they really need to speak with all these important leaders of factions – just trust them, I’m sure the First Warden is happy to make time for a meeting. And also the First Talon of the Crows, I’m sure they are fine with just some foreign person saying they need to meet your leader.

What I’m trying to get at is that Rook has no title, your group isn’t given any proper title or status which these people can look at and assume Rook is being truthful, trustworthy, or even worth their time. No one has any reason to hear Rook out, but in this game, they either just do, or they don’t and it’s because they’re actually a bad guy.

But Rook is no one special. They realistically shouldn’t be trusted like they are, they should absolutely be struggling to be taken seriously by others but it’s portrayed as unfair when that does happen. But they’re the protagonist, and it’s like everyone in the world simply knows that. I want Rook to struggle, I want them to grow and prove themselves, but it feels like we skip passed that to get straight to the fantasy of being in charge and considered fit for that role. 

Pacing and feeling like something was missing…

The start and ending throw a lot at us and expect us to keep on running – but then the middle portion of the game suffers due to the companions putting a stop sign on the plot so you can do their companion quests. And they aren’t shy about telling you “you need to stop and do our quests or we’ll be distracted at end game”… and again, thank you game for explaining game mechanics to me.

I was going to complete character quests, because if I care about the characters of course I’m going to do that. Having to actually pause the plot and have the characters explain to you that you have to care… I don’t know how to explain this, but it immediately took me out of the fragile immersion I was trying to get into. It makes me upset with the companions for reasons I can’t put into words. Maybe it’s because in one fell swoop it made me see them as checklists to be completed instead of people I wanted to know? I’m not sure, if someone had a similar reaction to this moment and has a better explanation, I would love to be enlightened on what it is that makes me so uncomfortable about this.

But I digress, the problem here is that the plot grinds to a halt. We stop doing things which feel like we’re advancing our plan of stopping the big baddies, we just kind of patter around and make sure our companions feel ok. And most of those missions to help our companions aren’t connected to the enemy we’re facing… Aelia, Anaris, Hezenkoss, Illario, The Dragon King, Isseya – they aren’t agents of the big baddies, they are just enemies that pop up at the same time as the big baddies are around, and are therefore making the situation worse.

So yes, we’re still doing stuff, but it feels like fluff. It feels like a detour while we just hope the world doesn’t burn while we stop to go on another picnic.

This is something that happens in a lot of games, the urgency isn’t real because you can stop progressing plot to go for a long walk if you want to – but in none of the other games did it feel so blatant to me. I still felt like most of the little tasks in the interim of plot advancement were at least advancing the cause in little ways… I don’t feel that with a lot of the things that happen in the middle of the game. It just becomes about companion missions; the bad guys will wait until we sort that out, the blight will stop advancing so we can have family dinners and go for walks.

And I really don’t know how to explain this, but it feels like something is missing in how the story progresses. Like extra things were meant to be happening and they are just not there. Maybe this is another part of how the game often just tells me things that happen in scene transitions, or it’s me really wishing there were more actual plot advancing missions in the middle of the game.

This problem I think also is most evident in the romances. Veilguard seems to take its romance pacing more from the Mass Effect games than the previous Dragon Age games – and while it was acceptable in Mass Effect to have very few romance scenes, and predominantly only having one big scene which culminates at end game, but suddenly introducing it in this series makes it feel like a huge downgrade from previous instalments.

It feels like we’re missing things, we’re given banters by companions commenting on the progress of our relationship and our partner can talk about how close they feel to our Rook – we’re given the impression our relationship is strong and established midway through the game. But with how strong the characters talk, it feels like we should have experienced so many more interactions with our partner to substantiate that.

For comparisons sake, in DAI if you enter a romance prior to going to the Winter Palace, you get romantic dialogue with your partner if they’re present, you get a dance, you get to feel like you’re in a relationship as it’s developing into something deeper. You get more interactions as the game goes on, moving from spoken interest, kisses, and intimacy (in most cases). It’s a slow build, and let’s you feel the build up by giving you glimpses of each step as the relationship develops, and then letting you just experience being in the relationship.

This game feels like it gives us the bare minimum in actual content, but has characters talk about how established the relationship is. The heavy lifting is again left to us to interpret all these blank spaces and fill in how this relationship is developing. The problem isn’t inherently with what the game gives us, it's what it doesn’t.

It lets us choose a relationship in the middle of the game, then it doesn’t give us all the progression – rather it gives us the minimal amount of snippets to meet the checklist of “they express interest, they mutually agree to be in a relationship, the relationship is consummated physically”. Sure, we can continue to pick flirt/love based dialogues, but it doesn’t feel nearly as strong as the banters seem to be telling us it is. And over all, we can go a very long time between each progression point.

I love this franchise, and I so desperately wanted to like this instalment… and instead I feel hollow.

[xoxosierralane]

| ᴏғғɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴʟʏ |

✎ from sierra: hello hi there, my first time posting a fic on tumblr let’s hope i did this good..! and i also hope you guys enjoy this little chapter and lmk if you would like another, im also open to any ideas and writing tips. also ty to @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary & @bueckersbitch for some tips when i asked they def helped, you guys are lovely also check them out 🌺

✎ synopsis: when an overworked pre-med student wakes up late for class, the last thing she expects—aside from the existential spiral mid-lecture—is to be roped into tutoring UConn’s star point guard, Paige Bueckers. Paige is charismatic, cocky, and somehow always talking. The reader is sleep-deprived, sarcastic, and trying desperately to avoid any and all distractions. But when tutoring sessions turn into unexpected walks home, avoiding Paige becomes impossible. She’s not just a classmate—she’s a slow, sneaky problem. And worse? She lives next door.

✎ warnings: language

There are few sounds in this world more horrifying than your alarm going off thirty-five minutes after your class already started.

The second my eyes fly open, I know something is wrong. It’s that eerie, sun-too-bright, birds-too-loud kind of wrong. That creeping, soul-leaving-my-body realization as I blink at my phone screen and see the time:

9:53 AM.

Class started at nine. I should be halfway through pretending to understand biochem pathways by now, not halfway to a heart attack in bed.

I launch out of my sheets like a woman possessed, nearly tripping over the half-folded pile of laundry on my floor and banging my shin on the corner of my desk. (Why do dorm room desks always have the sharpest edges known to man?)

“Okay, okay, it’s fine,” I mutter to myself, pulling on the first pair of jeans I can find and a hoodie that may or may not have toothpaste stains on it. “You’re only, like, an hour late. People have survived worse.”

My hair’s still in the braids I did last night, thank God, because if I had to fight edge control and lateness at the same time, I would’ve just dropped out on the spot. I grab my bag, shove in a half-closed notebook, and toss a granola bar in my pocket like it’s some kind of sacrificial offering.

By the time I get to the lecture hall, I’m fully out of breath and lightly sweating. Cute. Nothing says “serious STEM major” like showing up late and looking like you just ran a 5K.

I try to sneak in, pulling the door open as quietly as possible (which means it creaks like it hasn’t been used since the Civil War), and immediately feel a hundred pairs of eyes swing in my direction. My professor pauses mid-slide.

“Nice of you to join us,” he says dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my head down as I scurry to the only open seat in the second row, of course. Because the back row? The safety zone? Taken. God has favorites, and I’m clearly not one of them.

I sink into the seat and pretend I didn’t just make a grand entrance. The girl next to me—blonde, tall, looks suspiciously like someone who could dunk on me if given the chance—glances over with a raised brow and the tiniest smirk.

“Rough morning?” she asks, her voice warm, a little teasing. It’s got that slightly drawn-out edge to it, like she grew up saying “pop” instead of “soda.”

I shoot her a look. “Don’t.”

She puts her hands up in mock defense but doesn’t stop smiling. Great. A morning person with cheekbones. Just what I needed.

I turn back to the lecture, trying to catch up on whatever enzyme he’s ranting about. Paige—yes, Paige Bueckers, UConn’s golden girl, sitting next to me like this is her seat or something—keeps glancing over at me every few minutes, like I’m the entertainment for the day.

Which, fine. I probably am. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The lecture drones on, a blur of chemical structures and way too many acronyms. My brain’s already in fight-or-flight mode, and I’m trying to copy notes from the slide like my future depends on it—which it kinda does, because if I bomb this class, there goes med school, and if I don’t go to med school, then what? Sell overpriced vitamins on TikTok? Start a podcast about burnout?

I sink lower in my seat, hoping to disappear entirely.

“Alright,” the professor says, tapping his remote like it owes him money. “Can anyone explain the mechanism here?”

Silence. Beautiful, holy silence. For a second, I think we might all get away with it.

Then—

“Maya?”

I freeze. My neck actually creaks when I turn my head up to look at him. “Sorry?”

He smiles like this is fun for him. “The mechanism. For the rate-limiting step of glycolysis.”

Of course it’s glycolysis. Of course it’s this unit. I glance down at my notes, which may as well be scribbled in a dead language, and I swear my soul briefly exits my body.

Okay. Think. You’ve studied this. You’ve done flashcards at 2 a.m. like a responsible, sleep-deprived adult. You can do this.

“…Hexokinase?” I offer, which I immediately realize is wrong because his eyebrow twitches.

“Not quite,” he says. “Anyone else?”

I want to melt into the floor. I want the Earth to crack open beneath me and swallow me whole like a Greek tragedy. Why would you call on someone who was just 50 minutes late and visibly unwell?

I drop my gaze to my notebook, which now has a sad little doodle of a frowning mitochondrion in the margin, and let myself mentally spiral.

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me to give up and open a dog café somewhere in Portland. Maybe academic success is a capitalist scam designed to break me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Maybe—

“You were close,” a voice whispers next to me, low enough that only I can hear. “It’s phosphofructokinase.” I glance over. Paige’s lips are twitching like she’s trying not to laugh.

Oh. So she’s not only annoying and smug—she’s smart, too. Fantastic.

I give her a blank look, then scribble it in the margin like I knew it all along. I don’t thank her. I’m not that gracious yet.

The professor moves on. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and slouch back into my seat.

I don’t even know how Paige knows that answer. I swear she’s never said a single academic thing in class before—usually just nods like she’s vibing through the lecture, and now suddenly she’s a glycolysis expert?

I glance at her again. She’s leaned back in her chair like she doesn’t have a single worry in the world. Her hoodie sleeves are pulled over her hands and she’s tapping a pencil against her notebook, looking out the window like she’s half-listening, half daydreaming.

God, I hate her.

Not really. Just enough to feel mildly personally attacked by her existence.

By the time the professor finally wraps up, my brain feels like someone stuck it in a microwave on defrost. Half-melted, barely functioning, and emitting a faint hum of defeat.

I’m already halfway through mentally mapping my route to the dining hall—food, nap, forget this day ever happened—when I hear the worst possible words.

“Maya, could you stay back for a second?”

I freeze with my laptop halfway into my bag. No. No. Please no. My stomach drops, already bracing for the we’re concerned about your academic performance speech. Or maybe he’s just gonna roast me for being late. Publicly. Again.

Next to me, Paige doesn’t move. Which is weird because usually she’s the first one out the door, bouncing off to whatever practice or photoshoot or press interview she’s contractually obligated to pretend she enjoys.

“You too, Paige,” the professor adds casually.

Ah. So it’s a group scolding. Cute.

I glance at her. She shrugs, and somehow even her shrug is smug. Like she already knows what this is about and I’m the one being dragged into something against my will.

Once everyone else filters out, the room goes quiet in that awkward way classrooms do when it’s just you, your mistakes, and the person paid to evaluate them.

The professor folds his arms. “I’m going to get right to it,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “Paige has been… struggling a bit to keep up.”

I blink. Paige?

She doesn’t even flinch. Just shifts her weight to one leg and tilts her head like, yeah, and?

“She came to me earlier,” he continues, “asking for extra support. And I mentioned you, Maya.”

My brain short-circuits. “Me?”

“Yes.” He gestures vaguely, like this makes perfect sense. “You’ve got one of the top quiz averages in the class. And I know you don’t have a lot of free time, but I thought you might be willing to help.”

I open my mouth to respond, and nothing comes out except a confused squeak.

Paige, meanwhile, is suddenly all charm and dimples. “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” she says sweetly, looking at me like I’m the answer to her prayers instead of the barely-holding-it-together girl who almost cried during a glycolysis question.

I stare at her. Then the professor. Then back at her. This is a setup. Has to be.

“I mean,” I say slowly, “I guess I could… help out. A little.”

The professor claps his hands once, like this was the easiest part of his day. “Great. Work out whatever schedule makes sense. Maybe start after the next lecture?”

“Sounds perfect,” Paige says, and I swear there’s a glint in her eye. Mischievous. Knowing.

I nod numbly, the weight of this decision already settling on my shoulders like a second backpack full of regrets.

As I head for the door, I mutter under my breath, “This is going to end badly.”

“Sorry?” Paige pipes up behind me.

“Nothing,” I lie, faster than a reflex. “See you later.”

She grins, following me out with way too much pep for someone allegedly struggling. “Can’t wait.”

And I suddenly remember: this is the same girl who walked in late the first week, said “yo, do we need the textbook for this?” in front of the whole class, and then somehow got a laugh out of the professor.

God help me.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in the library, clutching three textbooks and a syllabus I plan to set on fire. This day has already been long enough, now apparently, Paige “needs a little help” with some of the material. And apparently, I am just the student for the job.

I hate when people say “it’ll be good experience.” It always means work I don’t want to do for free.

The librarian waves at me as I step in—Ms. Marie, always with the peach-colored cardigans and peppermint candies. “Back again?”

“Like a bad habit,” I mumble, shooting her a smile. “Just grabbing some stuff for tutoring.”

“Ooh. Teaching now?”

“Trying not to cry in public,” I answer, and she laughs like I’ve said something adorable instead of tragic.

I spend way too long in the aisles, gathering books and stalling. Mostly thinking about how good I’m gonna sleep when I get back to my apartment. Seriously. The second my cheek hits the pillow? Instant peace. Probably coma-level sleep. I should be studied for science. Sleep is my love language. Sleep is the one thing in my life that hasn’t betrayed me.

I’m still mentally composing a love letter to my bed when I round a corner and see her—Paige, standing near the checkout desk, talking to one of the guys from the men’s team. He’s smiling like he thinks he has a chance. Good luck with that. Paige Bueckers is gay as fuck.

I snort before I can stop myself, just a short, soft laugh—but she hears it. Her head turns. Our eyes meet.

Oh.

She looks surprised. Not mad, not even curious, just… like she wasn’t expecting me.

And now I’ve made eye contact. Like a dumbass. I quickly duck back behind the shelf, gripping a biochem book like it’s a shield.

Great. Just great. Nothing says “competent tutor” like spying on your student and laughing at her across the library.

—

I give it a minute before circling around the long way and heading to the study room Hanes booked for us. Small, quiet, lots of windows. I stake out the seat closest to the door in case I need to make a dramatic escape.

Paige walks in a few minutes later, all long legs and blonde hair and that basketball-player stride—like she owns the space without trying to. She doesn’t say anything at first, just drops her bag and slides into the seat next to me.

I brace myself. Here we go.

She pulls out a notebook, then a pen. Then nothing. Just sits there.

I glance at her, waiting for her to do… something. Say something. Start. Breathe.

“Are you gonna, like… open the textbook, or…”

“I was letting you do your thing first,” she says, like I’m the one who showed up five minutes late and smelled like citrus gum and lavender hand cream. Her voice has that easy, confident rhythm to it—Minnesota smooth with a little edge, like she grew up chirping boys on the blacktop.

I give her a look. “My ‘thing’ is desperately trying not to cry while re-reading the same paragraph seven times.”

She smiles, wide and real. “Relatable.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward exactly, but quiet enough to make me weirdly self-aware of how close our chairs are. I pull out my laptop to have something to do with my hands.

“So,” I say, flipping to the study guide, “Professor Hanes said you’re struggling with the last few sections. You’ve looked at the review packet?”

Paige shrugs, leaning back in her chair a little too casually. “Kind of. I just—I don’t know. I get the gist, but some stuff doesn’t stick.”

“That’s usually how it works when you don’t study.”

She raises a brow at me like she wasn’t expecting me to have teeth. “I do study.”

I raise mine right back. “Instagram Reels don’t count.”

Her mouth twitches. It’s either amusement or offense. Could go either way with girls like her.

“You always this friendly?”

“No,” I deadpan. “Usually I’m meaner.”

That gets a laugh out of her—low and genuine, like it surprised her. She leans in slightly, chin propped on her hand.

“So why’d you agree to help me?”

“I didn’t,” I reply, flipping a page. “Hanes kind of voluntold me. Said it would be ‘good practice.’”

“Bet you were thrilled.”

“Overjoyed. I love giving up my one free evening to explain gen chem to someone who probably uses Gatorade as a chaser.”

Another smile from her. This one lasts a little longer.

“You always this funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” I mutter, but my mouth won’t quite stop twitching.

We get into the material slowly—me talking through concepts, her asking questions here and there. She’s actually more focused than I expected. Still fidgety, still Paige Bueckers in all her tall, confident, knows-people-are-watching energy—but she’s trying. I can give her that.

Halfway through, she lets out a sigh and scrubs a hand over her face. “Okay, but why are there so many exceptions to every rule? Like, who made these up?”

“Science,” I reply. “Also colonialism.”

She tilts her head. “You’re not wrong.”

Another beat of silence. Then she asks, “What’s your major?”

“Pre-med. Bio track.”

She whistles, low. “Damn. That’s sick.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. If you enjoy stress-induced migraines and disappointing your family.”

Paige grins. “Bet your mom’s proud of you.”

“She is,” I admit, softer now. “But I also think she thinks I sleep more than I do.”

Paige’s voice is light when she says, “You don’t strike me as a slacker.”

“I’m not,” I say, yawning. “But if I had one wish? It would be to sleep for a solid twelve hours. Maybe fourteen. Maybe forever. I love sleep. Like, I would marry it. I’d elope with sleep to another country and never text anyone back.”

Paige chuckles. “That’s dramatic.”

“That’s survival,” I correct, grabbing a pen to tap against her notes. “Now stop stalling and write that formula down before I cry.”

She leans in again, not writing yet. Just watching me. “You kinda mean.”

“You’re kind of loud.”

“Touché.”

We keep working, but the space between us softens just a little. There’s something about the way she shifts a little closer when I’m showing her something, or how she asks questions like she actually wants to know the answer. She’s still full of herself, but in a way that makes me want to roll my eyes and pay attention.

And then there’s the eye contact. God. Paige Bueckers and her Olympic-level commitment to staring directly into my soul.

Like—I’m trying to explain the electron configuration of potassium, and she’s looking at me like I might be the answer to something she’s been trying to solve for years. Icy blue eyes, lashes curled to the heavens, a little swipe of mascara like she knew she’d be making people nervous today.

And by people, I mean me. Specifically me.

It’s honestly kind of rude. Intimidating. Possibly illegal. There should be a warning label or something: DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH PAIGE BUECKERS UNLESS YOU ARE READY TO BE HYPER-ANALYZED AND POSSIBLY SEDUCED.

Because I swear—I swear—the way she looks at me? It’s not just eye contact. It’s eye-to-future-entanglement contact. Like she’s trying to hypnotize me out of my panties with just her stare and that stupid smirk she keeps trying to hide behind her hand.

Focus. I need to focus. This is chemistry. Not chemistry-chemistry. I’m not gonna be another gay kid that fails a class because I couldn’t stop thinking about some pretty basketball player with really good hair.

No offense to everyone else who’s fallen into that trap. (none taken)

“Okay,” I say, tapping my pen against my notebook and not looking at her eyes again, “that’s ionic bonding, which means we’re finally done with chapter four.”

Paige stretches her arms above her head with a small groan, the hem of her hoodie lifting just enough to flash a sliver of skin. I look away instantly, like a respectable person. Like someone not currently battling the urge to spiral into a gay panic over five seconds of midriff.

“Thank God,” she sighs dramatically, flopping back in her chair like she just ran drills for two hours. “You know, I think I actually learned something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am surprised,” she grins, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. “You’re kinda scary-smart.”

I blink. “Scary?”

“In a good way,” she adds quickly. “Like, in a ‘you could probably build a robot army and take over the world but choose not to’ kind of way.”

“…Thanks?”

She smiles like she means it. Like maybe that was a compliment in her language. And for some reason, it sticks with me.

I start gathering my things, stuffing pens and half-crumpled notes into my backpack like the burnt-out academic I am. “Well, we’re scheduled again next Thursday unless your Coach pulls you for something.”

Paige doesn’t move to leave. She leans back in her chair, arms folded behind her head, watching me with that same annoyingly intense gaze.

“You always study here?” she asks casually, like she didn’t just spend two hours fighting for her life over basic chem.

“Sometimes,” I reply, zipping up my bag. “It’s quiet. And the librarian doesn’t hate me.”

“That’s a plus.”

“You?”

She shrugs. “Ehh usually with the team. Or, like, wherever has food.”

I hum, trying to keep the conversation from stretching too long. I’m not great at lingering—especially not with people like her. The kind of person who walks into a room and owns it without even trying.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, already planning my post-study nap in vivid, loving detail, but before I can escape—

“You wanna walk out together?”

I pause, blinking at her.

Not because it’s weird. But because I hadn’t expected it. Most athletes don’t even remember the names of their TAs, much less offer to walk them out of the library like it’s some sort of… soft exit interview.

I glance at the clock. It’s getting late. But also, she’s looking at me like I’m someone worth lingering around.

“Sure,” I say. Casually. Like my heart isn’t already doing cartwheels.

She grins, standing to her full height (good holy 6ft..), and my only thought as we walk side by side toward the doors is God help me, I might be in trouble.

Because Paige Bueckers is something else.

And apparently, she’s not going anywhere.

—

The night air hits us as we step out of the library, and it’s just cold enough to make me regret not grabbing a hoodie. Of course, Paige doesn’t seem bothered at all. She walks like she’s immune to weather. Or like the wind parts just for her. Probably both.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Awkwardly so. My favorite kind.

Then, Paige starts talking.

And when I say talking, I mean talking. Like she hasn’t spoken to another human being all day and I just unlocked the floodgates.

“So, like, I’ve had the same pair of slides since I was fifteen, right?” she says, hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “They’re disgusting. Like, actually offensive. I think they’ve developed their own bacteria strain at this point. But I can’t get rid of them. They’re like emotional support shoes. You ever have something like that?”

I blink. “Uh…”

She barrels right past my lack of response. “And then Aaliyah tried to throw them out once when we were on the road and I almost tackled her in the hotel hallway. She was like, ‘Paige, they smell like shit.’ But they don’t. They smell like loyalty.”

She grins at her own joke. I say nothing.

Not because I don’t want to. But mostly because what?

I nod along, mostly to be polite. Or maybe out of shock. I’m not really sure.

She keeps going. “Also, can I ask you a question? Why do all chemistry textbooks weigh as much as small toddlers? Like, what are they putting in there? Guilt? Disappointment?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, which unfortunately only fuels her further.

She talks about basketball. Then her best friend’s dog. Then how she’s still mad Chipotle took her favorite salsa off the menu. She has opinions on everything from cafeteria chicken to the superiority of Apple Music over Spotify (she’s wrong, but I let her have it).

And the weirdest part?

It’s not annoying.

It should be. But it’s not.

I listen. Mostly because I’m stunned by how easily she fills the space between us, how her voice softens when she gets excited and how, even when she’s rambling, she makes it feel like you’re part of the story.

It’s… unsettling.

I don’t do people like her. I don’t get people like her.

And yet here she is. Walking next to me. Talking like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

And then, as if this night couldn’t get any weirder, she slows down in front of my building.

I stop too.

Paige pauses, looking at the entrance. Then looks at me. “Wait—you live here?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, pointing to the left. “Top floor.”

She blinks. “Shut up.”

“I will not.”

She grins, pointing to the right. “That’s my building.”

I stare at her for a second. Then glance up. Then back at her.

This cannot be real life.

“You’re telling me we’ve lived next to each other this whole time and this is the first time I’m finding out?”

I sigh. “This is just great.”

“Great?” she echoes, clearly amused.

“Yeah. Fantastic. Love this for me.”

She’s still smiling like this is the best coincidence to ever happen. Like fate just personally delivered her a win.

I just shake my head, digging my keys out of my pocket. “Well. Thanks for the walk. And the verbal TED Talk.”

She bows slightly. “Anytime.”

I turn to head inside, pausing with my hand on the door.

“Hey,” she calls.

I look back.

“Same time Thursday right?”

I nod once. “Sure.”

She salutes me with two fingers, still grinning, then turns and jogs up the steps to her building.

I stand there for a moment, key still in hand, trying to process everything. The tutoring. The talking. The proximity.

This is going to be a nightmare.

I let myself into the building, already craving sleep and silence and maybe a three-day nap. But even as I make it upstairs and fall face-first onto my bed, one thought keeps bouncing around my head like it’s got a key to the place:

Paige Bueckers is going to be a problem.

[kitbunnyroo]

thinking about...abandoned android boyfriend....

lemme apologize from now...this is a looong one. it could be structured better, but it's literally just me updating this over the course of some hours/days (?). hope you enjoy this ridiculously long tidbit thooo! <3 (help y'all hit that 30 fast....tyyy!)

also omg thank you all for all the love on the centaur man post??? we love big strong bby fr, 100% will bring him back if y'all wanna see more of him 🤍🤍 (also, not proof read nothing i write is, so forgive any errors plsss)

like picture it, you just find him in a scrap yard cause your pet ran into it or something right...and you can tell that he's functioning, so you're confused as to why he got put for scrap? considering these things are crazy expensive, and the people who threw him out were ever so kind enough to leave all his original packaging, you took him back home.

it did take a while to get his station set up in a little corner, but it wasn't too bad, especially as you looked into the illuminated green eyes of the android who stood a good head or two taller than yourself once you figured out how to get him up and running again.

after you explained in even greater detail how he came to be in your possession, you could almost hear the mechanics in his brain recalibrating all the missed system updates as he now addressed you as master/mistress. not ideal, but who are you to complain once he fixes the drip in your sink that almost cost you hundreds of dollars. maybe having an android in your home wouldn't be so bad.

time flies and you come to find out he was scrapped cause beyond functionality, he had somehow developed a conscious of sorts. which when you think about it, anybody else would be freaked out by their machine suddenly smiling and showing human emotions. was it freaky? hell yeah. was it bad?....not so much.

there was lots of reassurance to be done...he thought that once he started to slip and his consciousness shone through again you'd dump him to be scrap metal too...well, after they remove the scarily realistic skin-like material that outlines his hardware. "So...you're not going to power me off and box me up like the last family did..?" he'd find himself asking after long conversations about how you don't really care he got more human-like as the days went on. living on your own it isn't that bad to feel like you have extremely helpful company rather than a machine in your empty halls. and when he looks at you oh so sweetly? how can you not tell him this is his home too.

android housemate, doing his best to make sure you're always happy. always stress free. always well taken care of. always healthy. always satisfied. so when he's cleaning your room and finds a vibrator, he's everything and appalled. why would you have this when he's right here? was he not good enough? did you not want him to help you? was it his fault? but he simply places it on it's charger and closes your door. when you get home that day you can tell something's off, it's the same air as the early stages when he thought you'd throw him out. so you just make sure to be extra sweet to your caring housemate.

android housemate, now doing research on human pleasure, watching porn, reading all sorts of articles and Quora forums. this seems easy enough to do...he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't ask him to help. darling android housemate realizing that his fans start to go double time when the pixels start to look like you instead of whoever is actually in the videos...even more so when he realizes that's what an imagination is like and that his is picturing himself with you in these videos...he wonders if that can happen....

yandere (???) android housemate who's suddenly gotten all clingy once you're home. as usual, dinner is hot and plated, desert already lined up, but as you shower you can hear him making the time to pick out your outfit from your drawers instead of double checking all is well in the rest of the house...odd, but you don't pay the particularly revealing choice of clothing much mind. dinner goes as usual, till he offers you a much more...inviting? smile after you tell him about your grievances of the day. his eyes never leaving you, even as you eat and he updates minor software...you ask if he can close the windows cause there's a much too warm of a breeze coming in, and he's suddenly glad he has the capabilities to hide the blush that threatened to rise to his fabricated cheeks since it was just his fans. he was getting a bit too much enjoyment from the sight of you wearing an outfit he had picked, enjoying his meals that he makes you everyday, you chose him from the scrap yard that he's convinced held many other androids...

yandere (??) android housemate that's gotten cold to you since you brought home another human and claim that they're your partner. he'd thought that he was being clear with his consecutive months of flirting since his research began, but apparently not clear enough. now he's forced to watch as you bring this human over, it is nice to hear you brag about how lovely he treats you though, especially when he sees them almost shrink where they sit, obviously he can already tell they won't be able to treat you better than your housemate. how could they? they're just a weak human, and he's an android that's learnt every last one of your tastes.

yandere (?) android housemate that's gotten over his chilly attitude in favour of comforting you after your breakup and every proceeding one from then on. on one hand he doesn't enjoy seeing you hurt, but on the other hand he knows the only one meant for you is him, so he'll continue to let these humans know that they won't ever hold a candle to him when it comes to your affections. you don't have to be in pain, you just have to realize he's the one for you. and you can go back to your blissful life.

yandere...android housemate who's worried after you stumble through the door after a work/college party, clearly intoxicated out of your mind. he effortlessly picks you up and takes you to your room, laying next to you when you refused to let him go cause his generated warmth was nice compared to the cold of the air conditioned room. he listens to you babble on about who knows what, and then about your latest break up, and then he's shocked when you blurt out that he'd make such a good boyfriend if he wasn't an android...and somehow, somewhere in his wiring, that hurt? but it also lit something cause you went on to praise all he does for you, especially highlighting his advances and he comes to the conclusion that you only started looking for a human partner because you had assumed that although he had a conscious, he couldn't feel romance. and boy was he now determined to prove you wrong.

yandere. android housemate, now doing everything possible after that night to display romantic affection. sensual massages after particularly aggravating days where his fingers work wonders to the tension coursing through your body, at first you don't think much of it, but when you feel the spikes of breeze specifically from him after every one of your moans, you try to keep your voice down. he downloads them to his software though, and is quickly researching the different modifications available for his kind.

yandere android housemate that gets tired of being referred to by his model name and demands you give him a proper one. and you do. and he loves it. thankfully, he's still linked to the cards of his previous family, so he can make purchases using their money instead of yours without suspicion. he gets his "personal" modification made under their card, leaves right after you do for school/work, and he's back before you're home, already getting things sorted for when you're back. now he just has to hide the tent that forms whenever you call him by the name you gave him....

newly named yandere android...you're not sure anymore. after walking in on him far too many times since you're used to him usually being smooth, but now he has an...enticing, length of dick just hanging between his legs, it's kind of awkward. even more so when you find yourself outside his newly appointed bedroom to ask him to do something, and end up overhearing his whiney voice floating through the air. now you can't help but wonder how it feels if the rest of his skin feels like regular human skin...maybe an android boyfriend won't be so bad after all...

your android housemate, putting in extra work to keep you happy once he realizes you're not bringing home any more humans. even the vibrator and any other toys you might've had are stored away rather than readily available near your bed. maybe if he does a good enough job, you'll finally ask him for help. you swear you see a subtle throb in his pants sometimes when the thought runs through his not so little android brain.

your android boyfriend with fans so loud when you finally ask him to touch you, that you could've sworn you misread his intentions. but as soon as you try to back out of the situation he's pulled you against his chest with one of hands deeply entangled in you hair while the other hugs you close to him, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was desperate for that moment...that and the fact that once you're finally in bed he takes initiative to slip under your blanket next to you instead of going to his own room, his hands finding their way snugly around your waist to cuddle you but surely making their way lower down, quicker when he realizes that not only are not trying to stop him, but you're basically leaning into his touch. the frenzy he goes into when you whisper his name that you gave him has your legs quivering on his shoulders, toes pointed every which way as those same illuminated eyes stay glued to your body, confusingly realistic tongue moving more enthusiastically with every sound you make.

your android boyfriend. who now takes any chance he can get to ask if he can fuck you. if his tongue game was this good...what else was he capable of? the thought barely has time to run across your mind because as soon as you agree he's gonna have you folded in half and stuffed full of the most realistic dildo you've ever felt. it didn't feel fabricated in the slightest. from the throb of the veins in your walls to the way it drags so fucking good inside of you, and he makes sure to study your body as he goes. this particular spot made your eyes roll? he's going right back there. you like having you sensitive bits teased while his balls are slapping your skin so hard you can hear them through the wet mess? he's abusing them. by the time he's done you've came enough times to lose count, and best believe he makes sure to endlessly thank and praise you through every bit of it. comments of how good you make him feel, the dimming of his eyes enough to let you know he really does feel it, thanking you for letting him be this close to you, begging you not to go when you try to squirm away from the overstimulation (he calms down a bit so you can catch yourself whenever it's really too much), not to mention the starved kisses he gives you whenever the position allows (all the time). he'll have your back against the wall and hold you up so the only place you can go is further onto his cock while his tongue finally gets to explore your mouth. you'd never believe an android could be so adorably vocal. the moans, the whimpers, the whines. (he can't bring himself to degrade you though, sorry </3)

your android boyfriend making sure he puts the utmost effort into after care. if you let him hit, he's sure to run you a shower or bath of your preference, and trust that when you're out he's already got you a freshly made meal with an accompanying drink. he always makes sure to ask if he was too rough with you, gently massaging your muscles while you relax after your meal. if there's anything, anything at all you desire, he already does it for you, but now he'll go the extra miles if it means you'll be even happier.

your android husband, proposed after years of taking you out on the most wonderful dates, planned more of the wedding than you did since he only wanted you to worry about looking your best, he does let you help if you want though <3. android husband who can't cry, but you almost swear you see him sobbing as you walk (or he walks if you'd prefer) down the aisle, the tears slowing down but never to a complete stop till it's finally time for the "I do"s. your android husband who takes you on a splendid honeymoon of nothing but relaxation, good sights and food, and even better sex. he knows he can't get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean he can't try extra hard once the topic of children roll around. if you do want children though, he's not against adoption (or a sperm donor once their background checks out)

(for his family he invited his previous family, who were surprisingly chill with him using their cards to fund your vacations and now wedding...talk about rich rich)

your android husband <333.

this totaled to 2,264 words (woah??), and i can NOT lie?? i like it. hope you enjoyed this terribly long read and tysm again for all the support like hello!!🤍✨

[sickwhispers]

eeeee!! yay!! ^♡^ can I ask for finn x reader and/or sprout x reader hcs?? I don't wanna overload u so I'll keep it at those!!! tysm ^_^ -incredibly desperate annon from earlier

Oh my gosh you are such a cutie (/p) don't worry about overloading me, I'm at your service!

WRITE ME LETTERS (hot freaks)

Credits to xx675ehf on tumblr for the finn picture

Pairing: Finn x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he doesn't understand personal space all that much, but he means well

Type: headcanons + drabble

"Whale, whale, whale... look what we have here!" Would be the first thing you hear before he comes barreling towards you at a hundred miles per hour. His body colliding with yours from behind as he brings you in for a tight squeeze

He was never one to really announce his presence, preffering to instead tackle you with affection after a quick fish pun

They never seemed to end when it comes to you

Or, really, they never seemed to end in general

But, if you indulge him just the slightest, it's easy for him to get carried away

He's almost like a dog, in a way

He'd follow you everywhere

To each machine, to each hiding spot, right by your side the second you make your way into the elevator

Every break is spent with him practically glued to your hip, his hands holding onto you in anyway they can

Whether it be by holding your hands, clinging onto your arm, tugging at any article of clothing he could reach rapidly to bring your attention back onto him

He's a Hyper one, and he isn't scared to prove it

He's even been trying to come up with new and improved fish puns

Something that'll impress you

He's self aware, he knows not everyone's a fan of his fish puns

But, even if he was able to score just a tiny giggle from you, he'd be over the moon

"Oh, c'mon! Don't act so koi with me, i dont bite!" His arms wrap around you just a bit tighter, head pressed up right against your side as an proud grin spread across his face.

You had sat on the floor of the elevator, giving yourself a few seconds of peace before having to go back to being tormented once more by the threats lurking around practically every corner. But, of course, there was rarely any moment of peace with finn on your team. He meant well, you knew he did, and he definitely wasn't the malicious type. He just... never seemed to realize when the right time for affection was. And right now, with your chest heaving up and down from a chase you had just endured, you weren't exactly begging for psychical touch.

But at the same time, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Your arm slowly lifted up, shaky from the adrenaline you had just experienced only a few moments ago, before wrapping around him, bringing him just a bit closer. This had caused him to let out an ecstatic gasp in return.

"Yknow, Finn... you're really-" you take a pause, avoiding eye contact with him. Although, despite you doing everything you can not to let your gaze fall right back onto him, you could still feel the way his eyes bored into you. You almost didn't want to say it. Your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to muster up the courage. "krilling me with the puns..."

There was a pause. Not one long enough to be considered worrisome, but it had definitely been a decent amount of time before you finally craned your head in his direction. And, once your gaze finally landed on him, the first thing that greeted you were his eyes staring right back into yours. They had widened significantly, and along with that his lips parted slightly. For a second you wondered if it was his body that was shaking or the movement the elevator made as it climbed up to the next floor.

"That..." He began to speak, taking another pause. You soon realized it was his body that was shaking, not the elevator. And, as he took a deep breath, signifying that he was ready to finish his sentence, his smile seemed to stretch farther then you've ever seen. "Was fin-tastic!"

It's safe to say that he'd enjoy it if you ever decided to reply to his puns with some of your own

Nothing would make him happier then hearing a fish pun slip from your mouth, whether it be intentional or a complete accident from all the times you've heard him say them

PERSONAL BODY GUARD

Pairing: Sprout x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: none!

Type: headcanons + drabble

Overprotective

That single definition was a word you heard thrown every round every now and then when it came to sprout

And, not once was it ever used as a lie

Because he was, in fact, overprotective

A gentle tug of the wrist in an attempt to drag you away from running head on into a twisted, a two hour lecture afterwards about how much danger you could've been in had he not saved you in time

His presence constantly looming over you each floor, never too far away.

It was a natural instict at this point

No matter how far away you were on a floor, the second one thing goes wrong, he's right by your side

Sometimes he could be a little too much

Not that he cares about your complaints when he's grabbing you by the cheeks, twisting your head in every single direction as he inspects you for any sort of wound

"Do you know how risky that was!? You could've lost a heart!" Despite the almost desperate tone behind his movements, turning your head from side to side, his touch was always gentle. He had taken a good blow to the back, his scarf barely holding onto his form as it threatened to slip at any second. You hadn't lost a heart, thankfully, but he sure did.

He kept you huddled behind a few boxes, legs trembling beneath the both of you as you tried to regain your stamina from the chase you had only managed to survive from. His grip was tight, and once he had made sure you hadn't gotten hurt during your little stunt, he slowly let his hands slip from your face.

"Are... you okay?" You tried to reach out, your arms stretching out to check him for any injuries just like he had done for you. And yet, they didn't have to move an inch before sprout's body seemed to slump against you. His head resting against your shoulder as his arms stayed hanging lazily by his sides. He almost didn't want to move, finding too much pleasure in having you pressed up against him.

A sigh slipped past his mouth, the sound drawn out as he hesitated for a second before speaking. "Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well- I'll be fine. But, let's just stay here for a second, okay..?"

You couldn't remember the last time he had ever admitted to not being okay during a run

Typically, he'd brush off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand

As long as you were fine, he was fine

It didn't take too long before he was reassuring you, smiling as he always did while he stuck a bandaid over a wound too serious for just a simple bandaid.

He always kept the better stuff for you

Did he ever want to admit he put you before himself almost all of the time?

No.

He didn't want you to worry

He's the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around

He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, it doesn't take much before he's head over heels in love after a simple smile you threw his way

It's always better to be focused and prepared, especially when the people he loves are constantly being hunted down by corrupted versions of his friends

He doesn't like it when the others point out how distracted he gets everytime he spots you from far away, his body freezing up on the spot as his eyes lock onto the way you pick up protein bar off the floor

For a second he wonders if your admiring his picture on the wrapper

But surely that's wishful thinking...

[better-setterv2]

Hi! How are you? Idk if you are not comfortable writing about things that happen in real life (you Can change the name) but i would love to read about reader reaction to lewis liking his ex picture! With a happy ending he thank you

𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒜 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒

Authors Note: Hi all! Here is a quick request I completed today when I should have been doing class work…Enjoy! Lots of love xx

P.S I hope this meets the expectations of what you requested and doesn’t seem rushed

Summary: After discovering Lewis liked a sultry photo of his ex just before her engagement announcement, the reader confronts her insecurities. Only to have Lewis reassure her with a heartfelt proposal that proves she's the only one he wants.

Warnings: bit of angst

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The sun was barely rising over Monaco when you woke up to your phone vibrating with back to back notifications. You almost ignored it - another group chat, probably, or your best friend sending TikToks before her morning coffee. But then you saw her name.

Nicole Scherzinger.

And beneath it, two posts.

The first was a sultry black and white shot of her in a body hugging satin dress, cut high on the thigh, one hand tangled in her hair, the other resting just above her hipbone. She looked radiant. Wild. Free. The caption was a simple black heart.

The second post was a carousel - a ring, a kiss, a sweeping view of Italy.

“Yes a thousand times.” The caption said.

And in the likes?

Lewis Hamilton.

Your heart dropped.

You stared at the screen, feeling everything go unnaturally still the room, your breath, your chest.

You weren’t the jealous type. Not really. You’d seen the pictures of them before, the old red carpet photos, the gossip columns, the recycled headlines. You’d told yourself that was the past. You were his present. His future.

But something about him liking that photo the sultry one, the one posted right before she announced she was engaged…made your stomach twist into knots.

It was like seeing a private moment you weren’t supposed to witness. Like a secret you hadn’t been let in on.

You stared at the photo again. Then again. Then at the comments. And then, finally at the name highlighted among the hundreds of thousands of likes.

Your boyfriend’s name.

Lewis emerged from the shower a few minutes later, towel slung low around his waist, humming something low under his breath. He stopped when he saw the expression on your face.

“Hey. You alright?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you held up your phone.

His brows pulled together. “What’s that?”

“You tell me.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to. “You liked her photo. The one where she’s practically naked. And then she posted that she’s engaged.”

Lewis blinked, stepping closer. “I - what? Wait, what are you talking about?”

“She posted a sexy photo,” you said, trying not to sound petty. “Then minutes later posted her engagement. And you liked both.”

His face fell.

He crossed the room, taking your phone gently from your hand and scrolling through the posts. You watched his expression go from confused to frustrated to instantly guilty.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t even notice the second one.”

“Not sure that makes it better,” you said, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I know I’m not her. I know you loved her once. But you liking that picture, it felt like you were looking back. Like some part of you still misses it. Misses her.”

“Hey. No.” His voice was sharp but earnest as he crouched in front of you, hands on your knees. “That’s not it. I promise. I didn’t even see the engagement post. I saw the first one when I was half asleep last night and I just scroll, double tap, move on. Mindless. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to me.”

That’s what broke him.

He sat down beside you on the bed, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I was careless. I didn’t think about how it might make you feel, and that’s on me.”

You stared down at your hands. “It just hurts. She was such a big part of your past. And sometimes I feel like I’m just standing in her shadow. That no matter how far we go, she’ll always be that part of your life that people compare me to.”

Lewis reached for you, gently lifting your chin until your eyes met his.

“You’re not standing in anyone’s shadow,” he said softly. “And you never will be.”

You stayed quiet, your heart aching in that vulnerable way you hated, the kind that made you feel small. Replaceable.

Lewis stood, turned and went to the drawer in the corner - the one you never really paid attention to. He pulled out a small velvet box and held it in his palm for a second before walking back over.

“I wasn’t gonna do this yet,” he said. “Had some grand plan in mind. Something in Italy maybe next month . Somewhere romantic. But maybe what matters more is doing it right now to show you it’s real. That it truly counts.”

He sank to one knee.

You gasped softly, lips parting, eyes darting between his face and the box in his hand.

“Liking that photo? That was a mistake. But the biggest truth in my life is this - I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone else. It’s always been you. You’re the one I want beside me when I’m tired, when I win, when I lose. You’re the one I think about when I land in a new country, when I’m stuck in traffic, when I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling.”

The box opened, revealing a diamond ring that glimmered even in the soft morning light. It was timeless. Elegant. You.

“I want a life with you. A messy, honest, ridiculously beautiful life,” he said. “Marry me. Let’s make our story the one people talk about.”

You covered your mouth with your hands, breath trembling. The pain in your chest had softened into something warmer, fuller.

“Yes,” you whispered. “God, yes.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger like it belonged there, like you belonged. And when he kissed you, it wasn’t performative or perfect. It was just him sincere and sure and a little shaky, like he’d been holding that love in for too long.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Later that night , social media buzzed again only this time, it was about you.

A new post. From Lewis.

A photo of the two of you curled up on your sun soaked balcony, your ring front and center, his lips pressed to your temple.

Caption: “Some things aren’t for the timeline. But this? This love? I want the world to know.”

There were no more doubts after that.

Not because of the ring.

But because of the way he looked at you every day after, like you were the only person who ever mattered.

Because you were.

Every quiet moment after in the slow mornings tangled in sheets, in the late nights when sleep wouldn’t come and the world felt too loud, he looked at you like that.

Like you were the calm after every storm.

The choice he made a thousand times over.

The beginning and the forever.

And when he held your hand in public, when the flashes went off and whispers of "Is that his fiancée?" rippled through the crowd, he didn’t let go.

He didn’t flinch.

Because you were no secret.

No rebound.

No shadow.

You were it.

His love. His future. His home.

And the whole world could watch, because he finally had everything he’d ever wanted.

And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

[taintandviolent]

Lime Green Jell-O; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader is in a situationship with Peter Maximoff. It's been casual on both ends, or so you thought. You think he's jealous and you decide to tease a little hard. Peter can't take the heat, though.

word count: 2K!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of jealousy, possible jealousy kink.

a/n: anonymous request! you guys keep asking me to write Peter, and I'm nervous every single time, istg. I hope it delivered, and you enjoyed reading it! ps: dividers are by firefly-graphics!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

Peter sat bolt upright, as if you’d just announced the most horrible thing in the world. Which to him, you had. 

"So, you've been seeing other guys?" Peter asked painfully casually, working overtime to control the pitch of his voice. Any hint of his true feelings and he'd be done for. 

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course I have." You gulped down the last bit of soda, and crawled over on the bed to throw it in the bin. Most of your free days were spent in his room, fooling around, playing video games with him, and watching whatever cheesy movie he’d put on. He seemed to think you had extra free-time that you’d spent with other guys.

Though it was only a nano-second, Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips frowned. You narrowed your eyes, and he immediately shifted in his jacket, returning to his previous state. No way she saw that. No way -- it was too fast. He darted to the bed, standing in front of you. 

Getting to your knees, you squared up. Inhaled and closed your mouth, crossing your arms firmly across your chest, underneath your breasts. Your shirt was low-cut enough that he saw the shift in your cleavage. He clenched his jaw, averting his dark eyes elsewhere. This wasn’t the time to start getting a stiffie. 

"Peter," you started, a reprimanding tone in your voice. If he was going to pull the loyalty card now… you smirked. "The first time we hooked up you said, and..." You brought your fingers up to make quotes in the air, in front of his face. "I quote: 'Nothin' serious, babe'. So....." 

Damn. Peter pushed his lips forward, nodding. "Right, yeah, I did say that. And I so totally meant it." 

"Good, so… you shouldn't care if things are getting pretty serious with one of them. Like... really serious. Serious enough that we might have to stop hanging out as much." Bam. Mic drop. 

That was a lie; a blatant one. Little did he know, you had been dating casually, but doing so completely uninterested. No one had matched your silver speedster; not in sex, not in personality, not in anything. He had zipped his way into your heart and wasn’t leaving. You weren’t about to let him know that though, and decided to dig a little deeper with the teasing. He was cute when he was jealous… which he was. You knew it. 

Instead of confessing everything right then and there, Peter stiffened and mirrored your position; arms crossed over his muscled chest. He shook his head and shrugged. Cool as cucumber. No way were you winning this one. 

You smirked again, this time, raising a single brow. "Are you... jealous, Maximoff?" 

"Pffffbfbbtbt." Peter blew air through his lips, slicing his hand through the air like he was swatting a fly away. "Totally not jealous." 

"Good, because if you were, you'd hate to hear that Tommy and I went on the most adorable date the other night, and he was --" 

His hands flew up, waving slightly. "Woah, don't need to hear the deetz, babe. No thanks." 

"Oh no? I think you are jealous... I absolutely think you are, because..." 

Peter's fingers shushed you, smushing into the fullness of your pout. He didn't want to hear the (probably one-hundred percent correct) explanation that followed the 'because'. Your eyebrows flew up on your forehead, expectantly. You tried to speak through his finger, but he pressed harder. Peter screwed up his expression before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He huffed a breath, and looked back at you.

You yanked your face away, narrowing your eyes into knowing slits. You barked out a laugh, unable to control it. He had always been a terrible liar, but this took the cake. “Oh, you totally are. You are lime-green Jell-o, Peter.”

“I am not.” 

“Are too.” You jabbed your index finger into his pec. “You so are.” 

He huffed and dropped his arms. You weren’t budging, and if he kept up, you’d win. He knew it, you knew it. It was a good old-fashioned standoff. You cocked your hip out to the side. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous. Fine. Sure. Whatever. Now, c'mere."

Exhaling heavy over his bottom lip, Peter took hold of your face and pulled you into a warm kiss. The tips of his fingers stroked your hairline, urging you closer to him - as close as he could get you without melting into you. Surprised, your eyes widened into the kiss, but after a few seconds, you couldn’t help but melt into him. 

"Peter, Peter," you murmured into his lips, pushing away slightly to look over his face with a weighted gaze. "You're really jealous?" 

Saying nothing, he nodded heavily and went back to kissing you, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before breaching. You whimpered into his lips, the vibration tickling slightly. Peter pressed his chin into yours, gently forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed. The kiss deepened for a moment before Peter broke it, his dark orbs scanning your face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered over your lips before urging your back against the mattress. “I am super jell-o…” He mocked. 

“Want you for myself. All for myself. Okay? Just… lemme’...” 

Peter nuzzled your neck, soft lips ghosting the skin and peppering kisses from your ear lobe down to your collarbone. Just above there, he began suckling the skin, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked harder and harder until you finally yelped, jerking your head away slightly. The skin left his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Ow! Peter, what are you doing?" 

"Markin' my territory.... err.... something." He pulled back to look at his handiwork. The skin where he'd been sucking was scarlet, heading to purple, and by that evening, it would be a wicked bruise.  A little gift for whoever you saw next, if it wasn't him.

He grinned as you rubbed at the skin, feeling the tenderness of it. “Did you just give me a hickey?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“You dork,” you murmured. Peter crushed his lips against yours again, inhaling your scent. His hands trailed up your waist, gripping it hungrily. This is exactly what you’d thought about earlier; every time he touched you, it felt electric, and nobody had even come close to that sensation. You bucked your hips up into his, grinding against the tent in his sweatpants. Peter pressed back against you, hissing through his teeth at the sudden welcome friction. Beneath the fabric, you felt the heat and pressure of his hardening cock and whined. 

“What the heck d’ya want, babe? What am I doin’ wrong here? You want a romantic? You want a casanova?” 

“No,” you started, raking your nail along his t-shirt, the fabric catching underneath your nail and exposing his luscious neck just a little bit. “I  just want you, Peter. Only you. No other guys matter, and I only… I only said that because you said it was casual, I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

“I dunno, I think I’m actin’ pretty desperate right now.” He rutted his hips against you, his cock bumping into your cloth-covered cunt again. You bit your lip, rolling your eyes back. Every whimper, moan and mewl you made coursed through his veins, straight to his dick. They made it ache, and burn, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, dry-humping you urgently. 

“Fuck me, Peter.” 

Just what he wanted to hear. He nodded in response and brought his fingers to the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping inside. He drug his middle finger up along your folds, smearing your precum over the warm flesh. You were already so wet, Peter grit his teeth, slipping a single digit inside. You vocalized at the sensation, and he slipped another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly. You loved when he did that; just felt you, played with you like a little sex toy. 

His nimble fingers slipped out, and began toying with your cunt, making tiny, quick circles on your swollen clit. The muscles of your thighs quivered hard and deep with every pass of the pad of his finger. He always knew how to make you writhe around, practically shivering with pleasure. You felt the wetness pooling underneath your ass and whimpered, shyly. You always got so wet around him, almost to the point of embarrassment. Peter never made fun, though; if anything, he was always delighted by it, and loved to feel it soaking through the fabric of your cute, little patterned panties. 

As he flicked at your sensitive spots, your lids drooped shut, thinking about how good he was going to feel. It pressed against your hip, hard and demanding, like it was searching for somewhere to go. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Gimmie that cock,” you whispered against his ear before nipping at his lobe. Higher than he wanted to, he whined and withdrew his fingers, planting them on your hip bone. 

“Mm’yeah…. gonna’ give it to you,” he nodded, breathless. “‘Cause you want it bad, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. The only one I want.”

Wasting no time, Peter freed his throbbing dick from his sweatpants. It bounced heavily in front of you, the searing hot tip pressing against your tummy. Biting your lip, you took it in your hand, giving it a few generous pumps. You then pushed his cock between your legs, lining it up with your slit and forcing the tip in for him. The action sent a shockwave through his body; he jerked up and groaned. “Fuuuuck…” 

Peter threw your legs over his shoulders, angling your body up. 

“C’mon, give it to me…” 

He clenched his teeth and bottomed out, slamming the lower half of his toned body into yours. It filled you, stretching your walls and pressing against them in the most erotic, tantalizing way. He found a rhythm quickly, and made sure to keep it, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you. You threw your head back and let out a breathy moan, pressing your head into the pillow. You swallowed, wetting your throat and looked back up at him. 

Above you, Peter was extra-whiny today. Sweat collected on his forehead, beading up before ribboning down his temples. His silver hair stuck together in clumps, and when he looked from your pussy to your eyes, he smiled weakly. He was fucking you hard, harder than he usually did and you could only assume it was because he was taking out his aggression, his jealousy.

“Oooh, yeah, just like that, baby… Just like that. You’re so… you’re so jealous.” Your words were punctured by lewd moans and breaths, but you finally got out the teasing statement. Then, Peter did something he didn’t usually do. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you onto his cock over and over again, relentlessly, bucking his hips up to meet yours with every thrust. The tip of his cock hammered your cervix, hitting your deepest parts. Your jaw dropped, brows peaking together as he fucked you. 

“....oh….oh my fuckin’....” 

“....shit-shit-shit, Peter…” 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you couldn’t control it. She fluttered, coating his dick in warmth. Peter groaned, closer than ever. 

“You should… you should be –” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. “...be jealous more often.” 

That did it. Peter lost it, spurting his white heat  inside of you, pumping it deep. A melody of groans between the both of you filled the room, as the thrusts slowed and the sweat dripped. He collapsed on top of you, kissing every inch of bare skin that he could find. 

After a few moments, he snapped up, hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you with a quirked brow, and a mischievous smile. You grinned back at him, lust-blown and giddy. You loved these afternoons, where you just fucked each other like teenagers. 

“Wanna’ play some video games? Or did you have another lame-o date planned?” 

You sniggered. “The only lame-o I’m dating is you.”

[bananasplit133]

Yoo, just like everyone else, I have been STARVED for conquest fics, saw yours and cried of joy! I loved it so much!

I couldn't figure out if you do requests or not but if you do could I pretty please ask for one where mark somehow convinces conquest about the helping humanity and blah blah blah, cut to where conquest and mark are in the gda doing tests and something where the reader works as a hero analyst for Cecil or something and meets conquest during one of the strength tests and is struck by love at sight?

Sorry for my shitty explanations and stuff, it's a rough idea I've had for a long time and wouldn't mind any tweaks you make to it, no pressure of course! And keep up the good work!

Hi, anon! I loved this idea, thank you for requesting it. :D (I hope you'll enjoy this story just as much as the previous one!!! Sorry if i didnt write some things correctly, i might've misunderstood a few things)

Not Yet

Conquest x Reader

(Scene opens in the GDA testing facility, where Conquest and Mark are undergoing strength tests. The reader, a hero analyst working for Cecil, is observing.)

-----

The first time you saw him, you thought you were going to die.

Not because he attacked you—no, Conquest barely acknowledged your existence at first—but because the sheer weight of his presence alone was suffocating.

The GDA facility walls trembled with every impact of his blows against Invincible, the reinforced testing chambers barely containing the raw destruction. Conquest fought without hesitation, unrelenting, unstoppable. A force of nature disguised as an old man. He moved like war itself, every motion efficient, brutal, and unmerciful.

Yet you weren’t afraid. Not in the way you should have been.

Instead, you were… captivated.

It was absurd. You knew it was absurd. This was a being who had razed civilizations, whose hands were stained with so much blood that history itself bent beneath his conquests. He had no kindness, no remorse. Only purpose.

And yet, as he stood there, his breathing even, his single eye sweeping the facility with cold calculation, something within you stirred.

Perhaps it was the way he held himself—proud, ancient, and unyielding. Or maybe it was the way he regarded the world, as if everything in it was either an obstacle to be crushed or something too insignificant to bother with. But for the first time in your career, you found yourself unable to simply analyze the scene before you. You felt something dangerous—curiosity.

Your pen hovered over your clipboard, and before you even realized it, your voice cut through the post-battle silence.

“You’re holding back.”

Conquest’s head snapped toward you, his eye locking onto yours with the force of a hammer blow. The other agents stiffened, stepping back instinctively, but you held your ground, pulse thrumming against your throat.

“What did you say?” His voice was low, rough, like distant thunder.

“You’re holding back,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I’ve analyzed hundreds of fights, studied every high-tier threat that’s walked through these doors. That wasn’t you at full strength.”

A slow, amused huff left him. “Clever little thing, aren’t you?”

Your grip on the clipboard tightened. “It’s my job.”

“And yet you stand before me, speaking as if you are not prey addressing a predator.” He took a step forward, the air itself seeming to bow under his presence. “Tell me, what makes you so bold?”

You could feel every gaze in the room on you. Mark looked vaguely concerned, Cecil watched with veiled intrigue, and the guards gripped their weapons like they were ready to drag your corpse away at any second.

But you refused to waver.

“Because I know monsters,” you said plainly. “And you… You’re something worse.”

Something flickered in his eye. Interest. Just for a second.

Then, he chuckled. It was a deep, unsettling sound, like bones grinding together. “Perhaps you are not as insignificant as I thought.”

-----

Days passed. Then weeks.

You kept observing. Kept talking to him. At first, it was just another part of your job—gathering data, deciphering his behavior, understanding how a mind like his worked. But somewhere along the way, it became more.

Conquest did not entertain fools. He did not waste words on the weak. And yet, he answered your questions. Not all of them, not directly, but enough that it became clear: he found you amusing.

You learned the way his eye would narrow when you pressed too far, how his mouth would twitch when your words held a particular bite. You learned his philosophy, his unwavering belief in strength above all else. And he… learned you.

“You ask too many questions,” he mused one day, arms crossed as he loomed over you.

“You give too few answers.”

“I do not waste words on those who do not deserve them.”

“Then why answer me?”

Silence. Then, a smirk. “Because you are bold. I wonder how long it will take for that boldness to be crushed.”

“You seem very invested in watching me break.”

His eye gleamed, something dark curling at the edges of his smirk. “I enjoy watching things fall apart.”

You should have been terrified.

Instead, you felt your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

---

It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even admiration. It was fascination—the slow, creeping kind that burrowed into your bones and refused to leave.

Conquest did not change for you. He did not soften, did not falter in his beliefs. He remained a war-hardened conqueror, a destroyer of civilizations, a being who existed solely for battle.

But you had earned something rare.

His respect.

And maybe, just maybe, something deeper.

One day, as you walked through the observation deck, reviewing data, you felt him before you saw him. That impossible, looming presence, crackling with restrained power. You turned, and there he was—closer than usual, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You linger in my thoughts more than you should,” he murmured, voice like distant thunder.

You swallowed. “Is that… a bad thing?”

He tilted his head, as if considering. Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rumbled:

“You are far too sweet for this world… I should rip your heart out and devour it before it ruins you.”

Your breath hitched. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, to do something—but you didn’t. You stood your ground, staring up at him, heart hammering against your ribs.

A smirk curled at the edges of his lips. He straightened, eye gleaming with something wicked.

“Not yet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Not yet.”

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, pulse wild, stomach twisting in ways you refused to acknowledge.

Because you knew.

This was far from over.

---------

(GSGHSNH4FSNNHUHWHAIIUJSHKCDKJC!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[3hks]

How to BEGIN Writing Your Story

Generally, the biggest problem I find in the whole writing community, especially new writers, is that they just CAN'T actually start writing.

I'm a huge victim of that too, but I have found several ways that at least get me motivated to write, and that's what I'll be sharing today!

1. Remember that you don't have forever

One of my problems is delaying myself from writing my book because I feel like I have all the time in the world.

The truth is, I don't. No one does. If you ever feel too relaxed about starting your story, remember that you don't have forever. If you don't start writing, there's going to be a point where you never will.

Something that helps me is to have a deadline, especially for my shorter works. Actually, I follow the deadlines for writing competitions submissions, regardless of whether or not I'll participate in it.

2. Don't get too caught up with planning

If you're writing a longer story, there's no problem in planning--it's arguably the right thing to do--but don't get overly caught up in it. It's far too easy to lose motivation, and before you know it, you've dropped planning and haven't even began writing.

There are some ways to combat this: outline things quickly to get a sense of the plot, plan a bit first, then write, and repeat, or just begin drafting and rectify and mistakes in a later draft. However, if you're the type who NEEDS to intricately plan everything out, then go ahead! My only suggestion is to finish it as fast as you can; it can be messy but get it done fast.

Time and motivation are your biggest enemies and closest friends.

3. Don't think too far

When writing a book you know will be long, beginning to write can seem like a daunting task because once you start, you have so much to get through.

Break it up into smaller pieces and focus on accomplishing those pieces one by one. Set realistic goals. Don't get ahead of yourself--we all move one step at a time.

4. Remind yourself that IT IS POSSIBLE

People have completely finished writing stories with hundreds of thousands of words before, and many of them have started where you are too! You can do it if you try!

5. Remind yourself of your goals

When you initially wanted to write this story, why did you want to? When you lose sight of where this book is headed or you feel like your motivation is draining, tell yourself why you're doing this, tell yourself that your story will impact people, but you have to get it out there first.

Visualize your success.

6. Find people to work with

If you enjoy socializing with others, find a community of other writers or a partner that you can connect with and will encourage you to continue writing.

Sometimes, it's easier to begin when other people are telling us to.

Of course, this advice is not applicable to everyone--I don't even follow it--but it's something that could be helpful to you!

7. Get rid of distractions

I'm sure people have told you this a million and one times, but get rid of distractions. Trust me, your productivity will SKYROCKET when you're not scrolling every five minutes.

Instead, utilize these distractions as rewards to motivate yourself! Did you write two hundred words today? Take a break and go on your phone!

8. Remember that this just the first draft

Your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Honestly, it never will. Don't be so concerned about the quality of your first draft, just move forward so you have something to work with.

You can fix all the mistakes later, but you need to first be willing to make mistakes so you have something to correct.

Don't reread the paragraph you wrote a minute ago over and over, don't stress about pacing or balance, you can always work on that in your next draft.

***

Having the motivation to begin writing is always the hardest part, but it's not impossible! Don't be too hard on yourself; you won't write anything you can't fix!

Just get out there, pick up a pen or open a doc, and start writing!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ just a fling ] w. johnston

paring: Wyatt Johnston x fem!reader

summary: Wyatt gets mad and insecure when his girlfriend omits the fact she had a fling with Luke Hughes and he finds out through Luke himself on the ice instead of her. some of the Stars (mostly Pavs and Seguin) get involved and try to convince them to talk to save their relationship

warning(s) : asshole!luke (he’s collateral damage sorry), an angry and insecure wyatt, very angsty, language

author’s note : that was the original request, and i tried to write it for joel. i couldn’t do it after trying for weeks so it’s now abt wyatt (after i had spoken w anon). i loved the plot sm i didn’t want to completely abandon it, so here it is for wyatt’s 21st birthday !!

༺═──────────────═༻

Nerves don’t usually get the best of her, but the Stars are playing the Devils in Dallas. It’s not the Devils that she is worried about though.

It’s number 43 on the Devils that she’s worried about. It’s not because she thinks he’ll hurt Wyatt, but because he might tell Wyatt their little secret to get in his head.

No one knows that she once had a summer fling with the youngest Hughes boy.

It was two summers ago when she went to Michigan to spend those warm months with Luke and his brothers at their lakehouse. She always had some feelings for Luke and they hit a breaking point that summer when they started to hookup. He ended everything between them when he left to go back to Michigan for his sophomore season and she came back home to Dallas.

That’s when she met Wyatt when he moved to Dallas for his rookie season. She lived next to the Pavelski’s with her parents and younger brother when they met. She spent a lot of time in that house before she moved into an apartment in downtown Dallas last summer.

She hasn’t spoken to Luke since he left Michigan and didn’t bother telling Wyatt about their fling since it was so insignificant to the both of them. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that it happened.

Her feelings for the defenseman are long gone, replaced by her love for Wyatt Johnston.

She sits with Kate Seguin and Sarah Pavelski in the ninth row off the glass for the game on the side where the Stars did their warmups. She stood at the glass with the wives she came to the game with to support their boys. She has on her playoff jacket from last year to support Wyatt.

If Luke does see her, she wants to make sure he knows that she loves Wyatt. That she’s over him and has been for a while.

The puck drops at center ice and less than twenty seconds later, Wyatt puts the puck into the back of the net. She’s on her feet and cheers for her boyfriend as he gets the scoring started. She pretends to ignore Luke as he skates by and looks at her.

She very much notices.

The crowd settles down and enjoys a 1-0 lead over New Jersey. She can’t stop smiling after Wyatt nets his 25th goal of the season.

“Is there a reason that Luke Hughes glared at you like that when you were celebrating Wyatt’s goal?” Kate asks with curiosity laced in her voice. “There are hundreds of fans he could’ve looked at, but he stared right at you.”

She looks at Kate and says, “I, um, had a thing with Luke a few summers ago. He ended things when he went back to school and I came back home. He told me that I didn’t mean anything to him and that I was the only girl around at the time. I moved on.”

“Does Wyatt know?” Kate questions.

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” she explains. “It was a lifetime ago. Before I even met him. I don’t need to know his history, he doesn’t need to know mine.”

When she looks back the ice, she notices Luke trying to get the puck away from Wyatt. She holds her breath as the puck is kicked out of the corner to Pavs. Wyatt skates away from Luke.

Then Luke says something to Wyatt. Her boyfriend turns back around and looks at Luke. Wyatt shoves Luke and a whistle is blown while the two of them come to blows. It doesn’t turn into an actual fight because they get separated by the referees. There is a lot of shoving and a lot of chirping.

This is the last thing she wanted to happen. Who knows what Luke just said to him?

Whatever was said pissed Wyatt off because he slams the door shut when he gets on the bench. Pavs says something to him and Wyatt motions to the Devils bench, where Luke has just sat down. She bites her bottom lip and holds her breath until the game is over.

Wyatt struggles after scoring the first goal of the night. The Stars as a team struggle throughout the game. They only manage one more goal after Wyatt's.

The buzzer sounds when the clock hits 0:00 after the third period. A lot of the fans have left already as the Devils celebrate their 6-2 win over the Stars. She frowns and makes her way up to the concourse with Kate and Sarah so they can wait for their boys outside.

She's sure DeBoer has a lot to say about the game tonight. The turnovers, the giveaways. They put pucks on net, but only put two past Jake Allen.

Just so Wyatt knows where she's waiting for him, she sends him a text.

to: wy ♡ - 9:54 pm waiting for you outside by the car with sarah and kate. pretty goal tn btw. see you soon <33

It might be a while before Wyatt comes out so she gets comfortable in the passenger's seat of Wyatt's car since he drove them both here to the arena. She scrolls on TikTok while having a conversation with Sarah and Kate. The women alternate sitting in the seat while they wait for the boys.

Kate is about to text Tyler when the doors begin to open. Players walk out in pairs or small ground. Tyler walks out by himself and greets his wife. After greeting Kate with a kiss, he turns his attention to her.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened, but Wyatt isn't very happy with you," Tyler says. "Apparently it has something to do with what Luke Hughes said to him on the ice during their altercation in the first."

Her blood runs colds.

Luke probably told him what happened between them in Michigan. Probably got in his head, which is probably why he struggled after that. It wasn't a secret, but he might see it that way. She didn't think it was worth mentioning to him.

"Thanks," she mumbles as Tyler and Kate walk away from the car.

The door opens again a second later. She notices Wyatt walking with Pavs. They seem to be in a very intense conversation as they leave the building.

"... muication, Wyatt," Joe is saying as they approach the car. "I mean, seriously." Wyatt sighs and looks right at his girlfriend.

Sarah walks up to her husband and they walk away without another word to her or Wyatt.

She smiles at her boyfriend. "You did good tonight," she compliments him. "I thought your goal was nice."

He just rolls his eyes and gets in the car. She pouts and gets into the car herself. Wyatt starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

Not a single word is exchanged between the two of them while he drives toward her apartment. She twirls her thumbs and waits for Wyatt to say something.

If he's really upset with her then he'd tell her, right? Seething doesn't do much.

When it's fifteen minutes later and he pulls up to her apartment, she gets a little worried.

"What did Luke say to you?" she asks as he puts the car in park. "In the first period after you scored."

Wyatt rubs his face and sighs. "It doesn't matter what he said," he says.

"Wyatt-"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I'm tired and I don't feel like talking about this right now."

She frowns and nods as she opens the door. "Talk to you tomorrow," she mumbles. As soon as the door is closed, Wyatt drives off. She doesn't even reach the sidewalk before he turns the corner.

Maybe she should've told Wyatt about her thing with Luke. She just didn't think it would be a huge thing like it is right now.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tomorrow comes and goes. So does the next day. She doesn't hear from him.

The Stars recover from their loss to New Jersey in a 4-1 win against the Kings. Wyatt nets another goal and she cheers for him from her apartment. They have a much better game as a team so whatever DeBoer said to them after the loss the other day worked.

She sends a quick text to Wyatt

to: wy ♡ - 10:03 pm congrats on your goal. my favorite leading goal scorer <33

from: wy ♡ - 10:10 pm thanks

to: wy ♡ - 10:12 pm can we talk? come over?

from: wy ♡ - 10:15 pm not tonight. exhausted. talk to you in the morning

to: wy ♡ - 10:16 pm you said that the other day and i haven't heard from you

from: wy ♡ - 10:20 pm goodnight

With a frown and tears in her eyes, she calls Sarah since she probably knows why Wyatt won't talk to her. She picks up after a few rings.

"Hey, did you see the win?" Sarah asks her when she picks up.

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Has Wyatt said anything to you? Or have you heard anything about what happened between him and Luke?" Sarah is quiet for a second. "Sarah, please. He won't talk to me."

There's a sigh before shed says, "Luke used your little fling as a mind trick. He threw it in Wyatt's face. He's mad at Luke for using you to chirp him and he's even angrier at you for not telling him about it. He thinks you kept it from him because you wanted to hide it from him."

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret from him," she admits as the tears roll down her cheeks. "I didn't think he'd care. Obviously he does."

"I think if he was going to know, he would've wanted to hear it from you and not Luke Hughes," Sarah tells her. "Has he talked to you at all?"

She shakes her head and dries her own tears. "Not really," she says. Her voice is shaky. "I texted him for a bit after the game but he just shut me down. Told me he'd talk to me in the morning, but he said that the other day too and I didn't hear from him until tonight."

There's a moment of silence and she bites her bottom lip. "Okay, I'll get Joe to talk to him," she explains. "Maybe Tyler can get involved too because I know Wyatt look up to him too. Sound good?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Thank you."

"You okay, honey?" Sarah asks her. "You sound like you're upset."

"I mean, aside from my boyfriend ignoring me instead of talking to me so I can explain myself, I'm doing great," she says. "I just want him to know that I never meant to hide this from him. It was such a small, unimportant moment in my life. He's acting like I went out with Luke for years when we never labeled anything and basically hooked up for three months."

Sarah sighs. "I know," she replies. "It's Wyatt. He can only ignore you for so long. I'll get Joe to talk to him though, okay?"

"Thank you, Sarah," she sighs. "I'm going to head to sleep."

"Goodnight."

She hangs up the phone after saying her own goodnight. She puts the phone on the table beside her since she's laying in bed and curls up under the blankets.

Hopefully Sarah keeps her promise because she can't do this anymore and it's only been two days.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ Wyatt's POV ]

Hockey has suddenly become a distraction for him. He throws himself completely into hockey after the game against the Devils. He doesn't talk to his girlfriend because he's so upset and angry with her.

He doesn't care that she had a fling with Luke Hughes. It's the fact that she never told him and had to hear it from Luke himself and not his girlfriend. He used it against him in a game and it threw him off.

Wyatt walks into the Stars' practice facility the day after they win against the Kings. He actually looks forward to practice right now. He's having a great sophomore year and doesn't want to have it to go to shit because he's having relationship issues.

When he walks into locker room, he’s barely able to put his things down when Pavs and Seggy approach him. He looks between them. “Uh, good morning?” he questions. “Why do the two of you look like you’re on a mission?”

Joe looks over at Tyler then back at Wyatt. “Sarah talked to me after we got back from the game last night,” Pavs begins. “Your girlfriend called her after the game in tears because you haven’t been talking to her?”

“I don’t feel like listening to what she has to say,” Wyatt sighs. “She’s just going to defend herself and whatever she had with Luke. She’s going to tell me that she was going to tell me or something. I don’t want to hear that right now.”

His teammates share a look. “She has her reasons for not telling you, Wyatt,” Tyler says. “Whatever they are, you need to hear her out. Not ignore her. Trust me when I say that ignoring something doesn’t end well. Ignoring an issue makes it so much worse.”

He starts putting his gear on. “I can’t do it right now,” he tries to tell them again. “I have other things to work on. I have hockey I need to focus on. Accomplishments to still achieve.”

“You won’t have anyone to celebrate your accomplishments with if you keep acting this way,” Joe tells him. “She’s been there for you since you stepped foot in this league last season. Don’t push her away now because you decided you didn’t want to hear her out. There is probably a reason she didn’t tell you and she has a right to explain herself.”

“This is coming from us, Wyatt,” Tyler chimes in. “We’ve been in this position. More than once so you should at least consider listening to us. Don’t ignore her, okay?” He nods in reply as he pulls on his practice jersey. “Go talk to her when you get done. Don’t lose someone you love over something as stupid as this.”

They walk away and Wyatt sits in his stall.

He knows they’re right. They’re so right, and he should probably listen to them. Pavs and Seggy know what they are talking about when it comes to relationships since they’re both married now.

Wyatt puts on his helmet and makes sure it’s on tight to make sure that Joe or Tyler don’t shoot a puck at his head to put some sense into him. They wouldn’t do it very hard but just to be on the safe side.

It’s probably the worst practice of his life. He’s distracted by the fact that it’s been three days since he had a proper conversation with her.

He’s going crazy without talking to her. He truly misses her. He misses their stupid conversations. He misses her ways of getting his mind off hockey.

He really is an idiot.

Just because he knows there are a few days between now and the next game, Wyatt skates up to DeBoer and asks if he can leave because he “doesn’t feel good” and “doesn’t want to push himself”. His coach lets him go and he leave the ice.

There will probably be a bunch of reports later saying he left the ice early but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is getting to his girlfriend and talking to her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ reader’s POV ]

Her phone goes off with a notification while she’s in the living room catching up on Vanderpump Rules. It’s a notification from Twitter that says that Wyatt left the ice early because he’s “under the weather”. She frowns and goes to text him. A knock on her door stops her in her tracks.

Confused, she goes and opens the door. She’s surprised to see Wyatt on the other side. “I thought you were sick? I saw a thing on Twitter that said you left practice,” she comments.

“I’m not sick,” he replies. “I just said that to Coach so he would let me go. I wanted to come apologize for being an idiot.”

She sighs and turns to walk back into the apartment. “It only took you three days to grow up and come talk to me about whatever was bothering you,” she says. She takes a seat on the couch and Wyatt is right on her heels.

“All I want to say right now is that I’m not mad that you had a thing with Luke,” Wyatt tells her as he sits beside her. “I don’t care about that. I care about the fact that you kept it from me then he uses it to get in my head. It worked because I didn’t know it happened and what he said really messed with my head.”

“What did he say to you?” she asks. Wyatt pauses. He looks almost hesitant to tell her. “Wyatt.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “He called you a lot of names,” he explains. “He said you were a slut, a whore and called you a bunch of other names. He said that you were a ‘good fuck’ when you went to Michigan with him and his brothers. It got under my skin because you’re not any of those things. I know you’re not any of those things but I let what he said about you get into my head and mess with me. I love you and it’s because I love you that I let it get to me.”

Her eyes widen when Wyatt finally tells her what Luke said to him. “I should’ve told you,” she tells him. “Maybe it wouldn’t have affected you if you had known. It was a summer fling. Then I met you and fell in love with you. I didn’t tell you because it was such an insignificant thing in my life.”

He grabs her hands and holds them in his lap. “I would’ve liked a little heads up but you have your reasons for not telling me,” Wyatt replies. “I don’t need to know about all your past relationships if you don’t want to tell me and you don’t need to know all of mine. I would’ve liked to know that a six-foot-two defenseman might try to fight me.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “A six-foot-two defenseman might try to fight you,” she says.

Wyatt laughs and pushes her away gently. “I can’t stand you.”

“So, who talked to you?” she questions. “You definitely would have kept ignoring me if someone didn’t.”

“Pavs,” he admits. “Seggy.”

She laughs. “You took advice from Tyler Seguin?” she asks. “I can’t believe it.”

“If he wasn’t married, I wouldn’t have,” Wyatt laughs. “I absolutely would have listened to Pavs though no matter what.”

His phone goes off with a text. She raises her eyebrows as he looks at it. “Who is that?”

“Seguin asking me why I left practice an hour early,” he replies. “Also asking me how talking to you is going since he knows I’m not actually sick.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “He does care.”

Wyatt laughs and puts his phone away. “Sometimes,” he replies as he turns his attention to her. “I am sorry for just ignoring you. I mean that with my entire being.”

“I know, Wy,” she says. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Luke. I should’ve given you a heads up. I just didn’t think it would matter.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies. “He’s an ass for saying all those things about you. I’ll have to get him back.”

“Please don’t.”

“We’ll see.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[novasintheroom]

Vashyyy prompts for yaaa

Washing our boy's hair. Just really wanna show him some care and love (Bet he'd love to do a selfcare routine together hehe) Gently massaging his scalp to relax him after a hard day

Also hope you will have a fun vacation Nova!! Enjoy yummy food and have a good rest

Ari, thank you so much for this!!! It came out a bit angstier than I intended, but hey, that's writing!!

--

The blood runs pink as you wash it away with water from the well.

It’s nearing sundown. Vash sits, numbly, by the mouth of the hole, watching you pull and tug each bucket of water up by the rope, sloshing over the edges. He’d offer to help, but you nearly bit what’s left of his right ear off when he suggested it.

“No moving! You’ve done enough of that,” you say. Your voice is warbly with tears, but you’re whole, thanks to the man before you.

So, Vash sits and waits and watches you pull up buckets and pour them over his head. His muscles ache, both from the fight and from tensing, telling himself to keep still. He wants to help so badly. But would helping hurt in this case?

Another wave of water runs down his hair and cheeks. This time, you take up one of your old shirts you’ve repurposed into a rag. You come around and face him, eyes darting to the cut above his brow, the scrapes along his jaw. They’re still bleeding, but not as severely. You start at his hairline. The dirt and sand are wiped away, revealing whole skin and battered bruising. You tut at this, but keep going.

“Mayfly,” he tries again, raising a hand to the rag.

You jerk it away before he can take hold. “Vash, please, let me do something.”

He does. With a sigh, he bows his head and lets you scrub at him. For the next half hour, as the cold winds of night blow in and you’re both shivering from the splashes of water on your clothes and his skin, you clean him of the debris leftover from the gunfight.

You lead him to the nearby ghost town and pick a building to hole up in. Your flashlight, pointed at the ceiling, illuminates the space well. Broken chairs, dusty couches, and best of all, no inhabitants.

Vash doesn’t let you check the bed. He lays on it first, feeling the springs through the mattress dig into his back. He winces, but at least nothing’s poking out. You sit right by his head and pat your lap. You’re offering to do his favorite thing.

Vash takes the bait. With a little grumbly-whine, he pulls you close and lays his head on your thighs. Your hands go to work right away. Combing through the blonde and black strands of hair, you quietly say, “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, a sigh pulling out of his lungs, “it’s my fault you were even there in the first place.”

Gently, you tap his cheek. “No, we’ve been over this: I’m here of my own free will.”

“Shouldn’t be,” he mumbles, pushing his face into your stomach, “shouldn’t be a hundred miles near me.”

Instead of answering, you massage his scalp. Rolling circles into his skin, pulling softly at the strands of hair. Slowly, like that of a hurt animal realizing he’s safe in this foster home, Vash untenses his muscles. His hair is still damp and cold. Your hands warm his head, trailing from his head to his ear and jaw.

“You’re brave. And strong. And I love you,” you whisper.

His lips thin. Your hands go back to the top of his head and comb through his hair. His hands reach for something. Something to do, some way to help you. He leans into you more and reaches his arms around you, forcing your shirt up to let him trail his tired fingers along your spine. You stop for a moment, and he feels the goosebumps rise on your back, but then you continue.

“You’re mine. My Vash. My love.” There it is again, that little warble in your voice. “I love you.”

Vash feels his own tears build up. He closes his eyes quickly and wills them away. He opens them again when he feels your tear drops on his head. “Mayfly…”

“I don’t ever want to leave you, Vash. Please don’t ever make me.” You swallow thickly and give him the shakiest of smiles. “I love you.”

And there’s his moment. With one great heave, he pulls you down to him and kisses you.

Maybe it doesn’t help the guilt you or he feels. It’s a constant, gnawing thing. But for now, it helps both of your tears abate, and brings a solemn peace back to your world.

[sundownpromises-inactive]

An Old Flame | L.K.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,309

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 11

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, dirty talk. okay y'all apologies I thought life was going upwards and it was going to be super easy to power through a ton of writing but when life throws one bad thing at you beware there will likely be two more coming with it. UGH. I'm going to try to focus on this series for the rest of the week, we'll see how that goes! Thank y'all for sticking around and being wonderful!

Emily was a firm believer in a few things, and putting in over a hundred percent effort when the world was aligning you with a crap day was one of them. If she came to work with a hangover, she worked hard and did her job even better, knowing it was self inflicted and her own fault. On days when she was feeling more run down, exhausted or if she was starting to get sick, she put more effort in. Spent a little bit more time on hair and make up, made sure to wear the right kind of clothes. As much as it would be nice to wear something cozy and lean into the exhaustion, it always made her feel worse. The ‘you look tired’ comments, her complaining about a headache or stuffy nose digging her further into the pity party hole. If she looked her best, she felt better about it, the compliments during the day would help boost her mood and by the time she was clocking out she was re energized.

It was partially that, and her wanting to keep up with the fiery spark that had been launched the previous weekend that led to her decision. Sharing Jackie with you, watching the pleasure you got out of giving another woman pleasure and in a situation where she could actually watch rather than be focused on trying to remember how to breathe. It was utterly enthralling and invigorating and she was more than ready to fully embrace that level of spiciness on a more regular basis. After all, that’s what this type of situation was for, you’d said it yourself, exploration and discovering new things was the highlight of having this dynamic.

So when Emily got dressed that evening, she opted for a more fitted pant suit, leaving just enough to imagination and then reached to the back of her closet. She’d worn the red bodice top a handful of times over the years and it was a trusted favourite, fitting her like a glove, semi sheer lace between the boning, and intricate patterns over her chest with the perfect amount of cleavage pushed up. Even slightly shielded by her blazer it was enough to make anyone take a second glance and the smirk was present on her lips when you all about lost your breath when you laid eyes on her that night, stumbling over your words as you tried to limit the amount of compliments you gave her before you were even seated.

Emily had chosen to mix things up a little bit tonight, enjoy some new scenery outside of the Waldorf, opting to have dinner around the corner at Mastro’s Steakhouse instead. In between moments of conversation and trying not to ogle Emily you had managed to order starter cocktails and get some recommendations from your server before finally willing yourself to look through the menu.

“How do they expect me to choose between the filet and the lamb?” You muttered, chewing on your lip as you read through the enticing descriptions.

“Just get both.” Emily suggested with a shrug and you glanced up to her with a crinkled brow.

“That’s so much food! Not to mention the cost.”

“Cost isn’t a concern.” She replied, a grin on her lips, “eat a bit of each and take the rest to go, quality leftovers.”

Your gaze drifted off to a nearby table, eyeing their plates while you thought it over, “they would be far superior to the leftover pizza in my fridge….”

“Then it’s settled.”

You let out a small breath, a smile creeping onto your cheeks, “do you know what you’re getting?”

“I was leaning toward the lobster tail.” She glanced over at you, “sides?”

“Mac and cheese or scalloped potatoes?”

“Both.”

“Don’t we need a vegetable in there?”

“Last time I checked potato was a vegetable.” Emily replied with a grin and you laughed before agreeing with her.

Meals were ordered and delivered before you knew it, too full from the rich foods you both opted out of dessert, only to be convinced by the server to take some to go. You took your time to finish your cocktails, Emily swiping the bill before you even had a chance to try and look at it. You said a quiet thank you to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as you gathered your take out bags and made your way out of the restaurant. It was still warm enough outside that you hadn’t bothered with a jacket, summer still clinging to the city, the heat lingering in the night air when you stepped out into it.

Instinctively, your arm slid into Emily’s, her hand finding yours, intertwining your fingers as you made your way through the streets. She let out a soft hum, eyes flickering up to the skyline and part of her wished you could see more stars inside the city, she was lost in her thoughts a moment later, only faintly aware of your hand in hers as you guided her. If it wasn’t for the physical connection and sudden jolt when you stopped in your steps she easily would have walked into the road without looking.

“Hey…” you squeezed at her hand gently, “you alright tonight? You’ve been pretty quiet, kinda off…”

“Yeah.” Emily sighed softly, giving you a small smile as she shook out of it, “I’m just tired and it’s been a pretty long week. I think all this extra running around the city is taking it out of me a bit more than usual.” She didn’t really want to admit being worn down, she certainly hadn’t planned on it but she guessed her walls had slipped down more than she’d meant for them to and you picked up on it before she even realized.

You let out a small laugh, “you know the entire reason we went the direction we did with our agreement was to not have any extra stress or exhaustion, right? We didn’t want to make your to do list any longer or more tedious than it already was. These dates don’t have to be weekly either, remember, I’m not dependant on the money. If you ever want to cancel or skip a week or two I get it, you can stay home and veg out, taking time for yourself and resting is important.”

“I know,” she started, feeling a warmth moving through her knowing that you wanted to make sure she was taking care of herself, even if she wasn’t doing it on her own, “and it’s not just that, work exhaustion is different, I figured I still had enough energy leftover for dinner and I would hate to cancel.”

“Just know you’re allowed to, even last minute. If I already happen to be here I’ll order some room service on your account and call it a night.” You replied with a slight tease, nudging at her side when the light changed so you could cross the street.

“I was looking forward to it, honestly and I do really enjoy spending time with you. It’s such a huge relief to hang out with a fresh face, someone who isn’t part of my team yet still understands the politics of it all.” She let out a breath, nearly muttering the last part to herself, “I guess I kind of just miss my bed…”

You chuckled, “you’re telling me your bed is comfier than the Waldorf? What else have you been hiding from me Agent Prentiss?” You prodded at her side and she huffed, rolling her eyes, “I’m kidding. I get it. Especially with your job, you’re off travelling all week and when you finally do get home you just want to be surrounded by your own things. There’s a comfort and relief about being in your own home and safe space and there’s nothing else like it.”

Emily hummed in recognition, not entirely sure where to go from there or if the conversation was done entirely. She supposed it was, you’d simply asked if she was alright and she thought she’d given an adequate answer, though as you moved down the sidewalk it appeared it only sparked more questions in her brain.

“Can I ask something?”

“Of course.” You glanced to her, a welcoming smile on your face.

“Aside from like, the original safety thing, not wanting to let a near stranger know where you live… why hotels?” She watched for a moment as your head titled, your eyes narrowing as you thought and you shrugged.

“A lot of sugar….” You struggled to find the right phrase, “pairings have outside relationships, either one of them or both. A lot are married, open or not sometimes you never really know.”

“So it’s about the secrecy?”

“To a point.” You nodded, “most of the time having a sugar baby is their way to have a little secret life, it’s fulfilling a fantasy that they wouldn’t be able to achieve in any other way. Living the high life, fancy hotels, expensive dinners, lavish vacations, yacht parties, flying first class or private, it’s all about showing off. Hence why a lot of the babies embrace the look and personality of a hot young bimbo, that’s what the Wall Street guys want to show off to their so-called friends while railing lines of coke with a spare hundred dollar bill.”

“So-called friends?” She asked with a grin and you laughed.

“The ones who don’t care that you’re dangling along some barely self respecting girl to all the weekend parties when your wife is at home with the kids going to the country club with the friends of yours that would rat you out.”

“Ah.” She grimaced and you laughed again.

“They’re not all like that though, some of them just want to experience a little thrill, have a little fun on the weekends. They use hotels cause they’re attempting to create the life they wish they could live all the time; they’ve got a surplus of money because they live modestly otherwise. They might be living in a bare bones, affordable apartment where they cook the same dinner every night before repeating the mundane task of putting on an ill fitted suit and crunching numbers all day. They don’t want their sugar babies to see that because it kills the vibe, shatters the illusion if you will. It’s like.. the separation of fantasy and reality, ya know?”

“Makes sense.” She nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she stalled when you came to the entrance of the hotel. “Feel.. completely free to say no to this, because I know it might be awkward or off putting, but is there any chance you’d be comfortable just coming back to my place? Who cares about the fantasy?”

“You already mentioned waterfront views, I know your place has to be nice.” You teased and she nearly rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh.

“I’m just so sick of not sleeping in my bed right now and honestly,” her voice softened not wanting to be overheard, “lugging toys around the city has become a major pain in my ass. I almost grabbed the wrong go back for work this week and I don’t even want to think about what the ramifications of that would be.”

You let out a laugh, a smile taking over your cheeks as you shook your head at her before leaning in to peck her cheek, “I’m totally fine with that.”

Emily let out a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding, looking up to you with an almost shy smile, “thanks. Did you want to leave your car here or follow me?”

“I actually took an Uber.”

“Perfect.” Squeezing at your hand softly she redirected the two of you away from the pedestrian entrance to the Waldorf, heading in the direction of the valet instead.

*

Emily unlocked the door to her apartment, guiding you into the entry way and telling you to make yourself comfortable while she locked the door behind herself. The small entry hall lead into a nice kitchen, island facing the open living and dining room combo complete with gorgeous hard wood flooring and stunning floor to ceiling windows.

You stepped out of your shoes, leaving them on the mat at the end of the short hallway, moving through the space as you admired it. There were a handful of case files on the dining table, Emily’s glasses sitting beside them, a blanket strewn over the back of the couch and multiple mugs scattered around the coffee table. Your hand absentmindedly trailed over the back of one of the living room chairs as the view out the windows truly caught your attention. It looked like there was a wraparound balcony, the perfect place to admire the skyline over the river and you could only imagine how stunning the sunsets must be.

Behind you, Emily had tucked the leftovers in the fridge, pulling down a couple of wine glasses after selecting a bottle from the rack. She was about to ask if you were okay with red or if you wanted something else when she glanced over her shoulder, eyes catching you peering out the windows. Something about the way the moonlight cast over your skin, catching the shiny decals in your dress made her completely forget the wine as she remembered her original intentions for tonight. The bottle left abandoned on the counter, she slipped her blazer off, draping it over the back of a chair, fully revealing the bodice as she padded through the room, approaching your back. A hand gently landed on your waist as the other brushed your hair off the back of your neck before Emily’s lips hit the tender skin.

“You like the view?” She murmured, smiling at the way your head easily lolled to the side to give her more access.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Her lips met your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses up it until she nipped at your earlobe, her hands squeezing around your waist. You relaxed into her, a small puff of breath leaving your lips when her teeth sunk into your neck.

“You know, for someone who wanted to skip the hotel, you certainly are eager to get to the bedroom…”

She chuckled against your skin, leaving kisses across the column of your neck and back of your shoulders in between her words when she spoke again.

“That was the plan…show off the place… get you comfortable… have a glass of wine or two… relax…” her teeth pulled at your earlobe again, “but now?” She nudged her nose into your cheek, turning your face back to the windows and with the low light from over the stove there was a faint reflection of both of you in the glass. “Seeing you in front of these windows… I kind of want to fuck you up against them. Let the whole city see how gorgeous you are when you come.”

You let out a quiet moan as her lips pressed into the crook of your neck, her fingers slipping under the straps of your dress, letting them fall over your shoulders. She grabbed your waist again, pulling you tightly flush to her and ground her hips into your ass. Your breath caught in your throat, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as your eyes flew open again, catching her gaze in the window.

“Have you been strapped this whole time?”

She kissed the back of your shoulder, lips twitching up into a grin, “I like to be prepared.” Emily’s finger curled under your chin, turning your face so she could press a kiss to your lips before guiding you to turn around fully to face her. Her hands found the hem of your dress, toying with it, “feel like we should get rid of this.” In one swift movement it was off over your head, dropped to the ground completely forgotten, leaving you in just a pair of barely there panties. “Now… how about you get on your knees for me, hmm?”

Emily reached behind her, grabbing a cushion from the couch to drop at her feet as you did as you were told, bracing your knees on the pillow as you gazed back up to her. Her fingers trailed down your face, cupping your cheek softly as her thumb traced the outline of your lips and you couldn’t help but part them. Her thumb easily slid into your mouth and you were quick to wrap your lips around it, sucking it deeper into your mouth.

“Good girl.” She praised, pulling it out, watching the way your eager eyes followed her hands to her belt, “I want you to touch yourself, get that pussy nice and wet for me while you suck my cock, alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded, bracing up on your knees while she undid her pants, opening them far enough to pull out the toy, stroking it a few times before guiding the tip of it toward your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around the head of her cock, slowly sinking down onto it until it had completely disappeared into your mouth. Your tongue swiveled around it, coating it with your saliva as you slowly pulled off of it, letting it pop out of your mouth and you glanced upwards to catch Emily’s eye. Tongue stuck out you licked her from base to tip, your hand wrapping around it, stroking it to smear the spit around, making sure it was covered in wetness. Your other hand came to rest on her thigh, creeping upwards and she tsk’d at you, her hand wrapping around your wrist.

“What did I say, princess?”

Your hand retreated back to your own body, sinking down it and slipping into your underwear, the tip of Emily’s cock resting on your stuck out tongue as you did so. When your fingers hit your clit you slowly began rubbing at it, a small moan leaving your lips as you eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s it.” She cooed, “that’s my good girl.”

Her hand wrapped around the base of the toy, pushing it deeper into your mouth while your lips wrapped around it again. Your body began rocking in tandem to the pace of her hips, grinding down onto your hand as you continued to sink her cock into the back of your throat. She could hear your whimpers and whines getting louder and more frequent, muffled by the toy in your mouth as you continued to play with your clit. Driving her cock deep into your mouth, she let out a soft groan as the base of the toy pressed against her, your breath hot on her skin.

“You take me so well.” She praised, her hand cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking at your cheek as you let her cock drop from your mouth with a gasp. Your body shuddered, thighs squeezing together as you let out a whimper and she chuckled. “I know princess, it’s hard to multitask, isn’t it?”

“Fuck…” you muttered, leaning toward her again but her finger tapped your chin, signalling to shut your mouth.

“How wet is that little pussy of yours? Let me see.”

You slid your fingertips through your folds, gathering up your juices before pulling your hand out of your panties and lifting it up. Emily’s hand wrapped around your wrist, examining the way your fingers glistened in the moonlight before tugging your arm gently and you nearly scrambled to your feet. Your eyes widened when her lips wrapped around your fingers, a moan coming from her throat as her eyes shut for a moment.

“Always so sweet.”

“Thank you.” You murmured, your chest practically heaving in anticipation, watching as a dark gleam took over Emily’s eyes.

“Turn around,” she twirled her fingers and you did as she asked, “brace yourself on the glass.”

Taking a couple of steps forward your hands met the cool glass, a shiver running through your body as you looked out over the city. Emily’s fingers tugged your thong down your legs and as you kicked it off you couldn’t help but shiver again, feeling entirely exposed. You knew no one could see you at this height, but the thrill of being completely bare pressed up against the glass while Emily was still dressed sent a thrill through you, your cunt pulsing already.

Behind you, Emily crouched down, her hands sliding up the back of your thighs, spreading your legs, thumbs sliding up your pussy, smearing your juices. She let out an appreciative hum before leaning in, tongue lapping through you and you gasped. Her mouth wrapped around you, sucking your juices, getting a better taste of you before standing upright again, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so wet you’re practically dripping down your thighs.” Her lips met the crook of your neck again, “you must really want to be stuffed with my cock, hm?”

“Oh god, please.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so good to me princess.” Her hand wrapped around her cock, spanking it against your cunt and you shivered in her arms.

“Please Emily…” you whined, “please fuck me.”

The head of her cock nudged at your pussy, a shuddering breath escaping from your throat as she teased you for only a second before plunging it into your cunt. She sunk in halfway before pulling out and sinking back in the rest of the way until her hips met your ass. One of her hands stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you steady while the other braced herself on your hip.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously as she picked up the pace, cock thrusting deeper into you with each push of her hips, “god.” Your hands scrunched against the glass, aching for something to grab onto, “so fucking deep.”

Emily gave you a particularly sharp thrust, the air in your lungs breaking free in a sudden gasp that morphed into a moan as she hit even deeper inside your pussy. Your body pressing up against the glass, a cold sensation taking over your chest, nipples rubbing the window as heat coiled within you, wafting off Emily’s body behind you. Your pussy was squeezing around her, you could feel and hear your wetness smearing around the toy, noises matching your moans as she fucked you. With each thrust your body rubbed against the glass, nipples hard swollen at the friction as your body ached for more.

“That’s my pretty girl.” Emily husked, her breath hot on your neck as her free hand slid up your back, tangling into your hair and she pulled.

You let out a gasp, nearly whining at the way her fingers tugged at your roots, pulling your head back so she could hear the way your panting was getting louder. Your back arched heavily, hips pushing back towards Emily with each powerful thrust of her hips, ass bouncing when she sank fully into you.

“F-fuuuck!” You cried out, pleasure shooting through your body, “m’close!”

“So fucking hot like this princess.” She groaned, the hand she had wrapped around your waist sunk south, playing with your throbbing clit and you whimpered, your hips faltering as she fucked into you faster. “Come for me, want you to squirt all over my cock.”

It was too hard to get anymore words out, strangled moans and whimpers were all that would leave your throat, your lips wide and eyes scrunched shut. Each time Emily’s cock dragged through you it hit your g-spot and when she pressed your clit harder, your body jumped, a loud cry leaving your lips as your orgasm burst through you. You could feel your pussy clenching down hard around the toy, a gush of juices bursting around it, dribbling down your thighs.

“That’s it baby…” Emily cooed, her hands running up and down your sides as her hips slowed, fucking you through your orgasm, “so fucking good for me.”

Your forehead gently dropped to the window, a small fog forming on the glass from your panting as you began to catch your breath, body still quaking with aftershocks. Emily slipped out of you and you could hear droplets of your juices hitting the floor, dripping from your cunt and her cock. A gentle kiss was placed between your shoulder blades, hands squeezing at your waist making sure you were okay before the warmth of her body briefly disappeared from behind you.

A dishtowel hit the floor and an arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you to collapse down on the couch. Somewhere in there a shirt was pulled over your head, a blanket pulled up around the two of you as Emily wrapped around your back. You could feel her now bare legs on yours, the lace of her bodice softly scratching at your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you took in the skyscape outside the windows, glittering stars in the horizon. Emily’s arm loosely hung around your waist and your hand found hers, giving it a soft squeeze before tickling up and down her arm, tracing patterns on her soft skin. In return she left a kiss on the back of your shoulder. You weren’t sure just how long you stayed like that, watching the night sky before Emily finally spoke.

“Did you want to stay? Or should I call a car?”

You let out a happy sigh, rolling over to face her, “I’m pretty sure there’s dessert in those take out bags and I remember hearing something about a bottle of Bordeaux.”

She chuckled softly, happy to extend the night even further, “you’re not wrong on either of those accounts.”

__________________

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[lvis44]

Sex & Candy // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), FWB/Unestablished Relationship, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Swearing, Kinda Rushed?, Not Edited/Proofread

Word Count: 4.8k+

Summary: A long day at work and an even longer time apart can all be made better by some chocolate and the man that can make the whole world stop.

Notes: This was requested a while ago and I totally stopped writing it like halfway through and forgot about it, but here we are! I have some angst in the works and also maybe a little blurb for vegas, we shall see how that shit show goes.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

MSG Lewis: In town for a few days, you wanna grab dinner tonight?

MSG: Stuck at work :(.... Drinks later?

MSG Lewis: As long as I get to see you

MSG: I’ll let you know when I’m done

You huffed, tossing your phone on the desk in front of you before daring a glance at the clock. It would be another few hours until you were able to leave the office and you hated to keep him waiting. The two of you weren’t in a committed relationship but anytime he was in the city, he would be at your door, taking you to fancy dinners or spending hours in your sheets. Every time you saw him it made your heart clench, always wanting more with him but knowing he wouldn’t be agreeable, not for a few years at least. The minutes ticked by like hours as you finished up the last bits of your paperwork, the sound of the clock on your wall teasing you with every tick. You had been ready to leave for hours but with the knowledge you would be seeing him now, the temptation to call it a day was tenfold. Your assistant brought takeout to your desk, making you sigh. You could be at a beautiful restaurant with an even more beautiful man, but instead you were eating barely warm pasta at your desk alone.

Finally you were done, the clock nearing 9pm. You half wondered if he would have found something else to keep himself busy for the night, you wouldn’t blame him. You pondered just going home, not wanting to embarrass yourself with an unanswered message. You decided to push your pride to the side, wanting him more than you wanted to keep your dignity.

MSG: Just getting ready to leave the office

You sent your first text, wanting to leave the door open for him to offer a plan, never wanting to impose, already too lucky to have his attention.

MSG Lewis: That’s way too late love :(

You frowned as you read his message, worried you had missed your window, but a second message came only a moment later.

MSG Lewis: How about you meet me at my place, I’ll send you a car.

Your frown was quickly reversed, he still wanted to see you, only worried about how late you were leaving work.

MSG: Can’t just leave my car at work silly

MSG: I’ll see you soon

MSG Lewis: Wait, have you eaten? I can get us something

You smiled again, the care he showed you would always make you swoon, wish you could keep it all to yourself.

MSG: Ate at my desk, now stop texting me so I can come see you xx

MSG Lewis: Okay okay! Drive safe beautiful, see you soon

Thankfully he didn’t live too far from your office, a trip that you had made a hundred times at this point. You were giddy as you pulled up to the gate to his house, having been too many weeks since you’d seen him. His schedule made things difficult but you would always be honored to have the small moments you could. He must have gotten a notification when you pulled in because he was already waiting with his door wide open. He was in his cozy clothes, large arms crossed over his broad chest and the most adoring smile on his face. You tried to keep yourself calm as you all but lept out of the car to reach him. His arms were open the second he saw you approach, meeting you halfway down the driveway, his feet bare against the pavement without a care.

“God I missed you.” He whispered into the side of your head as you nuzzled your face into his neck, taking in his scent that you missed for so long.

“I missed you too.” You sighed, placing a gentle kiss on the strong muscle of his neck.

He pulled away, only enough to look at you, his arms still firmly wrapped around your waist. Suddenly you felt self conscious, very aware that you had just come from a very long day at work and definitely didn’t look your best, but staring at his face you didn’t see a hint of judgment. Yet still you felt the need to apologize, very unnecessarily.

“Sorry I didn’t get the chance to change, was just excited to come see you.” You told him, looking away from his eyes and locking your gaze on his chest in front of you.

“Oh shush, you look gorgeous. You could show up here in a trash bag and I’d still be happy to see you.” Lewis chuckled at your suddenly shy demeanor. 

You finally looked up to him again. His eyes were gentle and you could tell he meant what he was saying. The moment your gaze held his, his hand was cradling your cheek and his lips were on yours. The kiss was much sweeter than many you had shared in your time together and it made your stomach flip. Something felt different.

“Come on, let’s go inside and you can tell me all about your long ass day at work.” He smirked when he finally pulled away. His large hand grasped yours and started pulling you along to his open door.

He led you to his kitchen, two glasses of wine already waiting on the island and you couldn’t help but smile. He grabbed them, letting you take one from his hand before pulling you close to him again. He raised his glass to yours in a toast.

“To finally being able to unwind.” He whispered, a small smile on his lips.

“To finally being able to unwind.” You sighed.

He sat you down at the island, asking if you needed anything before he was busying himself in the kitchen.

“Lewis, I told you I already had dinner, you don’t have to make anything.” You said, laughing as you watched him rummaging in his fridge.

“I know, but first of all, eating at your desk doesn’t sound particularly relaxing, second of all, you never said you had dessert.” He said, his head still in the fridge, making you laugh once again.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, “and what exactly do I get for dessert?” You questioned him, your eyes scanning the muscles of his back flexing through his t-shirt.

He shot you a look over his shoulder as he made his way to the counter with an armful of things you couldn’t quite see.

“All in due time darling, all in due time.” His voice was playful yet promising and you felt your stomach flip.

“You know I’m not good with surprises.” You whined jokingly.

“Oh I’m well aware,” He laughed, “now tell me, how was work?”

You knew there was no use arguing with the most stubborn man you had ever met, so you started to fill him in on the stresses of your day, watching his shoulders flex as he chopped things you couldn’t see. His eyes weren’t on you but you could tell you had his full attention as he asked questions and made remarks about coworkers he knew you didn’t care for. By the time he turned back around your glass of wine was empty and he was immediately filling it back up.

“Okay, so don’t laugh at me,” He started with a chuckle, “but I thought we could break out my chocolate fountain.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, he immediately sent you a playfully stern look.

“Your chocolate fountain? Why do you have a chocolate fountain?” You asked, trying to suppress your giggle.

“I bought it for a party and never touched it again,” He explained, “but I thought it could be fun. Besides, who doesn’t love chocolate and strawberries?”

“Touche.” You said, raising your glass towards him.

“Okay good, because I may have already set it up in the other room.” He said, giving you a sheepish look, rolling his lips into his mouth to avoid the grin threatening on his face.

“Of course you did.” You giggled, already hopping down from your seat.

“Alright, this way my dear.” He laughed, grabbing the bottle of wine and the bowl of strawberries, somehow also managing to pat your ass to get you to move.

When you walked into the den you wanted to melt. He had candles set up around the room and the lights low. The chocolate fountain was set up on the table in the middle of the room with a variety of pillows and blankets on the floor in front of it. He urged you to sit, right in front of the fountain, nestled into the pillows. The second you were comfortable on the floor he was taking off your heels and massaging your calves, making your head lean back into the couch behind you. Your head lulled to the side, looking at him. He had settled in right beside you, taking your legs and placing them in his lap.

“I know we haven’t seen each other enough recently and it sounds like work’s been getting stressful. I just want you to be able to relax.” He said softly, his arm draping around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

You couldn’t help but nestle further into him, enjoying his warmth and soothing touch.

“It’s okay, I know you’re a very busy man and work is always stressful.” You laughed at the end of your sentence.

“Well let me give you a little bit of peace.” He whispered, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know what would be amazing?” You said, lifting your head to look at him.

He raised his eyebrows for you to continue.

“One of the chocolate strawberries I’ve been promised.” You giggled, making him grin.

“Yes ma’am.” He said playfully, pecking your lips before leaning forward to grab a strawberry.

You watched as he carefully spun the strawberry in the chocolate making sure it was fully coated, ever the perfectionist. He leaned over bringing it to your mouth with his other hand underneath, making sure to catch any drops that may come off. He watched you intently as your lips wrapped around the chocolate coated fruit, a small content moan leaving you. He took his hand back, finishing the last bit of berry that you hadn’t eaten.

Your nose scrunched at his action, “Eating my leftovers now, are you?”

He laughed, “My tongue has had a lot more of you than just your leftovers, think I can handle it.”

Your face immediately flushed, looking away from him making him giggle, he loved to rile you up, make you shy.

“C’mon.” You heard him say, making you turn back to face him. He had another strawberry ready, right in front of your lips.

Once again he watched intently as you took a bite, his eyes growing heavy. A small bit of chocolate dripped onto his wrist. Before he could take his hand away you grabbed his forearm, licking away the drop, making sure to keep your eyes on him the entire time. You watched as he let out a deep breath, one that looked like he had been holding for a long time.

“Can’t let any go to waste, it’s delicious.” You shrugged with a smirk, enjoying being able to get him as flustered as you felt.

“Mmm,” He hummed, bringing his hand to your jaw, “well you’ve got some right here.”

His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth, drawing over your bottom lip before adding just the slightest pressure, making you open your mouth. You welcomed his thumb onto your tongue, the taste of him better than the chocolate. You made sure to swirl your tongue over the pad of his thumb, watching as he licked his lips slowly, enjoying the show. His thumb drew your bottom lip down, his face now much closer to yours than before, his hand still cupping your jaw.

“You’re a tease, you know that?” His voice was low and taunting.

“How am I a tease when you know you’ll get exactly what you want?” You whispered, a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah? What is it that I want?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips coming closer to yours.

“More chocolate?” You giggled, pulling away from him.

You knew exactly how this night would end and you were more than happy with it, but it was always fun to tease him, it brought out another side of him that you were always happy to unlock. You watched as he bit his lip, trying and failing to suppress his smile, rolling his eyes as he shook his head.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He playfully sighed, watching as you leaned it to grab a piece of fruit. He chuckled as you took your time fully covering the entire surface with as much chocolate as possible.

“What?” You said over your shoulder, sending him a look.

“Just wondering if maybe you would prefer a spoon, skip the fruit altogether.” He said through a laugh.

“Oh hush, you know I’m a slut for chocolate, it has to be perfectly coated, needs to have the right ratio of fruit to chocolate.” You tried to explain, your own giggle coming through your words.

“I see,” His chuckle had calmed down now as his arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzling into your neck, “is that all you're a slut for?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.” You sighed as he nipped at the skin below your ear, forgetting about the candy in your hand almost entirely.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you further into him. He stopped his slow assault on your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder and nudging your cheek with his nose.

“You gonna eat that?” He whispered, reminding you of the fruit still in your hand, untouched.

You slowly shook your head, bringing it to his mouth. His bite was slow, keeping his eyes locked on yours. The way his lips wrapped around the berry made your stomach twist, visions on them all over your body. A low, content moan came from the back of his throat, almost as if he hadn't meant to make the sound. You were about to pull your hand away, but the second you tried he grabbed your wrist and brought it back to his mouth. He took the last bit of the berry as well as the tip of your finger into his mouth, wrapping his lips around your finger for only a moment before pulling away with a smirk. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and you knew he could see it too. You noticed a small smear of chocolate along his bottom lip, for a moment you contemplated wiping it off the same way he had done to you moments ago, but you opted for a different approach. You leaned into him, just ghosting the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip. That is all you had meant to do but within moments he had taken your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it like he had something to prove, something to claim. Within the blink of an eye he was kissing you hard, his own tongue making its way into your mouth as he pulled you fully into his lap. You were straddling him now, your arms making their way around his shoulders so you could pull him even closer, feel his strong chest against yours even if only through the fabric of your shirts. His hands that had been placed on your waist made their way down to your ass, taking greedy handfuls as he began to guide your hips to rock against him. You could feel him through his sweats, only half hard and already an impressive size. He groaned against your lips, the feeling of being together again in the smallest of ways already almost overwhelming. You had missed the feeling of being close to him so much and you could tell it was reciprocated.

“Need you.” He muttered against your lips, his voice breathless.

It was rare for him to seem desperate, never had you heard him even begin to beg. His small admission made your heart soar. You always knew he wanted you, he wouldn’t keep calling if he didn’t, but it was rarely something that he spoke.

“What about the chocolate? Gonna let it go to waste?” You teased him, you really couldn’t help it.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” He whispered against your skin, his kisses now trailing down your neck. You could feel the ghost of a smirk spread across his lips.

Sometimes you forgot just how strong he was, but as he effortlessly lifted you to lay you back against the blankets on the floor, you were reminded once again of just how powerful the man above you was. His hands were under your shirt immediately, desperately trying to take it off. He was hasty in his movements, unlike himself, almost frustrated at the discovery of the buttons on your blouse. You leaned up, kissing him softly as you helped him undo the trail of buttons, shrugging the fabric off your shoulders. The moment that was done your hands were under his shirt, pushing it up until he had to sit up and remove it himself. He was back over you immediately, his toned chest pressing up against you making you sigh. You ran your hands down the bare skin of his back, reveling in the strong muscle you felt, imagining the tattoo you were blindly tracing.

“I’ve missed you so much,” His words were rushed, like they were being forced out of him, as he kissed down your chest, “haven’t even been with anyone else, I’ve only wanted you.”

Your bra was quickly discarded before he took your perked nipple into his mouth, not giving you even a moment to process what he had just said. Your eyes fluttered shut as a soft moan escaped you.

“That sound, fuck, I think about it all the time. It’s like fucking music.” He said softly into your skin as his wet lips trailed kisses to your other breast.

Only seconds later you felt his warmth leave you, as you slowly opened your eyes a warm liquid landed directly in the valley of your breasts making you gasp. Then you felt his tongue, flat and warm he licked the same trail before his lips were on yours again. You didn’t even have to ask what he had just done, immediately tasting the chocolate on his tongue.

“Told you we would figure something out.” He smirked against your lips.

As he distracted you with kisses his hand made its way to the hem of your skirt. The second you felt the tips of his calloused fingers running up the inside of your thigh you couldn’t help but buck your hips, making him giggle against your lips. He decided not to tease you too much, swiftly moving your panties to the side so he could run his fingers through your already drenched folds.

“Fuck, always so ready for me.” He groaned, nuzzling his head into your neck, leaving teasing nibbles on your skin as he softly stroked you.

When the pads of his fingers finally landed on your clit you moaned loudly, needing the relief.

“That feel good, baby?” He coaxed you as his fingers slowly worked you, barely enough but still heavenly.

“More, Lew, please.” You whimpered into the air as he pulled back to look at you.

He didn’t respond for a moment, gazing down at you with a look you couldn’t quite make out. He didn’t say a word before his fingers were slipping down to your entrance. With no warning he plunged a thick digit inside of you, curling in the perfectly practiced manner that would have you writhing in seconds. His thumb took over the actions against your clit as he gently eased a second finger inside of you, not waiting around for you to adjust. He was needy tonight, determined to have you exactly how he wanted. The look on his face was one of pure concentration and lust. His brows were furrowed, pupils blown out, his lips parted just barely. He was studying you, drinking in every reaction you offered, committing everything about you to memory for the next time he was gone for weeks on end. 

You were struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of his hands on you, but you wanted him more. You used your last bit of will power to get your hands to the front of his sweatpants, palming the heavy bulge there that you could tell wasn’t restricted by anything. You gave him a small squeeze before trailing your hand up to his belly, determined to get him out of his pants. He faltered for only a moment but regained himself quickly, rendering you just about useless as he began to scissor his fingers inside of you with purpose. You slipped your hand into the front of his sweats as you used your other to pull his head down to you, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy as they bore down into yours. The sigh he let out as you wrapped your hand around his rigid length was one that sounded almost pained. He was hot and heavy in your palm, could feel him pulsing, painfully turned on.

“Lewis, please, just want you.” You whispered against his lips, your words carrying more meaning than you wanted.

“Yeah, of course, fuck, yeah.” He said just as quietly, scrambling to try to get his pants off while still trying to touch you. He seemed almost like a teenage boy who was about to hit it for the first time and it made you want to laugh. The best, most experienced partner you'd ever had, and still acted like he never thought the day would come. He somehow managed to kick his sweats off while still keeping his fingers planted deeply inside you, steadily bringing you to a peak.

He was beautiful in the soft candle light, his features were sharper and his beard somehow looked fluffier, the glow of the flames made his tattoos glisten. It all almost distracted you from the other beautiful part he had just exposed to you. He was thick against your stomach, his tip almost burgundy from how hard he was, steadily leaking precum. It made your confidence peak. The man, who you thought was inarguably the most attractive being to walk the planet, was in this state because of you. There was evident displeasure across his face when he realized he would have to disconnect from you, even if only for a moment, if he wanted to take your skirt off. He did, throwing it off to the side making you say a silent prayer it hadn’t landed on a flame.

He knelt back on his heels in front of you, eyes wandering all over your body as one hand grasped his cock, the other came up to his mouth. You could see your glistening arousal on his fingers as he took them onto his tongue, groaning as he tasted you. Regularly he would have set up camp with his head between your thighs by now, making you come more times than you thought possible before he was finally inside of you, but you could tell that wasn’t going to happen right now.

“How do you always taste so good, hmm?” He asked with a small smirk as he positioned himself back over you, using the head of his cock to nudge against your clit. You couldn’t respond, only gasping as he did it again.

He pressed his forehead firmly against yours as he lined himself up with your entrance, barely any pressure but you could already anticipate the stretch that was about to come.

“Gonna make you come on my tongue so many times you forget your own name later, but right now I need this, we need this.” He said lowly as he started to push into you.

You wrapped a leg around his hip as you clung to him for dear life. Rarely did you take him without coming first, his size was notable and thankfully he knew that. He was slow and gentle, easing himself into you as he softly told you how good you were doing for him, how incredible you felt around him. He let out the most content groan you had ever heard from him once he was seated inside you. The stretch had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. He stayed still for a moment, letting you take your time adjusting, only moving once you started gently rocking your hips up toward him. Soft moans and groans filled the room as he fell into a steady pace, a rhythm you weren’t used to from him. It felt like he was melding the two of you into one, taking care of your soul. He was leaning down on his forearms, caging you in with his forehead still pressed to yours. Occasional kisses were left to your lips that you tried desperately to reciprocate but all you could do was whimper into his mouth.

“Let me take care of you baby, wanna make you feel good.” He murmured against your jaw as he brought your other leg up around his hip, making him press even deeper into you. He always managed to talk to you, no matter how much he was enjoying himself or how lost in pleasure he seemed. It was something you envied, usually left with nothing but the ability to moan and say his name the moment his hands were on you. 

His change in angle had you crying out, your nails dragging down his back causing a deep groan to escape him. Tonight was different and you could tell. You could feel your stomach clenching, your high approaching quickly despite the little prep he had given you, his hand hadn’t even made it down to your clit as it usually would right before you were about to come. The sex felt like more of a connection and less of just a fuck but you couldn’t let yourself get your hopes up.

“God, you're close aren't you?” He groaned as he felt you clench around him. All you could do was nod as your eyes shut tight.

“Come on baby, let go for me.” He said softly, kissing your neck, “I’ve got you, I’m right here, come all over me, you’re doing so good.”

His words pushed you over the edge, you pulled him down onto you very aware that he had simply let you, letting him crush you as you moaned loudly. The second he felt your walls fluttering around him, his hips were stuttering against you. You could tell he was trying to fuck you through your own release but losing out to the sheer pleasure he was in. The two of you came together, a rarity between you. Your ears were ringing but you were able to hear the beautiful pained sound he made as he released into you, painting your walls and throbbing deep inside of you. You felt him go limp on top of you for a moment, his fingers very lazily tracing up and down your thigh. You were no better, floating somewhere in between space and time. It had been a while since you had come that hard and your brain had simply turned to mush. It wasn’t until you heard his soft, raspy voice that you started to come back into yourself.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” He giggled into your neck.

“Hmm?” You answered, not quite ready to form a full sentence, your fingers softly tracing over his sweaty back.

He propped himself up ever so slightly so he could look at you, still deep inside of you and making no move to pull out.

“I’ve really missed you, I always miss you like crazy when I’m away. I’m constantly thinking about when I’m going to get to see you next. I never want anyone else because nothing compares to this.” He said softly, more than likely repeating the words he had just said.

“I always miss you too Lewis.” You told him, reaching up to run your fingers through his beard. You weren’t quite sure what else to say, not quite sure what his admission meant.

“Stay the night? Please?” He asked, the last part sounding almost like a plea as he leaned into your touch.

“Of course,” You whispered, “but only if I can shower before bed.”

He chuckled at you, leaning down to place a soft kiss to your lips, “Always, but I think we need to have some more fun with the chocolate fountain first.”

His eyes were gleaming with mischief and you couldn’t help but question if you would be sleeping at all.

[tkaulitzlvr]

SORRY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you were drinking your sorrows away after yours and tom’s breakup, receiving unwanted attention at the random club you are at, until the last person you expected to see comes to your rescue.

content: angst + smut

a/n: again pulled this out of my ass this is becoming a very common theme LOL. this isn’t what i wanted to post but it’s been a week since i last put anything out so i threw it together, def not my best work and i feel like all i write is angst to smut whoops, hope u all enjoy anyway and thank u for 500 followers!!

the alcohol soon takes over as i down another shot, the liquid burns my throat and only fuels my recklessness. not that i mind, in fact, it is exactly what i need. tonight i don’t want to feel - tired of the everlasting burden of my emotions. i want to be numb, nothing but an empty vessel, letting the alcohol lead the way opposed to my diseased mind. music blares through the speakers, probably loud enough to cause some serious damage to my eardrums. but i don’t know how long i have been at this club for, though it is long enough for my hearing to become accustomed to the thick bass pulsating through my body, no longer wincing whenever i would near the speakers.

intoxicated bodies encircle me whilst i make my way to the centre, some just like me - alone and drinking away their self pity. others dance with their friends, slurred giggles leaving their lips as they sloppily sway their hips to the music, covered in nothing besides their skimpy dresses. those that i envy don’t dance alone, but with a man beside them, hands on their body, faces inches apart. they are able to focus on the one person in front of them, tuning out the hundreds of people surrounding them. but, each person that i see all have one thing in common - they fit in. and i want that too, so bad, instead of feeling so misplaced - that feeling ripe within me, apparent ever since he left.

everyone knew about tom and i’s breakup, hell, how could they not? ‘germany’s biggest heartthrob - tokio hotel guitarist tom kaulitz, parts with model girlfriend after two years!’ - that’s a headline most reporters dream of, christmas having come early for them when the news came out. and it spread like wildfire, his fans - who were particularly notorious for not being entirely fond of tom finding a long term girlfriend - had hit the jackpot. they speculated, some saying that i cheated on him, some insistent on me being too controlling - others even going as far as to say i made him choose between me and the band. but when it came down to it, they were just rumours, plain and simple. no one is aware of the true reasoning behind it - only the two of us knew why we parted.

it was a mutual agreement, yet tom was the one that initiated it. the distance inevitably put between us as a result of him travelling on tours, from continent to continent, state to state, meant that we rarely saw each other, this putting stress on the both of us. i wanted us to work, more than anything, yet the way we drifted apart from each other made it impossible, being with him feeling like a chore as every small disagreement would blow way out of proportion, usually fixed by sex, the cycle repeating for the last few weeks of our relationship, until it reached breaking point. and i didn’t want to be used for my body, though i knew deep down tom loved me for more than that, fixing our problems with physical intimacy was only a temporary solution - leading to us parting ways.

that was one reason for our breakup, however the other was far more serious, and tom wasn’t even aware of it - but i had been speculating for a while. with his frequent travelling, i knew that i wasn’t the only girl in his life. how could i have been? he would go without seeing me for weeks, and whilst he had changed past his womanising ways, it would be stupidly naïve of me to think that he had moved on from that lifestyle completely. or perhaps my mind was tricking me, the loneliness i was often left to increasing the paranoia. though he had never explicitly given me the impression he was cheating, the thought always nagged in my mind, making the breakup slightly easier once he announced that we were no longer working. he promised that he still loved me, that maybe in the future things would work out, but i knew that was just a way to make our separation less bitter.

the constant articles, pictures, videos, and speculations of tom with other women each week lead me to the present, drinking my sorrows away a month after our breakup, wishing that i had never let him go despite agreeing that us parting ways would be the best solution. i was tired too, sick of fighting for a relationship that was no longer there. sometimes it felt utterly one sided, like i was the only one willing to try. tom refused to admit this, reminding me that "i know how much he loves me". however we just didn’t work anymore, his claims of our love like empty spews of desperation, but any words uttered from his beautiful mouth were words of truth to me, until i came to the soul-crushing realisation that he doesn’t adore me the way he did when we first met, all those years ago.

but god, every time i see pictures of him with a girl that isn't me, my heart wrenches at the sight, slowly tearing my insides apart as i recognise letting him go as my deepest regret. and the anger at not only myself, but him for leaving me eats me up, alcohol and temporary fixes being the only thing that can put my ill mind at ease.

but tonight tom isn’t on my mind. i’m desperate, longing for the touch of anyone who will give me the attention. that is why i left the house wearing nothing but a tight black dress that barely passed my mid-thighs. tom would never let me leave the house in such an outfit alone. he was always over-protective over me, loving the idea that I was his and only his. however he had left me, and i don’t care how promiscuous i appear, because admittedly, i am more needy than ever. my body running way ahead of my mind, i move sloppily to the rhythm of the music, feeling two hands grab my waist gently, pulling me into them as i turn around, seeing a tall-ish guy with fluffy blonde hair smirking down me.

he wasn’t tom. he could never be tom. nobody could. not a single person on this earth could even come close to him, could make me feel the way he did, both mentally and physically. right now it doesn’t matter, i don’t care who he is, because, on the surface, he is a male giving me attention, something which i have craved over this last month of loneliness.

"hi there." I utter drunkenly, slurring my words and backing further into him, the alcohol sinking more and more into my system as i no longer care who is dancing with me, this being the first time i have experienced physical touch since tom. and oh god how i’ve missed it. i’m a mess; a desperate, foolish fucking mess. if tom could see me right now, he wouldn’t recognise me. hell, i don't even know who i am anymore - in all honesty i had lost every part of what i thought i was the second he had walked out of the door. somehow, through the alcohol and attractive man behind me, tom is all my mind can focus on - his body the only clear image in there, beyond the fuzziness from the alcohol. i utterly despise the way he has such an effect on me, knowing that he has already gotten over our relationship despite the years we spent together, even before we had started dating, we had been close friends. using all the strength within me, i drown out every thought of him, attempting to enjoy the bitter-sweet freedom and get over him.

"what's your name beautiful?" the mysterious guy shouts over the crowd, tightening his grip on my waist.

"doesn’t matter." i reply. honestly, it didn’t - i probably won’t see this guy ever again, not after fucking him anyway. in any other circumstance, i would be scolding myself for giving myself up so easily, selling myself like some cheap slut. now though, i’m no longer myself, turning to face him, latching my arms around his neck. "what's yours?"

"alex." he responds, clearly not looking to make conversation, his dick appearing to be doing all the talking. "do you wanna get out of here?" he signals to the door, my head nodding eagerly in response, craving for any intimate moment no matter who it is with. part of me convinces myself that i am with tom, that it is him i am leaving the club with, as i would every single time. i imagine that it is him holding me with such adoration, that it is him soothing me in every way possible, yet i know that he is never coming back.

my body pushes its way through the crowd, uttering broken excuse me’s as i walk by, legs becoming weaker by the second as my vision slowly blurs. i soon pick up on the reality of the situation, disgust and shame echoing within me as i realise how fucked up my mind truly is. i am about to have sex with a guy who I have never met before - whether or not tom had broken my heart, i deserved to have morals. the rationality ticking in by the second, i roughly pull out of alex's grasp, his tall frame turning around in confusion.

"i- i have to get to my friends." i lie, totally aware that i came here alone, my words barely audible as my breathing becomes uneven.

"no, come with me, don't be like this baby." he smiles, pulling me along with him, tears soon clouding my vision as the chances of me escaping the situation seem to slip through my fingers before i can gather any sense of what is happening.

"let me go!" i muster all the courage and strength within me and yank my arm away, stumbling backwards into the cold brick wall behind me, the harshness causing me to shiver as i bite the inside of my mouth, praying for something, anything, to take me out of this situation. alex nears towards me, our faces inches apart as he towers over me, my body weak and defenceless against his.

"stop being such a bratty fucking bitch and just come with me-" he begins, grabbing ahold of my arm, only to be pushed to the floor in a matter of seconds, my head looking upwards in confusion to be met with a face i dreaded and longed to see at the same time.

"fuck off!" tom begins, squaring up to alex, who is useless against him, the height difference almost humorous. if i hadn’t been scared for my life seconds prior, i probably would’ve laughed, though the only thing i am truly able to process is the confusion that soon replaces any fear within me. "you ever go near my girl again and i'll break your fucking jaw. you understand, hm?" he shouts, alex smiling to himself and walking away, clearly not looking for a fight, though his cold glare moments ago said otherwise. his girl. i am everything but, closer to being the complete opposite, though i am too startled to consider questioning his words right now.

my body refuses to move, paralysed in utter shock, wondering whether the alcohol is causing me to hallucinate. i hadn’t seen tom since the day i moved out of his house, and now he is standing in front of me. and fuck, he looks good. it doesn’t matter that it has only been a month, somehow he seems to look much better, and undeniably different. his hair, usually a dark shade of blonde, the thick locks tied into a ponytail, adorned with whatever cap matched his outfit, is changed, almost so drastically it is hard to recognise him. instead, jet black braids rest on his shoulders, the colour mirroring his entire outfit - dark and cold. his cap is replaced with a small bandana, fitted securely around his forehead, the silver piercing on his lips now just as dark as his hair, matte black, making the soft shade of pink on his lips stand out even more.

though his new look is certainly a shock, the more daunting realisation comes merely from his presence. he is here - standing inches away from me. i am unable to gauge his next move, his expression still just as harsh as it had been once he had threatened that guy. however, any doubts i have are quickly put to bed, his tensed frame nearing mine, planting a calloused hand on my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, his thumb caressing my lower back whilst his other hand rests in my hair. i sob into his chest, failing pathetically to hide my emotions as i cling on to him, my small frame shaking due to the cold berlin weather and my irrational state.

"i’m so sorry." he mutters, resting his head on top of mine. i cannot respond, choking on my tears and unable to do anything but hold onto him as if he may slip away. my vision is slowly blurring, the countless drinks i had making their appearance as i realise how badly i have fucked up by coming here. beyond my intoxicated state, i realise that i don’t want to be this close to tom. i long to scream at the top of my lungs, something about how he made me feel, how fucked up he is, and how much i hate him, but right now i am too shaken to even stand up alone, so i save my breath and prepare to spew my feelings out when i have the energy.

"we need to get you home." he mutters, pulling away after a couple minutes. i stare into his eyes for the first time since we broke up, his immediately filling with hurt once he registers my damaged expression. "god, this is all my fault." he whispers under his breath, guiding me to his car, grabbing his jacket that he always kept in the back for instances like this, knowing that i get cold easily. it brings me some comfort knowing that he kept the jacket there, though it probably means nothing. he places it gently over my shivering frame before climbing into the driver’s side and beginning to drive to my apartment. the house that tom and i shared was in his name, meaning that i insisted on moving out. despite us breaking up, he helped me find a place, a decent sized two bedroom apartment in the heart of berlin. though it wasn't nearly as perfect as our home, it was something, and i am grateful for it.

i face away from him, not willing to forgive him despite my vulnerable state just moments before. no matter how much he protected me just then, i can’t place my trust in him, my heart and mind still wary, the thought of him discarding me for other girls so nonchalantly after we parted fresh in my mind.

"i missed you." he announces into the empty silence, his head turning in my direction whilst i scoff in response. "don't lie to me tom." his words bring anger coursing through my veins the second they utter from his mouth, sobriety soon taking over me as the alcohol quickly wares off. if he missed me, he wouldn't have fucked every girl he has seen this past month, he would have come back, or better yet, he wouldn’t have left me in the first place.

"i'm telling the truth." he begins, hesitantly turning his gaze to meet mine, my eyes filling with tears before i can attempt to collect my composure. "i regret leaving you. i need you to-"

"do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? i haven't been eating, sleeping, you've just seen me almost have sex with a guy i'd barely known for five minutes for gods sake!" i shout, my voice breaking as the tears cascade inevitably down my cheeks, unable to hide my vulnerability in this moment. he winces slightly at the mention of me nearly sleeping with alex, his grip on the wheel increasing whilst his jaw is clenched.

he is hurt. i have known him long enough to be able to distinguish how he is feeling without him saying a word. the pained look on his face almost pleases me, glad to see him guilty over the emotional turmoil he has caused me, because i long for him to grasp even a small segment of how i feel, and my small outburst has definitely achieved that.

"i’m sorry. i never deserved you, now even less than ever. i fucked up, badly. i have no idea how to make it up to you. help me, please schatz. i want to be better, for you." he finishes, pulling into his driveway as the dark grey gates open, revealing the house that i share so many memories in, yet it feels strangely foreign, like i don’t belong here, and i never did.

"sure doesn't seem like it." i begin. "from everything i've seen online you seem to have gotten over me pretty fast. thought you were better than meaningless sex, but i guess not. same old tom." i scoff, shaking my head in disbelief of his empty words.

"what are you talking about? i haven't had sex with anyone. not since you anyway." he fires back, staring into my eyes, and for some reason, i don't think he is lying, the amount of time spent with him across my life meaning i can read him like a book.

"whatever, i don’t have the fucking energy for this. besides, you said you were taking my home. this isn’t my house anymore, incase you fucking forgot.” i state matter-of-factly, not in the mood for continuing this conversation, or even being around him.

"you can barely walk. no way was i leaving you to go home alone. you can spend the night here." he replies assertively, stepping out of the car as i do the same, slamming the door shut in frustration.

"you don't have to protect me tom. we aren't together anymore." i respond bitterly, looking down at the ground, wishing it would swallow me up. his hand gently grazes mine, testing his limits as he attempts to take his hand in mine, to which i quickly refuse, pulling away and looking at him in confusion.

"what are you doing?" i hiss, looking upwards as he puts his hands up, surrendering.

"sorry just, please come inside, you're freezing in that tiny dress." not having the energy to argue, i reluctantly sigh, following him inside, taking in the all too familiar surroundings and immediately reminiscing on all the memories i have here, longing to go back to the time when things weren't so complicated.

"look i-" tom begins, however his words are soon shortened to a stop as i quickly cut him off, lethargic and carrying a lack of effort to argue with him, because i know that no matter how long i let him speak, the conversation will only end badly, turning even more sour than it already is right now.

"i'm tired, please can we talk about this in the morning." i sigh, my head pounding as i groan out in pain, massaging my temples slowly and closing my eyes.

"okay, you take our- my bed and i'll sleep in the guest room. there's some of my hoodies in there for you to sleep in." he responds, a look of defeat evident among his complexion, relief coursing through me as i nod my head, walking up to his bedroom. the countless nights i spent in this room, wrapped in his arms, the countless mornings i woke up to his affection, the countless evenings we shared intimate moments all seem to be lost as i feel a stranger here, almost misplaced without a sense of belonging.

i open the wardrobe, immediately knowing which door has his hoodies from when i would often steal one, something he is used to me doing. i pick out my favourite one. it is simple - a white hoodie with writing printed across its front. to others, it holds little meaning, however even after our breakup, it holds thousands of memories, because it is what he wore when we had our first kiss, and the first piece of clothing he ever gave me, this small act something i won’t ever be able to forget. slipping my dress off and the hoodie over my head, his scent quickly envelops me, providing with all the security i have been longing for, my mind quickly breaking down as tears cloud my vision, my desire to have him holding me taking over as i wish that we would have never parted.

climbing into the soft sheets, i attempt to fall asleep, any element of lethargy in my body fading away as i crave to be in tom’s arms like i have been each time i have laid in this bed. his side is cold and empty, my body shuffling over to it as i snuggle into his pillow, reaching out pathetically to any remnant of him i have left. seconds feel like hours of me thinking of him, wondering if he cares anywhere close to the extent that i do, finding myself longing to take a small look inside his mind, because all i want is his love. the darkness encloses me, silence echoing throughout the empty house and only fuelling my wandering mind. every thought flashes back to him, and i loathe how he can consume my entire being without even being aware of the effect he has on me.

eventually, my eyes begin to droop, almost falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber, however before i can do so, the door creaks open, light from the hallway leaking into the bedroom, before it is cast out seconds later with the soft click of the door closing, footsteps nearing the bed as i feel it dip beside me. my body is afraid to move, instead laying still in confusion until i feel a single hand brush against my shoulder, causing me to whip my head around, tom’s eyes gazing into mine.

‘i can't do it." he mutters, scanning my eyes with his own, only the seas of brown are filled with sorrow, slightly distinguishable through the darkness.

as much as i want to tell him to leave, to scold him for disturbing me when i was finally close to falling asleep, i simply can’t. i am compelled to him, silently thanking his impulsiveness and finding myself pleading for us to work things out.

"can't do what?" i respond, laying on my side and facing him, our bodies at each side of the bed as he is slightly reluctant to push my boundaries.

"live without you, i can't do it. i need you." he replies, slowly reaching his hand out until it meets mine, his fingers clasping mine in the centre of the bed, this small act of physical affection being the only thing that binds us together, yet it is more than enough.

"you broke me tom." i whisper, blinking away the tears as i refuse to cry again, tired of being so vulnerable around him. “do you realise that?”

"i know, and i’m so sorry schatz. i’ll never be able to make that up to you. but i want to try, can you let me do that? please baby." his body slowly nears mine, until our faces are inches apart. he removes his hand from mine, my face falling in disappointment, however this quickly turns into curiosity as it moves only to reach up and caress my cheek, wiping the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. i wither helplessly into his touch, feeling completely and utterly trapped within his affection. i am bound to him, left hopeless and attached. no matter how much i try fight, it is useless, my body and my mind is unable to function without him.

"it’s only you schatz." he mutters, his face nearing mine as he captures my lips in a sweet kiss, the first one we have shared in over a month. the way his lips fit so perfectly with mine, their softness contrasting with the harshness he showed me all those weeks ago, makes me wonder how i managed to live without this feeling all this time. he is a drug, his kisses addictive as i find myself longing for more, desperate to make up for the lost intimacy as a result of our separation.

"i love you." he whispers against my lips, reattaching them almost immediately with even more desire than before, sealing every unspoken apology in the most beautiful way possible. the darkness between us is a barrier, preventing my vision from witnessing the man above me. tom reaches quickly to flip the bedside lamp on, faded yellow light leaking dimly around the room, illuminating his features as i can finally see every part of him. and oh god, is he perfect. his lips plump and parted, tinted with a rosy shade of pink, adorned with that same piercing that drives me crazy each and every time, tired and shaky breaths erupting from them whilst i stare into his eyes, deep pools of brown that i could get lost in if i look for too long.

his body. crafted by god himself - concrete proof that he really does have favourites. each inch of skin soft and sheen, resembling silk itself whilst my fingers slowly trail down it, melting into the pale surface , past his chest to his chiselled abs, gently grazing the muscle and refusing to break eye contact. my hand creeps lower and lower, tom becoming increasingly flustered until they reach the waistband of his boxers. at an agonisingly slow pace, my finger slips inside, fiddling with the waistband whilst touching the skin there, refusing to move my hand any lower whilst i take in tom’s expression. his eyes are flickering between being fully closed and half-lidded, barely noticeable wrinkles lining his forehead as his eyebrows knit together, lips parted with shaky breaths uttering from them, the cold air fanning onto my face, heavy against his warm kiss.

"fuck- please don't tease." he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and beginning to slowly kiss my lips once again, my body feeling full again as i soon realise how much i missed this feeling. complying with his plea, my hand slips further into his boxers, a choked breath muffling into my mouth as i begin to gently move my hand up and down. he struggles to kiss back, soft moans escaping from his lips and mixing into mine in the most delightful way possible as i pick up the pace.

"oh my god..." he trails off, his voice vibrating into the soft skin below my ear once his head falls just below it, my movements not slowing, the slight whines emitting from his mouth pushing me further, desperate to please him. the fast and sloppy kisses being placed onto my neck soon slow down, giving me the signal that he is close. he clutches onto my waist, his fingers running up and down whilst his legs slightly tremble, his release taking over as he lets out a loud groan, a string of curses following until he slips his boxers off, regaining his composure and climbing fully on top of me.

our faces are inches apart, my ragged breathing echoing my desperation to feel him inside me, because it has been so long since i have experienced the feeling, and it is like no other. his thumb runs along my lips, pulling the bottom one downward slowly and releasing it, before moving his head to the nape of my neck, placing slow and gentle kisses.

"you have no idea what i want to do to you schatz." he mutters against my skin, nipping at it gently, these words alone almost being enough to let go, to lose any remnant of composure i have and allow him to take me right there and then. his calloused hands reach for the large hoodie draped over my frame, pulling it over my head as i am almost completely naked, my underwear being the only barrier between us and exercising those silent promises of our love on the tips of our tongues.

"so perfect." he whispers, caressing my cheek lightly. pressing himself against me, his hand reaches to caress my now exposed breast, kissing and biting at any skin he can get access to, inaudible spews of satisfaction swallowing the silence surrounding us, my hands pushing his head further downwards ever so slightly, savouring the pleasure and wishing it would last forever. he slowly pulls away, maintaining eye contact as he reaches for my panties, swiftly tugging them downward and discarding them somewhere across the room, like the rest of our clothing.

skin to skin, the warm and bare air a mirror to our nakedness, we kiss with such hunger, such desire that our need for each other is palpable, so strong that i swear if i tried, i could feel it. because he is that love, his body living and breathing evidence that this love is real, not something that can only be felt inside, though the fire that his touch ignites within me is one that will burn forever, as long as he vows to supply the heat that is his affection. my hands clutch onto his back, his roaming my waist and pushing our hips into each other, ragged breaths echoing throughout the room as i find myself becoming too impatient. although part of me wants to savour this moment as it is our first special one in over a month, one part of me, the more irrational side, wants him to ruin me, wants him to claim me as his own and do whatever his heart desires. i am his to destroy, because if it means that i can be with him for eternity, then i am willing to do anything.

"tom…i need you." i whisper helplessly against his lips, no longer able to mask my hunger.

he places one final kiss to my lips, stroking my hair gently and positioning himself to my entrance. my eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, relishing this feeling and preparing for the intense pleasure that i have been so empty without.

“then i’m all yours.” he speaks softly, sliding into me slowly before i am able to repeat my desperate plea. because if i tried, i know that my speech would be inaudible, struggling to breathe at the feeling of him filling me up.

unaccustomed to his size, or any dick for the last month, i wince in pain before he is even halfway in, gripping his bicep and giving him the signal to stop. "wait a minute." i state breathlessly, biting down on my lip as he stops his motion, gently stroking my cheek with his palm and awaiting my permission to carry on. feeling him stretch my walls fills the hole within me, once hollow and empty, however the pain takes longer to subside, tom slowly biting and kissing the sensitive skin on my jaw whilst he waits.

"c’mon baby, you can take it." he mumbles against me, the raspiness within his voice vibrating up my spine, motivating me to tune out the pain and allow him to pleasure me. "okay." i whisper, pleasure soon starting to take over as he moves into me, stopping and throwing his head back as he bottoms out, his tip hitting my g-spot perfectly, this being enough for me to cry out, my screams echoing throughout the room, the air thick with passion. his eyes are screwed shut, sweat lining along his forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven, yet he only increases his stamina, picking my leg up and placing it over his shoulder.

the new angle sends me into euphoria, my vision turning white as i can do nothing but scream his name, my fingers raking down his back. he memorises the way he hits my g-spot, doing it over and over again, bringing me closer to my release, yet i can tell he is not there yet, prompting me to hold it so i can share my high with him.

"fuck me..." his voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing as he savours the pleasure. my legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer inwards, if that is physically possible. somehow he is still going, not showing any signs of lethargy. he is desperate to meet his release, hips snapping against mine with such intensity, his head buried in the crook of my neck, the incoherent groans escaping from his mouth fanning over the bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"tom i'm so close!" i moan, knowing that i will not last much longer. i do not know if it is the absence of sexual intimacy in my life recently, or my intense desire for him, but this time around, my ability to contain myself is long gone.

"i know baby, i know..." he sighs out, the feeling him twitching inside of me silently letting me know that he is almost there too. "just hold it for me." overstimulation soon takes over, the feeling of him moving in and out of me providing me with such overwhelming pleasure that my mouth gapes open, no sound escaping as i am utterly speechless, drunk on the sensation and a complete mess beneath him. i could cry at the feeling, on the verge of tears with each stroke, wondering how this moment is reality, seeming entirely too good to be true.

"okay baby, let go." he breathes out, his voice shaky as it is soon cut off with a choked moan, his load shooting into me as mine soon follows. i swear i can see stars, my eyes not able to stay still, my whole body the same as it trembles uncontrollably, tom’s slow and steady thrusts sending me into oblivion as he rides out our highs, his lips hovering over mine. "oh my god" is all he can say, still inside me, his mouth eventually moulding with mine, the kiss filled with so much energy despite the amount of stamina that was used just seconds before.

i am not done yet, my body feeling like it has just started as i have the motivation to go one thousands times over, addicted to the way he feels. "let me be on top." i mutter against his lips, the pillowy skin battling to try continue kissing me. in one swift motion, he flips us over, moving upwards so that his back is resting against the headboard, his hands placed steadily on my waist whilst i sit on top of him. i waste no time, hovering over him and sliding downwards, letting him fill me up and sighing loudly as i do, tom tightening his hold on me and muttering a slow ‘jesus christ’, his voice low, words as sweet as honey as they sound from the back of his throat.

pressing open mouthed kisses against my jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he is able to access, he groans out in pleasure, his hands remaining steadily on my hips whilst i easily maintain my rhythm. with a slight change in the movement of my hips, his tip presses against my g-spot, the friction causing me to cry out, him doing the same as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, savouring the ecstasy. my hands lay flat against his chest, watching it heave up and down with each unsteady breath he takes, his muscles flexing with each squeeze of my waist, this only encouraging me to go further, the sight of him being pleasured by me almost pushing me to my release alone.

the feeling so good i question whether i have reached heaven itself, though my actions won’t get me anywhere near, my mind wanders how i survived for so long without him, without his dick inside me, without his hands on mine - because right now he is my oxygen, my sole purpose. i can barely catch my breath, my legs shaking uncontrollably whilst my hips circle around his, feeling every inch of him inside of me. my body leans forward, skin to skin, as i bite down on his shoulder, becoming increasingly tired, however i am so desperate for my release that i continue my slow and lethargic movements.

tom is quick to pick up on my change in speed, grabbing my hips once again and angling himself correctly, before thrusting into me from below, the sudden pressure causing a throaty moan to escape from my swollen lips.

"fuck…missed this, missed you so much baby." he mutters, his whole body tensing for a second whilst he begins to twitch inside of me.

"i’m close." he groans, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss before i can respond. i don’t even bother trying to hold it, instead allowing my release to take over me, my vision turning white as i cling onto tom’s shoulders, my head buried in the crook of his neck, crying out in pleasure as it is so intense i almost feel myself slip away. his release soon follows, mouth gaping open, eyebrows furrowing and sweat glistening his chiselled frame, outlining his muscle in the most attractive way possible. he still strokes in and out of me slowly, his hands wrapped around my small frame, no space between us. my breathing ragged, hair a mess and body trembling, i pull away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, pressing my forehead against his as i can do nothing but admire him.

“shit- i love you so much." he manages to breathe out, moving a few stray hairs from my face and planting a last kiss on my forehead, slowly pulling out of me, the loss of contact making me whine slightly as i cling onto him, afraid of losing him ever again.

"i love you too." i respond, certainty uttering from every word as i find myself more in love with him, the best sex we have ever had replaying over and over again in my memory, our naked bodies pressed together.

"i promise you, i never slept with anyone else. i never even kissed another girl. i couldn't, it wouldn't have been right, not when you were the only person on my mind." he speaks slowly yet firmly after a few seconds of peaceful silence, pulling my body further onto his as he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair gently.

i move my head upwards, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "why not? there's so many girls that you could've had. what was stopping you?" i ask, lacing my hand with his and beginning to play with his fingers, the skin soft and smooth.

"the fact that they weren't you." he responds, gently lifting my chin upwards with his pointer finger, tenderly running his thumb along my cheek. "i never got over you. i hope you know that."

deciding that actions speak louder than words in this instance, i place my lips on his, sealing our love with a sweet kiss as he instantly kisses back, laying downwards flat against the bed whilst i am still on top of him. i slowly pull away, my entire body aching, eyes fluttering shut as a tired yawn escapes from my mouth. tom reaches over to turn the lamp off, laying down beside me and opening his arms out, my head resting on his chest, his thumb running comfortingly up and down my arm. "goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, my throat sore from our rendezvous, so i place a quick kiss on his chest in response, my eyes falling shut as sleep takes me. our legs entangled, bodies together, heartbeats aligned, i feel him now more than ever. not just physically, but i feel him mentally, spiritually, our mind and being merged together as one.

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