#it's refreshing to reminded that it doesn't matter. it really doesn't.

[gojosbf]

when they said

he said

ladies gentlemen and my non binary pals, once again I am here to remind you why yuji will always be the protagonist and our best boy.

the way it did not even take him 5 secs to recognise her. and he doesn't care. he's just like oh hi <3 I LOVE HIM

[love-toxin]

MR O’HARA HAS ME ACTING FERAL BOTH OF MY LIPS HAS BEEN DROOLING SINCE I WATCHED ATSV OPENING NIGHT… I NEED HIM TO DESTROY ME

RIGHT??? LIKE--LIKE--

(cws: across the spiderverse spoilers, gn pronouns, smut, rough sex, mating press, size kink, biting/venom, belly bulges, mindbreak(?), breeding mention, a bit of forbidden love trope)

Like....imagine, if you will, becoming an assistant for the Spider-society after your dimension is destroyed. It's mostly because Miguel took pity on you since you're not a spider-person, you had nothing to do with the unravelling of your world, and/or you were meant to gain your spider-powers but an anomaly in your dimension prevented it. Since there's no place for you in another multiverse, he keeps you on his team both to give you asylum and to keep an eye on you just in case you prove to be an anomaly yourself....but it becomes pretty clear pretty early on that you're not really a threat. Not for violence, at least.

You're just a sweet thing that gets doted on by nearly everyone in the society--you're either a refreshing break from the endless spiderman variants running around or you remind the spiders of their Mary Janes, their Gwen Stacies, their Gayatri Singhs, and being a civilian to boot makes you the perfect candidate to have your things carried for you and be given web-slinging rides around the facility even though you're supposed to be the assistant here.

But even so, even though you're treated so lightly, Miguel really likes you and even--gasp--enjoys your company. It can be hard to tell with him, but the most perceptive of the spiders notice that Miguel keeps you in his good graces always. When he's stressed or in a bad mood, he collects himself before he speaks to you. He never snaps at you, and on the very rare times you get caught in his crosshairs, he apologizes quietly and gently and reiterates that whatever it was about, it wasn't your fault. He gives you so much wiggle room for error to the point that his companions sometimes complain outright that he's such a hardass, but he never berates you when you make a mistake, and without fail Miguel will come up with some reason for it; "That's because they don't screw up as often as you do" or "At least I can trust them to do their job", or he'll just tell whoever's bitching to leave you out of it and he'll dismiss you to discuss the matter privately.

Surprisingly, those incidents don't bother him nearly as much as when the inner circle starts getting closer to you. He feels this deep need to pull you away when Gwen offers to take you on a trip through the dimensions (although that's just plain dangerous), but it also bubbles up when Hobie hangs around and encourages you to join his band, and when Jess asks you questions about your life and is eager to hear about any potential romances you might be getting yourself into--there's a lot of single spider-people out there, and you're not tied to any dimension, so you've got plenty of options!

God, Miguel hates when Jess brings that up. You don't need to go anywhere, your place is here. You can stay here safely, which is something he can't promise in any of those other dimensions the spiders come from. But that's not the real reason, he realizes that when he feels that tingle at the sight of you holding Mayday and playing with her, having been given the task of impromptu babysitter for Peter when he has to rush off and do damage control somewhere.

It's you. He likes having you around, and it's not about letting you venture off into other dimensions, he just doesn't want you to leave him. That's why he loves it when you reply to those people, when you tell them "Oh, but I couldn't leave Mr. O'Hara! He'd lose his head without me." or "I really like this job, actually. I wanna keep working under Mr. Miguel." and especially "Miguel saved my life, I owe him all I can give. I could never leave him all alone." because it just reaffirms that desire for him to keep you as close to his side as possible. When he replays those videos of himself and his daughter, the pain is dulled for a while as he sees your eyes in hers, and envisions a future where you create a new family with him--one that he can properly protect this time.

It's that fantasy that emboldens him to lay hands on you, your body so puny and small in comparison to his massive frame, so fragile as he holds your hips in both hands and waits for you to tell him this isn't really what you want. He's waiting for it, anticipating it, even reminding you that you have the option when you look up at him shell-shocked. He promises that your answer won't affect your position here. It falls on deaf ears, however, because you desperately want to kiss him but you just don't think you can reach.

It's so adorable to see you try. Up on your tiptoes, clutching at his suit, straining to try and reach him where he's at--all it takes is an arm around your waist and he's got you off your feet and in the air, perfectly situated to press your pretty mouth to his own and awaken his instincts that have laid dormant all these long years. The stress of keeping each and every dimension following its intended canon has nearly broken him, it might have done so already if not for your unexpected appearance in his life. It's riled him up so much he doesn't think twice about taking you back to his place, nor gives him second thoughts when you help him peel that tight suit off and he tears through your clothes just as easily--maybe it really doesn't matter. His world is gone and so is yours, but you're both still here and you're begging him for another kiss, for more attention. How sweet could you possibly be? Pleading for something you'll always have and not realizing it's the least you deserve, perfect as you are?

Miguel just can't help himself anymore, he's too far gone and you’re too angelic for him to let down when you want him so badly. You don't seem to mind the rough treatment as he pushes you down either, no, you thrive on his aggressiveness and even encourage it to come out as he clambers over you. That pretty smile and those giggles as he shoves your thighs apart and spits, his venom sending electrifying tingles up and down your spine as he fingers the makeshift lube inside you. He's so bulky you can't even get your legs all the way around him when he lowers himself, forced to let your heels scrabble down his lower back as you struggle to find some kind of purchase on him--to just grab something and let it keep you steady as he slides in and rocks you into oblivion. The toxins loosen you up too, thank god, or else you'd be seriously struggling to take him in when he's practically twice your size. And he doesn't want to force it in, he just wants to ease you into the process before he allows himself to batter your poor body with thrusts that shake the whole bed--it's a little bit of payback for flaunting your pretty self around his office without ever telling him how you actually feel about him. Now you know exactly what you've been missing.

Drooling, hair sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your chest, body gripping him like a vice yet endlessly slick....you're a total mess and he couldn't be more satisfied. You don't even try to keep yourself together, but that's all that he wants--he wants you to lose yourself in the way he makes you feel so you won't ever want to leave. The taboo is there; you're not from his dimension, he shouldn't be planning any kind of future with someone who doesn't belong in his world. But it makes it all more thrilling in the moment even if he can reason his way around it, it makes his every thrust gain power until he's breaking your willpower down enough to have your eyes rolling back in your head, hips jumping weakly as you try to participate. You don't even know how good you make him feel without lifting a finger.

Gliding through you as if you couldn't be more willing to take him, his position is clear just from a glance down at your stomach--the bulge is obvious, and as sickening as it could be your whines as you brush your fingertips over it sing his praises without a coherent word. You're so wet and stupid and needy on his cock, clearly he should've done this a long time ago when you were so much worse at hiding your pining looks at him from across the room. If he knew it would culminate into this, he would've saved the assistant crap and turned you into his stress relief toy that very first day. If he had, you might've already had a family by now....knowing him, at least.

It's still just as sweet to lick your tears up now, though. You're already drunk on his cock, it doesn't make much more difference for him to sink his fangs into your throat and pump you full of more venom straight from the source, the shock sending you straight into orgasm and dragging it out for so long he fears you might just pass out from the pleasure. It's like he's juicing up a plump little fruit until it's so ripe it could burst. And as if your own ecstasy wasn't enough, you really lose it when Miguel has you pinned and flooding that sore, fluttering little hole with so much seed it burns. Jets of pearly-white cum squirting down your thighs, painting you like a canvas without him even pulling out, because you just can't take him at his peak and you know it. You just have to whine and squirm beneath him as he fills you up, his hot breath puffing over your cheeks as he keeps you barely still enough not to wiggle away. With a shift of your hips you nearly slip off right up to the tip, his cum sloshing about and making everything too slick--but a hand slides up your neck and grips the crown of your head, his biceps flexing as he slowly pushes you back down with vermillion eyes piercing through your heated flesh. Lower, deeper, until he's seated himself up in your guts again and holds you there to milk those last few shots out of him, keep him nice and warm with those precious walls uncontrollably spasming around him. Doesn't stop you from pulling his head down closer, though, and whispering your praises while begging in whimpers in equal measure, urging him not to stop now. You're not ready to let him go.

How convenient is that? Miguel won't ever let you go, and he's known that deep in his chest since the moment you arrived--it couldn't make him any more satisfied to know that you feel the exact same way.

[melancholymegumi]

💌 mailbox ask! “plss do a part 2 for yuta and his bunny girl.”

a/n ; I just saw a video about bunny tantrums and I thought of this somehow. this doesn't count as a part two, but i for the life of me can't think of anything for a part two , so I'm sorry anon but I hope this'll make it up for you ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

cw ;; reader throws a tantrum because yuuta wouldn't give them any sweets because she needs to cut back on sugar (reminder for myself) , reader is mean towards yuuta but it's okay he enjoys it , punishment mentions , i don't know anything else.

yuuta is a patient man. I'm sure everyone knows that already. he's gentle yet ruthless with curses and curse users and especially you. his little bunny hybrid.

he's the most patient man in this world at this point — you barely even remember when was the last time he gave you a punishment. he has been taking care of you ever since he adopted you from a hybrid shelter — or in your words , ever since he saved you from a grimy place.

but even patient people have their own limit.

everything was going so well. you and his friends went shopping , you weren't fussy or anything and the most important part is that you had fun. that's all that matters to him really. that night however it's like everything went upside down.

you've asked him for sugary treats after dinner , which he immediately refused to your demise. something about how you've been having too much sugar lately , and about how you would get the zoomies if you had any more. but in your defense , who cares? after all gojo does say that sweets help his brain refresh doesn't it?

and that's where it all went wrong. you ignored him for the night , you didn't even snuggle against him when you were watching a movie. not to mention the stomping and the fact that you threw a pillow at him when he asked you to pass him one. yuuta thought it'd go away by tomorrow , but unfortunately for him, it didn't.

it just got worse from there , actually. you started name-calling him. calling him stupid , stomping your foot whenever he talked and again with the ignoring. his string is getting stretched out. he was tired of this, but he also finds it amusing how much you're getting worked up by a few days without full blown sugar. that night in midst of brushing your hair — which you actually we're struggling with considering he brushes it for you about 90 percent of the time by the way, he leaned against the doorframe with an amused face his voice laced with honey and a hint of annoyance.

“y'need help with that bunny?” to which you responded with a scoff and calling him stupid before basically slamming the hairbrush on the bathroom counter before walking past him and bringing yourself downstairs. he was trying to keep himself composed , only following you down the stairs with a very amused smile on his face.

and then it happened. the string snapped.

his last straw was when you kept stomping your foot and demanding him for stuff that night , which he was happy to oblige , but not when he was already tired out from missions at what not— and especially not tonight.

he stared at you for a couple moments as you were sitting on the couch , blocking your view from whatever movie you were watching that night with a very obvious pout on your face after he told you that you needed to brush your teeth.

“are you done?” his voice was so... eerily cold. you could tell he was on his last nerve , but do you care? no. which is why you told him to move out of the way and started name-calling him again. he took a deep breath before very slowly , began speaking again.

“you have ten minutes. alright princess? ten minutes to get your little bunny self up and wait in our bedroom with your nightgown off. panties on. can you do that f'me? yeah?”

that was your genuine sign to pray to whoever could hear you because yuuta is not a fun person for a punishment.

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

quick note: i love all the reblogs/feedback and that you're all enjoying this as much as i am <3 and a huge thank you to @swiftispunk for being the best and looking over the first chapter for me, i am completely scatter-brained and forgot to mention this when i posted last monday, so tysm han and pls go check her out if you haven't! & follow my fic update blog (@pedgitos) and turn on post notifications so you don't miss any updates/posted fics!

Chapter Summary: Settling in is easier than you expect, but it does come with a fair share of challenges. A week filled with getting to know one another and some moments shared, your week doesn't end on the best note, leaving you with a choice.

Chapter Warnings: (8k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, domestic shenanigans, Joel being naturally assertive, cooking dinner together, reading is good at encouraging Joel, one hot tub & two stubborn individuals, also...one bed trope incoming

You wake up refreshed, like you’ve been born with a new reverence for life—alright, it might be a bit of an overstatement but it’s a wonder what a decent night of sleep could do and you’re feeling that this idea, playing house with a stranger—though it wasn’t much like that anymore—wasn’t the worst choice. And it reminds you of Joel, having left him in the chair last night, not wanting to burden him but you can only imagine the ache in his bones, his back, the discomfort of sleeping in a chair all night. 

You lay for a moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The morning sunshine wasn’t strong here, blanketed out by a stark white snow that covered the ground, it muted out most colors and left a cool, but bright blue that shined through the window above your bed. 

It was peaceful. No cars, no buzz of strong electricity outside your window, people and their idle conversation a few floors down from your apartment window. Not even a bird, really. But, there’s a distinct clearing of a throat from the living room that has you stirring in bed, rising lazily as you move with the same enthusiasm. 

It was a fresh week. The first official week of your vacation and you were going to start it off on a good note, clambering out of the bed and slipping on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toes from freezing off, not bothering to glance in a mirror on the way out—not that you needed to, it didn’t matter. It was early, you were still trying to shed the sleep from your body and you could care less. Plus, it wasn’t like an old t-shirt and sleep shorts was some foreign concept. 

When you peek around the corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, you can spot Joel’s head tilting to one side, hand kneading at the taut muscle in the center of his back where his neck starts to begin and then you’re stuck watching as he stretches his arms out wide, working out all of those muscles. Every single one. And you’ve been silent for far too long.

Yeah.

Clearing your throat softly, you approach from behind and keep your distance, announcing your presence like you hadn’t been lingering for a minute or two already. 

“Morning,” You greet politely, resting your weight against the edge of the island, taking in full view of a freshly awoken Joel, eyes still puffy from sleep.

He looks very…gentle. Surprisingly, so. It softens his rigid demeanor significantly and you have to silently talk yourself out of glaring at him for too long, “I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry.”

Jeez—you two are getting good at that. Apologizing, afraid to step on each other’s toes. 

“Not your fault,” Joel massages his bicep with the heavy pressure of his thumb, looking slightly pained as he rolls his shoulders, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Yeah, but I forced you to stay up, so—”

“You didn’t,” Joel quickly shuts you down, “I’m a grown man,” there’s a laugh hidden somewhere in there, but Joel continues, “don’t blame yourself for my own irresponsibility.”

It’s too early for this. You force on a fake smile, void of any real emotion at this hour, running on fumes and the smell of coffee. Speaking of—you sniff, eyes searching for the smell like a dog would track a scent, and Joel is already pointing in the direction you should be looking for when your eyes land on him.

“I already finished it off on my own,” Joel admits, pointedly taking another long sip before resting the mug back on the counter, “I can get another pot goin’ if you need it.”

There’s an inclination to let him, seeing him assert himself so easily and offer, but you shake your head, “I think I can handle a coffee maker,” You assure him, meandering around the kitchen in search of the coffee grounds, ignoring Joel’s tracking of your movements, waiting for a moment to interject and point you in the right direction. You spot them a moment before the urge comes with a soft aha!

“I needed to make a drive into town,” Joel tells you after you’ve gone through the steps of starting your own batch of coffee, “pick up some more food, figured you might wanna tag along.”

He’s not asking, only assuming. But to be fair, his assumption is right. 

“Sure,” You reply cooly, pouring yourself a hefty cup of coffee to sip on, letting your body take hold of the caffeine, “...how far away is the closest town?”

“Hour and a half.” Joel answers and you almost have the nerve to go wide-eyed on him, but then you remember just how deep into the woods you both were and that it was necessary.

Truthfully, there was a more concerning matter at hand.

“How’s your music taste?” 

Joel has the gall to look offended by the question.

“I’m leavin’ in thirty,” Joel ignores you, “don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave you here.”

Okay, noted: Joel wasn’t much the morning person you assumed he was.

-

Joel immediately realizes how little disregard you have for touching things that aren’t yours when you reach for the makeshift box of cassettes tapes placed in the backseat of his truck—the thing was old, riding on it’s last leg, but it was something Joel would cherish until it was unsalvageable, torn seats, dents, and all.

“Ain’t gonna find anything you like in there,” Joel assures you, “None of that pop stuff they’re always playin’ on the radio these days.”

The tables turn on him suddenly, seeing your face contort into a similar emotion that he gave you earlier. Bewilderment, shock, annoyance. You scoff at the comment.

“Says you,” You retort back, sifting through the different cassettes until you find Joel trading glances between you and the road in front of him, almost worried you might chuck his collection out of the passenger side window, “Joel, eyes on the road.”

Joel enjoys a lot of country, which isn’t a total disbelief. But, it wasn’t something you shared the sentiment on, flicking away a handful of country artists you’ve never listened to and reaching some of the good stuff—older rock music, some classic 80s, and late 90s.

You pluck one out carefully, prying open the cassette case with gentle hands before sliding the tape in, allowing the low hum of the music to fill the car. There’s a brief moment of respite before Joel smirks to himself, thumb tapping against the steering wheel.

“What were you saying?” You look at him pointedly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Joel looks away briefly, biting back a chuckle, “Fine—I’ll give you some credit. Foo Fighters aren’t terrible, but you skipped right over Bruce Springsteen, so…”

You scoff in disbelief, “You don’t get to criticize me with that atrocious collection of country music,” You stare down at the box in thought, eyes brimming with a mischievous that Joel knows of immediately, he’s seen it before. Not with you, but he knows, “you know, maybe I should just do you a favor and—”

You can barely get a hand on the window roller before Joel’s hand is gripped tight over the box, trapping your other hand in his grip as he warns, “I’m not above leavin’ you stranded in the cold.”

Your grin is nothing but evil and Joel finds that there’s something about you that infuriates him in a way that is hard to describe, not in anger or rage, but a level that he thinks he could match. A game of back and forth that he could play into—but you’re quickly relenting regardless of the threat and placing the box on the floorboard.

“Already tried that,” You retort, “didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Fair is fair. Joel doesn’t poke the beast.

Instead, he takes the chance to ask a question.

“So, what exactly was your plan?” Joel asks curiously. “You comin’ out here with no car and all?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Didn’t really have one, but I would have figured it out.”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, subtly resembling a face of disapproval.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, okay?” You don’t wait for a response, “You can have whatever assumptions you want about me, but don’t try and act like you know anything about me.”

It was another reminder. Joel didn’t know you, but you didn’t know him either. You reign your frustration in slightly, quick to defend yourself but aware that not everyone handles confrontation in the same way—if Joel was quick to anger, you didn’t want to stoke the fire. 

“I’m not,” Joel argues, his voice calmer than you expect, thinking back to the saddled rage his voice held the night you arrived, the threat that lingered with every word, “I’m not, alright?”

“Then stop that.” You comment, waving your hand in a vague motion toward his face, “Stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?” Joel interjects, eyes more pensive as he looks over at you.

“Like—like I need a fucking lecture on life or my choices,” You tell him, a hint of pleading in your voice, “I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand how life works.”

“You’re not a kid—” 

“Good, great that we established that,” You lean back in the seat more comfortably, arms crossed over your chest as you keep your eyes on the snow covered road, “now shut up so I can enjoy the music.”

Thankfully, Joel does just that.

-

Conversation falls flat until you arrive at the store in town a while later, Joel fetching a cart and pushing it your way before he stops you suddenly, hand over your own again—a touch that normally you would flinch away from, but he’s already done it once before and the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“I’ll catch up,” Joel tells you, “I forgot somethin’ in the car.”

You glance back briefly, knowing that the walk isn’t that far. 

“Oh, I can wait. It’s fine.”

Joel doesn’t say so much, but the look in his eyes goes a long way. A silent plea for you to go with it and don’t ask questions—again, you didn’t have any right to. You nod quickly and wander off toward the store as Joel trails away.

It’s then when your phone starts to vibrate away in your pocket, the sudden availability of service sending a barrage of notifications your way—you’re terrified to take a glimpse, but you do anyway. It should be no surprise to bear witness to the many, many texts from your mother wondering where you’d run off to, but there’s a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach.

You send her a quick, dismissive text to explain that you were fine and enjoying your time, but no elaboration on the things she wanted to know, because really, there was nothing to tell. And if you did decide to expel the details of your trip, mentioning that there was no boyfriend and it was just a stranger you met in the middle of the woods, well…that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

You also find a quick, heated moment of frustration to send an unpleasant text to the owners of the cabin, still polite enough that it wouldn’t warrant your ability to work things out—and you decide that calling would reach them faster, that somehow they’d magically find a way to appear and fix things, but there’s no answer. Only a voicemail that gave vague details about being away on their own vacation.

Just your luck.

Great. You sigh deeply, shoving the phone away into your pocket and returning to the land of obliviousness as you step inside the small market.

You fend for yourself for a while, throwing several random necessities in the cart as you go, enough sustenance to spread over four weeks and manage meals the entire trip, also a few more bottles of alcohol don’t hurt, looking for a few hard liquors that catch your eye and adding them to the growing supply of items. 

You’re lost in concentration of the ingredients on the back of a box dinner when Joel’s voice startles you back to the real world, eyes jumping up to look at him and he spots the panic immediately.

He nods slightly when you recognize him, “Sorry, keep forgettin’ how jumpy you are.”

“You’re just ridiculously fucking quiet,” You tell him, breathing out a long sigh as you toss the box into the cart, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel assures, doesn’t elaborate. Okay, cool. You weren’t going to pry, no matter how much your instincts told you to. He scans the cart casually, “Mind tradin’ off?”

You lend him the lead and follow, watching as he pointedly finds things, like he’s reading off a list in his head and moves around the store with a purpose. It’s only slightly annoying that you have to keep pace with him, but he’s suddenly speaking out to you as he’s glancing over something on the bottom shelf, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” You responded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Why?”

“Grab some of that fresh rosemary,” Joel says, pointing out somewhere behind you and you whip around, eyes searching furiously and coming up empty, “—find it?”

You’re a little dumbfounded as you search the shelf of fresh herbs, Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you as he reaches over your shoulder and plucks the exact thing he’s looking for with ease, “Hey, I had the right idea.” You defend, noticing how amused he looked at your befuddlement, “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

“Well,” He tosses the small, plastic package in the cart, still tucked up at your side and you can feel his body heat, the solid wall of his chest against your shoulder, “don’t like the idea of accidentally killin’ you if I cook something you’re allergic to.”

“Well, what if I’m lying?” You challenge and Joel shoves you aside gently to grab the cart, hands on your shoulder as he shifts you away—and when had things gotten so…touchy?

Truthfully, Joel finds it easier than telling you, noting how quickly you quiet down when he asserts himself and does rather than asks. He knows if it made you uncomfortable you wouldn’t have had a problem speaking up immediately. 

“Look at me,” And there’s a deep timbre to his voice that has your chest sparking like a fire, eyes connecting with Joel’s for longer than you’ve ever allowed and it’s like he sees right through you, but he’s searching for something, “—you’re not lyin’.”

“But, if I was?”

Joel nearly leaves you in the dust, but turns to look at you with a subtle grin.

“Well, now I know you’re not.”

–

The ride back is easier, much easier—and Joel doesn’t fault you when you fall asleep halfway through, the heat of the car and the low hum of the music like a perfect mix as you curl in on yourself. Joel wakes you with a gentle hand on your shoulder when you finally make it back, allowing you a moment to shake the grogginess away with a word over his shoulder as he opens his door.

“Careful over that patch of ice on your side,” Joel instructs, “gettin’ colder so it’s slicker than it was a couple days ago.”

Careful. You roll your eyes carelessly, nudging the door open with your shoulder and hopping out, boots hitting the hard ground—your first mistake was underestimating the slickness and Joel’s warning, because the moment you take your first step it’s all downhill. Literally.

Luckily though, like a moment of divine faith as you pray that you don’t hit the ground, Joel is right at your back, arms slipping under your own as he plants his feet firmly and catches you. One arm crossing somewhere over your midsection and the other wrapping around your shoulder, a large palm holding you steady as he helps you back to your feet. You can feel him on the brink of making a comment, eyes looking down tenderly into your own—

“Don’t ask.” You warn him bitterly, face scrunched up like a kicked puppy, shrugging him off lazily. Joel doesn’t argue, making sure you’re steady before he allows you himself to fully let go.

Joel shakes his head subtly, a nuisance of his, and rounds the back of the truck to reach for the bagged groceries, “Fine, I’ll just say I told you so then. How’s that?”

Worse. 

-

Joel never asks for help, doesn’t even seem bothered when you stand there aimlessly, watching him stow away the groceries like he already had a game plan and you feel slightly useless, but it does give you a good opportunity to watch without any explicit reason or excuse. 

There’s an obvious purpose to Joel’s movement, clear that he’s used to doing a lot of heavy lifting and keeping up, probably prefers organization over clutter, and has a certain inclination to do things himself, always. And you can’t help the way your gaze clings to his face, noticing something a little off—not good or bad, just slightly different. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but with the extended amount of time your eyes lingered on him, you realize he’s cleaned up a bit, shaved his beard down to near stubble, a subtle difference…but you notice.

You’re not sure how long you’re stuck in this state, arms resting against the counter as you stood there, practically useless, thinking about what Joel looks like on a regular basis, when he isn’t cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter. You want to see that side of him, crave it. It’s an insane thought that doesn’t make sense, eyes widening suddenly at the realization of the thought you’re having—

“You still with me?” Joel’s voice calls out in the haze, muffled slightly as you come back into focus, eyes landing on him. “Think I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh—no. I mean, yeah. I’m still a little tired, I guess.” It’s a bold face lie, but Joel seems to believe you. “Why?”

“I was sayin’ I need to go chop up some wood for the fireplace,” He explains again, “then you went all wide eyed…”

“Oh, okay,” You nod jerkily, “...do you need help?”

Joel immediately declines. No surprise there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel suggests, “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Sleep sounds great, but it doesn’t happen. 

You try—you do, but the splitting of wood, the strong crack of the axe catching the wood outside of your bedroom window, it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. So, you find yourself wandering into the kitchen, peeking between the curtains with a wild curiosity that reminds you of when you were younger and trying to catch a peek of the cute boy next door, a bashfulness replaced with a deep, insatiable hunger that you didn’t know existed until this moment. 

Joel was attractive, you could easily admit that. But, seeing him now, it’s a done deal. There was a deep pit of despair in your mind and you were stuck at the bottom with no way out.

It’s almost abysmal how easy he makes it look, the axe he’d brandish as his weapon of choice against you swung over his shoulders, the unfortunate lack of skin stretching over taut muscles as he went through the motions, covered up by thick layers. But, you get the idea. 

There’s a slight pout forming on your face before you catch yourself.

He slices full power through the wood like it was eager to give way to him. You also find that his face tugs up in a scowl after every swing of the axe, a soft sigh of exerted energy as he tosses the logs to the side and starts up again. You could watch for hours. But, you settle for the few more minutes he spends collecting the wood before you’re scrambling back into your bedroom like you had been there the entire time.

Unfortunately, Joel isn’t oblivious. Still, he spares you the embarrassment. 

There was no reason for him to entertain whatever he thought might be going on. He couldn’t.

-

The next few days are uneventful, though that was to be expected. It allows you time to really settle in, usually curled up on the couch watching the fire crackle away until you thought your eyes might melt away, or reading a book that Joel always seemed to be trying to catch a peek at. There was an innocent curiosity there that you could appreciate.

You also learned that Joel only took his coffee one way, offering up your services to refill his cup while you refilled your own, sugar lingering over the rim and he’s quickly pushing away the small container of crystalized goodness. 

“Joel, come on–” You grimace but relent, placing the cylinder of sugar on the counter.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Is all he offers, almost challenging you to take a sip.

You accept, obviously. But, it isn’t without consequence.

The moment the bitterness hits your tongue you’re scrambling away, forcing the mug into Joel’s waiting hands and spitting out whatever putrid liquid remained in your mouth in the sink.

It’s the first time Joel actually laughs, a full on chuckle that isn’t very receptive on your end.

Joel apologizes with dinner that night, a gesture that wasn’t expected or needed, still you’re thankful nonetheless. But, it offers you the realization of just how good a cook Joel can be.

Steaks grilled to a perfection that only came with repetitive practice and learned techniques, vegetables sautéed and seasoned to an enjoyable level, and a side of pasta that if Joel told you he made from scratch, you would’ve believed wholeheartedly if you hadn’t seen him dump the entire box of pre-made pasta into a pot of boiling water.

You’re halfway through dinner, chewing thoughtfully on a bite when you finally break the long, but comfortable silence that had blanketed over you both.

“So, Joel,” There’s a tone to his name that catches his attention, eyes flicking up to meet yours mid-bite, “what do you do for work?”

At this point, your nosey tendencies take hold.

There’s a scrunch to Joel’s nose before he speaks, almost as if he considered feeding you a lie alongside the beautiful meal he’d made. He settles for a simple answer.

“Uh, carpentry.” Joel tells you after a long pause, “I—build stuff for people, businesses sometimes.”

That explains some of his sturdiness, his practiced strength that came from, probably, years of hard constructive work and building. It also explains why he’s also working away at his hands, rubbing out the stiff joints and knuckles.

“I know what carpentry is, Joel.” You deadpan, but there’s a playfulness lingering in your voice. 

You assume he’s used to explaining himself often, which is why he forces it on you so easily.

“And you?” Joel asks suddenly, “College? You’re about that age, right?”

You snort softly at the tone he offers, slightly patronizing, but all in good fun.

“I’m taking a semester off,” You answer indifferently, remembering how disappointed your parents had been about the ordeal, but you were suffocating, “I’m not sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel assures, “can’t fault you either. Never went to college so I don’t have an opinion on it.”

There’s no judgment on your end, but for the sake of conversation, you bite.

“Any reason?” You ask curiously, wondering if you'd receive the similar sentiment that it’s all just bullshit.

“Didn’t have the money,” Joel answers simply, “didn’t have the grades, either. I thought I could start my own business out of carpentry, but…”

But…you lean into the table slightly, hanging on his words.

“You need a lot of money for that,” Joel finishes, “and, I mean, I’m livin’ comfortable now, but that idea took a lot of money that I didn’t and still don’t have.”

“So, you waste it on month long vacations in the middle of the woods,” You surmise humorously, nodding in approval, “can’t say I blame you, either.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, chewing around a bite as he speaks, “Your turn.”

Right. An eye for eye. A question for a question. He's watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give a response to the same question you asked him. 

“Oh—I work out of this bookstore in downtown Austin.” You admit, finishing up the last few bites of your food, scraping the plate nearly clean. “It pays the bills and then some. I like it.”

There’s no compliment needed for the food, all the evidence of it gone. But, you feel the need to appreciate it anyways.

“Thanks for this, Joel.” You speak again, softer this time. 

“It’s no big deal, darlin’.” Joel assures you, holding up his hands in a feeble defense at the compliment, clearly something he doesn’t welcome easily. “Just food.”

“It’s been...months,” You tell him, “since I’ve had any type of home-cooked meal. Take the damn thank you, Joel.” 

He smirks at that, seeing the threatening fork raise before you utter those final words.

“You’re welcome.”

And he means it.

–

You force Joel to stay seated while you clean, knowing it was the least you could do after he spent so much time preparing and cooking dinner. There’s a solid few minutes of arguing before you have to physically shove Joel back into his chair despite his protests, hands pressed into his shoulders as you threateningly speak down to him.

 “If you move, I’m locking your ass out in the cold.”

Joel wouldn’t mind, but you’re silently hoping that he’ll just listen.

After all is done, tossing the damp washcloth to the side, you sigh with a newfound relaxation.

There’s only one thing that might top off this night, making it almost the first perfect day here.

“That’s it, I’m getting in the hot tub,” You decide, squeezing tenderly at the tense muscles of your neck, thankful that the owners had a small alcove connected to the cabin that allowed for you to enjoy the hot tub from the safety of the cold, “join me?”

You’re not sure what inclines you to ask so openly, but you don’t second guess it.

“While I appreciate the offer,” Joel starts, “I don’t think I brought the proper…attire.”

He’s still seated where you had him planted and it makes you laugh softly at the idea that he was taking it seriously, which—yeah, you did threaten the possibility of hypothermia on him. 

“Fine,” You relent, rounding the corner of the island closest to him as you quickly call out over your shoulder, “but, there’s still a couple of chairs in there if you need the company.”

He didn’t need just anyone’s either and didn’t need, so much as wanted.

He wanted your company.

A while later, you’re already waist deep in the hot tub, figure hugging white bikini tied back securely, arms resting against the side furthest from the door as you press your chin against your forearms and staring out the wall of vast windows that line the room, allowing a view of the snow storm outside, coming down in a flurry that seemed to only be gaining in strength—and Joel, well, he’s still sitting in that stupid chair.

He’s allowed himself too much time in his own head, thinking over the events of the past few days. His call to Sarah was pleasant, a much needed moment of peace when he hears his daughter’s bright, hyper voice on the other end. When he doesn’t have her for the holidays, it’s hard. The calls are sparse, the communication is clipped, and it feels like he’s being forced away from her, knowing that she’s growing older every day. That he is growing older.

He’s allowed a lot of his life to slip away, when he wasn’t working to pay bills and put food on the table he was usually drinking, bar-hopping with Tommy at his old age to hide the pain he felt everyday, mentally and physically. There’s a problem brewing under his skin, using the company of his brother and alcohol to cope with loss he feels so viscerally everyday. The life he could’ve had.

He feels pitiful, miserable—only took this damn trip to get out of town by the suggestion of Tommy, away from all distractions, hoping for a refresh to clear his head. But instead, he met you.

He had no clue what the fuck to do anymore.

Joel’s never processed emotions well, feelings or anything thereof. 

But, here he was, lusting after you. 

He knows it’s the excitement, the taboo idea around sharing something special with a stranger. Someone who knows nothing about you, someone who doesn’t have the leverage to judge. Someone who doesn’t have to know about all the wrongs he’s committed and bad choices he’s made. 

You’re not privy to the fucked up version of Joel that belongs in his hometown, cooped up in his childhood home that he inherited from his parents, filled with too many now painful memories that he’d made with Sarah when she was younger—when he still had her.

He can’t help the way his mind races every single second of the day, constantly worrying, always trying to busy himself with something, anything to keep that lingering cloud of anxiety away. But, when he thinks about you, even something so mundane as the way you squint to get a closer look at a paragraph of the book you’ve probably read a thousand times, his mind goes quiet. 

Because, frankly, he’s fascinated by the idea of you. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t actually real. He’s halfway leaning toward the idea that he’s had a full mental break and this is all an illusion he’s cooked up in his head, but then he reminds himself that you are just as full a human as himself. There is a reason for this, even if there had to be some other force at play. 

Maybe you needed this as badly as he did.

A fresh start, no judgment.

And that’s why he decides to follow you, the moment he catches a glimpse of you as you turn the corner to take the steps down into the room that connected to the kitchen, a full glimpse of skin and body that he’s tried to keep his mind off of, despite how openly you stare at him.

There has to be something there. He can’t have imagined all of this.

You feel his presence when the creak of wood gives him away, one hand shoved into his front pocket and his other arm helping him stay upright as he leaned against the doorframe. The steam billows and settles like a cloud over the bubbling hot tub but does nothing to hide how see-through your bathing top is and the slick slope of your breasts, his eyes trailing down toward the small bow that was sewn to the midpoint of your top and know he’s staring at your chest, very openly—Joel’s immediately regretting his choice.

Your eyes follow his but you dare not speak, afraid to startle him.

Now who was the jumpy one?

“Change your mind?” You ask curiously, shimming the expanse of the hot tub as you grab onto the opposite ledge, resuming your previous position, closer to Joel now. If you reached out you could touch the edge of his flannel and soak the trim, maybe even pull him closer, but you resist the urge. “It feels amazing. I’m serious.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get him in, but it wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t respond, eyes staring at the soft wave of the water as it hits your side, his posture rigid. 

Maybe you’d broken him.

“Joel,” You call out with a soft nudge to his thigh, as far as you could reach with your fingertips, cutting into his line of sight, offering a friendly smile, “just strip down to your underwear and get in.”

“I don’t think—”

Oh, for christ sake. 

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you weren’t at least thinking about enjoying the benefits of the hot tub,” You argue, “so stop being grumpy and strip. I won’t even look.”

It shouldn’t sound as gritty as it does, a playful venom in your tone as you sink back slightly.

It makes Joel feel like he’s back in high school, flirting with who would eventually be his ex-wife and mother of his daughter, but there’s an assertiveness that intrigues Joel, your willingness to put yourself out there without fear. Take a leap, a jump, and hope that someone will catch you. 

Joel caught you, he just needed someone to catch him.

You spot his fidgeting, the wheels and cogs in his mind turning and he just needs that shove.

Just enough.

You rise over the edge, palms pressed flat to bear your weight and squeeze your breasts together, belly button nearly level with the water as you’re close enough to see the fine details of his face, giving him a look that Joel couldn’t deny.

“Get. In.” You stress the words, making direct eye contact. “You can thank me later.”

Finally, he moves. 

You sink back slightly into the pool and wade the water until you hit a corner, watching briefly as Joel works away at the buttons on his flannel, quiet air filling with an unspoken tension. You try to busy yourself with the view outside, something that didn’t require you to look in the vicinity of Joel for a second, knowing that the moment felt more intimate than it needed to. But, it doesn’t stop that sparse glances over your shoulder to check on him, now barefoot and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the fabric pulling and obscuring your view of his face and his view of you, staring so starkly at him in that moment.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. The freckles that speckle his shoulders, nearly invisible from this distance because of his tanned shoulders and the unevenness of the tan as it continues down his arm, varying in shades of intensity, undoubtedly from hours of working in the sun. There’s also a smaller patch of hair on his chest that with his short cropped beard, seems to be trimmed down too. His strong build doesn’t throw you off, though—solid muscle that flexed across his stomach as he yanked his shirt a little harder to get it over his head fully, not built in a way that rippled down his abdomen, but showed a sturdiness to his figure that had your body humming to a tune that reached down to your core, thighs squeezing together under the water. 

Joel passes the shirt off into a waiting arm chair, clothes slowly piling on the cushion alongside your towel and he pops the button on his jeans, still unaware of your…innocent observation. But, the moment the jeans stretch over his thighs you swallow a little too hard and you’re immediately averting your eyes when he looks up briefly. 

Like you’d been caught. 

Joel clears his throat like a warning, as if he hadn’t felt your eyes on him the entire time, and swings a leg over carefully, a view of the black briefs that molded to his skin perfectly and hugged his backside in a way that feels criminally illegal…and you’re staring again.

He hisses at the sudden change in temperate, but inch by inch he lowers and adjusts, eventually huffing out a low groan, eyes closed, when he finally settles on the seat inside of the tub.

Suddenly, this felt like a terrible idea.

“See?” You break the revered silence for him, “Worth it?”

“Almost forgot how you just bullied me in here.” He jokes—full on fuckin’ jokes before cracking an eye open to catch your reaction, a subtle look of disbelief on your face. “I’m kidding, darlin'.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the seat under the water and you smile, a half-hearted roll of your eyes thrown his way before you relax too, for a moment.

“This is so weird,” You speak softly, after a while, and Joel looks slightly puzzled as he opens his eyes fully now, perking up slightly as he adjusts himself, chest rising over the water slightly, his arms hanging over the ledge with his fingers gripping the ceramic—and you’re gaze is drifting again, mostly to his hands, but you mask it as you look away briefly, down the hall or out the window. Literally anywhere but Joel, “it’s just—not how I expected things to go.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Joel replies with an underlying amusement.

As the quiet settles, slowly drifting closer to one side, where you originally were when Joel came searching for you—voluntarily, he lingered and waited, waited for the push you gave him—Joel joined alongside you, burrowing himself in the closet corner nook and enjoying the view in silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Joel comments, “everything alright?”

Everything was fine and you couldn’t make complete sense out of it. The ability to be so inherently comfortable with someone you’ve only known for a little under a week, the attraction you felt despite your own rational thinking telling you otherwise, the urge to connect openly and without fear of judgment. It terrifies you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask quietly, “Like…a real question, not those superficial ones that we’ve thrown at each other.”

Joel doesn’t like the sound of it, but there’s also the inclination that he could feed you a total lie and you wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.

He nods, fist resting against his cheek as he turns to look at you and suddenly the pressure is on, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden, full attention.

“Earlier…you said you forgot somethin’ in the car,” Joel’s fist clenches unknowingly under the water, an instinct to bury his reaction, “I know it isn’t my business, but I was just curious what is was.”

Joel, against every fiber in his being that tells him to deflect, gives you a straight answer. It’s almost startling how easily it comes out, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest that he’s carried for years.

“I had to make a call,” Joel admits, “to uh—my daughter, she’s back home with her mom.”

Your brow pulls together in confusion, “Wait, are you married?”

Joel somehow amidst the heaviness of admitting his truth still laughs, quick to defend himself from your next question.

“Oh, not at all. Never, actually.” Joel responds, “We…I never married her mom, it was obvious pretty quickly we weren’t going to work well together.”

The answer is simpler than you expect, different too. Part of you wondered if he was pleading his own case to the owners and was just as unsuccessful as you, but this is much more vulnerable.

And despite your ability to lie, and his own, neither of you can force it.

You don’t pry further, feeling like it may push things too far. Too personal.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Do I scare you?” Joel asks suddenly, almost like he’s been anticipating the moment too.

You’re almost sure the expression you return makes you look insane, feeling the implication that he might, that he thinks—it’s so far left field that it throws you off.

“No—no,” You quickly reject any lingering doubt he has, “I mean…the first night, maybe. But, now…no.”

“Oh.” It’s all Joel can muster, unsure of why he was expecting a different answer. That you would say yes and whatever shroud of thought he had about this moment you were sharing was only out of fear, that you were just trying to be polite. 

“Look, I get jumpy because you sneak up on me,” You answer, “and you have this…presence about you,” Okay, not the best wording, “not scary or anything, just…strong.” Big, like a wall. Like, if anyone were to ever approach you wrongly, Joel would attack without question. And maybe the fact that he would do that should scare you, but instead, it entices you.

Joel sits with the implication, burdened by his own mind. 

You can see him lost in thought, speaking with a comforting surety, “Thank you…for telling me.”

The truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.

The next stretch of time, what feels like an hour, is spent in a comforting silence. You think Joel is nearly falling asleep but then he moves, make a comment about how the snow won’t let up and eventually you’re forcing yourself out of the hot tub, reaching over the side to snatch your towel and sending all of Joel’s clothes descending to the floor in the process and as if you had a death wish on Joel, your ass pops up at an angle that is physically impossible to look away from.

Joel is a gentleman, he swears. He was raised to respect and care and always put women first, but there’s a split second where he can’t pull his eyes away, feels like he’s just caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have, but then you’re turning your head over your shoulder and you definitely catch him—you could ruin the moment and say something or you could ignore it.

Fortunately, you save Joel some embarrassment, covering it with a sly smile as you apologize for dropping his clothes and take the final step out and wrap the towel around your body.

“Shit,” You quickly realize that in the midst of your pushing Joel to join you that he didn’t have a towel, “stay here—I’ll go grab you a towel.”

Joel wasn’t eager to move anyways, admittedly. Sporting half a hard-on under the water, he wouldn’t subject himself to the scrutiny of your gaze or what implications it would make, thinking every horrible possible thought to will it away—luckily your timing is perfect. 

You quickly gather his dropped clothes and pile them in the chair as you toss the towel his way, ignoring any and all chances to glimpse at his wet body, back turned as you quickly excuse yourself away in fear of the idea that you might say something unforgettably stupid.

-

The walk to your separate bedroom is quick, swift, like a desperately needed escape. 

But, as fate would have it, the moment you open the door and wretch the towel away from your body there’s a loud pop! to your left and a spark on the outside that has you halfway on the floor and slamming into the wall out of both shock and an attempt to shield yourself from whatever unseen force was at play, yelping out loud in the process.

From an outside perspective, you can understand why Joel doesn’t hesitate to come running.

He runs straight into your back, bare chest pressed against your know bare shoulders and leaving you half-dressed in front of him, scared out of your wits and willing to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep you upright—fortunately, Joel’s arm is the perfect anchor as your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes.

“What the hell?” Joel inquires, slightly out of breath as he searches your face for any signs of injury, “What happened?”

You both look at the culprit—the heated window unit that was no longer expelling heat, and while the cabin was still heated, it didn’t reach the bedrooms well enough that you weren’t shivering without some type of additional help. You sigh in frustration, eyes turning up towards the ceiling as you feel no shame, too frustrated to care as you lean into Joel’s chest.

“Shit.” It’s all Joel offers as a solution, not that you were expecting one. But, still, it would be nice.

“Yeah, shit.” You echo, pushing away from him suddenly to gather your damp towel and a change of clothes, padding your bare feet toward the living room, but Joel is grabbing your wrist before you get too far from him.

“Hey, woah,” He starts in a calmer tone, “you can take my room—I’ll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can get ahold of the owners, we’ll figure something out.”

“I already tried calling them,” You admit, “Earlier. Straight to voicemail and something tells me they won’t be answering their phones until after the holidays.”

Pulling away again, you continue your way toward the living room and gather a few pillows and blankets, tossing them on the larger couch beside the fireplace. Joel doesn’t seem to entertain the idea, following on your heels as he gathers each item you throw in that direction and you finally reach a point of full, unrestrained frustration. 

“Joel, cut the shit.”

“Take the room,” He offers as a counter, “I can sleep on the couch.”

With his back? Not a chance. But, he offers anyway.

“Fuck off,” You chuckle bitterly, “I’m not forcing you out of the bedroom.”

“Then it looks like we’re sharin’ the living room.”

You close your eyes, toss the blanket aside and breathe, clenching and unclenching your fists in an effort to not completely lose it on the man standing opposite of you.

Chivalry be damned, Joel wasn’t giving in.

Fine, two could play at that game.

“I’ll take the bed.” You quickly agree, but there’s a lingering ultimatum.

Joel waits, sees the thought brewing behind your pensive eyes.

“But, so will you.”

“Now—”

“No,” You interject, putting your figurative foot down, suddenly vividly reminded of your vulnerability as you stood there, still slightly damp and in a swimsuit that did nothing to cover your body—it was the reason Joel’s eyes were so pointedly stuck on your face, never lingering elsewhere, “either we both sleep in here on the couch or we share the bed.”

Joel’s hands shift to his hips, towel tight around his waist and you’re too annoyed to admire the way his muscles tense and flex with the movement, the underlying thickening desire settling beneath the surface.

You match his stance, daring him to challenge you.

A small part of you wants him too.

—

“Anyone ever told you you’re damn stubborn?” Joel asks, trailing behind you as you enter his bedroom, a clone of your own but with a small bathroom attached.

“All the time.” You answer truthfully. “I’m going to shower and sleep—no funny business.”

Meaning if Joel did sneak away into the living room to offer up the full amenities of his own room, he would feel your wrath tenfold.

Joel resigns to the idea and gathers his own pair of fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom down the hall, leaving you both to a moment of levity.

There’s no anticipation to the arrangement—but the idea is there, burrowing into the back of your mind. 

You’re sleeping with a stranger…someone you knew little to nothing about, but it was your choice. And you trusted your gut. 

Joel was safe, he was good. 

You relax under the spray of hot water, a different heat to the one you enjoyed just a while ago, the type that allowed your thoughts to roam, and you laugh softly at the sight of Joel’s shower supplies, knowing he was stuck with whatever you brought—it wasn’t something you thought about in the moment, but there’s a brief realization that he was sharing a moment similar to your own, scowling at the sight of your fruity scented body wash that you left on the shelf there. It wasn’t a huge deal, Joel wouldn’t fuss over it. 

But, it also lends your mind to roam more.

As if his bare chest wasn’t already at the forefront, and his eyes as they had stared at you so unabashed until the moment he was caught, all innocent looks with deeper intentions that invaded your mind like a plague.

You were so fucking frustrated—annoyed with him, the state of your life, this stupid vacation. With the suds gone and the water drowning out the silence you allow yourself one—just one moment of selfishness...

And as if the house was the biggest tattletale of them all, the floor creaks on the other side of the door.

“Joel?” You call out curiously, as if an intruder in the middle of nowhere was even likely.

There’s several seconds of silence before Joel finally answers.

“Yeah?”

“Your body wash sucks.” You goad lightly, hoping to ease the earlier frustration that had grown between you both, and while you can’t see him, you can hear his laughter on the other side of the door.

“Can’t say yours is any better.”

You smile to yourself, the way he responds with fondness that he tries to hide.

When you finish up and dress, peeking your head out before you move to open the door fully, Joel is already on his side, turned away. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be bothered. The small blanket of division rolled and wedged in the center of the bed like a barrier, a warning. 

Keep your distance and you both may manage to survive the rest of this vacation.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

[reason-with-the-underdog]

body swap au

a bodyswap au for hkvthm would be really sexy bc imagine them both being reasonably competent enough at each other's highly specialised jobs to be able to "pass" for a few days

plus you KNOW they'd react so differently to the situation:

alhaitham in kaveh's body unanimously decides to call in sick on all of his ongoing commissions so he can get a solid week of sleep to make up for the crazy sleep debt he's feeling (and also to give kaveh's body a caffeine break bc the caffeine withdrawal jitters are NOT it yo)

kaveh in alhaitham's body spends one day in office being very helpful and easy to find (which scares the rest of the office btw) before being reminded by panah that the mahamata has a generous PTO policy

kaveh graciously accepts, partly out of "i need to figure out what's going on here and if alhaitham's ok" & also out of sheer novelty (bc small business owners like him dont get paid time off...)

which means that alhaitham and kaveh are both at home, officially on leave. so now what?

well, alhaitham in kaveh's body discovers that even though he's incredibly tired (again, the sleep debt), the insomnia very much won't let him. he's grumpily counting desert constructs in his mind with all the curtains pulled shut and soothing instrumental music playing on the record player and still. sleep does not come

meanwhile kaveh in alhaitham's body hears that alhaitham paused all his projects and is just like "nope i refuse" especially because he's actually feeling pretty great right now. so kaveh plans to keep working on those commissions anyways so he can meet the original deadlines

....except he discovers to his disgruntlement that alhaitham's body demands an afternoon nap right after lunch. it doesn't even matter that kaveh in alhaitham's body drank coffee, he's sleeping even if he doesn't want to

and worse, he wakes up refreshed... and ready for a run??!? wtf (kaveh has asthma, he has never woken up feeling like he wanted to run ever)

anyway one of kaveh's clients is super pushy and insists on a meeting with kaveh

so a very grumpy alhaitham in kaveh's body shows up & reads them the riot act (he knows the law, the client's property deed was improperly filed & the resulting delay is not kaveh's responsibility)

meanwhile kaveh's dealing with sensory overload bc wdym that textures are loud?? :(

somehow this all results in the same way they always seem to end up, alhaitham and kaveh napping together in the living room, piled up on the same divan despite having three perfectly good couches to use

and now they understand each other a bit more, but also they're both pretty grateful to be switching back into their normal bodies

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ii. do you really wanna know where i was april 29th?

— the one where you and him end up in the same room at the same time.

warnings: kind reminder that the pictures are just used for entertainment and don’t describe what the main character is supposed to look like also, there are some f1 inaccuracies but this is fiction so please ignore them thank you❤️ 2k words.

masterlist ✢ next

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softyn it’s so good to see you having fun!!

myaid4nfeels so you’re already on the hunt huh

poppyseeds mother!! suddenly I love fast cars vroom vroom

greenleafss @/priscibby you were right she def has another man

frenziekenzie okay cool but I need you to talk about Aidan I’m a child of divorce.

Baku, Azerbaijan, April 29th.

HERE, here is where you end up when you let your agent say yes to every commercial offer you get no matter how random it is. And one day late, to top things off. Many people are angry at you, and you’re getting an earful as soon as the cameras shut down, but for now all you can do is laugh at terrible jokes, like the lady that you are, pretend to sip the frankly horrendous energy drink your manager keeps handing you, and appear very sorry about your previous absence.

You’re not even supposed to be here, you had no idea signing the stupid contract with Red Elix forced you to come to every sponsor event that they had. Having become the most recent sponsor for Ferrari’s F1 team, the men in charge couldn’t wait to show you off, their most important ambassador. Or their shiniest toy, it's all semantics.

"Come on, the shootout is about to start!" the old man whose name you have already forgotten holds your hand, leading you away from the refreshments table where you're looking something drinkable, preferably with alcohol, although it wouldn't help your jetlag.

You spent the eighteen hours of your flight on a F1 binge, because you weren't about to make a fool of yourself by showing up to a Grand Prix having zero idea of whatever was going on other than the cars going really, really fast. Some things are still mildly confusing, like the point distribution and why on Earth there is a sprint race and then a 'real' race the next day. But you're proud of your ability to retain information, you're an actress after all, there are a hundred scripts loaded into your brain.

"We root for the red cars, sweetheart," the man is still holding your hand and it's starting to feel gross, it's papery and sweaty at the same time. It's like he's talking to a child, ennunciating slowly and clearly, and then pointing at the screen where they take turns to focus on drivers sixteen and fifty-five.

Unsurprisingly, you'd figured as much, you're in the Ferrari Suite, everything is fucking red. A wave of annoyance runs through you, but you're used to men being patronizing, so you just smile and take the chance to slip your hand out of his grip, covering your face coyly. "I'll keep an eye on them!"

He turns around after laughing at your 'cuteness' or stupidity, really. Men love laughing at women, especially those whom they deem to be dumb.

"Could you please, please, get me some water? Not Elix, not anything else, water." you whisper to your manager just as he's made himself comfortable to watch the Sprint Shootout. He sends a resented look your way but still gets up from his chair to get you a closed bottle of water. Walter is being forced to be here as much as you are, at least he doesn’t have a contract that keeps him tied to Elix for every race.

The man from before is talking to you again and you try your best not to shut down and tune him out. He's explaining the rules of the Shootout but you couldn't care less about anything that leaves his mouth, also the cars are already coming out of their respective garage and there's so much noise it doesn't even matter how much he adjusts the volume of his voice.

Charles and Carlos, you have learned their names after an hour of having their enlarged picture stare at you from the main wall of the Suite. Charles ended up in first place and he's starting P1 later and tomorrow. Nice. Carlos is struggling a little, apparently, but seeing how fast these silly cars go and how tight the curves are, you can't blame him.

As soon as the Shootout is over, there is chaos again. You are dragged here, there and back, forced to smile for pictures with strangers who have the audacity to squeeze your waist and whisper in your ear, well, that's definitely worse than having to drink the Red Elix.

There is another rush as both drivers come back for a debrief and to get some rest before the Sprint, they're a blur surrounded by people in red uniforms blabbering instructions, and the shouts of 'good job!' and 'i love you!' that have followed them from the paddock.

"Mr. Schafer…” a boney boy with glasses leans down to talk to the guy that has branded you as his for the evening.

Schafer gives him a dirty look, annoyed by the interruption of his incredibly boring story about how he is a self-made multimillionaire. "What?" he barks.

"They- they said not now," the boy whispers shyly, no, not shyly, scared. "They said the drivers need to focus, but maybe later after the Sprint..."

A can of Elix flies in the air and you look in poorly disguised repugnance at the way it puddles close to your Air Force sneakers. The boy has taken a step back, now visibly shaking and your disgust is redirected to the man that just yelled at him and is throwing a temper tantrum.

"Not right now?!" he continues, face turning purple. "What if I had said 'not right now' when they asked me to give them MY money, huh?!"

"T-they said—"

"I don't care what they said! It's your job to get the pictures of them with the Elix! You're useless!"

Other people are staring at you, including most of the Ferrari Hospitality Team, and it makes you feel embarassed that they have most likely pegged you as similar to Schafer from how inseparable you are.

"Why don't we calm down a bit?" you soothe, forcing yourself to run your hand down his arm and back up. "You know how these pilots are, divas at best."

You don't know either of the guys who have disappeared inside the Suite, and by the looks the Hospitality Team gives you once again, you're certain you are completely mistaken. But you don't care, because the media boy is giving you a grateful look, and although he's still visibly fuming, the money guy has stopped yelling.

"You're right sweetheart," Schafer says patting your hand and taking it back to his arm. "Later, then." he warns the media boy, who takes that as his sign to run away.

────────────

Ferrari is full of hope and celebrations when the Sprint ends, you're once again paraded around but at least it's way more fun this time. You get to be near the podium and witness first-hand whatever rituals they play out. The fun is short-lived though, when you are warned by your manager that Mr. Schafer wants to take you out to dinner tonight, you don't have or want to know more, you know what he wants to achieve.

You walk back to the Suite with your manager, trying your best to avoid Mr. Schafer, who is frantically looking for you. He's missing his arm-candy badly.

Your jetlag has worsened, and you have a terrible headache, plus however much Elix you've drank despite taking the smallest sips possible, is making you nauseous.

You need five minutes to yourself. It's all you ask for. You haven't even been able to get a break in the fucking bathroom. Your manager is constantly yelling, already getting his own frustration out on you for whatever shit the Elix team gave him after you missed the first day of the Grand Prix.

In the midst of the chaos, you slip away. Eager to find a place to breathe and enjoy your own company. Or dissociate, again, semantics.

You find yourself in front of two doors with the numbers sixteen and fifty-five identifying whom they each belong to. They are empty, and you know it because both drivers are still in their debriefing/celebration/whatever else they could be doing that once again, won't allow them to pose for the Elix post-race photos.

You are at a crossroads, you are well aware this are private rooms for a reason, but you also know there isn't anywhere more deserted than these rooms.

Sixteen or fifty-five? Who is least likely to freak out if by any miscalculation on your part they found you here? Well, one of them ended the day on a happier note than the other, so...

You open the door marked with the number sixteen and sigh in relief. Five minutes and that's it. Then you can go back and play dumb to Schafer and beg for you manager to finally take you to the hotel.

There is a miscalculation on your part, and five minutes later, just as you're about to get up and leave (after stealing one bottle of water and a granola bar from Charles' stash) the door opens again, revealing the disheveled driver, holding a small plaque with a number two in one hand and a Pirelli cap in the other. He is far more handsome up close, there isn't a screen or photograph that does him justice, and you've seen plenty of both during the day.

"You are not supposed to be here," is the first thing he says, frowning.

"I know," you feign nonchalance as best you can, although you are embarrassed. "I was leaving."

Charles still wears that confused expression on his face, and it makes you glad it hasn't changed to anger. "What were you doing here?"

"Stealing your refreshments," which is not a lie, as you're still holding both things in one hand, not without struggle.

He's not freaking out, which comes across as strange. How many times has he come to his private room to find a random girl waiting for him?

"Should have taken the Elix," he mutters, throwing the Pirelli cap in the empty part of the couch you had been occupying minutes before. "That thing is disgusting."

You can't help but chortle a laugh. "Glad you think so,"

Awkward silence finally falls in the room, and you know that's the signal for you to exit. You're still invading his privacy and while you're glad he really didn't seem to mind, you don't know how much longer he will be so patient.

"Don't tell anyone you were here, okay?" he calls after you, "Someone might get fired."

You nod but he doesn't see you, already minding his own business in his little private bubble. You're jealous to leave him in a space all to himself.

────────────

It takes an hour to get both drivers and you in the same room for the pictures Elix is dying to get. This is far from ridiculous, but you have a contract and so does Ferrari, so you don't have much of a choice.

"Are you feeling better?" Charles asks, and you think he's talking to his team mate until he clears his throat right in front of you. He's holding the Red Elix, just like the one in his private room.

"Who? Me?" you ask stupidly, and then you take a sip of the Gold Elix in your hand, it's so much worse than the Red.

"Yes, you."

"I'm okay, why?" you're suddenly defensive, this is the second time this guy sees you and he's acting all weird.

"Good," he says and also drinks from his Elix, failing to hide his distaste with a purse from his lips. "This thing is really gross," he whispers, and this time his teammate does join the conversation only by laughing.

Both must be exhausted and yet they're trying to put on a good show for the sponsors.

"I'm sorry about intruding in your room," you lower your voice, squeezing your drink.

Charles shrugs lightly, and drinks again, this time without grimacing. "Sometimes I need five minutes too."

You smile, and it's the first sincere smile you've shown all day.

"My mum likes your movies," he says casually, as someone yells that you need 'just one more picture, please!'

You dread the part where he says something along the lines of "Supercut is the best!" but instead, after he stops the automatic motion of taking the red can to his lips, he adds: "I like Loneliness, it's so depressing."

And you throw your head back to laugh.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i would appreciate to know your thoughts too! ♡❞

[milykins]

Hello my dear! ✨️

I was curious if you might be able to write a little something fun/fluffy with Mikey for this prompt:

"Sorry, you're just my type."

I'd love to see what you could come up with for this. Thank you!

🫂💖

Finally ready to post! I hope this doesn't disappoint. I had fun putting my own nerdy spin on this ask and putting it in my AU where they already live among humans just worked really well for this prompt. Thank you for it!

TW: None, set in an AU where they live in the city and have jobs/own businesses. Aged up, adult turtles

Special thanks to @sophiacloud28 for beta reading!

Just My Type

Mikey was kind of a big deal. He was the first of his brothers to go ‘public’ once they had made the decision to reveal themselves. Predictably, Leo had advised him to go about it carefully. Raph followed suit, and Donnie especially. Both were planning to take careful baby steps and advised Mikey to do the same.

Funny that they expected him to listen, did they even know him? Unsurprisingly, he went hard, very much putting himself out there. To him, the choice was easy. If they were to live among the humans, he needed to show them that they meant no harm. The incident at the police station was a painful reminder of how bad things could go and he was willing to do whatever it took to prevent that. Mikey was steadfastly dedicated to shifting humanity’s perspective from ‘monsters’ to ‘heroes’.

To his delight, the expressed reception was largely positive. He was very pleased that his efforts had paid off. Perhaps a little too well. Mikey ended up with a huge fanbase in a matter of months. His popularity exploded across social media and he even appeared on a few talk shows.

Opening his comic book store was huge. People camped outside with lineups around the block for the grand opening. The rush of customers and fans was so intense that Mikey actually had to call his brothers in for assistance. Raph had been more than happy to act as a bouncer for his little brother.

He was quickly becoming very familiar with the term ‘be careful what you wish for’. Our hero in orange was there. The constant fans demanding pictures, autographs, even trying to steal his mask… (he’d lost four so far) had been grating on him a little. He’d been wondering if his brothers were right in telling him he should’ve approached humanity more carefully. Leo certainly had no problem pointing it out. ‘You asked for this, Mikey. What did you expect?’

He couldn’t say. He’d just wanted what they all wanted. Acceptance. Now, it looked like he’d bitten of more than he could chew.

Then you came along.

He’d been watching the day you nervously approached the door. Carefully, you placed your hand on the door handle before abruptly drawing it back like it had been burned. Turning on your heel you left fast, caught up in your own mortification. Stifling a soft chuckle, Mikey went back to his work.

You proceeded to do this twice more over the coming days much to his growing amusement. He couldn’t help but be intrigued and was patiently waiting for the day you summoned enough courage to actually enter the store.

Obviously, you were a huge fan. He was flattered of course but he could tell something was different about you. Typically, his fans had no fear in approaching him and most had even less shame in throwing themselves at him. He found your hesitancy and careful approach to be endearing and a refreshing change.

His heart soared the day you finally summoned your courage and asked to be a part of his weekly one-shot D&D afternoon gaming sessions. Of course it was a resounding yes from him. He was perhaps a bit too enthusiastic as he was more than happy to include you.

It was a wonderful thing to see you blossom during the session. To see your confidence grow as you slowly came out of your own proverbial shell. You’d played before, he could tell. The adorable accent you put on as you fell into the role of playing your character nearly dropped him on the back of his shell. It was so cute. He delighted in the fact that you did not need much help in calculating your rolls either. He was really trying to tamp it down but he was already smitten. Soft, sweet, pretty and shy, but hiding this confident player underneath. You were just his type.

As the session came to a close, he felt a surge of pride upon being thanked by you. A wholly grateful smile on your face. Humbly accepting the praise, he secretly hoped this wasn’t the last he’d see of you. To his relief you shyly approached him after the game, not to ask for a picture or an autograph but to ask if he knew of any D&D groups accepting new members. Hope bloomed within him as he explained that actually there was one. His heart fluttered in his chest as he watched the excitement in your eyes grow. It was a done deal. You were invited to join his very exclusive, only reserved for family and close friends… D&D group.

Those sessions were the most enjoyable he’d ever had the pleasure of dming. Seeing you attend his games became the highlight of his week. You and he soon struck up a solid friendship and for once in his life, Mikey was trying his hardest not to come on too strong. He didn’t want to screw this up by any means. He wanted you to call the shots and was secretly hoping that you liked him as much as he liked you.

Oh, he was in deep. He began noticing the subtle nuances in your behaviour, little things unique only to you. How your cheeks flushed pink when something embarrassing happened or when he’d teased you in-game. Your expression of pure satisfaction and excitement as you rolled a perfect nat20 and your contradictory one of utter disappointment and dramatic woe when you rolled a nat1. He found himself craving these moments, just to see how you’ll react. Truthfully, he’d fudged at least one roll just so you’d have a success instead of a failure. He needed to see the look of pure joy on your face. He wanted to be the cause of that joy.

One day, he couldn’t help it. He had to ask you out. Saying he was nervous was an understatement. You’d think having such a huge fanbase would’ve prepared him for this but alas no. He was still a shy, stuttering mess when he’d quietly suggested dinner and a walk after.

At your soft, surprised yes, he nearly cheered with an overly enthusiastic fist pump. Instead, he tugged you in for a tentative hug and quietly told you how happy that would make him. He had to really hold back from kissing you as your faces grew close. Shyly, you pulled away first to tell him you’ll see him there. He watched you turn with a small wave and a tiny excited smile. You were so adorable it hurt.

The date itself seemed to be a success. He wanted you to be wined and dined, wanted you to feel special, like a princess. He tried to be an absolute gentleman while putting his best romantic foot forward. To his delight, you seemed to be having a wonderful time. If your wide smiles and soft bouts of laughter were any indication. By the time he was carefully holding your hand while walking with you through Central Park he’d thought he'd made it. Reading your body language and how you had glanced up to his face a few times while your cheeks flushed so prettily. He took the cue and leaned in for that once-in-a-lifetime first kiss. It was going to be perfect.

It was… until you pulled away at the last second. Mikey felt as though his heart had dropped into his stomach. Concern laced his features as he searched your face to find out where he’d gone wrong. Then you started talking, your voice stuttering and unsure.

“I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t think you really liked me like that…”

His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. “You… you don’t feel the same way… do you?” There was no hiding his disappointment this time. He watched your eyes widen as you struggled to pick your next words carefully.

Your tone changes then as you shake your head and then nod, stammering a bit. “Wait, wait, wait! No, I do! I do like you, Mikey… I just didn’t think you’d go for me, I’m nothing special… not like those fangirls of yours. Aren’t they more your type?”

This was the answer he’d least been expecting to hear. He’d been sure you were going to let him down easy… that your heart belonged to another… more human guy. Not a mutated turtle guy.

“Not my… you think that they…” His mind was absolutely blown. This gorgeous, sweet woman thought that she wasn’t good enough for him? That was it, he was in love.

“Sweetheart… sorry to disappoint you, you’re just my type. Exactly my type. You’re the only woman I want to be with. The one that knows the real me.” He gave you a truthful and tender smile as he carefully tucked an errant curl behind your ear.

This time, when he moved in for that kiss, there was no hesitation on your part. He wanted you to feel the joy and tenderness he poured into it, right down to your toes.

A tightening of your grip and a deepening of the kiss was all he needed to know that you did feel it. He’d found what most people had been searching for their entire lives. A deep connection you both shared in the depths of your souls. To heck with ‘types’ he just wanted you.

Until the next ask!

Taglist:

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please ask if you'd like to be added!

[komoboko]

Can you do bf Muichiro? Thanks💕

𝐛𝐟!𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞...

Muichiro Tokito x gn!reader ・modern!au

for my muichiro moots 🤞

Bf!Muichiro who really enjoys taking you cloud gazing. He likes laying down in the grass plain while pointing out different clouds telling you what he thinks something looks like while you do the same. Its something he used to do alone so having another person to indulge in the peace is refreshing.

Bf!Muichiro who knows about his bad memory and doesn't want to forget any important days around you, so he starts writing in a journal. He'll write about an important surrounding you like your birthday or your anniversary and maybe even hobbies or things you like for future gift ideas.

Bf!Muichiro who really likes hearing your voice as it soothing to him. He'll sit and listen to you rant about anything, he always trys his best not to space out whenever you rant to him. He wants to really hear what you have to say but your voice is like a melody that soothes his nerves automatically.

Bf!Muichiro who's hand are unusually cold for no particular reason. When you wrap your hands around his a shiver can creep up your spine. Sometimes he doesn't even realize how cold his hands are in the first place, he just thinks your hands are really warm.

Bf!Muichiro who has a terrible sleep schedule. He’ll be up in the late night hours training or doing something to distract his mind except falling asleep. You’ll have to drag him into bed for him to get some proper rest some days, but he appreciates you keeping him in check.

Bf!Muichiro who wants you to walk him everywhere. Whenever he has to go, he wants you to at-least walk him halfway to his location. He feels like it’s another way to spend more time with you. It’s peaceful and relaxing to just go on a stroll with you by his side

Bf!Muichiro despite his horrible sleep schedule lives to lay on you. If the two of you are sitting side by side it’s a good chance he’s going to rest his head on your shoulder. No matter how important the circumstances is, he’ll still find a way to rest his head on your shoulder.

Bf!Muichiro who loves listening to music with you around. He enjoys sharing your music taste and sharing his as well. You guys could either be doing something together like games or chores, or doing something seperate like homework for example. Just being in each others presence is enough for him.

Bf!Muichiro who in a more canon setting loves to train with you. He loves sparing and testing each other skill sets in different fields. He admires your strengths and talents and while sometimes he may he wants to help you with something your struggling with. He also wants to learn from you at the same time.

Bf!Muichiro who always comes straight to you whenever he gets back from a mission. No matter how short or how long the mission may be he always ends up craving your presence and your touch. he'll slink his arms around you while hesitating before whispering how much he missed you

Bf!Muichiro who you're there for when he regains his memories, a wave of emotions rushing over him realizing what happened in his past. he faces you and realized why you reminded him of a home he didn't remember before. You reminded him of his brother brining back his memories before he realized it himself.

Bf!Muichiro who may forget things but he's still remembers how much he loves you.

[angelismmm]

random relationship hcs i think theyd do, starring the honkai star rail characters!

himeko makes tea for you everytime she knows your trailblazing mission is about to end, she knows the exact way you like all your drinks. especially tea, but if that isn't to your liking, coffee, and other refreshers.

himeko especially loves compliments and praise, words of affirmation for sure is her love language, but her favorite love language to give is probably quality time!!

very attentive gf, like it may not seem like it but, she'll always be there with whatever you need!

blade makes sure you're always in top shape, of course, he doesn't ever make it too obvious, but when he has to leave, he's the type to leave little notes everywhere, "make sure to eat, my dove" on top of your bento that he made, or "don't forget to take me out :0" on the trashcan.

he doesn't always have time, but when he does, he makes sure to let you know he loves you with physical touch

make sure he's loved with a bit of quality time, along with a few words of encouragement!

jing yuan loves to just shower you in luxury, whatever you have your eye on when strolling in the plaza, he'll buy it. but he won't just win you over with just gifts, no no, he'll make sure to treat you like royalty.

constant praise, he loves to praise you so much, like mo matter what you do that's somewhat positive he's already got million of petnames to call you.

another attentive bby, makes sure you'll always remember it too. he promised you when you both got together, that nothing would ever happen to you, as long as you were with him <3

bronya is such a sweetheart! very mindful of you, always makes sure you're okay, and always finds time for you, even with her busy schedule. constantly reminding you that she's always there when you need her!

the type to hug you from behind while you cook her favorite meals <3

just adores you. always zones out while you argue that she's doing too much, and should take a break every now and then, but she just gets too lost in your eyes to really hear what you just said

"are you even listening, hun?" you ask, having to pinch her cheek to finally get her to snap back to reality. "huh- oh i'm so sorry love- care to ah.. repeat that?"

[onskepa]

Hello, could i get a neteyam x human fem reader one? Neteyam and reader were together for a short amount of time and they didn't have time to cuddle or stay together. One day Neteyam comes at the lab to meet with reader and forgets how small she really is. She's a rly short girl, maybe 4'11 (148 cm) so she smaller than all the humans from the lab. He takes advantage of it and corners her to the wall knwoing she can't escape or manhandles her like a doll. OML I WANT A NETEYAM IN MY LIFE SO BAD

Sorry if this was already asked but i don't remember if i requested this. Like ik i requested this but don't remember who i requested. Thank you

Hellooooooooo~!! You're the first to ask for a short reader! Which is refreshing to see XD Anyways! Hope you enjoyed this one~!!

A little tug here, a little pull there

--------------------------------------------------------------

Hi'i

The humans are very different from each other. Some are tall, others are shorter, some have facial hair, others have short hair, different skin tomes, different accents, etc.

How humans look like has always peaked the sully children's interest. Norm is a funny looking human, tall, lanky, scrawny, and very smart.

But there is one human that never fails to catch interest of neteyam. That is Hi'i. Neteyam and hi'i have known each other for almost their entire lives. Know each others secrets, habits, hobbies, likes, dislikes, evertthing.

But if there is anything that always gets neteyam by surprise, is just how small hi'i is.

Comparing all the humans height together. hi'i is the last in line, as being the shortest of them all. And neteyam likes it. Its not secret to everyone that neteyam likes to tease hi'i about her height.

It doesnt help since all na'vi are very tall, so when hi'i is next to tuk. Hi'i is very baby. So neteyam cant help it! He enjoys carrying her around , can easily pick her up as she weight less than a leaf.

So when they began to officially date, oh Eywa did the teasing turn up 10X more.

So every time neteyam goes to the lab to see his little lover, he really means little lover. Standing at 4'10 ft tall. So small. So little. So cute.

As the son of the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik, he has many responsibilities to do and a face to uphold. So unfortunately he doesn't get to see his little lover as much as he liked. But if there is one benefit to it all. It is that he will be NOT be constantly surprised how small his little lover is. He forgets most of the time but enjoys being reminded.

Like right now. Standing before him was his cute, small, little lover. "I see you came with big anticipation" hi'i smiles as she tells him. He nods in agreement, "of course, whenever I have the chance, I will always come see you".

Both sat in hi'i bedroom floor, just spending some quality time by listening to music and talking about each others days. But one thing that is consistent, is neteyam having the need to touch hi'i everywhere.

"neteyam, I think you have my body mapped out by now" hi'i giggled as neteyam's hands roam on her legs. Gently kissing her on the cheek, neteyam replies "ma'yawntutsyip, even if I know every inch of your body, my hands will never be away from you. You are just too cute to not handle".

Every praise, every comment neteyam says, hi'i cant help but be a blushing mess. It will never get old no matter how many times he says it.

"still, at some point you will have to stop" hi'i says, that only made neteyam want to explore more. From her legs to her arms, neteyam buries his face at the crook of hi'i neck. She gently placed her hand on his cheek.

"I don't wanna..." hi'i giggles at his childish act. Was a cute sight to see him pout and be clingy. Not everyday he can act like his age or more childlike.

"neteyam, give me a moment I need to get something from another room" hi'i says as she tries to wiggle out of neteyam's grasp. "no, I want you to stay like this. Whatever it is, you can get it later".

Hi'i slightly groans. "No because then I will forget about it, I will be back, it will only take two minutes I promise". Finally out of his grasp, she makes her way to the door only for neteyam's shadow loom over her.

"its just two minutes, not very-EEP!" hi'i almost fell down when neteyam cornered her. Placing his two long arms beside her body as means to refrain her from escaping. His golden eyes narrowing down at her, smirking a bit, giving a glimpse to his sharp fangs.

Seeing his fangs always make hi'i go weak on the knees. One of her many weaknesses.

"If I said no, then it is no. Now come here, let me hold you" effortlessly, as though he is holding a kitten. Neteyam picks up hi'i in his arms and sits back down with her being cuddled. Hi'i doesn't say anything since she is too busy blushing red and her mind is a puddle.

And that is it for this one! Hope you liked this one! Until next time! see ya!

hi'i = small

yawntutsyip = little beloved

[utilitycaster]

So to answer why I went with Treviso instead of Minrathous: I went in knowing the following.

You must choose to save either Minrathous or Treviso

This will cause either Neve or Lucanis, depending on your choice, to become upset with you and leave the group for a while, and when they return they will be harder to please and will not use their healing abilities anymore.

Romancing Lucanis is permanently blocked if you save Minrathous, but romancing Neve is NOT blocked if you save Treviso, though it’s harder

If you are a Crow or Shadow Dragon and save the other city the faction and the character will be particularly angry.

Lucanis and Neve will, if you don’t romance either of them, enter a relationship with each other, which intrigued me.

I also had read Tevinter Nights (has Neve and Lucanis stories in it) and listened to Vows and Vengeance so I had like, an outline of them as people, and I was aware of Spite as a concept.

Anyway. You see both Minrathous and Treviso before the attack, and at the time I did prefer Treviso (Minrathous city of fucking ladders) though I liked both. Because I knew Lucanis was far more broken up about the loss of Treviso than Neve would be of Dock Town, I had already decided on Treviso. I also do find Lucanis's argument more compelling, ie, Treviso will fall without help whereas Dock Town has people to fight.

I also, despite some things I've said in the past, don't dislike angst provided it comes with real tragedy as well, and so on some level it was very much a situation of "oh, I'm finding Neve EVEN MORE COMPELLING than originally stated, which was very? let me put her through the wringer." Like, again, hardened Neve is much less brittle - she doesn't break like Lucanis apparently does, she just grows colder, and she feels, for a long while, more justified in her cynicism. (I also think that women in fiction are increasingly allowed to explore anger or insecurity or self-loathing- and Harding and Bellara's stories are both very much about those - but rarely are women allowed to be both heroic and bitter. Again, I joke about all those plucky gingers with swords from my childhood and how formative they were, and they were! But a lot of the uglier emotions like bitterness and cynicism are still frequently not granted to heroic female characters, and letting Neve immerse herself fully in that for a while feels very refreshing.

As for specifically why it makes a better story, just to move this from the post where I initially mentioned it, I think it's a much more satisfying story for Neve to initially have her worst fears/beliefs proven (you can only rely on yourself, people will let you down, your work will never matter) and then slowly and patiently disproven. I think her notable softening after you work for her trust again hits better if you had lost it. Whereas for Lucanis it never really comes back (also, I cannot stress enough how good Inner Demons is; I believe the corresponding Neve quest you lose with the choice is The Soul of A City and I can't speak to it but Inner Demons is truly incredible).

I'll also note, as I spent more time in Dock Town post-dragon I fell in love with it. The influences are heavily Black Sea region, which has been a longtime personal interest (architecture and vibe is somewhat Istanbul; Neve mentions a Georgian dish, khachapuri) and it also kind of reminds me through the detective story elements and the broad region of The City and the City by China Mieville, a novel I love dearly which takes place in a fictional pair of overlapping cities that are vaguely Black Sea/Balkans coded. But also it's taken a heavy hit but it's nowhere near as bad, from what I understand, as blighted Treviso - Minrathous takes a heavy hit but the result is Venatori crackdown on the Shadow Dragons and increased hold on the city whereas Treviso just kind of collapses. It's much more interesting to have a devastating setback but not hopelessness, and the vibe of post-dragon Dock Town is fascinating (and, to be honest, kind of a big mood). Also the Viper trying to take down as many Venatori as he can before the Blight gets him is fucking metal and a great Mercer role in a game with three great Mercer roles.

So yeah, hard to compare since I've only seen one option and I'm mid-game, but so far the narrative of saving Treviso in terms of the stories of the cities, factions, and characters involved feels much more satisfying.

[redrandomposts]

alien stage high school(+twist) au!! ivantill

summary: there's an old ring in an antique shop, and the perfect gift for someone you like. when ivan gives it to till, he finds that he can wish for something relating to till - as long as he pays a price.

=====

it's an ordinary day. that is, ivan was going to school, ready to bother till again. he gets up early every morning, sends a text (or seven) to wake till up, then heads on his way to class.

he takes a slightly different route today. it's been seven years since till and he first hung out outside of school, and he needs to find a gift for the occasion. he's sure that till doesn't remember, but ivan does, and that has to count for something.

in the window of an antique store, he spots it. though weathered, a beautiful ring with a gemstone that reminds ivan of till's eyes sits there, waiting. he buys it without a second thought, fiddling it in his hand as he planned how to go about gifting it. it's for the best that it was anonymous. so, wrapping it in discreet packaging, he slipped it into his locker and waited for till in the classroom as he always does.

fifteen minutes later, just half a second before the bell rang, till came crashing in and claiming his spot next to ivan. in the corner of his eye, ivan watched as till fiddled with the ring. satisfied, he opened his textbook and got ready to write notes (which, of course, was for till. color-coded, neatly organized, and three or more syllable words having the definition beside it).

after that, he didnt have anymore thoughts about the ring. it was not the first gift he gave to till, and not the most expensive one either. he'd feel a slight satisfaction when he saw it on till, but other than that—nothing.

well, that was how it went until till was involved in a car crash.

ir was an otherwise ordinary day. till was most probably going to the music store for new strings or sheets, and as much as ivan would like to, he wasn't by till's side 24/7. he only heard about it when the hospital contacted him as an emergency contact (something he had done without till's knowledge) that he found out.

when he arrived, till was in a coma. he was the most peaceful ivan had seen him in a long while, and not even dreams brought a sign of life to him.

ivan pulled some strings to get till a private, vip room, make sure till's "guardian" wasn't contacted, get them both sick leave from school, and settled in the hospital for rhe foreseeable future.

till's father was out of town most of the time, only coming for urgent matters. ivan decided that he didnt need to be there.

soon, ivan came by to the school once a week to turn in work and explain to the principal that till was not waking up anytime soon.

a month passed. ivan... ivan was growing desperate. by till's bedside, he had practically made a home for himself; his laptop, notebooks, novels... if he were an artist, he'd draw till again and again until he went insane.

"till," he said. there was no response. "god...till, why won't you wake up? open your eyes, or twitch a finger. till, till... i wish you were never in that accident."

ivan fell asleep again that night by till's bedside.

when he woke up, though, it was in his own bed. he felt oddly refreshed, as though the past month were a dream. looking at the calendar, his mouth dried.

it was the day till had gotten into the crash.

was it really all a dream? ivan grasped at his phone. it was six pm, an hour after till had gotten into the accident. before he could do anything, the door opened.

"ivan, there you are. i thought you invited me over to do the project, not sleep." till stood there, alive and well. and, well, ivan decided to put the rest in the back of his mind.

he went out to the dining room, where till had set up the project. notebooks and papers were already scattered across the table, though it was obvious till hadn't worked on any of it yet.

ivan looked at till. he couldnt forget how till had lied, unmoving, on that hospital bed.

"i'll make us food," ivan decided, heading to the kitchen.

ivan had learned how to cook long ago, if only to feed till. till, for no apparent reason, had hated the food his nanny used to make, so ivan took it upon himself to learn. it took several years to perfect the art of cooking for till.

ivan set down the finished dishes in hastily cleared spots and sat next to till, eating his own share. as till wolfed down his food, ivan stared blankly at his.

was his tongue broken? why couldn't he taste it?

===

a week later, in chemistry lab, till had gotten a little too handsy. ivan sat next to him on the way to the hospital, and thus he witnessed till's absolute devestation when he learned that his hands wouldn't be able to heal the way it had before.

till had painstakingly learned the guitar, how to draw, and it would all be ruined because his hands were burned.

ivan frowned, looking down at till's bandaged hands. unbidden, he recalled the car accident, and quietly, he whispered; "i wish till's hands will heaal to a state better than before."

the next week, it was as if a medical miracle had graced till. his hands returned to it's condition, if not better. ivan looked at till's hands, unable to smell anything. it was fine, though; he'd give anything to till.

===

the next to go was his right leg. it wasn't anything that bad; ivan's newfound loss of taste and smell led him to seek food that felt nice eating. they both went to a restaurant together, where a robbery had happened whilst they were there. till was shot in the leg; naturally, ivan wished to go back so that he could take the shot instead.

unfortunately, it hit some nerve, or it was the wish's penalty. ivan was unable to use his leg again.

it was easy enough to wrap it up in a cast and walk in crutches, though.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 22

Inches In Between Us

Disclaimer: 18+, mature content.

I am warning my sweet readers if you are sensitive to this kinda stuff, I just want to say to you, "Don't proceed any further, I'll see you in next chapter, have a good day."

Darling, can I be your favourite?

I'll be your girl, let you taste it.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Favourite" by Isabel LaRosa.)

It's liberating how, outside the confines of the mafia world, she exists as an ordinary face in a sea of billions. Few people know her, fewer recognize her, and in this anonymity, she finds freedom.

At Paragon Tech's Christmas party, she's just another employee, laughing, chatting, and blending seamlessly into the crowd.

Her off-white knee-length dress sways gently with her every movement. The dress is simple yet elegant, cinched at the waist to highlight her figure, with delicate lace sleeves that add a touch of flare. It's a perfect contrast to the bold red lips she's chosen, a daring statement she rarely makes.

The party is in full swing, with twinkling lights, festive music, and a lavishly decorated Christmas tree at the centre of the room. She's enjoying herself, mostly.

This night could have been perfect if only the boss were here.

Not that she'd ever admit it, of course. Her colleagues wouldn't understand. They'd frown at her so-called unhealthy fascination with their employer, though "fascination" wasn't quite the word she'd use. Irritation, perhaps. Or Frustration.

And if he'd been here tonight, she would have found a way to needle him, just a little.

But he wasn't.

So, she keeps her composure, masking her thoughts behind polite smiles and meaningless small talk, all while pretending she's not scanning the room, hoping he'll walk in any second.

She lets out a soft laugh, humouring the colleague standing in front of her. His attempts at flirtation are clumsy, but there's an innocence to it that she can't help but appreciate. His black eyes shimmer with nervous excitement, his words tumbling out in stilted sentences as he tries to keep her attention.

It's sweet, really. Charming in a way that reminds her of an uncomplicated past, a time when life didn't feel so heavy.

She listens, nodding in the right places, even allowing a genuine smile or two to escape. The simplicity of it all, the lack of pretence, and the raw honesty in his demeanour are refreshing.

But it's not enough.

Sweet black eyes aren't what she craves.

She wants eyes like molten caramel, staring at her with an intensity that makes her forget to breathe. She wants a gaze that pins her in place, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, yet setting her on fire from the inside out.

And she knows exactly who those eyes belong to.

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, a moment so brief the man in front of her doesn't notice. She pulls herself back, burying the ache beneath layers of practised indifference.

The colleague continues, oblivious, but her thoughts are already miles away, lost in a pair of fiery caramel-brown eyes that haunt her every waking moment.

"Are you flirting with random people now?" His voice is cold, cutting through the silence as he stands there, rigid and unforgiving, his gaze sharper than his words. "Or did you forget that you're actually engaged?"

No, he didn't just say that. What the hell!

She whirls around to face him.

Hurt and betrayed.

She's come upstairs to retrieve her things. His presence in the building is unknown to her.

"What does it matter to you? I'm not engaged to you."

Something shifts in his eyes as he strides toward her. Her instincts scream at her to retreat. She does, step by step, until her back collides with the glass wall behind her. The cold surface seeps through her dress, but it's nothing compared to the icy fire in his gaze.

Drawing air into her chest becomes utterly difficult as he stops mere inches from her. Her heart races.

Because of his closeness,

Because of his unexplained anger,

the fact that she is trapped and she isn't getting out unless he chooses to let her go.

Her palms are about to make contact with his chest to push him away, to create even the smallest distance between them, but his hand catches her wrist mid-air.

Anger surges through her, heating her cheeks as she tries to wrench her arm free, twisting and pulling with all her might. But his grip is unyielding, calm, and maddeningly firm.

"Let me go," she hisses, struggling against him.

He doesn't. Instead, he moves her wrists effortlessly above her head, pinning them against the glass. Her body arches instinctively, her chest brushing against his with every shallow inhale.

And because she can do nothing else, she growls in a low and feral voice, "I hate you. How dare you?"

And just like the strike of a match, she feels as if something else sparks to life.

"You blushed for him,'' his voice barely above a whisper, soft and devastating, underlined with the slightest clench of teeth."Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Her breathing falters, picking up pace as her pulse races wildly.

His gaze slides over her, slow and torturous, from her eyes to her lips, to the rise and fall of her chest. Her nipples harden, dragging along his hard chest with every laboured breath she takes.

Goosebumps break through her as his nose skims through her cheek. "Oh, little bird, you shouldn't have done that."

The anger in her battles against the molten warmth pooling low in her belly. A tremble racks her body as he presses his face into the curve of her neck and inhales deeply, inhales her.

The sound that escapes his throat is a deep, guttural rumble of satisfaction. It vibrates through her, leaving her knees weak and thrums between her legs. Her head tips back instinctively to bare more of her neck to the devastation as Sandalwood, cloves, leather and a hint of something uniquely him, wrap around her.

She's delirious, drunk on his nearness, his heat, his nose gliding into the soft skin of her neck.

Addictive, it is. His nearness is.

Always addictive.

Her body is on fire, and it spreads, engulfing her mind and her heart, turning her inside into lava. And there will be no reprieve until he gives her, Something. Anything. Everything.

He holds both of her wrists in one hand while his other hand slides from her wrist to her throat, his thick fingers wrapping around her delicate neck. Taking one more step, he presses his front fully against hers until they are flushed with one another.

She sucks in a sharp breath as his hips cage hers, his desire impossible to ignore. The heat of him, the sheer size, leaves her gasping.

Her mind screams at her to fight, to pull away, to keep the distance she knows is safest. But her body betrays her, responding to him in ways she can't control. She's drowning in him, in the way he makes her feel both powerful and powerless, both in control and completely at a loss.

It's his game of Control, she realises. And she suddenly knows this is a game she wants to play with everything in her.

He releases her wrists but doesn't let go of her neck. His thumb slowly traces her jaw while his hand holds the back of her neck still, keeping her head tilted back and their eyes locked. His other hand slides down, gliding along her spine before settling in her lower back.

His caramel-brown eyes are the darkest. The pupils bleed into the rich brown, swallowing the light like a storm. But beneath the rage, there's a flicker of raw and primal hunger.

Bright and all-consuming.

He blinks as if to clear his head yet he keeps watching her with hooded eyes like she's his next meal.

Fuck. He is obsessed with her or something. Who the fuck reacts like that over a blush?!

Whatever it is, obsession or not, it's like an invisible rope pulling her closer even as she tries to resist.

"What's the deal with you? You like me or something?" Her voice weavers as the words slip past her lips.

"Like?" The corner of his mouth lifts

in a cruel smirk. "Don't know if I'd call it that."

"What would you call it then? Obsession? You're obsessed with me, huh?'' She can't help but goad him, but deep down she is scared, so damn scared.

"Does that scare you?" He asks as if reading her mind.

She gives him a dry look of denial, but her body betrays her. She gulps as heat pools in places it shouldn't.

His smirk deepens, the darkness in his eyes glinting dangerously. A rasp curls through his voice. "Good".

She's hyperaware of everything, the frantic thrum of her heart, the tick of the clock somewhere in the distance, the way his heart is beating too fast against her as if it's beating inside her rib cage.

"You've been in my head, little bird..'' His lips skim the corner of her mouth. "More than you should have been. More than I should have let you. More than your pathetic crush tonight could ever imagine."

Her fingers clutching her dress fabric in an attempt to prevent her from reaching for him when his voice slides over her like velvet and smoke.

"I've thought about you so much..''

The words graze her ear alongside his lips, his hot breaths are as intoxicating as his words. His stubble brushes against her soft skin, leaving behind a trail of ruin and fire.

"So fucking much that...every part of you becomes mine."

Her breathing stops entirely and all she hears mine, mine, mine.

The hell she is!!

She is no one's!!

"He's lucky he didn't touch you,'' he continues, his voice turning razor-sharp. "Because I don't take kindly to people touching what's mine."

Her throat tightens, causing her heart to struggle against her ribcage, trying to get free. "Who touches me is none of your business."

His voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"It's always been my business.''

Anger flares within her, overriding the

heat clouding her judgment. ''I am nobody's business. I don't even like you. Let go of me."

His smirk returns, cruel and devastating. "You don't have to like me to scream my name."

And then his voice drops to a sinful murmur. "You know my name, don't you, little bird?" When she doesn't reply, he taunts her, "Or, have you forgotten yours as well? I have merely touched you. "

Her fists curls at her sides. "Oh, I remember plenty, Mr.Raizada." she seethes, glaring up at him. "But it seems you've forgotten something. You despise me. Remember?''

His eyes ablaze, something primal and wicked lurking beneath the surface, as he leans in.

"That's the thing....I don't just despise you. I also want to rip this little dress of yours right here in the middle of this office.....strip you naked.."

White noise rings in her ear as his words sink in. "And then press you against the glass for the whole city to see."

Voice nothing but a dangerous, sinful whisper, corrupting her mind, creating images.

"While I kiss every square inch of your body..and then pound into you so hard that the people driving below can't look away.....wishing they were us."

The heat in his gaze scorches her, burning her resolve to ashes. Her lips part but no sound escapes as her body frozen in place.

"That'll probably be a bad idea, right?" His smirk grows, self-assured and maddeningly smug.

"Keep dreaming,'' she whispers, tethering at the end of sanity, refusing to give up.

"Oh, I do," His chuckle is dark, and wickedly intimate, tinted with a sardonic edge.

"I fuck you in my dreams every night." The hand on her back dips lower, brushing against her ass, and she stiffens.

"And that's why you're able to stand here...and fight with me...because if I fuck you for real, Little bird," His gaze locks onto hers with the weight of a promise, ''You won't be walking straight for days."

Damn, his mouth. It should be illegal.

Her heart flutters in her chest, a frenzied rhythm she can't control as his face hovers inches from hers. His breath is warm, brushing against her lips, and she feels the pull, the intoxicating inevitability of his lips meeting hers. Her own part slightly, as though inviting him to close the sliver of space between them.

Her eyes drift close. Every nerve in her body goes taut, coiled like a spring on the edge of snapping, trembling with a raw, unspoken need.

And then, the shrill of a ringtone breaks the moment like a glass.

His jaw tightens as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Aman!!

What the hell!?!

With a growl, he answers. "This better be good. Otherwise, I'll kill you, motherfucker."

Even as he listens to Aman on the other end, his eyes never leave hers.

She can barely hear Aman's muffled voice over the blood rushing in her ears, but whatever Aman says seems to pull him back.

He sighs sharply, swiping a hand through his hair before lowering the phone. For a moment, he doesn't move, just stares at her. Then, without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "This conversation isn't over."

Her trembling hands rise to press against her flushed cheeks as her lips tingle from the almost kiss that never happened.

"What the hell just happened?" she whispers, the words slipping out like a secret she doesn't want the room to keep.

But the truth shimmering beneath the surface is simplier.

But infinitely more terrifying.

She squeezes her eyes tightly as if that could steady the storm inside, but it's no use because now, there's no going back.

What the fuck will she do now?

The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass windows. The chaos of her mind contrasts sharply with the stillness around her.

The air feels heavier as she sits on the edge of the leather couch of his office.

With her body tense.

And her mind racing.

And her foot bare as her heels lay idle on the floor.

She waits.

For him.

She doesn't know why she stays, doesn't want to acknowledge the ache inside her chest and her body demanding that she does.

It's mindlessly foolish and reckless, but she waits anyway.

The desire to resist is drowned by the need to give in.

Her fingers trace the seam of her dress absently, trying to distract herself from the way her heart thunders every time she imagines the sound of his footsteps outside the door. She bites her lip, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks again at the memory of his body so close to hers, the words she can't seem to forget.

And she knows, somehow, some way, he'll know she's here. Just like he knew she blushed for another man. He always knows everything about her, her thoughts, her reactions, as if her soul is laid bare before him. It should terrify her. But today she's lost her perception of sanity and insanity.

The door creaks open, and she straightens instinctively. He stands in the doorway, framed by the dim, golden light spilling from the corridor. For a fleeting moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"Still here." His tone holds no surprise, just the quiet certainty that she didn't leave. That she couldn't.

She rises slowly, her knees trembling slightly. Turning to face him feels impossible. All her life, she has followed rules, lived by them like a creed. But he's the first rule she wants to break without thinking about any consequences.

"You said the conversation wasn't over," she says softly, the words catching slightly in her throat.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. The soft click echoes like the snap of a trap closing around its prey.

Tossing his folded coat onto a nearby chair, he moves with unhurried pace, the sleeves of his white shirt already rolled to his elbows. "How do you want to end that conversation?"

Words fail her, as they always do in his presence. But she hopes her eyes speak louder than the silence stretching between them.

She needs him.

The thought is raw, unrelenting, an ache that drowns out reasons, eclipses logic, silencing the warnings in her head..More than water, more than air, she needs him.

And she's done pretending she doesn't.

Even though she doesn't know if she is ready for someone like him. Even though she is scared shitless.

Everything is very new to her. But the yearning to be brave outweighs the fear. She wants to be bold with him, for him, and maybe even for herself.

He studies her as he loosens his tie, with a cruel slowness that unravels her composure. She lowers her gaze, unable to hold the weight of his stare any longer.

He stands behind her and lingers there almost as if offering her an unspoken chance to escape. But before the thought can take root, his hand finds her stomach. Warm, steady.

She sucks in a sharp breath as he draws her back, her spine meeting the solid warmth of his chest.

His touch is a claim and a betrayal of the walls she's tried to keep intact.

Guiding her backwards, he sinks into the chair, drawing her down with him until she's perched on his lap, her back pressed against his front.

Her body tenses briefly before melting into him. Her heart pounds so loudly she's sure he can hear it, but if he does, he says nothing.

"Don't offer your body to me unless you're ready, Little bird," he murmurs, "I don't do the gentleman shit. If we do this, I won't stop...even if you beg me to."

A warning laced with a promise.

"If we do this, if I fuck you, I'll make sure no one else will after me.... Never. Are you ready for that?"

The weight of his words settles over her, demanding an answer she's too terrified yet too eager to give.

"I don't know," she whispers honestly, her voice barely audible. But deep down, she does know. She always has. She'll eagerly let him ruin her for anybody else.

"Hmm...Let's see how far I can go today then. Will you let me taste you?"

Before she can answer his lips descend to her neck, sucking softly at first, then harder, leaving behind a trail of fire that shoots straight between her legs.

His fingers trace slow circles against her stomach while his other hand gathers her hair in his fist, tugging sharply, making her head tilt back.

Her gaze meets his and she sees the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes. It mirrors the ache building inside her, threatening to consume her whole.

"When I ask you a question, you give me an answer." His hold tightens in her hair, further exposing her throat to him, leaving her utterly at his mercy.

She swallows hard, her lips parting to reply, but no words come. Instead, she nods frantically and leans into him. Her hands clutch his thighs like he's the only solid thing in her crumbling world.

And maybe, just maybe, he is.

Her eyes fly open when his rough voice rumbles in her ear, "Are you wet for me, little bird?"

A groan is all the answer he receives but it's enough for him to know what it means.

"You are, aren't you?" he whispers in her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth and slightly pulling on it. "...you like it when I talk dirty to you, huh?"

"N-No..." she denies softly but neither of them is fooled.

"No need to lie, Bitterheart. You are all innocent on the outside...but inside there's a dirty little girl just waiting to be unleashed." There's no way she'll agree with him. Not verbally, at least. No matter how right she unfortunately knows he is.

"Are you a dirty little girl, Khushi?" He chuckles when, once more, she vainly shakes her head.

"N-No, I'm not..."

"We'll see," he says, causing her to shiver, although she doesn't know if it's because of his words or the way he calls her by her name or the fact that his hands were now trailing down her thighs, barely stopping at the hem of the dress she's wearing. "For now I need an answer...are you wet for me?"

Anger surges through her, as pride battles with the ache in between her legs. A string of curses formed in her head, each one aimed at him but none daring to cross her lips. Instead, she jerks away as humiliation and shame dripping from every part of her.

"Shhh...now be a good girl and let me find out," he orders as he feels her trying to wiggle out of his grip.

She gasps as his hand gathers the hem of her dress, the fabric gliding up her thighs until it pools around her waist.

His fingers find the edge of her black lace panties as he hooks a finger under the delicate fabric, slipping them down her legs.

The heady scent of her arousal fills the room making her head spin. When one of his large hands captures her tiny one, she's too dazed to question it, too consumed to resist.

Her fingers laced with his brush against her soft mound. "Hmm, look how perfect you are..." he says upon discovering her bare sex. But before she can come up with a good retort for him, their fingers slides into her moist slit, and she finds herself unable to think coherently anymore.

Together, they stroke her very drenched, very slick folds. And then without warning, he plunges their intertwined fingers into her core, and they both hear the wet sound of her obvious arousal. Heat rushes to her cheeks. "Yeah, so fucking wet..."

His triumphant tone makes her want to turn around and smack him, but yet again he renders her speechless as he lifts her trembling hand and wraps his lips around her finger, the same one that has been inside her few seconds ago. His tongue swirls around her sensitive skin as he softly sucks on it.

"I should have known you'd taste this perfect as well," his voice a rough rasp, causing a new wave of wetness to gather in her core.

A feral growl rumbles deep in his chest as two of his thick, calloused fingers plunge inside her slick heat.

At the same time.

All the way to the knuckles.

She cries out, her back arching as pleasure explodes through her. She clings to his wrist as her nails digs into his skin. Her body tightens around his fingers like a vice. Her toes curl as a whole-body shudder grips her.

"Look at that?" Her world narrows to his fingers sliding in and out of her core, ruthlessly, mercilessly, while his dark eyes watch her every reaction, every tremor. "...you're so hot inside..," he continues, making her blush ten shades of red before his wickedly satisfied eyes. "My fingers aren't enough for you, are they?" He punctuates each word with a rough thrust of his fingers.

The heat in her core builds to an unbearable peak. She can't answer, not even from a word, not when his fingers press deeper, curling in a way that leaves her trembling, stroking a part of her no one has touched before.

"Too bad you aren't ready, it would have been so much better if it were my cock instead..filling you up, stretching you wide. ''

"Oh..." she moans out as he murmurs the words at her ear. At the same time, he starts to steadily pump his finger in and out of her depths.

The image his words paint ignites something primal in her. Her hips move in time with his hand, chasing the pleasure he so mercilessly teases her with.

She doesn't even care about the incoherent noises that spill out of her. But every time she bucks her hips, he tightens his hold on her hair, warning her without words that he is the one who is in control here.

He's a man who takes what he wants and there's something incredibly erotic and arousing about it.

He's going to take, take and take some more. Meanwhile all she can do is give.

And also, damn him and his filthy mouth for whispering all those dirty shits to her ear. Making her wetter, burning her fiercer.

"You like that word?...Cock..." he whispers lewdly when once more he notices her reaction to his dirty words. "Don't worry, soon, you'll see and feel more of my cock than you could have ever dreamed of..." Another promise and she can't help the shivers that coursed up her spine.

"Oh, God..."

She's never thought those dirty words would sound such devastatingly arousing coming from his mouth, utter in his raspy, deep voice.

"Well, that's not my name, but it'll do for now." He drawls in a sultry voice. His other hand let go of her hair to slide up beneath her dress and cups her breast, his fingers squeezing just enough to make her gasp. His fingers shove the top of her bra and pinch her nipple. "Next time, you'll let my cock spread you open, won't you, little bird?"

She nods helplessly, biting her lip to keep from crying out. His fingers thrust deep once again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her.

"Of course, you will,'' he chuckles low in her ear, dropping moist kisses down her neck, sucking enough to leave marks, "You are so greedy." His teeth grazing her skin. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me....tell me you need my cock inside you."

Shut that illegal mouth, Raizada.

A flush of heat spreads through her, her

entire body trembling with need. "Please," she manages to gasp, her

voice shaky and desperate as she tries to push her hips up seeking more.

"Tsk, tsk...please what?" His fingers lazily move inside her and she burns. It's not enough. She glares at him for this torture, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at her in a challenge.

"I want it'' she gritts out, the words tumbling out unbidden. "I want your cock.....oh..fuck.."

She can't finish as he rewards her with another deep thrust of his fingers. He chuckles at the sound that comes out of her mouth when his thumb finds her clit, and he starts to work it in sync with the movements of the rest of his fingers. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to hold onto the last shred of her sanity, but it's slipping fast.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice is like molten sin.

He pumps his fingers even faster into her drenched core when her already tight walls pulse around his fingers. She feels herself so close to the edge, she can practically taste it, cringing briefly as she hears the squishing sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her. Considering she is so wet, he has absolutely no trouble whatsoever driving them in and out of her.

But she can't focus on that anymore as a sharp pain rushes though her, only replaced by a mind-numbing pleasure. She realises he's drove in a third finger, stretching her to full capacity.

It becomes impossible to breathe but she forces herself to take it, gasping with each in and out until stars dance behind her eyelids and her world fractures into shards of light, each one brighter than the last.

His mouth sucks into her pulse point and she feels his teeth sink into her skin while she comes undone, groaning out gibberish words.

But even as she trembles in the aftermath, he doesn't stop, his fingers still kept sliding in and out of her.

"Next time, it'll be my cock making you come like this. I'll fuck every boy you ever thought about out of your head..... out of your system until all you remember is my name."

His promise sends another shudder through her. Her body feels foreign as if it doesn't belong to her anymore. It reacts to his every move, every whisper, every flick of his fingers like he's found a hidden language only he knows how to speak.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined an orgasm would be like that. So consuming, so powerful that she would be on the edge of blacking out.

Maybe because, it was her first.

His fingers slip from her, and the loss makes her whimper. She leans against him as she takes deep, calming breaths until, she hears him moan in satisfaction.

Turning her head slightly to her side to see what is causing him to make such a sound, she can't help gasping in an audible breath when she realizes this shameless man has his finger drenched with her juices in his mouth. His gaze locks onto hers as he licks them clean. "You aren't as experienced as you want me to believe. Was that a first?"

She's too boneless, her body's too limp against him to even respond. So she let him have his moment.

She barely has time to catch her breath before he stands, lifting her as though she weighs nothing. In one fluid motion, he sets her down on the edge of his massive desk.

The cold glass pressing against the heated skin of her ass draws a startled yelp from her lips. Before she can process the sensation, his hands are on her again, spreading her knees wide and positioning her exactly how he wants her.

Her palms are pressed flat against the desk behind her for balance. The action makes her breasts to thrust forward in his face. A deep flush spreads across her cheeks as she finds herself in this wanton position, baring herself to him.

So shamelessly.

So carnally.

So completely.

His fingers graze the inside of her thighs as he settles into the chair before her and drags her even closer to the edge of the desk.

And then he dips his head, licking her from her entrance to her clit. And the world around her dissolves. The growl of satisfaction vibrates through her and she's already fighting an orgasm. He runs a rough hand down her leg pulling her thigh over his shoulder.

She feels a new rush of wetness that he obviously immediately notices. "Look at the mess you've created," he instantly lapped at the new moisture. His hands grip her thighs, holding her open as his tongue flicks against her, teasing, tasting, torturing.

Consumed by overwhelming sensation, she runs a hand into his hair, grabbing a handful and moving her hips at the same time, trying to keep his head still and fixed to where she needs it the most. He removes her hands the first time, but her fingers find his hair again. He lets her hold his hair and control the movement for only a second before he bites at her inner thigh. A sharp gasp escapes her as she jerks back. A jolt of pain radiates from that spot and settles in her already aching core.

His narrowed caremal-browns find her pissed hazels. "Behave."

She shoots him a nasty glare, gatekeeping all the profanities that have his name written on them.

"Go ahead...say it."

So she does.

"You're an insufferable asshole"

The sharp smack in between her legs catches her off guard, but her teeth dig into her lips so hard she's surprised she hasn't drawn any blood, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a whimper, not even a sound.

Fuck!?!

"Anything else?"

She stiffly shakes her head while giving him a withering look.

''Good," he murmurs lazily, going back to sucking at her clit. It still throbs with pain, but the wet heat of his mouth is electrifying, turning her pain into fire.

Mortified at his words and what he is doing to her, she closes her eyes once more and grips the edge of the desk with all her might, promising herself that if she has to endure this, at least she won't reach for him this time or show him just how sinfully incredible it's making her feel.

Another flick of his tongue against her soaked entrance makes her forget all about it anyway, and she feels tears gather behind her eyelids as she forces herself to not cry out her pleasure.

God, he's really good at this and she just knows that it won't take him long to make her fall completely apart once more.

She's proven right just seconds later when she feels his fingers probe into her again and he's now free to go and nibble on her clit. The moment he does, stars burst behind her eyelids and this time, no amount of sheer willpower can stop her from moaning out loud.

"FFUUCK...."

Her eyes roll back in her head as her back arches off the table. Meanwhile he keeps pumping faster, sucking harder, until she can't control herself and is quite shamelessly riding his face with about just as much force as she has been riding his fingers earlier. Soft mewls spill from her lips alongside unintelligible pleas.

"Name," he commands, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice barely penetrates her mind haze. "Say my name."

He growls the words inside her as her body writhes helplessly under his hold, the pressure building so fiercely she feels like she might shatter.

"Say it,"

"Umm.. Mr. Raizada,'' she gasps. Her voice trembles as her hands gripping the desk as if her life depends on it.

A rough hand slides up her stomach squeezing her breast hard enough to draw a startled cry from her lips. In an instant, he's grabbing her throat, yanking her upright so her wide eyes meet his. His eyes are wild and feral, with her arousal glistening on his lips as he speaks through a clenched jaw, "Name."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she's denied her pleasure and she realizes that every part of her burned so much at that instant that it quite literally hurt. Her pride stops her from cursing him audibly though, or even just uttering a word of protest. So she complies.

"Arnav." she spits out even though her voice shakes as his name passes her lips.

His lips curl in satisfaction as he flicks her clit with his finger, her hips rocking involuntarily against him.

"Remember it. After all, It's the name you'll be screaming for the rest of your life."

The moment his hand leaves her neck, he dives back in, his mouth reclaiming her with a ferocity that leaves no room for resistance, no room for doubt.

The urge to touch him is overwhelming, but she knows he'll stop if she dares touch his precious hair again. So, she places one of her hands over his on her thigh, intertwined their fingers together, and, lost in pure, unfiltered and unadulterated lust, tugs at her own hair with the other.

Sparks ignite into an inferno, burning hotter with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. Then she soars higher and higher, until crashing into an eruption of pleasure and pain.

His teeth nip at her clit, causing her walls to contract almost painfully. He finds a secret spot inside that causes her eyes to fly open and then her body convulses in response. He must feel it too, because he hits it again and again. Her ears ring, pulling all sounds underwater as the heat inside her burst. Her body shatters like glass under the weight of a thousand suns.

"Aaaa...arnav," she screams out another orgasm even more powerful than the one she hasn't even really come down from.

His name falls from her lips like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.

He doesn't stop though, his mouth relentless as he pulls every last tremor from her body, his hands keeping her in place when she tries to pull away. Only when she's completely undone does he finally pulls his fingers and his mouth out of her still unbearably pulsating sex and her inside mourns the loss instantly.

Her eyes fluttered open to find his on her. His breathing is uneven and his gaze is filled with something soft yet dark that she isn't sure she wants to understand, but it's enough to make her core spasm some more.

"You taste even better when you're screaming my name.''

She sits there, perched on the edge of his desk, her legs still parted to accommodate him as he stands between them. The air is thick with the aftermath of what just happened.

She can feel the ache between her thighs, a sweet pulsing reminder of how he ravished her. But now, his gaze makes her feel small, vulnerable.

Her fingers fidget with the edge of his tie, the silk cool against her fingertips. She dares not look up, her eyes fixed on the silver of skin peaking from the top opening of his dress shirt.

''Umm.. show me what to do," she murmurs. Her cheeks flush, the embarrassment rushing through her as quickly as the desire to give something back to him, to make him feel the way he made her feel.

Till date she owes him her life.

After tonight she owes him two orgasm as well.

She swears she can feel the smirk tugging at his lips even though she doesn't dare meet his eyes. Then, he surprises her. Instead of teasing or demanding, he presses his lips softly to the side of her head, his hand tugging the fabric of her dress back into place and smoothing her dishevelled hair over her shoulder.

"Go home, Little bird. I don't have time to fuck you tonight. I have people to kill," he says, his voice softer than she expects, a strange tenderness threading through his usual commanding tone.

She would never admit it, but a part of her secretly loves it when he calls her 'Little bird'. The way the words roll off his tongue, equal parts endearment and possession, sends a shiver down her spine every time. It makes her feel small and fierce all at once like she's his to protect and his to cage.

His eyes are alight with mirth when they meet hers, and she's somehow glad she didn't do it tonight. She surely won't want her first time to happen on an office desk. And she's equal part terrified of the fact that he knows her body better than herself.

Slowly, she slides off the desk. Her thighs ache, a sweet soreness that makes her wince slightly as she finds her footing. She almost stumbles, and his hands are there immediately, steadying her.

She reaches out, wrapping her hand in his tie, and does what she has always wanted to do. Tug on it to bring his face closer to her. She doesn't kiss him on the lips as she remembers the words he told her that night. Instead, she places her lips on his cheek, firm enough for her red lipstick to leave a mark.

A silent 'thank you' though for what exactly, she isn't sure.

His touch? His restraint? His care?

Picking up her heels from the floor, she reaches the door, her hand hesitates on the handle. A strange pull makes her turn back, and the sight of him nearly takes her breath away.

He stands there, his hands tucked into his pockets while his tie hangs loose around his neck. The crisp white of his dress shirt is rumpled, so is his hair, tousled from where her fingers have gripped it in desperation.

But it's his eyes that undo her completely. They're dark, yet soft and they're looking at her like she's the most beautiful, most precious thing he's ever seen in his life.

It terrifies her.

She quickly looks away, fumbling with the door before slipping out, her heart hammering in her chest. As she walks down the hallway, her legs still shaky, she tries to make sense of the chaos in her mind...the tenderness, the possession, the hunger, and now, that look.

But she pushes all those thoughts to the back of her mind as she walks away, leaving behind a bold red lipstick mark on his cheek and a black lacy panty abandoned on his office floor.

Author's note:

Happy Holidays everybody.

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @chaiandtakkar @bigfatreader @9artsdragon

[nickeverdeen]

Heeyy sweetie <3

I saw you were doing matchups, and i thought that was so fking nice and wanted to try too. I wanted to try with Arcane and Umbrella Academy.

My name's Meli, and I'm pansexual without any preference. I'm an introvert, and most of the time quiet unless I really trust someone. I had some trust issues, so, it does take me a lot to trust someone. I'm creative (or at least that I a been told), the mother like friend, and an overthinker. Most of the times I wear headphones because I have social anxiety and tend to get overwhelmed with loud noises very easily. I am very sarcastic and have a dark sense of humour and I curse a lot in Spanish (that's my first language,) and English. I'm also a people pleaser, and I just put everyone above me not matter what. I'm an observer and a very empathetic person. Most of the times, i match the other person's emotions without noticing, or if I not e they aren't feeling okay, I do try to make them feel better with subtle things (or at least I try to)

I love to write and read. I have many hobbies, like playing guitar, drawing, painting, sewing and cooking, among other stuffs. I mostly read thriller but I end up reading about everything tbh. I LOVE true crime, and that's why I ended up watching everytime I end up in YouTube.

I hate conflict (mostly angry yelling) loud noises (I said that before, but well), and people who just don't care about other people's emotions.

Feel free to not do this and take your time <3 I'm so sorry if any of this doesn't make sense, my English kinda sucks tbh.

PS: I’m absolutely loving the petname for me

——————————

Your Arcane match is…

Viktor

Viktor would appreciate your quiet nature and find comfort in your presence

You’d both enjoy sitting in comfortable silence while working on your respective projects

He’d be fascinated by your creativity, often asking for your input on his inventions or sharing ideas with you, knowing that your perspective would add depth to his work

Viktor would understand your trust issues and never rush you

He’d be patient, allowing you to open up at your own pace, and when you finally do, he’d cherish that trust deeply

He’d find your dark sense of humor refreshing, often joining in with his own dry wit

Your shared sarcasm would create an unspoken bond between you two

Viktor would be very mindful of your social anxiety and sensitivity to loud noises, ensuring that your environment is as calm and quiet as possible when you’re together

Your ability to empathize with others would resonate with Viktor, who often carries the weight of the world on his shoulders

He’d find solace in your understanding and support

As an observer, you’d notice the subtle ways Viktor cares for others, even when he doesn’t say much

You both would enjoy late-night discussions about science, philosophy, and the intricacies of the human mind, often losing track of time in your conversations

Viktor would appreciate the subtle ways you try to make him feel better, like bringing him a cup of tea when he’s stressed or offering a gentle touch when words aren’t enough

Your love for reading and writing would match well with Viktor’s intellectual nature

Viktor isn’t one for grand displays of affection, but he’d show his care for you in small, meaningful ways—like fixing your headphones when they break or leaving you notes in your native language

Viktor would be intrigued by your love for true crime, occasionally joining you in watching documentaries or discussing interesting cases

Viktor would gently encourage you to prioritize your own needs, reminding you that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes, even if it’s hard for you to do so

He’d be a steady, supportive presence in your life, always there to listen or offer advice when you’re feeling overwhelmed or anxious

Viktor would surprise you with small, handmade gifts that show how much he values your creativity and the unique bond you share

Your The Umbrella Academy match is…

Five Hargreeves

Five would absolutely love your sarcasm and dark humor

The two of you would engage in quick-witted banter that would leave everyone else around you struggling to keep up

Despite his tough exterior, Five would be incredibly protective of you, especially when he realizes how much you put others above yourself

He’d be the first to step in if someone tries to take advantage of your people-pleasing nature

Five would be drawn to your intelligence and creativity, often seeking your opinion on complex matters

Five understands what it’s like to have trust issues, and he’d be patient with you, giving you the time and space you need to feel comfortable around him

Five would appreciate your quiet nature, often just sitting in silence with you, finding peace in the moments where neither of you feels the need to fill the space with words

Your shared dark humor would lead to inside jokes that only the two of you understand, often leaving others puzzled or slightly alarmed by your conversations

Though Five doesn’t always show it, he’s deeply empathetic

He’d notice when you’re matching his emotions and would appreciate your efforts to make him feel better, even if he doesn’t always say it outright

Five would respect your need for personal space and quiet, never pushing you to engage more than you’re comfortable with

He’d also ensure that your time together is never too overwhelming

Five would be intrigued by your love for true crime and thrillers, often joining you in binge-watching documentaries or discussing the psychology behind criminal behavior

Five isn’t big on traditional romance, but he’d show his affection in subtle ways, like making sure you have your favorite snack or fixing something in your house without asking

You both would bond over your love for books, often exchanging recommendations and discussing your favorite plots or character developments

When you’re feeling down, Five would use his sarcasm to lift your spirits, knowing exactly how to make you smile with a well-timed, snarky comment

Five would deeply respect your ability to observe and understand others, recognizing how valuable that skill is, especially in tense situations

Five would be there for you during moments of social anxiety, quietly offering his presence as a grounding force, never making you feel pressured to interact more than you want to

The two of you would have dark comedy nights where you watch the most twisted movies and shows, laughing at the absurdity while enjoying each other’s company

———————

Tag List: @callsignwidow

[haziwritesstuff]

My little rose, part 3

"You are meant to be the love of my next life."

Pairing | Aemond and Aegon x reader Wordcount | 4.2k Warnings | Medieval misogyny, Aegon isn't the nicest Previous chapters | Part 1, part 2

You make your way to Dragonstone, landing on the stone steps of the castle. Your family isn't there yet. It's quiet as you approach alone. You feel like you're walking into an empty castle, with nothing but your own footsteps echoing in the vast halls. The air is still and you feel like you're walking through a desert of stone and silence. You find it oddly peaceful and tranquil in a way, despite the solitude. The change in environment was refreshing and cleansing, after the tense atmosphere that you've just exited. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, a sense of calm and contentment wash over you as you look around at the vast halls and empty rooms.

You find yourself wandering through the gardens, your attention being drawn to the roses as the vivid colors and sweet smells fill the air. You feel your heart skip a beat as you take in the sight of the lush foliage and vibrant petals, and you can't help but feel a jolt of nostalgia. These were the roses that you've always loved, the ones that used to bring you joy and peace when you were a child. Bittersweetness washes over you as you remember those years growing up in solitude, with only Silverwing and the roses for company. You feel like the roses were like your faithful companions, always there to bring you comfort and joy during those times when you felt lonely and isolated. The  roses remind you of those comforting moments of companionship and the bittersweetness you feel is a reflection of the mixture of feelings that those times brought to you. You feel a bit of anger and resentment towards your father for keeping you hidden away from the world for years. You feel like he robbed you of a proper childhood, leaving you alone and isolated with no real friends in your life, he deprived you of so much, he was selfish and callous in his treatment of you. Although you made peace with it, you haven't forgotten it either. You've learned to accept and come to terms with your past, but you haven't let go of the bitterness and resentment that you feel towards Daemon for what he did to you. You've learnt to live with this injustice, but the anger and hurt still remains deep inside your heart.

You've been so deep in thought that you haven't realized someone else has joined you in the gardens. You're startled by Rhaena's sudden appearance and you feel a surge of relief as you realize it was her. "Where have you been? We almost started a search party!” "I'm sorry, I was just..." you stop short, realizing that you don't have an explanation for your absence. You feel like Rhaena's sudden appearance has caught you by surprise and you feel a bit embarrassed to explain why you were away. Rhaena’s staring at you and she’s not willing to let this matter go. There is still more to be said, but there is a certain level of awkwardness and tension and between you two right now. You didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than it already has been, so you keep your answer brief and simple. "I just flew alone, I wanted some time to be alone with my thoughts..." Rhaena nods her head, seeming to accept your explanation and she doesn't press the issue any further. “So what did you think of King’s Landing? And what did you think of your other family members?” "Well... it was certainly an experience..." you respond nervously, not sure exactly how to answer the question.

“Mmh. Did you manage to fix your issues with Aegon?” You feel a wave of awkwardness wash over you as Rhaena brings up the topic of Aegon. You're not sure what to say, or how you would even begin to explain the situation between the two of you. “Sort of.” You whispered, feeling like you haven't really fully resolved your issues with Aegon. The two of you still have some things to work out, but the tension is not as bad as it was before. Perhaps kissing him wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Rhaena's observant and perceptive, noticing that you're holding something back when you give your answer. You're not sure if you should give more details to her, you wanted to. You wanted to scream that you’ve kissed Aegon, that you hugged Aemond. That you were utterly confused. This was your first ‘experience’ with the other sex and you weren’t sure what to do now. You wanted to tell her everything that’s going on inside your head, but you decided against it.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It's been a couple of weeks since you had your experiences with Aegon and Aemond in King's Landing. A lot has happened since then, and things have shifted and changed in your life. Viserys is dead and they have crowned Aegon as King, stealing Rhaenyra’s throne.

"You're going to King's Landing and you're going to give Aegon this.” You are caught off guard by the sudden declaration of your father. You're not sure what he's referring to, but you feel your heart beating faster at the prospect of meeting King Aegon and giving him something. You struggle to contain your anxiety as you look at your father, wondering what he has in mind for you. You're being thrown into a dangerous situation, and you're not sure if you can handle it. There are so many ways this situation could go wrong, you're being pulled into a situation that is bigger than you are ready for. “I don’t think I’m ready… For th-“ his eyes narrow and his voice becomes more demanding. "You must go. It is your duty as my daughter." He stares at you intensely, his eyes sharp and piercing. He's not giving you a choice, you must do his bidding. Daemon's eyes narrow even more as he glares at you. "I am not giving you a choice," he says harshly, "You will go to King's Landing and you will give Aegon this." He leans forward and holds up a small black pouch. "This is the message that I want you to deliver to him. Do you understand?" The intensity of Daemon's gaze leaves you feeling scared and intimidated, as if he's determined to not let you refuse or refuse his demands. You realize that you have no choice but to go, and are left feeling like a pawn in this game of power and politics. “Yes, I understand." you say softly, having no choice but to comply with his orders, since he is your father and you have been raised to obey him. Daemon doesn't respond. Instead, he hands you the small black pouch and begins to walk away, his walk slow and measured.

Daemon's words leave you feeling scared and uncertain about your upcoming trip to King's Landing, where you are expected to deliver a message to the new king. You don't know what the message contains, and you feel a sense of anxiety and unease about the situation, as well as a sense of trepidation about the journey ahead.

It turns out you weren't the only messenger. You learn later that same night that Rhaenys, Jace, and Luke were also sent off with messages of their own. Thinking about the message you're carrying, you can't help but wonder what it could be. It's a heavy burden, with your life potentially hanging in the balance. Every step you take on the road to King's Landing is a step closer to danger and potential confrontation with the new ‘king’. The gravity of the situation suddenly sinks in, and you feel like you're walking into the unknown. Aegon wouldn’t hurt you, would he?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It's a long journey to King's Landing, but after countless hours of flight, you finally make it to the city. You land in one of the city's landing spots, feeling both relieved and exhausted as you finally made it. That sense of relief and exhaustion is quickly replaced with a sense of anxiety and uncertainty as you realize that you still have the task left: to deliver the message to the new King, Aegon II.

You make your way to the castle in King's Landing, walking up to the gates. There are guards stationed on both sides of the gate, who keep watch over the castle grounds. You feel anxious and fearful as you approach them, they keep an watchful eye on you as you draw closer. Eventually you find your way to the throne room of the castle. Aegon is sitting in his throne, his piercing eyes looking down at you. He is flanked by a handful of guards and advisors, forming a circle around him. As you enter the room, the quiet conversations and whispers stop instantly, and all attention is focused on you. His gaze is like a blazing flame, his look burning into you as he waits for you to speak. The guards and advisors stand close by, as if they are ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Everyone in the room is watching you intently, and you feel the pressure of everyone's eyes bearing down on you.

“I brought you a message from Queen Rhaenyra.” Your voice sounds small and strained as you speak, the weight of so many eyes upon you is overwhelming. The atmosphere in the room is thick with anticipation. After a pause, Aegon speaks, his voice calm and measured. "And what is the message?" "The message is personal and private, and it is to be delivered only to you and no one else." Aegon’s eyes narrow and his expression becomes more intense, as if deep in thought. He's silent for a moment, before finally speaking. "I see. If the message is personal and private, then why are you delivering it instead of Queen Rhaenyra herself?" The tension in the air increases as he speaks, his tone is stern and his face is fixed in a serious expression. He's awaiting a good reason for him to accept this message as legitimate and not a trick or ruse. "There must have been some reason for you being sent here, rather than Queen Rhaenyra coming herself," he says, "Is there a reason why she wouldn't have come here herself? If this message was so personal and private, why didn't she come herself to deliver it?" “I’m not sure.” Aegon raises an eyebrow, his expression becoming even more skeptical. "You're not sure?" He asks in a skeptical tone, "That's a rather unsatisfactory answer, don't you think?" After a few moments, you finally speak again. “My father sent me as the messenger.” “And why would he have done that, I wonder?!”

Aegon stares at you for a few more moments, with a stern and intense expression, before finally speaking again. “Well, I suppose we shall just have to read the message for ourselves, and see what Rhaenyra has to say.” He finally reaches for the small black pouch in your hands, and begins opening it. He removes the message inside and examines it, reading what is written on it. After a few moments, he looks back up at you. "That cunning bitch," he mutters under his breath. His fury seems to be reaching a boiling point, as he speaks again. "Everyone out!” As the room falls silent, you look at Aegon, who is now standing in front of you, still clutching the message in his hands. His face is contorted with fury, and his expression is like the face of a raging bull, ready to charge at a moment's notice.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he speaks again. "How dare she send you here with a message like this!" He shouts, his voice full of rage and anger. "She thinks she can tell me what to do? Who the fuck does she think she is!?" He stares at you for a few moments, his eyes narrowed and his face full of rage. "And does she think I'm just gonna let you walk away after this?!" "Pardon me?" Your face began to grow darker. "I will not let this pass. I will not let her disrespect me in such a manner. And I'm not going to just let you walk away either. I will not let you go. You're going to be my prize of war, and you'll stay here with me, where I can take my time with you." The threat of violence is now very evident in the king's tone. He continues to stare at you, his expression growing darker and more intense.

This was probably a big mistake. You can feel the weight of his glare digging deep into your skin, and you feel like he's considering what he's going to do to you even more seriously now. After a few moments of silence, Aegon takes a deep breath and starts to speak again. "You're going to stay here with me, and I'm going to take my time with you. Your queen might think that she's being clever and making a request, but I'll show her just how foolish she is." "The fuck I am! You can't keep me captive!" Aegon takes a deep breath and nods his head slowly. "Oh, can't I?" He responds calmly and politely, but his tone is one of pure menace. “I can keep you here for as long as I like, and there's nothing you can do about it.” His face grows even darker, and he slowly steps towards you. He moves in closer and closer, getting right into your personal space. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your neck, and it's an unbearably intense feeling. His face just a few inches away from your ear. You feel his breath tickling your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is like a whisper, but it's a whisper of pure threat and power. "You're mine now." His breath tickles your skin, you feel like you can't move, like your body has frozen up and you can't even scream.

Aegon’s breath continues to tickle your skin as he pulls you close to him, his lips just brushing against your skin. You feel powerless to move, as if your body has been frozen in place by the fear he is instilling in you. "Worry not sweetling, we'll have a good time." He whispers into your ear, his voice is like a snake slithering its way into your head. "N-no..." His breath continues to whisper into your ear, and his voice is full of a predatory kind of sensuality. "Oh, yes.." He replies slowly, dragging his next words out for a long time. "You are mine, there’s no running from me now. I’ll take good care of you..." You try to break free from the his grip, but it's hard to get away from him. He holds you close to himself and his hold on you is tight. He seems to be enjoying himself far too much at the prospect of taking you for his own. Your body is filled with fear and trepidation, but you also feel a strange sense of excitement and arousal. Your body is responding to his touch in a way that is both terrifying and pleasurable at the same time. Aegon’s hands are caressing your skin softly as he pulls you closer to him, holding you even tighter and not letting you go anywhere. You let out a whimper as the caress of his touch sends a tingling sensation down your spine. You're being consumed in a very intimate way, your body being overwhelmed by his presence and you feel yourself melting in his grasp. Your attention was completely focused on Aegon that you didn't notice Aemond entering the room.

Aemond sees the two of you, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he is absolutely furious. He walks up close to you, and you feel the heat of his anger radiating off of his presence like a fire. Aegon finally notices Aemond's presence and looks over at him with a dark expression, his mouth curled up into a sneer. His grip on you becomes even tighter, and you can feel the heat coming off his body like a furnace as he stares at Aemond. He seems very protective of you, and he is not going to let anyone interfere with his plans. Aemond's eye was burning with fury, staring down at Aegon, his voice is a low and menacing growl. "What do you think you're doing with her?!" Aegon looks up at Aemond with a dark and menacing expression, he continues to hold you close to himself. "I'm taking her for my own." He replies in a cold voice. Aemond's eye is still fixated on Aegon, and the two men seem to be locked in a fierce staring contest. You can feel the tension in the air increasing as both men glare at each other, their hostility and aggression rising even higher. Aegon’s grip on you tightens even more, and you feel like you're being smothered.

"I will not let you touch her!" Aemond snaps, and you can tell he's barely holding back his anger. His face is a mask of fury, his body is tensing up, as if he's preparing to attack at any moment. He seems absolutely determined to protect you, and you can feel the raw power and aggression coming off of him like a storm of fury. Neither man wants to back down in this stand off, and they continue to glare at each other with a sense of simmering fury. You're trapped in the middle, with all of this tension and hostility growing around you. Your body is being overpowered by Aegon’s grip and you can't move away. "Please let me go..." Your voice is completely being ignored by both men as their confrontation becomes more intense and heated. You try to plead with both Aegon and Aemond to let you go, but they both seem to have lost all rationality and their sense of logic. Now all they're focused on is fighting over your possession. You’re trapped, scared and helpless as you continue to plead with him to let you go. But his resolve is like iron, and you can't help but feel like this is the endgame for you, and that you're going to be carried off in the king's arms at any moment now.

Aegon finally releases you from his grip, and you fall to the floor at his feet. You can feel him looking at you with a cold and menacing glare, but you're also relieved to be free from his grasp. You have a few seconds of hesitation and fear before Aemond pulls you behind him. You cling onto his back as he faces Aegon and you can feel his anger overflowing like an overflowing cup of wrath. "A-aemond..." you whimper, clinging onto him for support. He's the only thing in this room that seems like it could protect you right now. You feel like you're safe with him, but you still can't help but feel terrified at what might happen next.

"I am going to escort her to a guest room and then I’ll deal with you, Aegon." Aegon stares at Aemond with a deadly look of fury, but he doesn't resist. He lets Aemond lead you out of the room, and you're still clinging onto him for support. You feel safe and protected in Aemond's arms, but you still can't help but feel a bit of hesitation and uncertainty. Aemond's tone is stern and authoritative as he leads you out of the room. He doesn't look back at Aegon, and he keeps his eyes focused on the task of safely getting you away from him. You can feel him breathing softly next to you, and you can feel his muscles flexing slightly with each step he takes as he leads you out of the room. He leads you through the halls of the castle. Your body still clinging onto him as a source of protection and comfort, and you’re slightly trembling with fear and nerves. Despite being stern and authoritative, he's also being very gentle and careful with you.

The two of you finally arrive at a room, and Aemond closes the door behind you. He turns to face you, and you can see the intense look in his eye as he stares at you for a moment. You feel like you're being scrutinized by that penetrating gaze, and it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. He's not smiling or being friendly like before, but instead he seems to be assessing you in an oddly intense way. Aemond stays silent for a minute, continuing to look at you with that intense gaze. You feel like he's looking at you like a stranger, and you feel like he's judging you based on what happened back there. You feel a bit nervous under his intense stare, and you feel like he's not being friendly at all. You have no idea what sort of reaction he is going to have to this situation, and you feel very vulnerable as a result. You still feel like a trembling nervous mess under his stare. After a minute of silence, he finally speaks in a stern voice. "So...what happened back there?" His tone is very serious and stoic, there's no hint of friendliness in his voice. His eye is penetrating, looking into your soul. You don't know what to say, and you feel like your words are being scrutinized heavily. "I, I gave him a message from Queen Rhaenyra." Aemond’s face remains stoic and unchanged, and he waits for you to say more. His face show no hint of a reaction to what you've said, and he continues to stare at you with that piercingly intense gaze. "I have no idea what it says... But I can only imagine... Aegon isn't the rightful king." His face still remains expressionless, studying you intensely. He still seems very cautious and distrustful. He seems suspicious of your reason for delivering the message in the first place. "So, you're trying to steal my brother's crown?" Aemond finally spoke, and your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. His tone filled with a suspicious kind of disdain. His words were loaded with malice and anger as he accused you of trying to steal his older brother's crown. You could not help but feel your heart beating in your throat at his accusation. "Your queen is a usurper, and a thief. She is trying to steal my brother's crown."

Your heart skipped a beat when Aemond moved closer and caressed your cheek gently, your body shuddering slightly at the touch. You could feel the heat of his breath and his touch on your skin, and your whole body felt like it was trembling under his grasp. "I'm afraid your our prisoner now, dove." His touch made you shiver and tremble in a way that you found both thrilling and frightening. The way he caressed your cheek with his thumb was so tender and gentle, his touch was like a gentle caress sending butterflies through your whole body. "My father will have your head for keeping me hostage!" Your words seem to be have a profound effect Aemond's stance as he stops caressing and backing away slightly. His eyes are filled with a sudden flash of anger and hostility, and he seems to be glaring at you with a mixture of distrust and fury. He then speaks in a harsh and stern voice. "My brother will also have your so called queen’s head for being a traitor to the throne! You should be grateful that I have chosen to keep you safe." His sudden outburst of anger and hostility took you off guard, and you had no idea how to handle his sudden change of mood. You felt like a small and powerless creature facing off against a giant beast. His tone was menacing and he seemed so much stronger and more frightening than you remembered him to be. As he spoke, his anger and hostility made you feel even more vulnerable and scared. This was not the gentle and friendly Aemond you remembered, this was a whole different beast entirely. "I am protecting you. Your so-called queen would never treat you with such care as I have." He took one step closer again, his tone sounding more insistent and authoritarian than before. You could feel the heat of his breath and the intensity of his gaze, and your heart was beating out of your chest. "I will take care of you. I will protect you." He spoke softly this time, almost sounding like a whispering voice. You felt like your whole body was trembling with fear and nerves, but you felt a strange sense of comfort underneath the intensity of his gaze. You felt like a small animal being held tightly in the grip of a predator, but in this predator's eyes you found a hint of kindness and tenderness. "Do you see how I am treating you? Like a precious jewel. Like a delicate flower. Like my little rose."

[guardian5tiger3]

Pick a picture tarot reading

Whatever comes out

Groups

1 2

3 4

Group one

You guys need to or are letting the past go in order to step into better energy(ies).

However you've been feeling be it trapped, or stuck, maybe depressed,negative in some way it's pretty different depending on the person, but regardless, the point is sort of that that all doesn't and definitely won't matter soon. You all are needing to /are finding a balance between your masculine and feminine sides of yourself. If not those energies some type of balance within yourself. That will then reflect onto your outer world. You all are manifesting something and it is a very refreshing energy. It may be something bad or negative being exposed. It is some kind of truth coming out for most of you. If somebody did something negative they're definitely not getting away with it. Even and actually especially if you don't already know about it. Soon you will. Or at least someone that can and will do or say something about it will know.

Could also just be the universe itself setting that right somehow

Group two

It kind of seems like something was brought up and put to an end. But maybe it still is happening or someone is still doing something OR has the potential too. This is a super strange reading I'm getting a lot of different super specific scenarios. So for instance ,if someone is enjoying something that is yours and is from your energy like maybe your roommate or family has someone over and they eat your food. Or for someone animals or bugs are eating food or herbs out of your garden/yard whatever. I'm getting something about a church so maybe something for one of you is going on like that at your church it seems like it's talked about. So you all have a problem like this so in terms of a solution for all of you.. some of you need other people's help, some of you need to have your guard up, maybe a camera , maybe a fence put up.some of you the ending already put to this is good enough though especially if or it would work if you did something to scare someone like set up something to make a loud noise. I am also very much getting to tell you all that this situation is very dependent on how you look at it. You could be like, oh how cute a squirrel is eating my plants :)... Or , hey somebody is in need I'm glad they're looking to my energy because that would be generous of me to help or to give. Whatever it may be.

Group three

Someone is doing mental manipulation on you. Maybe they're just saying things to make you depressed, some of you someone is doing magic on you, maybe even mind control. Especially if you're in a state of rest or some type of keeping it lowkey or even just depression lately. Also if you've just been sleeping a lot. Something like that. This is cause the universe is meant to be gifting you something right now. It's especially about home life for a lot of you. Also for a good few of you your love life. Maybe getting a new dog for someone. Moving homes to somewhere better for another few. You guys need to accept a negative energy for being negative , have strength over it and move on. It will be better after you do so. For some reason this is reminding me that yesterday I was so tired but I still decided to , and did work out anyway. I needed it and I did and do feel better but like you guys it just seems like, hey keep going even though you're tired or feeling like you wanna lay low right now. Inner strength. Now is the time to keep going.

Group four

You all have an angel guiding and helping you. Especially about anything you might not see or know, or going through something that isn't fully clear to you what's really going on. This could be a living person or a spirit. If anything bad happened in your past or especially childhoods just know that somebody did see it or knows or believes you and they understand and it will be made right. For some of you I'm getting the energy of two different males or for someone, one very two faced one. Seems like people who have done something wrong to someone else. What spirit wants you guys to know and what they want you to do is to build yourself up, in some way and for some of you build a foundation for yourself or something. Focus on and make sure you're good when it comes to money. Trust spirit in this as well. Like I said, you're all being guided. You should listen to some calming and or sweet music if that makes sense. That's how I know to word the energy I just got. I'm thinking about the grateful dead but that's just me.