#made it feel fresh again in a really fun way

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part iv)

Summary: It's a day out on the town, and Jackson has much more to offer than just a home and traded goods. Perspective, comfort, and a nice helping of lovesickness—all of which catch Joel's eye.

a/n: did you know you can only mention fifty people in a post? that's just plain boring. and no more than five people in a comment? RUDE. and did anyone else see that SNL episode with Pedro and his hip thrusts, and just fucking die? yeah, me too. also - i had so much FUN writing this chapter, the feels, the angst, the yearning, the loooove. thank you all so much, and I hope you like this long ass chapter!

Joel didn’t like looking in the mirror for too long.

It wasn’t vanity—never had been—but it showed too much. Told the truth in ways he didn’t much care for. The deep lines, the greying scruff, the years stacked on top of each other like weathered wood, each one heftier than the last. He preferred the delusion, the easy forgetfulness that came with living day to day, not thinking too hard about the good ol' days or how much he wished time hadn't gotten his hands on him. But today?

Well, today he damn near felt good in his own skin.

The clothes, that Leela generously offered, helped. Goddamn, they smelled amazing. Fresh. Worn but not ragged. The denim was sturdy but soft, the fleece underlayer warm and snug. The shearling jacket fit like something out of another life—one where he had more time, where he cared about how he looked. Even his boots, though a little tight, made him feel like he was standing taller. He couldn't even pronounce the brand of the damn thing—French apostrophes, all that fancy bullshit—but whatever it was, it smelled nice, felt nice.

Oh, for sure: Ellie was bound to give him shit. Tommy even more so.

But really... he couldn't give a flying fuck. Today he felt like he was Joel from Texas again. Like he wasn’t some worn-down relic with a bad knee and a worse past.

On the note of Leela, the big, white house across the street was officially back in order. Finally functional after hours of wrestling with the complex fucking wiring, one of the few cons of such a massive home. Not that it had been much of a fight after the resident brainiac showed up—Leela had already pinpointed the problem in minutes and quietly rattled it off like it was second nature. All he had to do was be her muscle, follow along and weld it. It was more attractive than any love or sex this world had to offer.

Catching his reflection again in the front mirror of Leela's home, Joel ruffled the front of his hair, combing down the longer strands at the back, brushing at his jaw, at the scruff that had grown heavier these days, adjusting the collar, smoothing out the sleeve.

He hadn’t meant to get this caught up in it, hadn’t meant to feel this—what, good? Yeah, good. Christ, what a joke.

He’d just turned to grab Maya's baby blanket off the couch, the breathy voice from the stairs made him stiffen.

“Jesus, Joel.”

He looked up.

Leela was halfway down the staircase, cradling Maya against her chest. She wasn’t wearing the usual loose nightgowns or sweats she’d holed herself up in for months. No, this time, she was in clean, fitted jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt in that same soft blue he liked on her. Her hair was brushed smooth down her back, tucked behind her ears, not tangled and loose like usual.

For the first time, he really saw her. Not just the soft, exhausted mother. Not just the lonely woman who never let anyone too close. Her. Tall and breathtaking. Arch calves, thighs, the swell of her hips, the softness at her love handles that hadn’t quite gone away after childbirth.

And because life had a twisted sense of humour, because the moment was already damn near suffocating from seeing her, she had to go and hit him with—

“I thought you were my dad from the back.”

Joel took that one like a sucker punch straight to the gut. He had to fight the instinct to wince, to let it show. At least she didn’t say granddad, he reasoned, trying to patch up what little was left of his dignity. Small mercies.

He exhaled, fixing his fist into the coat pockets, forcing himself to smirk. “Yeah? He must’ve been one hell of a good-lookin’ guy.”

Leela huffed out a laugh, resting the baby’s cheek against her shoulder. “He loved suede. A huge show-off.”

“Well,” he drawled, tugging at the sleeve, “that's where we disagree. At least the man had taste.”

“He also loved polka-dots,” she pointed out.

He clicked his tongue. “I take the fifth, thanks.”

That earned him another laugh, light and easy, like he’d actually said something funny. He didn’t think too hard about how that was probably all he was to her—just some seasoned guy lending a hand. A reliable acquaintance. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then, feeling excluded, Maya let out a breathless little giggle—one of those soft, airy sounds she always seemed to save just for him—and he feared for whatever was left of his soul, crushing.

Maya was grinning up at him, tiny fists wriggling in her mittens, legs kicking against Leela’s side, looking like a baby worth a thousand pictures in a camera. Bundled up in a white cotton onesie, all warm and snug, her beanie perched on her head with those stupid little ears sticking up like a baby bear. Everything was a size too big like she was still growing into the world.

Joel clutched at his chest, mock-staggering back. “You’re breakin’ my goddamned heart, doll,” he murmured, unable to resist a toothy grin, as he held out his arms for her. “Look at you. C’mere, beautiful girl. G'morning.”

Maya squirmed excitedly, tiny mitten-clad hands grasping the air, and as Joel habitually pressed a warm kiss into her cheek, tempted to steal four more, he caught a glimpse of the gold ‘L’ embroidered on the chest of the onesie. Leela’s old hand-me-down that had survived the test of time.

“Lost an eardrum trying to get her into that,” Leela admitted.

She shook her head but passed Maya over, cracking her knuckles absently as she stretched out her arms, unease becoming her. He adjusted Maya against his side, settling her little weight against him. That was her seat for the rest of the day today.

Then, as if debating something, she asked, “Do you really think it’s fine? Bringing her outside? I'm worried she'll fall sick or...”

Joel arched a brow. “I told you. You’re not goin’ there without me, and Maya’s not goin’ anywhere without either of us.”

Leela chewed on that, still unsure.

Maria had been insistent about her showing up, about giving her insight into the lightning harvester with workers—the innovation she’d designed, the one they were planning to station right outside the dam. The whole quadrant was already in progress, groundwork was being laid, and people getting involved. The biggest project Jackson had taken on in a long while.

Even after Joel had warned Maria that Leela was banged up and still on the mend, she'd cherry-picked the argument and cornered him by labelling him an 'overbearing son of a bitch who was getting on her last nerve'. He'd essentially shut up after that since Maria still scared him witless.

"Look, I've got the kid. You do your thing," Joel said, adjusting Maya as she wriggled against him. "I'll just hang back at the square with Tommy and the rest, stay close by. I'll check up on you after."

Leela pressed her lips together, clearly thinking it over.

Joel tried his hand at persuasion. “Y'know, you've been holed up here for three months.”

Leela blinked. Like she was only just realizing it. Her brows furrowed, fingers lifting as she counted—one, two, three. Each number dropped a new rock in Joel’s stomach.

“More, actually.” Her voice was distant like she was doing the math in real time. “I delivered Maya at home. Nearly... eight months now.”

Eight months. Eight months since she’d stepped beyond these walls, since she’d breathed fresh air, and been around people.

He hadn’t let himself think about it before—hadn’t wanted to—but now the image was there, unshakable. Leela, alone. Covered in sweat, spasming in pain. Bloody, weak, feeling like she was dying, like the walls were closing in, like no one in the world could help her. The raw struggle of it.

His stomach turned. No—Maria would’ve made sure she had someone. She had to have. Someone must've heard her.

Joel was aware of what that kind of loneliness did to a person. How it made you shrink, made you start believing that was all there was—that the world outside didn’t need you anymore. And she’d stayed in here. For eight goddamn months. That wasn’t living.

He cleared his throat, forcing the thought away. No use stewing in it.

“Well,” he muttered, his hand reaching for the door handle, “’nuff said. Let’s get this show on the road.”

X

People in Jackson knew Joel Miller.

Same as Maria. Same as Tommy. They knew him for his angry brow, the way his mouth rarely broke from that grim, set line. They knew the sharpness in his eyes, the way he cut through a room without saying a word. They knew he was a hardass bastard. He didn’t make small talk. Didn’t go out of his way to be liked. He knew he scared off plenty of folks just by standing there, arms crossed, expression set like granite. And that suited him just fine. People left him be.

So seeing him now—walking through town cradling a baby instead of a rifle, with a woman most thought was a ghost at his side—that was gonna be the topic of the damn day.

He could feel the looks, hear the murmurs, the way conversations stuttered as he passed. And he did not give a shit. Let ‘em talk. Let ‘em wonder.

It wasn’t like he was breaking news—his neighbours saw him come and go from her big white house as he pleased. Enough times that people could put two and two together. But this? Out in broad daylight, baby in tow? Now what the hell was going on?

Joel wasn’t the kind of man people expected to be carrying a baby. Much less one that looked at him like he hung the damn moon. And yet, here was Maya, snug against his chest, her tiny fingers curled into his fleece collar, drooling on his coat like it belonged to her.

And Leela—well. She was another matter entirely. She wasn’t just quiet. She was tense. She kept close, but not close enough to touch. Her shoulders were drawn up, her hands flexing and unflexing like she was trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

And it wasn’t hard to guess why.

People hadn’t seen her in months. Half of Jackson had probably forgotten she even existed. The other half had started whispering about why. Joel had heard it in passing, plenty of rumours. Theories. That she was still sick. That she was holed up with her baby because she was too ashamed to be seen alone. That she was broken, not quite right in the head.

He knew better. He knew she was just trying to get by. Trying to put herself together while holding onto a child that didn’t feel quite like hers yet. And this? Being out here? This was the most out of her comfort zone she’d been in a long time.

Joel kept a steady pace, letting Leela take in what she hadn’t seen in months. He pointed things out as they walked—the grocery store with the fresh carrots now, thanks to the greenhouse. The bar with the good music. The repair shop he visited often. The little barbecue place that always smelled so mouthwatering it was damn near criminal.

He did it all for her. To keep her focused on something else—something that wasn’t the way people watched her. Wasn’t the way she was already winding herself up, bracing for something bad that wasn’t coming.

Joel kept a close eye on her, shifting Maya in his arms, pretending not to notice the way her breathing went uneven. The way she stiffened every time someone got too close. The way she gripped Joel’s elbow a little tighter like she had to remind herself he was still there.

Then, like it was nothing, like this was any other day, he muttered, “Y’ever had barbecue before?”

Leela blinked, like the question startled her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah?” He echoed with a smirk, shifting Maya higher in his arms who was listening to his voice drum in his chest. “That didn’t sound real confident.”

She let out a breath, still gripping his jacket tight. “I have, just… not in a very long time.”

“Well,” he drawled, eyes on the path ahead like this was already settled, “when you’re done with work, I’m takin’ you out. Get you a nice smoked brisket. A big slice of pecan pie with cream. How 'bout it?”

Leela glanced at him, agape. “I don’t... you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he cut in. “I want to.”

She didn’t say anything. A moment later, he felt her hand slip lower, brushing against his wrist. Just a light touch, nothing much. But Joel knew what it meant. The world around her was too much, too fast, too loud. Drowning in the noise of it all.

So, soft and low, he asked, “D’you wanna head inside for a bit?”

Leela barely hesitated. Just nodded once, fast, reaching for Maya like she needed something to anchor herself.

But Maya wasn't having it at all. She whined a stubborn noise, little hands grasping at Joel’s coat, face burrowing into the material, refusing to be handed off when she had just gotten cosy.

And maybe Joel imagined it—but he thought he saw something in Leela’s eyes splinter, that little rejection cutting deeper than it should’ve. A flicker in her dark eyes she buried quick. It looked a hell of a lot like hurt.

But she didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Just let her hands fall, face blank and turned for the closest door.

Joel followed without a word, close enough, an arm outstretched around her, never touching, his presence simply a buffer between her and the rest of the world.

Inside, it was quiet. The clothing store, he quickly realized. The shelves were full but mismatched, stocked with whatever could be traded, salvaged, or repurposed. Nothing had price tags—Jackson ran on barter. Jackets, boots, canned food, and old records. Everything was up for negotiation. You talked it out with the shopkeep and settled on a fair deal.

Leela didn’t say a word. Just let out a slow, shuddering breath, stepping into a corner aisle, hidden away, and pressing her slick palms against the wooden shelf.

Joel watched her quietly, stroking Maya's back. Eight months locked up in that house, barely speaking to a soul. Now, she is back in the thick of it, remembering how to breathe in open air. No wonder, she looked like she was trying to find her footing. It made sense; people forgot how to be around people.

It was something he'd seen before. The way a person stepped out of the dark after too long, how the world suddenly felt like it could swallow them whole. Some folks got jumpy. Some shut down. Leela was somewhere in between—standing still, silent, stiff as a board, like she was trying to keep herself from bolting.

He’d seen that before, too.

Her fingers curled into the edge of the shelf at her back, grip tightening, knuckles white. She shut her eyes, breathing slow, deliberate—like she was trying to disappear inside herself. Trying to access some space within herself where the world wasn’t pressing in on her.

Yeah. He knew that look all too well now. She was trying not to cry.

Joel shifted his weight, glancing down at Maya, who was blissfully unaware, busy gumming the edge of a scarf she’d pulled off the shelf.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Leela flinched—not much, just a little twitch of her shoulders—but it was enough to tell him that, for a second, she’d forgotten where she was. She blinked, pulling back from wherever she’d gone in her head, and looked at him.

Joel didn’t do the whole let's-address-this-nonsense, so he reached for the first thing that might pull her back. He grabbed an old record from the shelf and held it up. “Wanna put that fancy record player to use?”

Her expression softened instantly. She reached for the record, fingers tracing the edges like she was handling something precious. He eventually noticed the label—The Beach Boys, Wild Honey. What was with him, her and the sixties music?

“I have this one,” she mumbled.

An unsurprising turn of events. “’Course you do.” Joel sighed, sliding it back onto the shelf. "Hard to spoil a rich girl.”

She huffed out a laugh, tired, but at least it was real. She picked up a cloudy snow globe next, giving it a shake, eyes tracking the upending snow inside. “Don’t care for money anymore.”

Joel watched her, watched the way her fingers moved over the glass, trying to wipe away the dust. The way her shoulders had started to relax, just a little. He figured now was a good time for a distraction.

He tipped his chin at her. “You’re sittin’ on a gold mine, darlin'. You got salt. Basil or whatever.”

Her head tilted. "Seasoning makes me rich?"

"You ever eaten twenty years’ worth of QZ ration packs?" He scoffed, thumbing through the record covers. "Tryin’ to remember what real food tastes like while chewing expired crap they call 'dehydrated bolognese'?"

She actually laughed at that—not a breathy little huff, but a real laugh, short and amused. Then her eyes picked up that spark, a sharpness brightening her. “I make my own salt, actually. It’s a chemical reaction. It's fascinating, the sedimentation from caustic soda and—”

Joel lifted a hand to interrupt her, making a 'whoosh' motion over his head. “Alright, you lost me at ‘chemical.’ But if you got some to spare, I'd love to start saltin' my eggs in the morning.”

Her grin widened, but before she could respond, the door clattered open.

Maria swept in like a windstorm, hardly stepping inside, just enough to hold the door open. Clipboard in hand, she scanned the shelves, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, already onto whatever task she had next.

When she finally spotted Leela, she barely paused. “C’mon, kid, people are waiting for you. Let’s go.”

Leela stiffened, a shallow breath catching in her throat.

Joel caught the way her fingers tightened around the snow globe. The way her gaze flickered toward the door, then away just as fast—like she couldn’t look at it too long like it was something too bright, too overwhelming. She had just started breathing again.

He was about to say something—tell Maria to give her a damn minute, at least—but Leela nodded at her before he could get a word out. “I’ll be right there.”

But he saw the way her throat worked, how her hands wouldn’t quite let go of the shelf behind her. Then, she glanced back at him. A flicker. Hesitation. Like she was searching for something—a push, a reason to stall.

Joel had no goddamn clue what to do with that. Flash her a thumbs-up? Offer some dopey, generic shit like, “You got this”? None of it seemed right.

Maya—still happily oblivious, still gnawing on that damp, probably filthy scarf—grinned up at her mother with a gurgle, all gums and trouble. Her small hand finally reached out to her mama like her own little vote of confidence.

Leela’s expression softened, melting at that. She pressed a kiss to Maya's mitten, cupped her cheeks, and pressed another kiss to her head, lingering for a moment, breathing her in. “Don’t miss me too much, baby girl.”

And Joel—who was just holding the kid, who had nothing to do with that kiss—felt it all the way to his goddamn toes, until he curled them tight.

His throat closed when Leela straightened, and before he could react, she reached out, squeezing his shoulder. A quick thing, warm, shocking and grounding, there and gone.

“Take care of her, Joel,” she murmured.

She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t hesitate this time. Just turned and walked toward the door, already steeling herself for whatever was waiting outside. Maria scarcely gave Joel a second glance as she hooked an arm around Leela’s shoulder, guiding her down the street, toward the dam.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, shifting Maya in his arms. Take care of her. Like that was even a question.

X

So, this was it. Joel hadn’t done something like this in a long time.

Running errands. Moving through town without it being about work, about survival, about making sure no one was about to freeze or starve. Just walking, going slow, letting himself ease into the rhythm of a day.

It was stupid how much he liked it. Maybe it was Maya in her room that was his arms, the warmth of her little body tucked up against him, the soft sighs and quiet sounds she made as she drifted in and out of sleep on his chest. Maybe it was the feeling of just being—going from place to place with no rush, no urgency, no reason to keep his hand near a weapon. It had been a while since he felt this liberated.

And yet, for all that, it was also the most uncomfortable he’d ever been. Because everywhere he went, people noticed him.

Or more specifically, they noticed her.

Maya was the newest baby in town, and in a place like Jackson—where everyone kept track of every fucking thing—that meant she was an instant celebrity.

It started at the main square. Joel had barely stepped inside before an older woman behind the counter lit up, clasping her hands together. “Oh, well, would you look at that.” She leaned forward, peering at Maya like she was a new puppy. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?”

Joel braced. He was never good at shit like this—casual conversation, polite interactions. But he was prepared to nod, maybe mutter something noncommittal. Didn’t get the chance.

Before he could step away, the woman moved in.

“Can I see her?” She was already reaching like she might touch her, and instinct had Joel stepping back, moving Maya’s weight against his chest, his free hand flexing at his side.

The handsy woman noticed, laughing lightly. “Don’t worry, hon, I won’t take her from you.” But then she looked up, past Maya and her face dropped like a corpse wearing boots. “Oh. Joel.”

Yeah. Exactly. People never approached him. They let him pass, they let him do what he needed to do, and they didn’t ask for more than what was necessary. But now? Now he had her snug to his chest, and people suddenly thought they could get in his space, that they could smile at him like he was one of them.

“Right,” Joel muttered, clearing his throat. He took a step back, putting more space between them. “Gotta—uh. Got things to do.”

And he left before she could say anything else.

But it kept happening. Like having a baby made you instantly likeable. Erased everything that people deemed you unlikeable for.

A pair of young women on the street whispered to each other behind their hands. The Miller baby. Even some guy he didn’t know—a carpenter or a repairman or something—told over his shoulder to his friend while passing him, “Is that the little Miller baby?”

He didn’t answer. It wasn’t. But he hated how the words stuck to his skin, how they lingered. Feeding him false truths.

Maya, for her part, handled the attention in the same way she handled everything. She stared, wide-eyed, for a few seconds before burying her face in his chest, hiding against him.

Which—fair. Joel had the same damn instinct.

After a while, he just stopped slowing down, stopped making eye contact, and stopped acknowledging the people trying to grab his attention. By the time he hit the shop that traded in home goods, his patience was running thin.

He bartered for his coffee first. Priorities. He was low on supply, and he didn’t feel right starting a morning without it. Then, a stop at the shelf where he found some candles. The kind that a hifalutin name, like lavender or some other flower he couldn’t name. He wasn’t proud of what he’d had to trade to get them, but if they helped Leela sleep, he figured it was worth it.

Then, while shifting the baby bag on his shoulder, he saw it—some worn-down, wooden playthings on one of the shelves, a sad little collection of toys no one had much use for.

The kid had nothing. Leela didn’t seem to know enough to engage her in play. Honestly, Maya’s biggest laughs came from him, from just seeing him come in through the door and the way he bounced her when no one was looking. She didn’t have a stuffed animal to chew on, a rattle to shake, nothing. That sat wrong with him.

He reached out, fingers brushing over a carved horse with rounded edges. But before he could test it in his palms, Maya twisted in his arms, a tiny frown forming on her face.

The warning signs.

Joel sighed. “Ah, shit. Really, sweetheart?”

The fussing started slow—grunts, little unhappy noises, fidgeting with her mittens. It was hunger, he knew that much, and he hadn’t exactly planned on stopping somewhere good for it.

He glanced around, eyes landing on the worst place he could think of to feed a baby. He looked up to the sky instead, hoping for some cosmic assistance. Test him, test him, and test him again.

The fucking bar.

Well, then. It should be empty at this time of day. He'll take what is given.

Joel stepped in, scanning the dimly lit space for judgmental stares, the door swinging shut behind him. No one. It smelled like old wood and stale beer, the kind of place that felt settled into itself, like it had been standing for a hundred years and would stand for a hundred more. Even Tommy was behind the counter, rummaging through shelves, looking for something that clearly wasn’t there.

Joel exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Caught you at the right time.”

Tommy barely glanced up. “Look who it is. Papa Joel.” Then he did look, properly this time, and his smirk widened. “And look at you. Hell, you wearin’ cologne?”

Joel grunted, shifting Maya higher in his arms. “Shut up.”

“Not my fault you look—” Tommy gestured vaguely at all of him, “—like you popped outta Sears catalogue.”

Joel scowled. The swanky clothes. Right. But leave it to Tommy to make a damn thing of it.

Instead of answering, he settled onto a stool, already halfway to getting Maya’s bottle ready. She'd gone quiet, watching him move, which was never a good sign. Not for long, anyway.

Joel gently adjusted her in the crook of his arm, tucking the bottle against her lips, and that was it. The instant it was him feeding her, the second she got comfortable, her hands started roaming. She did this thing every single time. Feeling. Grabbing. Claiming.

And today, like always, they landed on the scar on his wrist. That big, pale line that ran jagged up his wrist into his forearm, from a blade that had nearly done more than nick him. A raider that he'd shivved in less than two seconds once the bleeding started.

In cruel irony, Maya was obsessed with it. She smoothed her tiny mitten over it, again and again, like she was trying to figure it out, her hand bare speck against the scar. Then she started digging her little hand into it, gripping it like she could peel it off him like it was something separate from his skin.

If Joel took his arm away when she got her claws in, her hands floated after it, waiting. A small whine, and she even gave up on the bottle.

“What?” he asked her, a single brow arched. “Aren't you hungry?”

She moved her head when he tried to push the sipper against her lips. Little smartass. A small, give-it-back-coo, brows furrowed, fists still waiting within her mittens. He missed seeing those little fingers already.

“Yeah, yeah. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby girl,” he sighed, letting her have his hand again. His voice was barely above a rasp, more to himself than anything. Not like she could understand, anyway. But talking to her—talking at her—had become something natural. Like breathing.

Immediately, she latched onto it again, tiny fingers curling around the scar like it belonged to her. Just let it happen. Couldn’t do a damn thing with her around. She had all his attention.

The silence between them stretched, like something Joel could settle into. Maya kept her hold on him, even as she finished eating, even as her round eyelids drooped with sleep.

His free hand, the one that had been absently nursing the cold whiskey glass, came up to trace down her nose. That tiny little twitching nose. She scrunched it at the sensation, gave the smallest little sigh—then she was out. Just like that.

Ahead, Tommy took a sip of his drink, still watching. Not saying anything. Not yet.

Then, after a beat, he sighed. “So, you’re really gonna do this?”

Joel blinked, caught mid-motion, his fingers coming up against the cool glass of his drink. He knew what Tommy's 'this' implied, he didn't even have to point it out. Joel hadn’t thought about it, not in words. Not in the way Tommy was asking. But the question hung there between them, waiting to be acknowledged.

His first instinct was to scoff. Shake his head. Deflect. Like he always did.

But instead, he just sat there.

Maya was still curled against him, warm and impossibly small. Her fingers had loosened in sleep, no longer gripping his wrist so fiercely, but every now and then, she’d twitch, like she was reaching for him even in dreams. Like she knew exactly where she belonged, in the arms that were always ready to catch her.

Joel swallowed, jaw working, eyes fixed on the grain of the counter. He could feel Tommy watching him, waiting.

Then came the shrug. That half-assed, useless shrug. A non-answer, because he wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

“Ain’t that simple. You know how it is with her mom.” The words came out rougher than Joel intended like he was trying to shove them between himself and whatever his shitty brother was about to say next.

Tommy, of course, wasn’t buying it. He leaned against the bar, arms folded, giving Joel that look—the one that said he was already ten steps ahead, already seeing straight through the seven layers of crap. Joel hated that damn look.

“It’s already simple,” Tommy said, voice even. “You just don’t wanna admit it.”

Joel scowled, shifting Maya higher in his arms, adjusting her like it was nothing. Like she wasn’t the thing anchoring him in place.

“The hell does that mean?”

Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Then he just gestured—a lazy flick of his fingers toward Maya, toward the way she was curled into Joel’s chest, tiny and warm and completely at home.

It made Joel pause. The way Tommy was looking at him. The way he didn’t say what he meant, just let the silence speak for itself.

Joel swallowed, jaw tightening.

“It means you already decided,” Tommy finally said. “You’re just waitin’ on someone else to say it first, you pussy.”

Joel’s fingers curled tighter around his drink. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Because Tommy wasn’t wrong. He fucking hated that Tommy wasn’t wrong.

This was what he did. This was how it always went. With Ellie. With Sarah. He didn’t decide—he just let it happen. Let them carve out their space in his life, let them claim him before he ever had the guts to admit it. Because once you said it—really said it—that was it. No taking it back. No pretending you could walk away.

And Maya… she was already there. Already in. And fuck. Tommy must’ve caught the shift in his expression, because his posture eased, his voice dropping into something quieter, something real.

“Y’know,” he said, softer this time. “I’ve missed seein’ you like this.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. “Like what?”

Tommy tilted his head, studying him. “Like you still give a damn.”

Joel scoffed. “That’s real cute, Tommy.”

“I’m serious.”

And Joel knew he was. Could hear it in the way Tommy’s voice had lost its usual sharpness, in the way he wasn’t teasing anymore.

Tommy wasn’t just looking at him now—he was seeing him.

The way Joel had melted into this. How he hadn’t put her down, hadn’t even tried. How his hand, scarred and mangled, still rested against the small of Maya’s back, gently rubbing circles as if he needed to make sure she was still there.

Joel looked away. Something crawled up his spine, sharp and unnameable. He didn’t like being seen. Not like this. Not even by Tommy. So he went for the easiest thing—the simplest way to cut the tension.

A half-hearted mutter. A low, unconvincing, “Yeah, well.”

Tommy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. “Poetic,” he drawled.

Joel shook his head, finally taking a drink. “You talk too damn much.”

Tommy chuckled, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Yeah, well,” he mimicked before his voice softened again. “You don’t gotta say it, Joel.” He gestured toward Maya, still curled against his chest, safe, home. “You’re already doin’ it. Even if you got fuckin’ old.”

“Guess I had to, didn’t I?” he muttered, adjusting Maya against his chest, making sure her head rested easy against his chest.

Tommy didn’t argue. Didn’t need to. They both knew the truth of it.

Joel had aged in ways Tommy never would, in ways no one who hadn’t lived what he lived could understand. His life had been gunpowder, dirt and blood. But still—there was something about this, about sitting here, not rushing anywhere, not killing anything, not surviving, just existing.

Something about her. She had her little hands on his shirt, curled tight in sleep, and he knew without a doubt that when she woke up, she'd reach for him again.

Yeah, this was what getting old was.

X

It wasn’t so abnormal anymore, Joel thought, being here like this. A weekend evening, in nice clothes, at a restaurant, beer in hand, sitting around a table with family. Nothing left to rock the boat.

For a long time, this kind of thing had felt impossible. Something for other people. Other lives. Even in Jackson, even after all these years, he still sometimes caught himself expecting the old rhythm—always waiting for something to go wrong.

But here he was. Sitting in a booth at the barbecue joint, letting the warmth of the moment settle in. Maria was talking a mile a minute, Tommy was stretched out beside her, looking half in disbelief, and across from him—Leela cradling Maya, quiet as ever.

Joel took a slow sip of his beer, tearing his eyes off her, half-listening as Maria went off, excitement lighting up her face.

“—seriously, I’ve never seen anything like it,” she was saying, gesturing so wildly she nearly knocked over Tommy’s drink. “Fixed the whole irrigation backup in minutes, Joel! Got the system running smoother than it ever has, and on top of that—this little Einstein somehow managed to work out a whole fucking ration adjustment in the same damn hour.”

Leela’s face went warm. She waved a hand, dismissing it. “It wasn’t that complicated. The whole system just needed a pressure bypass to reduce cavitation in the main feed lines. And the rationing—honestly, it was just a matter of optimizing caloric allotments based on intake efficiency per household.”

A stunned hush.

Tommy blinked. Joel just stared in amazement. Maria narrowed her eyes like she was trying to do the math in her head.

“Right,” Tommy finally muttered, dragging his drink closer to safety. “I totally knew what all that meant.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. And a little proud of her. “Christ.”

Leela frowned, looking between them. “It's all just calibration.”

Maria snorted, nudging Tommy. “I think that just proved her point.”

She was surpassing expectations with Maria fuckin' Miller. That had got to count for something. It was rare, too, to watch her this spirited, this excited. Even rarer that Tommy wasn’t the loudest one at the table.

"Well," Tommy said, smirking as he raised his glass. "Guess it's good to have a genius in your corner sometimes."

Joel smirked too, but his gaze flickered sideways again, back to Leela. He couldn't help himself to another look, and another, and another. Total headcase conduct.

But she wasn’t looking at any of them. She sat beside him, holding Maya close, not engaging much, just keeping her eyes down, drifting between the door and Maya in her bouncing lap. Every now and then, she’d offer a thin, polite smile—one of those distant ones, not real, not reaching her eyes. Present, but not fully there.

Joel noticed it all. The way she sat just a little too stiff, the way her fingers fidgeted lightly against Maya’s back. The way her shoulders didn’t fully relax, even though she was surrounded by people she trusted. She was clearly still agitated with something. Maybe the attention? The restaurant? The smell of the food? Perhaps Maya? Or was it himself?

Joel sipped his beer and let his eyes linger on her for a second longer, about to change the subject, before Tommy—that big-mouthed bastard—broke the moment.

“Leela’s birthday’s comin’ up in a few days, right?” he said, nodding toward Joel like he expected him to confirm. “You two got plans?”

Joel damn near choked. He shot Tommy a glare so sharp it could’ve gutted a man. Wanted to kick him square in the balls. What was this little shit implying? And her birthday? He didn’t even know. Then again, he wasn't big on celebrations anyway.

Leela, to his relief, didn’t seem to care much. She just shook her head. “No plans.”

Maria, of course, had other ideas. Plans. To put that unused, exquisite dining room in her home to good use.

“Dinner, then,” she announced, already scheming, her face bright with it. “Your place. You don't have to lift a finger, the menu’s on me.”

Leela hesitated. “Um...”

Joel was ready to witness Maria take a licking for the first time ever. He could see the wheels turning in Leela's head, the way her fingers curled into Maya’s blanket. She looked down at the baby, who was happily slapping her little hands against the table, amusing herself, laughing that hiccuping laugh, at the sound.

Joel couldn’t help but smile. He reached out, brushing his knuckles over Maya’s chin, and she let out a delighted squeal, and tried to catch his hand before he returned it to his glass.

Leela exhaled, barely a smile on her lips, blindsiding him with: "I think that'd be nice. I could make something, too. With seasoning." And she flashed a knowing grin at Joel.

He bit his smile into the rim of his beer glass, meeting her eye. "Amen."

“Sweet,” Tommy grinned. “I’ll let Ellie know.”

When the food arrived in a leering waitress's arms, Joel didn’t touch his plate right away. He was too busy looking at Tommy’s. A full rack of ribs, juicy, glistening with sauce, looking like the best damn thing on the table. Regret burned in his gut.

Tommy, the smug shithead, was already smirking, rolling back his sleeves. “Something wrong, big brother?”

Joel grunted, reaching for his beer instead of dignifying that with an answer. His brother had no one to impress, Maria was well-versed in Tommy-isms. Joel had played it safe. Ribs were messy. Hands-on. Fucking delicious. If he were alone, or if it was just Tommy, he’d be going to town on them.

But with Maya switching from his lap to Leela's lap half the time? With Leela, this smart, stunning girl, sitting beside him, barely eating, her shoulder brushing his every now and then? He’d gone for the safe, decent option. A nice slab of brisket. Neater. Quieter. Civil. Less of a goddamn spectacle.

Across from him, Maria was already chatting about something—town expansion, hydroponics for the greenhouse, that kind of thing. Leela was listening, but not really. Not engaging entirely. Her gaze stayed down, distracted.

And then there was Maya. For all her adorableness, she was being an absolute menace. Squirming. Reaching. Grabbing. Her big eyes were all stubborn, yet curious. Joel felt her shifting in Leela’s lap, wiggling against her arm, determined to smack her little hands onto her mother's plate.

“Maya, please,” Leela whispered, exasperated, nudging her hands away. Even positioning her farther on her lap.

Of course, it didn’t work. Maya let out a loud, insistent whine—real dramatic-like. Another scream of objection, fists squeezed like she was throwing a fit, and smacking for the plate again.

Maria chuckled. “Kid’s got some lungs on her.”

Leela huffed a small, tired laugh, but Joel could see her struggle even if it was hilarious. Trying to keep handsy Maya at bay while attempting to cut her steak one-handed. She wasn’t doing a great job of it. Fork in one hand, knife awkwardly angled in the other, barely making progress.

Joel didn’t think about it. Didn’t need to.

He just reached over and swapped their plates. Simple. Quiet. Didn’t make a thing of it. Just slid his brisket—already cut—toward her, nudging it a little farther from Maya’s reach.

Leela stilled. And glanced up at him, astonished.

Joel kept his eyes on his own plate, reaching for his knife. Shrugged, like it was nothing. “Go on,” he urged. “The best thing you'll put in your mouth.”

Tommy cleared his throat, catching onto the innuendo. Joel imagined sticking his knife into his eye.

Leela hesitated. Then, after a beat, he heard the soft clink of her fork against the plate as she speared a piece. A grateful smile came alive on her face while she chewed, a genuine one. He'd learned to tell the difference now.

“Thank you, Joel,” she nodded.

Joel nodded back, a tight smile stretching on his lips. Took a bite from his plate. There was nothing else to be said. The message was clear: I've got you.

Oh, Joel didn’t miss the looks either. Maria’s subtle smirk behind her glass. Tommy’s full-blown, shit-eating grin. The two of them watched like they were studying a goddamn exhibit every time Joel so much as glanced at Leela or reached out for Maya.

Fuck them. He ignored it all, chewing through another bite of steak, keeping his focus where it needed to be. Maya was calm now. Full belly, busy little hands—playing with his own hand now, like it was her favourite toy in the world. Leela, finally eating without interruption, though still too quiet.

Joel didn’t say a damn word about any of it. Even when Maria started up again.

“What I'm saying is, that the town’s growing,” she said, wiping her mouth. “More people settling in every month. It’s getting to the point where we’re running low on homes.”

That got Joel’s attention. His chewing slowed, a sliver of suspicion creeping in. Tommy wasn’t looking at him. That was the first red flag that he'd learned from one of the more recent dinners in the Miller household.

“Couple of new families coming in next week,” Maria continued. “One’s got three kids. You believe that? Haven’t had that many young ones in Jackson in a long time.”

Joel grunted. More people. More mouths to feed. Meant the town was growing, sure—but also meant more risk. Running this place with a tight ship was already starting to show. And Maria wasn’t done.

“Thing is, if we keep expanding at this rate, we’ll have to start repurposing old homes.”

There it was. Joel was halfway through his beer when he heard more of this.

“You know, Joel,” Tommy started his tone too goddamn casual to be anything but questionable. “If push comes to shove, we could always put your place up for new tenants.”

Joel’s grip tightened on his glass. He didn’t blink. Didn’t look at Tommy right away. Just kept chewing slow, steady, like he hadn’t heard a thing.

Because he knew what this was. He knew Tommy and that arrogant little edge in his voice, the way Maria was staying too quiet, swirling her drink like she wasn’t waiting for impact.

It was a set-up. Fishing. Looking for a reaction. Confirming some inside hunches. And Maria took the shot before he could load his own.

“We’d put you up at ours, sure enough,” she said, breezy, easy.

“No kidding. You're family, can't just chuck you on the street as much as I want to,” Tommy added, mockingly, grinning like a jackass.

Joel set his drink down with a little too much pressure, the sound a noisy thud. Finally, finally, he levelled a look at Tommy. He didn't need to say a damn thing. Because whatever was on his face? It was enough.

Tommy coughed, glancing away as if he felt the heat of it. He knew what would follow if he spoke another word. Maria, to her credit, held his stare, only raising an eyebrow.

Joel’s jaw flexed, real slow. The urge to tell them both to go straight to hell was right there, burning at the back of his throat. And he would have. Would’ve shut the whole damn thing down, hard. But before he could, Leela beat him to it with—

“I have spare rooms in my place,” she said, casually. Like she was discussing the weather. “If that happens, Joel could take one. Stay as long as he wants.” She used Maya's arm to motion a wave. “Maya would love that, too.”

More silence. She was just full of surprises today, wasn't she?

Tommy, who had been bracing for impact, looked like he’d tripped over his own damn feet. Maria, mid-drink, paused. Chewed on her cheeks. Like she was recalibrating the entire situation.

And Joel? He didn't even know what to do with that. For a second, all he could do was stare at Leela, completely gobsmacked. What she'd suggested was to take it to the next level, in the most casual way. Yeah, just stay with me and my kid, forever, I guess. Doesn't matter.

Leela didn’t look up. Didn’t seem to notice what she’d said. She just kept wiping at Maya's mouth and hands who'd started to entertain herself by blowing raspberries, and bouncing her gently like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Joel exhaled through his nose. A slow, heavy thing. “It's all a big 'if',” he muttered, edged with finality.

Maria recovered first. Pulled a face that said she was perfectly fine with it. “Yep.”

Tommy, still catching up, pressed his lips together. “Just wanted to make sure of something,” he muttered. “Pretty sure now.”

Joel didn’t ask what. Just picked up his beer again, and took a slow, measured sip. His glare at Tommy, though? Firmly in place.

They left the restaurant together, in cackles of laughter that was at the expense of Joel's face, making their way up the same street where their homes resided, boots crunching against the frozen dirt road. The air was sharp, biting, but Joel barely felt it.

Maya had run herself ragged. After all her theatrics inside—her constant wriggling, the battle for the damn steak, the way she’d made herself known to the entire damn restaurant—she’d finally given in.

“You feelin' cold, baby?” he murmured.

She was in his arms now, bundled up and warm, her bunny-ear beanie snug over her head. Her tiny nose was red from the cold, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his jacket, picking at a loose lint on his sweater. He tucked closer, safer, pressing a warming kiss into her sleepy head.

Joel caught up with Maria before she could reach Tommy and Leela ahead. His breath came out in slow, even puffs, but inside, he felt a little less steady. Hadn’t planned on asking. Hadn’t even realized it was sitting there, coiled tight in his chest, until the words were already forming.

"Hey," he said lowly, his voice carrying that weighted kind of hesitation. "Can we talk?"

Maria arched a brow before smirking. "If you’re about to chew me out, it was Tommy’s idea. You know we haven’t had new people settle in for months."

Joel barely registered it. Just shook his head. Not about that.

His gaze flicked toward Leela’s back—small, quiet steps beside Tommy’s like she wasn’t all the way there. His jaw tightened before he spoke. Carefully.

"At the dam today." He paused, feeling the words thick on his tongue. "Did she seem… alright to you? Seem a little off?"

That smirk faded. Maria exhaled, her face shifting into something more careful. "Wouldn’t stay in the room with all the workers," she admitted. "Spooked her out. After that, I just let her stick by my side in the office."

Joel frowned.

"Must’ve been a trigger," Maria added, quieter now.

He only nodded. He didn't need to say what they both already knew.

He watched Leela a little longer, the way her hands stayed tucked inside her coat sleeves, the way she wasn’t engaging much with Tommy’s easy conversation. There was something… too still about her.

"She’s been quiet all night," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Maria nudged him lightly. "She’ll be fine, Joel. Baby steps."

Joel pressed his lips together. He wasn't a believer in the process of baby steps. Either you healed or you rotted in the filth of guilt or devastation for the rest of your life.

Maria gave him a sideways glance, one of those knowing looks. "You look good together."

Joel let out a breath. Not quite a scoff. Not quite anything. "Thought lawyers didn’t bullshit," he muttered.

Maria shrugged easily. "I don't. Sure, you’re," she cleared her throat, shooting him a look. "Let’s say ‘well into your prime’—and she’s… not. But I can tell she trusts you absolutely."

Joel said nothing. Only bit down the small grin that broke through his lips, staring at his boots. Coming from Maria, point-blank like that, it meant a lot.

Up ahead, Tommy was acting like he hadn’t just pulled that shit back in the restaurant, talking easy, hands in his pockets, like he was the picture of innocence.

Joel narrowed his eyes. Yeah, alright. That jagoff needed to be put in his place.

He picked up his pace, stepping just ahead of Tommy, and without breaking stride, swept his leg out.

Tommy didn’t even get a chance to balance before he was airborne—arms flailing, momentum carrying him forward—a sad, "What the fuck!"—then crashing face-first into the snow with a solid thud.

Maria burst out laughing. Full-on, bent-over, hands-on-her-knees laughing. Leela, though—she gasped, her eyes going wide, clearly more horrified than she needed to be.

Joel just kept walking, adjusting Maya, who let out a startled little giggle like she understood the exact kind of justice that had just been served.

"Fuckin' deserved it," he grumbled.

X

Maya was bawling at the big white house’s door, tiny fists clutching his shirt like letting go might break her little heart. And maybe it would—maybe that’s why Joel hesitated, his hands hovering at her back, torn between unwinding her grip and holding her tighter. Damn it, he didn’t want to go, either.

If he peeled her off him and stepped away, she’d do the sweetest thing that always got him—cover her eyes with her hands like she’d seen her mother do, weeping like his leaving was the greatest tragedy of her small world.

“He’ll come back tomorrow, Maya,” Leela tried, rubbing absently at her belly. “He has to sleep, too.”

Maya wasn’t convinced. She wriggled in her mother’s hold, stretching her arms out toward Joel, demanding, no—pleading—to be held. Then she wailed, loud and unrestrained, the kind of cry that could bring a whole street to a standstill.

Joel exhaled, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. God, this girl was breaking his heart.

Leela shifted Maya against her chest and patted her back. “Do you want to stay a while?” Her voice was softer now. “Until she falls asleep?”

Joel didn’t even pretend to hesitate. His arms were already reaching for Maya, lifting her effortlessly out of Leela’s hold. The moment she settled against his chest, her tiny hands fisting into his shirt, her cries turned to hiccups, then sniffles.

“Gonna be a handful when she gets older,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek.

Leela rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm, stifling a yawn. “Gosh, please don’t remind me.” She nodded toward the stairs. “I’m gonna get changed. Help yourself to anything.”

Joel watched her retreat up the steps, back hunched with exhaustion. At the landing, she disappeared into the hallway, and he found himself standing there a moment longer than necessary, listening to the creak of the floorboards as she moved through the house. He liked that about her—the way she kept reminding him to make himself at home like she knew he hadn’t quite figured out how to.

Maya was still sniffling, the last remnants of her earlier tears damp against Joel’s shirt. She stirred against him, adjusting in his arms like she was making herself right at home. Safe. Where she belonged.

Joel smoothed his palm over her back and felt the way she breaths puffed against his collar, her little chest rising and falling in a slower rhythm now. She was alright. He did that.

"You missed me already?" he murmured, rubbing a thumb under her damp eye.

She didn’t answer, just breathed out a soft, shuddering coo.

Yeah. That was about what he thought.

He bounced her gently as he moved through the living room, shifting his weight as he glanced around, looking for something to keep her mind off whatever had gotten her so worked up in the first place. His eyes caught on something up on the shelf, half-forgotten.

That record player he'd been gawking at for weeks. Not just any old thing, either. Glass case. Dark mahogany. Expensive. Fancy, like the rest of Leela’s place.

There was already a record inside. Percy Sledge. Gold, fucking gold. The glossy cover sat neatly on the side like someone had meant to come back to it and never did.

Joel exhaled, dusting off the lid before flipping it open. “Haven’t heard this in a long time,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, glancing down at Maya, "You wanna hear some music, baby girl?"

Maya blinked up at him, her earlier tears forgotten, and let out that breathless little panting laugh she did when she was excited. Her small hands clapped together in that uncoordinated, barbed motion that made her look like she was still figuring out how her own fingers worked.

Joel grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

He brushed away the dust, set the needle down, and let the music cut through the quiet.

The room filled with the low, honeyed croon of Percy Sledge, velvet-smooth, drifting through the air like something out of a different time.

Joel felt her still in his arms, eyes going wide as she stared at the record player, completely awestruck. Like she was trying to make sense of where the sound was coming from.

He poked a finger into her squishy thigh. “Never heard real music before? You like it?”

Maya was so curious, watching the record spin, producing music, head tilting in that goddamned adorable way of hers, like she was putting all her baby brainpower into figuring it out.

Joel’s chest ached. It was a deep, familiar thing, the kind of ache that came from having too much and knowing it was, perhaps now, all his to keep.

He shifted Maya in his arms, kissing the top of her bunny-eared beanie. She smelled like warm blankets, like home, even though he’d never had a home quite like this before.

"You wanna dance with me, darlin’?"

She gasped, her whole body jerking in excitement, arms flailing like she couldn’t believe her luck. Then came that breathless, hitching laugh—the one that made her whole face crinkle, her tiny chest heaving like she could barely keep up with herself.

He’d never heard her laugh like this before. Was that the first?

So he lifted her high into the air, listening to the way she squealed, legs kicking like she was soaring. That same laugh again—bright, bubbling over, pure sunshine—rang through the room as he pulled her back into his chest, then did it again. Twice. Thrice. Oh, his back was going to pay the piper, but for that laugh, it was fucking worth it.

She was weightless, and for a moment, so was he. The world didn’t feel so heavy when he had her in his arms like this.

His eyes caught on something in the doorway.

Leela. She was watching.

She had changed into that same white nightdress, the one with the pearl buttons he liked more than he should. Loose fabric brushing just above her ankles, a sleeve slipping off her shoulders. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, fingers touching her lips like she was trying to trap the smile already there.

Joel didn’t stop moving, just slowed a little, swaying Maya in his arms, pretending like his chest didn’t feel too goddamn tight at the look on Leela’s face. If he stopped, the moment might end, and he wasn’t ready for that.

Leela wasn’t looking at him, not exactly. Her eyes were on Maya, wondering, at the way she was still laughing, still catching her breath, little fingers clinging to the fabric of Joel’s shirt like her whole world was nothing but him and the feeling of flying.

He'd never had anything like this. Something whole, real, his. Could this moment get any more perfect? And then he had the thought—

He wanted to dance with Leela.

It settled deep in his chest, curling between the cracks. Maybe he’d wanted that for a while now. Maybe that was why his hands always hoped to reach for her when it was without Maya, why his pulse kicked up when she got too close, why he always noticed when she was around—soft, careful, like someone who didn’t want to take up too much space.

He huffed, dipping his head down to whisper against Maya’s temple, his voice all low and warm—"Gotta give your mama a turn, huh?"

He lowered Maya onto the couch, kissing her nose, making sure she was snug, and safe between the sunken cushions. She was already grabbing for her baby blanket, nibbling on the edge of it, still watching him with that shining little grin. That was enough confidence to power him up.

Joel knew better than to ask Leela. Knew better than to want. She’d probably turn him down. Politely. And somehow, that would hurt worse. Brushing him off like a stranger.

But he asked anyway.

He turned around and didn’t say a word—just held out his hands, just a little. Not a grand gesture, nothing obvious, just enough. Just enough that she’d see it, that she’d know. He wants her close.

Leela’s gaze flickered, something changing. Her lips parted, just barely, and for a moment—a long, slow, aching moment—he thought she might step forward, might meet him where he stood. A silly pipedream.

Joel was too goddamn old for his heart to be pounding like this. Like some stupid kid, all restless hands and reckless hope, hoping the girl he liked would share that feeling with him. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever had—not like this. Not with something this soft, this easy, this whole.

He blamed that when she looked away, the moment unravelling.

Blamed the gap, the years that stretched between them, the life he’d already lived, the losses already burned into his bones. The grey in his hair, the angry brow, the lines on his face. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not for him. Not anymore. But then—why did he still want? Why, after all these years, after everything, did he still feel this?

The way his chest clenched when she hesitated. The way his palms itched, waiting, wanting. The way he caught himself hoping—hoping—like some love-struck fool that she might actually step forward.

He exhaled slowly, telling himself it was fine. Telling himself he was being ridiculous. She didn’t owe him anything. He should’ve known better, should’ve kept his hands where they belonged... anyways, what else could he offer her?

And then she did. She moved a little. Leaned off the doorway. A few slow, quiet steps forward. Hands knotted behind her back, shoulders tense, reluctant to give in.

His breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t looking at him—not at first. Her eyes dipped downward to the boots on his feet, flickering uncertainly, almost like she was working up the nerve to do something.

And then she glimpsed his hands. The callouses. The mangled skin. The years of work, of war, of violence. Of a life that had been anything but easy. The way his fingers curled just slightly like he wasn’t sure if he should be offering them in the first place.

For a moment, she hesitated. And he thought, yeah, that’s about right.

And then—slowly, so slowly—she slipped her hands into his. Her fingers were slender against his, swallowed within his own, cool and soft where his were rough, ruined. It had been so long since anyone had reached for him first.

He didn’t move right away. Just felt it. The way she fit there, the shape of her hands in his, like it wasn’t a mistake. Like she wasn’t regretting it.

All those lifetimes, chipping away parts of him, making space for her hands to be there. And fuck, if that didn’t scare him more than anything.

The scratchy record spun on, Percy Sledge’s voice melting into the room, velvet-smooth. What am I living for, he sang on, if not for you?

Joel swallowed thickly.

Slowly, he guided her hand to his bicep, barely pressing down. She was tense, wound tight like she’d bolt if he moved too fast. So he didn’t.

"You good?" he checked in.

She nodded, glancing up, baring a gentle smile.

His own hand skimmed her hip—ginger, careful—before settling there. He let her other hand hang from his grasp, mid-air, not forcing it, not demanding more than she was willing to give. Leela was stiff against him, like this was too much for her. Like it had been too long for her, too. Like she was afraid of him. Of this. My god, it burned.

So he eased. Dipped his head, rested his nose against her hairline, and just swayed. Joel couldn't cut a rug or shake his hips to save his damn life, but he could feel. And shit, he felt so good.

She was right there. Right where he wanted her, but not as close as he wanted, although he completely dwarfed her. He could feel the tension in her frame, that deep-rooted hesitance like she wasn’t sure she was allowed this.

Joel knew that feeling all too well. So he let her lead without leading. Let her find the pace. Even if it was fucking killing him.

Even though his body ached to pull her closer. Even though his fingers twitched where they rested against her hip, wanting to dig in, to hold, to keep. He wanted her warmth pressed tight to him, her weight resting against his chest. Wanted to feel her relax, not just in body but in heart.

He’d spent years running on instinct, on gut, making quick decisions with deadly precision. But he’d never been this meticulous about anything before.

And then—he felt it. The shift. It wasn’t big, not something he would've noticed a while ago. Now he did. The way her breath came just a little easier. The way her grip steadied, not quite clinging but not pulling away either. She was letting herself be here.

And for the first time in some time—Joel wanted to feel, too.

So he let himself move with her. Not well, not smooth, not anything he’d want anyone else to see. But with her.

She laughed like he'd cracked something open in her, when he pulled her in, twirling her under his arm, snaring her against his chest before she could stumble. She laughed again when he spun her out, her head tipping back, black hair spilling like a dark halo.

"Never been spun around, my ass," he muttered against her hair as he spun her back into him, arms curling around her waist, anchoring her to him. "You're a natural."

Leela laughed, breathless, cheeks flushed. "Practice. Mom and I used to spin around for hours when it got lonely."

Joel stilled for just a second. He could picture it then—little Leela, small hands clutching at her mother’s as she twirled, all giggles and untamed joy. A warm, glowing memory, but edged with something else. The kind of happiness you cling to when there’s nothing else.

He hummed low in his throat, muffling a smile. Leela’s fingers curled against his back.

"Joel?"

"Mhm?"

She hesitated, just a beat. "I think you look really handsome today."

He stopped moving altogether. A strange, sharp thing twisted behind his ribs—surprise, confusion, something too damn soft to name. Handsome. Not tired, not rude, not old. Joel was handsome to her. The prickling memory from that morning, her mistaking him for her father went up in smoke.

For a second, he considered brushing it off, making some dry remark, giving himself an out. He wasn’t careful about much. Wasn’t the kind of man who tiptoed around what he wanted. Life had burned that out of him long ago. But right now? Right now, he was careful.

So, Joel did what he could; he held her tighter. Not much. Just enough. Just enough that she’d know he’d heard her.

And when he finally spoke, it was quiet, low, a little rough around the edges. "Thank you, darlin'."

Leela smiled up at him. And Joel—God help him. He let himself smile back.

As Percy crooned about his love growing stronger and his lover becoming a habit, they actually danced. However slow it was, there was a wildness to the way she moved, arms outstretched, the hem of her nightdress catching air, cheeks catching the low lamplight. The sharp pivot of her foot against the floorboards, the way her body dipped and twisted, loose and natural. She looked so young, so different from the woman he’d met all those weeks ago, that quiet, anxious thing who always kept herself tucked away.

This was the Leela he was falling for.

And he was so fucked. But for the first time in a long time—he was glad he was.

Joel barely had time to react before she was in his arms, knocking the wind out of his chest. Not swaying anymore, not laughing—just holding.

Her arms locked tight around his waist, cheek pressed firm against his chest like she was bracing herself. Like something in her had finally tipped over, finally let go, and she needed something to catch her.

And Joel—goddamn it, Joel wasn’t sure what to do. How to process this. She didn’t do things like this. Not the Leela he’d come to know. She was careful, always. Kept her distance. Kept everything measured. Even when she let people in, it was guarded. Always one foot out the door, always ready to pull away.

But now?

Now, she was holding on. Holding onto him.

Joel hesitated, feeling all of her against all of him, the heat, the muscle, the softness, the realness.

Then, slow and steady, he let himself move. One arm curled around her waist, the other settled at the back of her head. His fingers slid into her hair, pressing her close—not just to comfort her, but to reassure himself. She was here. He was here. They were here.

She wasn’t trembling, but she was tense. Her grip on him was firm, almost desperate. Holding onto something bigger than just this moment, nails digging into his sweater, something that must’ve been clawing at her for God knows how long.

"I needed this a lot," she muttered, voice barely above a whisper, muffled against his chest.

Joel swallowed. Shifted just enough to angle his chin over the crown of her head. "Anytime."

That was all he could say. Because what else was there?

He didn’t know how to tell her that she could stay like this for as long as she wanted. All night, all day, That whatever had been weighing her down before—whatever had kept her small, kept her afraid—it wasn’t going to touch her here. Not while he was holding her.

Although he wished the song could last forever, reality came a-knocking, and they answered. There was nothing awkward left to pick up, just a dreaming baby girl on the couch cushions.

After placing Maya in her crib and squeezing three deep goodnight kisses into her head, Joel left to cross the street. He turned around to see Leela by the big oak door, watching him go, a meaningful smile alive on her face. She waved him goodnight.

The heat in his cabin hit him first as he entered, sighing. Thick and suffocating. The fire in the hearth had burned too hot again, filling the place with a sticky kind of warmth that made his skin prickle.

Joel shrugged off that expensive shearling jacket, tossed it somewhere, and rubbed a hand down his face. It was too damn quiet. No soft breaths ghosted across his skin. No little palms clung to the fabric of his shirt.

Just the crackle of fire. Empty arms. The twisted sheets on his bed. And himself.

Joel sat down at the edge of the mattress, forearms braced against his knees, head in his hands. A million hazy thoughts swirled, smouldering, yet all he could look upon clearly was wanting to close the gap and kiss that girl in her living room.

Was this what he wanted? Would he really go through with it? If it all went to shit—if he fucked it up, if they got hurt, if she regretted letting him in—there’d be no one else to blame, but him. He would have done this to himself, some sort of screwed-up self-sabotage he thought he earned. Someday, when he kicks the bucket, all he is going to leave to that family is grief. Or not even that? Was he worth the suffering? Would they spare him a thought?

His fingers unconsciously drifted down, brushing against the cracked leather of his watch strap. That old, broken dial. The last thing Sarah had ever given him, the last vestige of her memory, hanging off his defeated body.

The hands were still stuck in place—frozen, unmoving. Just like he’d been for all those years. Until now.

Joel exhaled, slow and heavy, dragging a hand down his face. He was already in too deep.

And maybe—maybe he didn’t want to climb back out.

X

{ taglist 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @brklynln -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

[snatcher-no-snatching]

booting up ahit for the first time in what feels like forever and RAAAAHHHHH I LOVE THIS GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[autumnscribbles]

come back | r.c

summary: you and rafe get into a fight on a night out, when you’re left to find your own way home, you find yourself in a bad position

warnings: drinking, creepy men, i think that’s about it

wc: 2k

a/n: my first official rafe fic!!! thank you so much to the person who sent in this request, i’m a little rusty but had so much fun writing this! pls send more :) enjoy

~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

You let out a loud laugh as JJ continued to tell you one of the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard. Between fits of laughter, you took small sips from your red solo cup. You were starting to feel tipsy, the alcohol coursing through you. It made everything funnier, and you found yourself leaning in towards JJ, unable to control your laughter. You clutched your stomach as he laughed along with you, his own laughter triggered by how much you were laughing. It was always an endless cycle with JJ, when one of you started to laugh, it was over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you hiccuped, as you stared down at the empty cup in your hand.

JJ patted your leg and nodded at you before you stood up, making your way over to the table where the drinks were. The room spun slightly around you as you clumsily poured yourself another drink. You were mixing it yourself, and chuckled at how heavy handed your pour was. You tilted your head back as you took a sip, nodding to yourself in approval.

As you turned around to head back to the couch you were sitting on, you bumped into a familiar chest. You looked up at your boyfriend, smiling drunkenly at him.

“Hey! There you are!” you cheered, leaning your head on Rafe’s chest as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Took you long enough,” he scoffed, stepping to the side and approaching the same table you were just walking away from.

“What does that mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took another sip.

“It means you should probably lay off the liquor and maybe don’t hang all over JJ like an idiot,” he retorted, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

You thought it was hypocritical, him telling you to stop drinking as he poured himself another rum and coke. He drank as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted and you never said a word to him about it. JJ had been your friend since childhood, your family taking him in when he had no one else. You grew up together. Your friendship would always be special.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away from him, going back towards JJ.

“Running back to him?” Rafe called out to you.

You turned around, seeing his bright blue eyes darken as he looked at you. His jaw twitched as he clenched it. You knew he was biting his tongue. Holding himself back from saying something he would really regret.

“You know what Rafe? You’re childish. JJ is my friend, and you know it. Maybe you should stop drinking and you wouldn’t be so fucking delusional,” you bit back.

Rafe rolled his eyes and you walked back over to JJ, plopping on the couch beside him again. He looked concerned as he asked you if everything was okay. You assured him you were perfect, and tapped your cup against his as a cheers.

You ignored Rafe as you saw him walk passed you, not even sparing you a glance. You knew you upset him, and that he was bothered. For once, you didn’t care enough to do anything until you got home. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and more importantly, wanted to have fun with your friends.

After a few rounds of pong with John B, Pope, JJ, and Kie, the alcohol was really getting to your head. You realized you hadn’t seen Rafe since your argument, anXd thought maybe you should look for him.

“I’m gonna get some air and look for Rafe,” you said to your friends, voice raised to be heard over the music. They nodded at you before setting up for another game.

You weaved through drunk, sweaty bodies before stepping outside. You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as everything spun.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled down the front steps.

You assumed Rafe would be outside. He usually stepped out for air when things were tense between you. He used it as a way to calm down. You were surprised when you didn’t find him.

You glanced down the street full of parked cars. You couldn’t spot Rafe’s truck. Did he leave? Would he? You felt tears springing to your eyes, suddenly feeling guilty for what you said to him. You pulled out your phone, calling him. It rang and rang, but eventually left you on voicemail. You shot him a quick text before sitting on the steps, spinning head in your hands.

“Hey…” you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see someone you didn’t recognize. Obviously a kook, based on the polo shirt and khaki pants he had on. You had never seen him at one of these parties before. Or maybe, you just never recognized him.

“Hey,” you muttered, pulling out your phone to see if Rafe answered.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, sitting down comfortably beside you. You felt yourself slide over, wanting distance from him.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just waiting for him.”

“Don’t think he’s coming back, sweetheart. I saw him get in his truck,” he chuckled. “I could drive you home though.”

“I’m good,” you answered shortly.

You stood up, taking a second to regain your balance. You had to go home. To find Rafe. You realized you didn’t have the keys to your place. Rafe had them. You came together and were going to leave together. You guessed you’d just knock until he answered once you got there.

You knew you should tell your friends you were leaving, but in a drunken haze you were too focused to go back inside. You’d just text them later.

The boy on the stairs was in a conversation with a clone of himself, so you started walking. The cool evening hair sent a slight chill down your spine, your shoulders exposed. You tried to walk as quickly as possible without falling.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you reluctantly decided to look behind you. You were surprised to find the boy from the stairs and his friend walking a few paces behind you.

You felt your heartbeat pick up a bit, your hand clutching your phone tightly, willing Rafe to call. You took a turn, and realized they were not too far behind you. Enough distance to try to make it seem like they weren’t following you, but you knew.

You decided you’d take the short cut. You had to go through the woods, but it wasn’t too far. The boys behind you wouldn’t know the path, even if they saw you turn off. You’d just run, you thought to yourself.

As you dashed quickly into the woods, your breath was loud in your ears. You were trying not to panic. You would be fine. You heard the footsteps behind you, branches cracking under their feet as their pace picked up. You’d run as far as you could.

Eventually, you slowed down, catching your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to listen for the boys following you. Your heart beat hard in your ears as you took deep breaths. You didn’t hear them anymore. You were in the clear.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and flashed the light, realizing you had no idea where you ended up. You were surrounded by trees, no path in sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You started walking where you thought you had come from, hoping to end up back on the path. You’d tripped over something, landing harshly on the hard ground. You hissed in pain as tears started filling your eyes.

You dialled JJ, thinking maybe you had a better chance of reaching him. No answer. You tried Rafe again, and again, and again.

The third time, he picked up. His voice choppy on the other line because of the bad service.

“Rafe?” you cried, overjoyed that he answered. “I need help I-I was walking home and I cut through the woods to get home but I’m lost.”

“Y/N?” Rafe answered. “Where are you?”

“The woods, I-I don’t know where exactly. Please help me, baby,” you cried.

You couldn’t hear his reply as the call dropped. You cursed under your breath again as you began to cry. You didn’t even know if Rafe heard you. You felt yourself starting to crash, the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the alcohol hitting you all at once. You felt your eyes flutter shut, and succumbed to the exhaustion.

You eyes opened again to a faint sound in the distance. You sat up, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes. You winced as you tried to figure out how much time had passed.

You heard a voice in the distance, and as it approached you realize they were calling your name.

Rafe.

He came.

“Rafe!” you screamed as loud as you could, trying to signal to him where you were.

You heard his footsteps pick up as they got closer, and you kept calling out. Eventually he was in front of you, crouch down as his hands cradled your face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he breathed. “I’ve been looking for you, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch,” you cried, falling into his chest. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Shhh I shouldn’t have left you there. I was a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry. What if something happened to you?” he rambled, holding you close.

“These guys were following me so I cut through the woods. I tried to get away,” you breathed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What? Who?” he asked angrily.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sighed. “I just wanna go home.”

*

Rafe brought you inside and into the bathroom, turning the light on.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered. There was a cut down your leg, bleeding from when you tripped. You were covered in dirt, leaves, and branches.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry baby, I can’t say it enough.”

He turned the shower on, the steam starting to fill the room. He helped you gently peel off your clothes and step in, where he joined behind you. He rinsed off all the dirt and blood, and gently massaged your head with shampoo to wash out the dirt. You began uncontrollably sobbing as the warm water fell down your body, and you were so worn out you didn’t even know why anymore.

Rafe dressed you into your favorite pyjamas and brought you to bed, tucking you in gently. All while whispering that you were okay, that he was sorry, and that he loved you. He set down a glass of water beside you, urging you to drink it.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head, reaching your arms out to him. He fell on the bed beside you as you lay on his chest, his heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered to him, your eyes beginning to close. “I’m okay.

“I don’t know how I can forgive myself,” he said. “What if those guys..” he stopped himself before continuing. He didn’t want to voice what he was thinking. It was unimaginable.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, or walked away when you were clearly upset. It was stupid,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I was just being jealous and stupid. I overreacted.”

“As always,” you chuckled, making the corners of his mouth turn up.

He watched as your eyes began closing, your previously stressed out facial expression smoothing out.

“Just rest, baby,” he cooed as he rubbed his hand along your back. “I won’t leave you again.”

You finally gave in to your exhaustion, just happy to be safe and warm in Rafe’s arms. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, or anything that happened. All that mattered was you were safe. You were okay.

He came back. He would always come back.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[eternalmomentss]

Looking back now, it really is so cool how Robbie created Dorian as a character that is so different from the stereotypical horny bard trope. Dorian has charisma and charm, yes, but that mostly comes from the fact that he is extremely awkward and anxious and introverted. Pathetically adorable, as Liam put it once. He flirts and it's fun but flirt back and he gets flustered immediately. He loves music, he hums when he is nervous, but is hesitant to sing (he even said to Opal "no one has ever heard me sing") because he feels uncomfortable when put on the spot (which is also neat in a meta way, cause Dorian showcases how you can still play a bard even if you are too shy and uncomfortable with roleplaying singing etc). Dorian needs a little push, a peptalk or a cup of ale. He also is sexually inexperienced and never really seems that interested in sleeping with others. He fell in love once in his life. His outfit is flashy. He has stagefright. He loves to show off. He gets embarassed ten seconds after. He is a such a breath or fresh air. Literally. He honestly made the entire class more interesting to me again, to the point where I really wanna play a bard next.

[lomltrentarnold]

someone — jude bellingham  ₊˚ෆ

contents: 1.6k words, fem!reader (she/her), fwb!bellingham is down bad, lil angsty but happy ending, they like each other so much SIGH

🍓 hana’s note: hi my loves!! hope u enjoy <33 i actually had fun writing this, please tell me what u think 🫶 sorry if nothing makes sense LOL

📞 main masterlist!

Jude was sure that the muscle on his wrist had gotten stronger in the span of three days. He moved to check his phone again for the hundredth time that day. The whole situation feels like a thirteen year old boy waiting for his girlfriend to reply to his text. 

The only difference is that he’s twenty one years old, and his ‘girlfriend’ is not actually his girlfriend. 

His gloomy mood attracted his assistant who was off clicking the keyboard computer.

“Whose text are you waiting for?” they asked, immediately bringing him out of his little pity party.

His heart stuttered, “No one.” he replies, shaking his head, before tucking the phone away into his pocket.

A skeptical look was thrown, “Yeah, sure.” 

Jude took a minute before he relented, “She’s…someone.” he sighed, not really in the mood to throw up his gut to his assistant.

He ran his hands through his hair down to his face, frustrated.

They were sure this ‘someone’ was not just anyone, “The same ‘someone’ who had you giggling and kicking your feet last week?” his assistant smirked, noticing the little smile that Jude always wears every single time he stares at his phone.

But not in the last few days.

Recently, he has been more sad when he stares at his phone.

Heat trailed from the back of his neck to his cheeks, “I was not giggling and kicking my feet.” tummy twisting with nerves.

“Oh, you so were. She has you wrapped around her fingers, Bellingham.” the keyboard clicking stopped, as a teasing smirk was sent his way.

Jude’s heart made a backflip–oh she definitely does– “She’s just.. special. And I really really like her.” his cheeks heating up more as your pretty face fresh flashes in his mind. 

“So? Why don't you ask her out on a date?”

He sighed, “I would, but she’s ghosting me.”

“Someone ghosted THE Jude Bellingham? Damn, your ego must be hurt.” they laughed.

Jude took a deep breath, “It's not about my ego, I just–” he paused, “I thought we were going somewhere, I like her and I thought that she liked me but I guess...” his voice trailing out as sadness coats his words.

His assistant noticed how Jude’s head dropped in disappointment, immediately feeling bad for him, and an idea lightbulb immediately went off, “Go to her place then.”

“What?”

The assistant shrugged their shoulders, “Go to her place. Ask her out.”

He coughed out, “She doesn’t wanna see me.”

“Ask her face to face, get confirmation. If she really doesn’t wanna see you then, fine. But try at least! Fight for her!” their encouragement send Jude into a full dedicated state. Already having a full plan in his head.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Screen lights from the tv illuminated your already dark room with a movie playing in the background. You really should be asleep right now. But your mind was too cloudy with a certain, seriously attractive, very sweet and nice footballer. 

What did you think was gonna happen?

Getting into a friends-with-benefits with someone you harboured a big fat crush on was not the brightest idea. 

Jude is a bigshot footballer, everyones’ starboy, all he needs to do is smile and all girls fall to his feet (including you). The strategy of pushing him away was pretty solid, considering that he might not even notice that you haven’t been replying to his texts. 

He probably has hundreds of girls on his phone anyways.

Not that you care, he can do whatever he wants, he’s not your boyfriend. 

Not your boyfriend. 

Then why does it still bother you?

A sudden knock, broke you out of your spiralling session, shooting your heart rate up. Who knocks at 2 in the morning?

A buzz from your phone alerted you.

—

bellingham :)

I’m outside your apartment

I need to talk to you

—

You contemplated opening the door, what do you even say to him? Another knock. 

Another buzz.

—

bellingham :)

Please.

—

The door swung open and Jude was met with the sight of you, with tired eyes and a scowl on your face. You don't look too happy seeing him, and he doesn't blame you.

“Are you insane?! What do you want, Jude? It’s two in the morning!” you huffed out, taking his wrist and pulling him inside. You do not want to get a complaint from your old cranky neighbours. 

Both of your hands tingle the second it touches, fingers twitching as you hope the other doesn't notice. You move to pause the movie, hands gravitating towards the blanket on your couch before draping it around your shoulders. Trying to cover up your well-loved worn pyjamas.

You look like a mess. 

Jude’s hand sweats in his pockets, his heart was pounding after finally being in your presence. With your messy hair, pretty droopy eyes, paired with your profile being highlighted by the tv. His heart rate shoots up when your eyes meet his. 

You look really pretty.

Focus, Bellingham!

He awkwardly coughs, trying to cut the thick tension in the room, “You still watching that show?” he voiced out, hand gesturing to the tv behind you. 

It was a show recommendation from him. You had made fun of it at first, but then the plot was too good to be ignored, you needed to know how it ends. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “Yeah, I was curious.” voice small as your hands tightened around the blanket, bringing comfort to you.

A beat of awkward silence went on.

And Jude has had enough of it and decided to go for it, head first, no thoughts.

"Why are you ignoring me?" he finally said, saddened brown eyes met yours. You can feel your defence chip away the more you look at him.

You avert your eyes immediately, trying to formulate words, "I'm busy."

"That you ghosted me for three days straight?" he scoffed.

"Jude-"

"I don't think you understand how much you’re in my head." his voice shook, heart trembling in his chest, “I wake up and my first thought is to check if you have texted me back and you know how embarrassing it is to not see anything?"

You scoffed, “So this is about your ego?”

“No! I didn’t say that–“

Another scoff, "Jude don’t lie, you get messages every single day. Your notifications are always flooded! Don’t act like I’m suddenly special!” you rolled your eyes, lungs burning with anger.

His face contorted into confusion before turning into hurt, “Did I give you that impression? That I don't care because you’re not special?” Jude’s voice cracked, maybe it was your head playing tricks but you swore his eyes were glossy with tears. 

Anymore second looking at him than you might just break. 

“Jude-” you started.

“Because I do! I’ll buy you more flowers, pick up your favourite coffee, watch those reality shows that you love so much, we can have a picnic or even a fancy dinner!” he rambled, hands animated as his feet started to move towards you, eyes pleading. “I really want this to work. I want to be in your life, as your boyfriend.” 

The distance between two got so small that you can feel his warm breath hitting your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

He smells like mint.

Did he chew one before he got here?

The call of your name hits your ears, his voice soft and sweet. You really like how he says your name. You miss it. You like him. You miss him.

“Please say something.” Jude whispered, eyes involuntarily dropping to your lips, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“I really really like you.” you softly said, nothing but a whisper but it sends just into cloud nine.

His eyes shined, mouth already opening to say something before you cut him off.

“But-“

His heart dropped.

“But?”

“Jude, you can literally have anyone you want in the world!” you raised your voice. Tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Why does he have to be so complicated? Why won’t he understand that you will never be enough for him?

By now, he can have a general sense on why you ghosted him. You have been insecure and worried ever since this little relationship started. Jude partly understands it, his popularity is intense and the media is poking at every nook and cranny of his life. Judging at the littlest things he does.

But he also doesn’t understand because-

“But, I want you! Don’t want anyone else!” he exclaimed, big calloused hands move to the sides of your face, thumb softly running on your cheeks. “I want you.” he added, softly pressing a kiss at the apple of both of your cheeks.

A lovesick smile broke out on your face before you can even control yourself. “I want you too.”

Jude eyes twinkled at the sight. His heart elevates in the process. Was this a dream?

“Pinch me.” he snickered.

Your hands move around his waist to pinch his skin, “Dork.” you giggled, his smile getting wider at the sound.

A comforting silence blankets over you both. Smitten eyes staring at each other with heavy yearning. Hearts fully enamoured with the other.

A soft kiss was planted on your lips, tender and gentle as his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He can’t get enough of you.

Your whole body was on fire. It has been so long since you both got together.

“Jude-“

“Mhm.” he hummed, lips still pressing against yours. His hands wander to wrap around your waist. It feels like he wants to eat you whole.

He definitely does.

You carefully pull away, chuckling at the small whine that leaves him as he chases you again, “It’s late.” you affectionately scolded.

“Let’s go to sleep then.”

“Together?” you teased.

“Yes, please.”

Well, how can you say no to that?

reblog for a kiss <3

[bloodxbat]

Heyyy, could you do an NSFW fic with Spencer where it’s best friends to lovers and they’re roommates and maybe it’s a really hot day and readers barely wearing anything and Spencer can’t control himself etc 🫶🫶

Hey Anon! absolutely I can!! I had so much fun writing this, I've not written a fan fiction in so long so I hope this is ok!!

My requests and taglist are open so feel free to send me a wee message!!

Hope you enjoy the fic :))

Can’t Control Myself

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut!!! 18+, MDNI, P IN V sex, unprotected, creampie, oral (fem), best friends to lovers, swearing! Dom Spence, Praise, Marking kink, all the good stuff 

Reblogs help me stay motivated to keep writing fics! :))

Taglist: @writing-wh0re Message to be added 

Word Count: 2,649

Prompt(s) used: none

Summary: You and Spencer have been best friends for 3 years, you’ve lived together for almost 2 now. Spencer has always had a ‘’thing’’ for you but has always been way too shy to admit it. On a particularly hot day he loses control of himself over the clothes (or lack thereof) you’re wearing. 

Masterlist

The apartment you and Spencer shared was small, which made this weather even more unbearable. Books piling up, almost touching the ceiling keeping in all the heat, stopping cold fresh air from coming in. Any outfit you put on was just sticking to your skin in an instant. The fabrics attach themselves as if they were part of your skin. You huff out a frustrated sigh as you peel off yet another outfit that suffocated you in this heat. 

Throwing your wardrobe all over your room trying to find the loosest outfit you owned you finally found something. ‘Please let this one help, please’ you thought to yourself as you pulled on the clothes. 

You’d found a black short-sleeved crop top, so short that it barely covered your tits when you lifted your arms, and a pair of loose fabric shorts that showed off the underside of your ass accenting its curves under them. A sigh escapes your lips, you sway your hips and air brushes itself up your skin giving temporary relief from the heat. 

Finally having found your outfit you make your way out your room and down the small hall leading to the living room/kitchen to grab a cup of ice cold water. Spencer was sitting on the brown leather couch that took up the centre of the room in front of the TV, which was not switched on of course as Spencer would never ‘’waste his free time watching that thing’’. You chuckled to yourself as you noticed he was reading The Odyssey for the hundredth time it felt. 

Brushing your hand over his shoulders you greet him 

‘’Hey Spence’’ you smile walking into the kitchen area.

Spencer looks up from his book feeling your slight friendly touch, turning round to see you in the kitchen. You were stretching up on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard where the glasses were kept. His eyes went wide, your crop top and short had rode up your body at the movement. Exposing your skin, your curves, your perfection. He had never seen so much of you before. 

‘’H-hi Y/N’’ he manages to stutter out, clearing his throat.

‘’The Odyssey again Spence?’’ You ask not looking at him as you grab ice from the freezer, bending over in front of him. 

Was this a dream, his eyes didn’t leave you, devouring your body. His mouth was salivating, he wanted too much to know how you tasted, how you felt. He hadn’t even processed your question before you were walking over to him, glass in hand waving in front of his eyes.

‘’Earth to Spencer’’ You chuckle

‘’S-sorry I lost track- wh-what did you uhm whatdidyousay?’’

‘’I asked if you were seriously reading The Odyssey again? Does it not bore you?’’

‘’Yes i’m reading it again and no of course it doesn’t bore me, this is one of the greatest classics of all time!’’

You chuckle at his passion for the book. Taking a seat next to him, taking the book out his hands, your fingers brushing his skin slightly, such a small gesture but enough that his vision was turning blurry and his mind racing. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin so you looked up at him. 

Spencer was wearing a white loose fitting linen shirt, the top button undone exposing the skin of his chest to you, and brown hemp trousers. Even in this heat he still tries his best to look professional, even from the comfort of his own apartment.

‘’Everything ok Spencer?’’ Your voice filled with genuine concern, looking at your friend he doesn’t seem quite himself. He is normally hyper focused, aware of every surroundings, given the nature of his job, it's not paranoia it's just…him, but now he seems distracted.

‘’I-’’ Spencer licks his lips trying to think of the words, the right words to tell you how he really feels. How all these years he has found you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. How he’s up late at night thinking about you, what he could do to you, how he could make you scream his name. How you would feel pinned below him. He could feel himself begin to grow at the thought, your touch bringing him out of his thoughts. 

You placed your hand on his arm, stroking your thumb along his skin. Waiting patiently for him to answer. His deep brown eyes caught yours, god his eyes were beautiful, you could stare into them all day. You felt strange thinking of your friend this way but it also felt so right. You couldn’t deny that Spencer Reid wasn’t attractive, he wasn’t named ‘pretty boy’ for nothing because he certainly was that. 

‘’You’re driving me crazy’’ Spencer says suddenly, his voice low and raspy.

‘’W-what?’’ your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden boldness.

‘’You heard me pretty girl’’ his eyes stare holes into yours with burning passion ‘’You’re driving me. Crazy’’ he emphasises the last word. 

Spencer shuffles closer to you, grabbing your hand and taking it off its place on his arm. The cool air touching your palm from where his warm skin used to be moments before. Your eyes never leave his, as you watch him lick his lips once more. 

‘’Wearing this outfit, practically naked…fuck’’ he groans

Spencer rarely swears in fact you've only ever heard him swear when he clumsily bumps his head off of a shelf. My god it was hot, those types of words just rolling off his tongue.

‘’It’s getting harder to control myself around you Y/N, ever since I laid eyes on you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. 3 years, for 3 long years i’ve not stopped thinking about you, thinking how you would feel, how you would-’ he paused letting his eyes roam over you ‘how you would taste’’

His words cause a heat to form in between your legs, a wetness forming on your shorts. It was only then you notice the bulge appearing in Spencer's trousers, the zip practically about to burst up against him. 

‘’Why don’t you come and find out’’ You don’t know where this bold side of you came from but the way it turned the expression on Spencer's face to complete lust, his eyes growing darker from your words. You hope that the image burned itself into your eyes so you would never forget it. 

Without hesitation his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, his lips were so smooth and inviting, they felt so familiar to you, like they were meant to be on yours and only yours. You could feel his tongue graze your bottom lip slightly wanting more you open your mouth inviting him in. Your tongues dance at first, softly brushing over each other, he tasted of coffee, humming against him at the taste. The kiss became more hungry, tongues battling for dominance which Spencer of course won. 

He pushed you down so you were beneath him on the couch, his hands grazing up your sides causing you to shiver. His hands reached your breasts that lay under your shirt, his fingers found their way to your hard nipples, pinching them softly. Your back arched up into him as you moaned softly at the sensation. You could feel him pulse onto you through his trousers at your noises. 

‘’That feel good?’’ he smirks, his lips travelling down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking and biting. 

‘’Mhmm, p-please spence’’ you hand made its way into his golden brown curly hair that stuck to the nape of his neck from sweat, tugging slightly as he continued to kiss down your neck. Ripping your shirt off of you to get a better look at your body beneath him.

‘’Fuck’’ he groaned, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed skin. ‘’So fucking beautiful why didn’t I confess sooner’’ 

Before you could say anything his lips are back on you, attacking your skin sucking every inch he could find leaving red marks behind him. 

‘’S-spence’’ You gasp at all the marks

‘’Shh, I’m marking you as mine, d’you understand me? Everyones gonna know who you belong too’’

His words were like sex itself to your ears, the very thought of everyone being able to see that he had his way with you causing a pool to form soaking your thighs. Your fingers made their way to his chest, undoing the buttons on his shirt pushing the material off his shoulders. His chest was so smooth and toned, your eyes roamed over the sight in front of you causing Spencer to smirk. 

‘’Like what you see?’’ he says

All you can do is nod, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth, then looking into his lust filled eyes. 

‘’Good- because it’s all yours angel’’ 

It didn’t take long before the rest of your clothes were discarded on the floor. Both of you tangled in a hot mess on the couch skin sticking to the leather beneath. Spencer started to train his kisses along your chest. Teasing your already hard nipples with his tongue, soft moans spilling out your mouth. He continues his way down further, nestling his head between your thighs, wrapping his arms under you keeping you in place. 

Feathering kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the soft skin slightly, your back arching up into him. Silently begging for more. 

‘’Need you to use your words if you want something angel’’ He continues to kiss your soft skin.

‘’P-please Spencer’’ 

‘’Please what?’’

‘’I n-need you please’’

‘’Want me to taste you angel is that what you want?’’

He wasn’t continuing until he got confirmation from you. 

‘’Mhmm’’ you nod, looking down at him. The sight of him looking up at you through your thighs drove you crazy.

Without warning Spencer slammed his lips against your heat. Lewd noises filling your small shared flat. His tongue sliding between your wet folds, lapping up every bit of you, savouring your sweet salty taste. Spencer could’ve came right there, he groaned onto you as he sucked on your clit, causing vibrations to shoot right through you. Waves of pleasure bringing you to the edge. 

Who knew Dr Spencer Reid was so damn good with his tongue. You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer to you as you neared release. 

‘’Fuck Spencer oh my-’’ You moaned breathlessly. 

‘’Taste. So. fucking. Good.’’ Spencer said between licks. Not wanting to be away from your heat for even a second. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter, earning a groan from him. 

‘’You gonna cum angel? Go on, cum on my tongue, wanna taste you so fucking bad’’

His words sent you over the edge. The knot in your stomach unleashing as you reached your high all over his face. Waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your legs going limp, that was the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. Spencer moaned onto you as he hungrily lapped up all of your juices. He pulls back, his chin glistening with you all over him, licking his lips before crawling up to be face to face with you.

‘’Good girl’’ he groans softly before taking your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

Spencer's hard length brushed up your folds. The sensation causes you to shiver. His tip was red, angry, needing attention. He positioned himself outside your hole. 

‘’Gonna fuck you now angel, otherwise i’ll lose control’’

‘’Please- please fuck me’’ desperation on your tongue. Hearing you talk to him like this drove Spencer crazy. Knowing he was the one to make you this way. Slurring your words with absolute pleasure. 

He slowly thrust forward, stretching you out. Your mouth hung open at his size, it felt unlike you've ever felt before, pain, pleasure, it was almost overwhelming. You gripped onto Spencer's skin so tight, your nails dug into his flesh leaving crescent shapes. Silent moans falling from your mouth as your foreheads touched together. 

‘'M’gonna move now angel ok?’’ Spencer groaned

He slowly pulled out, almost all the way before thrusting back into you, he was so deep you could feel him in your stomach. That first thrust forced out the most sinful moan, the noise going straight to Spencer's cock, he practically collapsed into your neck. He continued to thrust in and out of your wet cunt, the sounds of skin slapping filling the air. 

‘’Mm oh- fuck Y/N, so fucking tight’’ 

His pace quickened, your body shaking with pleasure. You didn’t care how loud you were being, you wanted people to know who you belonged to, who made you feel this way. Spencer's mouth was beside your ear, whimpering and moaning with every thrust he made into you. Your walls clench around him with every noise he made. 

‘’I’m not gonna last if you keep tightening around me sweetheart’’

‘’Please- wanna feel you’’

‘’What do you wanna feel angel?’’

He never stopped thrusting into you, he was going unbearably fast, you were definitely going to have a few bruises tomorrow. 

‘’Cum S-spencer, please gotta feel it’’

Your words cause blood to rush straight to his length.

‘’Fuck Y/N where do you want me to cum hmm? Getting so fucking close’’

‘’I-inside Spence, p-lease’’

‘’Are you sure?’’

‘’Yes- please need to feel it, fill me up Spencer please’’

He would like nothing more.

‘’Whatever you want, angel’’ he groaned, continuing to pound into you. He was so close, both of you breathless and sweating all over each other. Your eyes lock, both mouths agape with pleasure. Spencer's eyes turn dark, they turn lustful, he is close. You push yourself up against him more. 

‘’Fuck’’ He almost shouts, moaning loud as he releases thick white ropes into you, coating your twitching walls. The feeling of him cumming into you causing you to reach your second release. Eyes rolling to the back of your head with pleasure, you didn’t realise you were drooling over yourself. Spencer reached his thumb up, wiping it away, still inside you, waiting for both of you to catch your breath before pulling out. 

Spencer focussing on your convulsing hole watching as his cum spilled out of you, the sight almost enough to make him ready for round two. He got up and grabbed a damp cloth cleaning you both up, before pulling you into his arms.

‘’That was-’’ You begin still breathless and speechless from what you just did.

‘’Amazing’’ he finished your sentence for you.

‘’How long?’’ you asked, looking up at him, tracing shapes on his exposed glistening chest ‘’How long have you felt this way?’’

‘’Honestly- since the day I met you’’ he confessed, all you could do was stare at him with a smile creeping on your face. 

‘’I was too scared to say anything, I didn't want to ruin the friendship we had, you were, are, too special for me to lose’’ Your heart warming at this confession.

‘’But seeing you in that outfit…I just couldn’t keep it to myself any longer, I'm just glad you feel the same way’’ He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You grab his face and lightly kiss him on the lips. Sighing into him pressing your foreheads together. 

‘’I’m glad I chose this outfit then’’ You chuckle leaning your head up against his shoulder. 

You both stayed there, naked on the couch, holding each other. You convinced Spencer to watch TV with you, he actually enjoyed the show but he would never admit it. Neither of you got up to put clothes on, it was too warm for that. 

You fell asleep watching TV snuggled into him, your soft snores peeling Spencer’s eyes away from the screen. Not wanting to wake you he just smiled and kissed you softly.

‘’Good night Angel’’ he whispered.

[finelinevogue]

lucky to have you

summary - you and harry raise a glass on an italian beach to celebrate his birthday

word count - >1k

pairing - harry styles x wife!reader

“To 31!”

You cheered your plastic cup, filled with beer, with Harry’s.

“And to many more.” Harry added, before you both swung back your beers.

Both of you were on the little beach you’d discovered in the years you had been coming back to Italy. It was a small beach, more like an alcove, but it felt like yours. No one had ever turned up when you’d visited and that’s what made it feel private.

You were sat cross legged on your beach towel and Harry was laid on his side, propped up by his arm, on his.

He looked a dream at 31.

You wrapped his cardigan around you a bit tighter as another breeze came across you both.

Harry put down his cup of beer and reached for another piece of cheese from the picnic.

It was only a small spread, but you’d wanted to create something fun and intimate to celebrate his birthday and a picnic was the perfect idea for it. There was cheese cubes, salami for you, a loaf of fresh bread and a selection of fruits for dessert.

Harry popped the slice of cheese in his mouth and you watched him whilst drinking more of your beer.

“What?” He asked whilst chewing.

“Ew. Eat with your mouth closed.” You giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes but he did have better manners than that, so he waited until he was finished before asking again.

“What are you looking at?”

“You.” You smiled.

“Me?”

You laughed at his ignorance. He really had no clue how good he looked it was infuriating. It was often a losing battle when you were out because everyone looked at him. Yet, he only ever looked at you.

You nodded with a dazed smile.

“You’re too handsome.”

Harry chuckled, tilting his head down to hide his blush. Even after all these years you could still cause him to flush over a silly comment.

“You’re so annoying.” He chuckled.

“Why?”

“You always know what to say to make me blush. Makes me feel like a high school teenager with a crush all over again.” He admitted, looking back at you so you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You know? My high school crush ditched me on valentine’s day.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Supposedly was going to meet him at this local cafe for a coffee and then we were going to watch a movie, but he ditched last minute. He said something had come up.” You shook your head.

Harry tutted, glad that guys like that didn’t get to mistreat you anymore. He would never even question doing something like that to you.

He loved you too much.

“Well I don’t plan on ditching you this valentine’s day.”

“And that’s why I married you.” You made a pleased noise to yourself.

You had definitely married the right guy. There was no question about that. It wasn’t even a case of Harry being perfect, because he wasn’t always, but it’s just that he was perfect for you.

The way your similarities, dislikes and general personalities mesh together was just perfect. That’s why there was constantly so much love and affection between you too. There was so much of you within each other and it felt so natural to be together as a result of that.

“What should we do this year?” You asked, wiggling your toes into the sand.

“For valentines day?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you want to do? I’ll take you anywhere but that horrible restaurant we went to last year.” Harry laughed, taking a sip of his beer.

“Please. Never again.” You chuckled with him.

Both of you went quiet as you thought through various options.

“What if we stayed here?” You asked, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest a cheek on one of them. You looked at him hopefully.

“Exactly here? Or somewhere else in Italy?” Harry asked as he sat up.

“Right here. I like it here.”

“I know you do.” He smiled.

He knew you were thinking back to when he proposed to you right here on this very beach - hence why you had such a strong attachment to it. That’s why you pretended it was your private beach.

“So… Can we?”

“‘Course.” He nodded. “C’mere.”

You didn’t need to be told twice before you raced to sit on top of him straddling his waist as both of you sat up straight.

Harry’s hands tucked neatly around your back and held you tight against him, whilst yours winded up around his neck and messed with the growing hair there.

“Love you.” You whispered.

“Love you too.” He smiled a little, small, smile. One that you craved too much to leave alone which is why you leant in to kiss him.

His lips were soft from the warm weather. You pressed yourself into him as he took control of the kiss, leaning forwards when he leant back a bit. Neither of you minded how messy and awkward the kiss was, it was nice to just be like this in the open.

You tugged on his hair as he bit your lip, making you gasp and rock your body forwards slightly. His hands gripped your hips to keep you steady.

Harry broke away from you first, kissing you a couple times extra before moving his head a distance away from yours.

You pouted as he left you.

“Don’t give me that.” He chuckled at your pout, eyes not being able to choose between looking at your lips or eyes.

“But…”

“It’s my birthday.” He argued.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, feeling ridiculously lucky to be loved by him.

[fazedlight]

Kiss (post-canon fluff)

Fuck.

What was I thinking?

Lena stood frozen at her door, continuing to mentally curse herself, as a wide-eyed Kara stared back.

It had been a fun evening. The pair had cooked dinner together, curled up on the couch to watch a movie together, cleaned up together. Kara had teasingly splashed dish bubbles in Lena’s direction, with Lena taking the sink sprayer for a quick revenge. It was playful and domestic and everything Lena longed for. 

Well, almost everything.

That cozy and domestic warmth filled her chest, and she hadn’t really been thinking as Kara had hugged her before heading out for the night. Lena had simply operated on instinct, pressing a small kiss to Kara’s cheek.

Which led to their current predicament, staring at each other in wide-eyed shock. Friends do that sometimes, right?, Lena thought desperately, praying she would melt into the floor.

But she waited under Kara’s curious gaze, blue eyes darting between hers in silence. “Sorry,” Lena began to whisper-

But Kara leaned forward… placing her own kiss on Lena’s cheek, causing Lena to stiffen in yet another layer of surprise. “Good night, Lena,” Kara said, lingering for a moment as Lena’s heart fluttered.

Kara finally pulled away, leaving Lena wondering what did it mean? “Good night,” Lena replied.

---

They said nothing.

Monday brought its own aggravations as Lena met with a few investors for dinner. She put on the normal smile and dance, speaking decisively of profit margins and dividends, until the night was finally done. The investors filtered their way back to a nearby hotel, and Lena stepped outside for solitude and fresh air - pausing to take in the pleasant evening before calling Hector to drive her back to her condo.

“Walk you home?” came the familiar voice.

Lena turned, smiling as she noticed Kara a few steps away, holding her sneakers. “I’d love to,” Lena said, trading off her heels for the far more comfortable shoes. After a moment, the two began to make their way down the quiet sidewalk.

“I can’t wait until I stop doing this,” Lena said, “I’m ready to be done being CEO.”

“When does Andrea start?” Kara asked.

“Next week,” Lena said, “She’s in Metropolis, meeting with Sam to discuss the finances.”

Kara hummed approvingly. “I’m glad you get to focus on the engineering side again.”

Lena smiled, lightly jabbing Kara’s side. “How about you? How’s being a new Editor-in-Chief treating you?”

“Cat hasn’t changed,” Kara grinned widely, and Lena cast back a knowing look. But Kara’s face softened as she glanced ahead. “Though I realized I sort of have.”

“How so?” Lena asked.

Kara bit at her lip. “It’s harder to pretend to be things I’m not.”

Lena tilted her head in curiosity, but she didn’t press, content to walk arm-in-arm down the street with the contemplative blonde. Kara would say more when she was ready, and Lena was happy to wait.

They eventually came to her building, and then her door. Lena turned around to face the blonde. “Do you want to come in?” Lena said.

To her surprise, Kara shook her head. “I have some thinking to do.”

Lena nodded, but she was surprised when Kara tilted her head forward, eyeing the Luthor for a reaction, asking a silent question. Lena’s gaze was curious - she wondered if Kara was listening to her heartbeat - but she remained steady, shyly granting the permission Kara sought.

Kara pressed a soft kiss to Lena’s cheek. “Good night, Lena.”

Lena could feel herself flush, reaching up with a shaking hand to cup Kara’s face. She leaned to the side, pressing a kiss against Kara’s opposite cheek. “Good night, Kara.”

When she made it to the other side of her door - hearing Kara’s footsteps fade down the hall - she found herself wondering. Is this friendship for her?, Lena thought, mulling over whether the kryptonian knew how unusual their behavior was.

Was it a hint that Kara had developed deeper feelings?

Or would Kara be disconcerted to know that Lena wanted more?

---

LCorp was chaos - in the normal way that any company was with a CEO handoff - and the week passed by in a blur as a result. But Andrea was no rookie, and Lena trusted her enough to start handling the business solo.

Finally.

Lena entered the Tower that Saturday morning with a buzz in her veins. LCorp would certainly have interesting science to tinker with, but magic was still only something Lena could experiment with here. 

She opened her mother’s grimoire, poring over the ancient volume, tapping at a 31st century quantum collider that Brainy had set up in the lab. Magic has to be a form of quantum mechanics, she thought.

Hours went by as she worked. She almost didn’t notice the patter of steps behind her, but she knew who it was. “Kara,” she said, turning to smile at the blonde who brought Chinese takeout in her wake.

“You have to be hungry,” Kara said.

“I didn’t notice,” Lena replied.

The two moved over to a neighboring table, unpacking the food, passing chopsticks and soy sauce before digging in. In a way, it felt like any normal Saturday where they weren’t out saving the world.

But in another way, it didn’t.

Kara seemed almost shy throughout the meal, even as they were cleaning up, even as they made their way to the Tower couches after Lena kicked off another experiment. Something was hesitant in her stance, a small reluctance in meeting Lena’s eyes. Maybe she does feel weird about us, Lena thought, feeling a tenseness in her gut in response.

Before they reached the couches, Kara stopped in her tracks.

“Kara?”

She heard a sigh in front of her. “I can’t pretend anymore,” Kara said.

“Pretend…?”

Kara turned to face Lena, swallowing, eyes darting between her own. The look on her face made Lena’s heart pound uncomfortably in her chest, both wary and impatient for what came next.

But she didn’t have to wait long. “I’m in love with you,” Kara said, “I can’t pretend I’m not.”

Lena’s eyes went wide.

“Nothing has to change,” Kara continued, “But I need you to know how I feel when I’m with you.”

Oh, Lena thought, taking a step closer to Kara, so she did realize.

Lena’s hand fluttered up to Kara’s face, cupping the blonde’s cheek as she tensed. Kara’s eyes darted curiously between Lena’s.

Lena smiled softly, drawing a slow smile from Kara’s lips, before Lena tilted up on her toes - pressing a kiss to Kara’s cheek.

Kara responded in kind, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist, bringing her lips to Lena’s cheek in return. “I’ve been in love with you for years,” Lena murmured, as she felt the small puff of breath against her neck before Kara tilted her head back.

“I wondered if this was all in my head,” Kara confessed.

“I wondered if you didn’t realize that this was…”

“Unusual?” Kara laughed.

“Yeah,” Lena grinned. Kara smiled back, and Lena felt her heart swell in the warmth in Kara’s eyes.

“I’d like to kiss you for real now,” Kara said softly.

Lena tilted her head in welcome, as Kara leaned forward.

And finally, their lips met.

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[rafesbowbunny]

𝜗𝜚 mean!rafe loves cockwarming but you're not such a huge fan

c!w; mdni !! mean!rafe, desperate reader, cockwarming obviously tehe, bit of degradation ig?, use of the nickname bunny, dumbification sorta, overstimulation?, creampie, writer doesnt know what they're doing lol. notes; first work !! um i apologise in advance bcs i've just been a tumblr lurker... until now lol. pls leave me feedback!

rafe had been fucking you rough for what felt like hours. you were basically seated on his lap, backup against his chest with his cock deep in your sore wet hole. he was always pretty merciless when you had sex but this? this was just cruel.

after rapidly pounding you with his strong arms holding you up slightly by your ass as you yelped and tried to claw at his flexed bicep, he had let you fall hard onto his lap again, but didn't move.

you could feel his piercing smirk adorning his lips even without facing him. the way you wriggled, trying to gain whatever friction you could again, as you sat there begging to cum made him sooo smug.

you tried to move again, dragging your legs up from being splayed out in front of you to gain some height and fuck yourself on his dick, but he stopped you. grabbing at your hips with a bruising grip, "ah ah, you need to be patient baby..."

you whined at his scolding, the feeling of being so full of cock wasn't enough, you needed to move. your lips were red and swollen from pouting and nipping at them all this time, you grabbed one of his hands that was still on your hip, hoping the desperate touch would convince him to let you have your way.

"sooo needy aren't we bunny? god, dick's got you acting all dumb, huh? just want to be fucked soo bad, don't we?" he teased, his words syrupy. he was torturing you on purpose, having fun with it. he could handle the lack of friction, the way you were desperately clenching around him, your cunt fluttering everytime his chest rose and fell because that was basically the only movement you were getting now.

"rafeee" you whined, eyes closed and eyebrows cinched together as if you were in pain, "please... pleaseplease. i need you to move." he loved the way you whined his name, the way you begged, there was almost nothing you could do to get what you want at this point.

you looked down, a creamy line of arousal gathered around the base of rafe's cock. your breathing going all ragged as rafe ignored you and the sight of his cock so deep in your pussy only made you more wet and desperate.

you tilted your head back, getting all dizzy from the pressure of waiting and the way you were breathing too heavily. "aww, 's my bunny getting flustered and dizzy? this cock got you so good all thoughts are gone baby?" rafe chuckled, his hot breath on your neck making you twitch.

"please rafey it's so deep i need you to fuck me so bad..." you said all breathy, his weakness. you figured you might as well pull out all the stops now. with your head leaning back on his shoulder, you could sort of see his face, his jaw ticking in contemplation as you could feel his dick perk up at your words before. you grinned and continued, "rafeee... it's all i want."

he rolled his head to the side before finally moving his hands, one slid from your hip to the heat fresh and pooling in your lower tummy, finding itself on your clit. you gasped at the touch while his other hand slid under your ass, gesturing you to rise up a little again.

as soon as you did, you could hear a little scoff at the back of your neck before he began thrusting into you again, hard and fast. your loud pornagraphic moans bounced off the walls as he groaned into your neck, both of you really winning in the end when you came simultaniously, rafe then fucking the creampie back into you slowly.

"mmh, such a needy dumb bunny" he'd mumbled, still playing with your clit as he watched your pussy swallow the white liquid.

[retrobutterflies]

Little Dragon | t.n.

Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint

A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.

Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.

It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.

But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired. 

You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.

A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.

You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.

Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.

You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.

"Are you alright?"

His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.

"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."

His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.

"You look cold," he concluded.

"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."

You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.

"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.

"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.

"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."

You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.

"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.

"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.

"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.

"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.

"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.

"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."

"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.

"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.

Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.

"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.

Your insides burned at the nick-name.

"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"

He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.

"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."

The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.

"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.

"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"

His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.

But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.

"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.

"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.

"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"

You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.

"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.

"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.

"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.

"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.

"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"

"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.

He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.

"Theo," your voice turned pleading.

His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.

"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."

Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.

His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.

"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"

You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.

It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.

"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 4)

Word count: 3700

Warnings: pool sex, fingering, vibrating underwear, almost getting caught, think that's it

A/N: guys i finally wrote it omg the day has arrived

It’s been a week since the Halloween party, a week since your best friend’s mom fucked your brains out. 

You wish you could say that you regretted it, but that would be a lie. 

Yet every time you hang out with Nicky, you feel your heart squeeze. It would kill him if he found out, and you knew that you would never be able to tell him. 

But your thoughts still found their way back to the older woman, the way her fingers felt curling inside you, the way she tasted when she was riding your face. 

You weren’t sure when the next time you were going to see her was. School is picking up as you were going into Thanksgiving break soon, and you know Nicky is feeling the stress too. 

But the next Saturday, the weather is lovely and Nicky invites you over for a pool day at his house. It’s the first time the New Jersey winter has climbed into the 70s, and you’re both determined to make the most of it. 

And you’ll get to see Agatha again. 

The thought makes your stomach twist and turn, both with nerves and excitement. 

She had dragged you back upstairs after you made that quip about your lover being just ‘alright’ to Nicky and she had put you in your place. 

Three orgasms later, she had finally let you leave the room to go back downstairs to the party, but after all the guests left and her son had gone to bed, she came into the guest room so you could return the favor. 

The next morning, she was gone from the bed by the time you’d woken up and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though you obviously knew she couldn’t stay. It was risky regardless, having sex with your best friend’s mom with him right down the hall, so there was no need to push it. 

And when you had gone downstairs, Nicky was already there, laughing at your disheveled state. Agatha had given you a heated glance, but that had been it. 

That was the last time you’d spoken to her. 

And now you’re going swimming at their house, where Agatha may or may not be there. 

You hope she will, but you do know that she might be working. 

Just in case, you put on one of your most flattering bikinis, a purple number that leaves little to the imagination. 

It’s a dangerous game to play, especially since Nicky will be there, but you miss the older woman. And you don’t really know where things stand with her, so you figure this will be a great way to find out. 

You throw a towel into a bag with some sunscreen and drive over to their house, your heart rate picking up as you get closer. 

Nicky opens the door. 

“Hey!” He exclaims. “Ready for the first pool day since summer?” 

You step into the house, eyes peeled for his mom. “You know it. It’s been too long. I’ve missed the sun.”

No sign of her. You try your best not to feel too down; you knew her working would be a possibility. But the fresh warm air on their back patio makes you temporarily forget about the older woman and you take a deep breath. 

Nicky disturbs your moment of peace by cannonballing into the pool, splashing you with water. You glare at him, pretending to be mad, before quickly stripping off your clothes and jumping in as well. 

The two of you play around for what seems like forever, and you’ve missed having this much fun with your best friend. With school and work, it seems like the two of you haven’t just hung out in a while, and this was a desperately needed break from all that stress. 

“Finally warm enough for a swim, hm?” You hear a voice ring out from the deck. You whirl around to see Agatha Harkness standing there, regal as ever. She makes your mouth run dry when her eyes shift to you, a brow raising ever slightly at the sight of you in the swim suit. 

“Wanna join?” Nicky asks and playfully flicks water at his mom. She gasps with mock outrage and then laughs. 

“Give me a second to go put on my suit. As long as y/n doesn’t mind if I hop in?” She turns her full attention to you, expectantly waiting for an answer, but your brain has short-circuited at the thought of her in a swimsuit. 

“Oh, yeah, no, that would be fine,” you stammer out and she smirks knowingly. When she goes back inside, Nicky douses your face with water. 

“Dude, what is going on between you and my mom?” He asks, and you choke, spiraling into a coughing fit. 

You’re still struggling to breathe, but you force out: “What do you mean?” Panic grips your heart and you’re so afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“Like, you know, you’re always turning red around her and stuff. Oh my god, do you think she’s hot?” He whispers, eyes widening. 

“What?” You snap, protests locked and loaded on your tongue, but he just laughs. 

“You’re not the first person to think she’s a MILF. I don’t think she’s into girls though,” he says, fake sadness in his voice, and you almost choke again.

If only he knew. 

She sure seemed into girls when her fingers and tongue were buried in your cunt a week ago. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say hastily and duck underwater to hide your burning cheeks. 

When you resurface for air, Agatha is standing there on the deck wearing a one-piece black suit with a low cut revealing quite an eyeful of her magnificent cleavage. You have to clench your teeth together tightly when she gives you a wink before walking down the steps into the water. She lets out an exaggerated moan, surely just to mess with you, at the feel and you have to bite back a whimper at the sound. 

She gets all the way to the ground before she pauses. “Shoot, I was going to bring out some lemonade for everyone. Nicky, would you be a dear and go get it? Maybe some snacks too?” 

Nicky, ever the mama’s boy, obeys without hesitation. He jumps out of the pool, grabs his towel, and hurries into the house. 

Agatha immediately paces on you and you back up until your back hits the wall facing the door, feeling a spark in your stomach at the glint in her eye. 

“Hey,” she whispers when she’s a hair away from you and you can’t stop from looking down at her lips. 

Her hands come to grasp onto your bare waist and you gasp. “Hi,” you croak, your body already leaning into her touch that you’ve sorely missed this week. She pulls you by your hips into a kiss that you quickly pull away from (after giving in for a second or two, of course). “Nicky could come back at any minute,” you hiss and she just chuckles. 

“You didn’t seem too concerned with my son catching us the other night with how loud you were moaning my name,” she teases, dropping her head down to press her lips against the chlorinated skin on your neck. You shudder at the feeling and your head drops back slightly. 

The feeling in your belly stirs when she fits a thigh between your legs. “Agatha,” you whimper and slowly roll your hips against the firm muscle. Your hands come up to trace her biceps and she smirks. She presses harder and your lips part, but then she steps back and removes her leg. 

“Nicky could come back at any minute,” she throws your words back in your face and you groan. 

You chew on your lip and think about it. Pouring lemonade and getting snacks won’t take very long, so it would be better to be careful. 

But like she said, that hasn’t stopped either of you before. So you seductively turn around, rest your arms on the deck, and tilt your head over your shoulder while you sway your ass back and forth. 

She chuckles darkly and in an instant, her front is against your back and her hand dips down around your body to play with the edge of your bottoms. 

“Are you sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?” She asks, voice low in your ear, and you nod eagerly. Her fingers crawl inside your suit and she finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it. 

Your head falls back against hers as you let out a small noise. You’ve missed her hands on you so much. 

She continues her administrations, dipping a finger down every so often to collect wetness from your pussy. Even in the water, she can feel how turned on you’ve become and her teeth graze your earlobe. She keeps drawing out small gasps from your mouth with her movements and she finally has enough of her teasing and slides her middle finger into you. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan, grinding your hips to get her deeper. 

She tuts. “What was that?” 

The words come tumbling out of your mouth. “Fuck, Mommy, please, I need more.” She gives a sound of approval and slides another finger in, curling them perfectly. 

She’s panting open-mouthed against your neck, fucking her two fingers into you so well, when all of a sudden, the sliding glass door opens. Agatha and you both freeze, and your heart pounds. 

“Hey, mom,” Nicky calls, walking out while reading the label on a box of crackers. Agatha gives you a quick thrust with her fingers and you bite your lip before you give yourselves away. “Do you think these are okay? The expiration date was–” He finally looks up to find his mom pressing his best friend against the pool wall. “–what are you guys doing?” 

You feel like you’re going to throw up. 

“Her swimsuit top was getting loose so I was just helping her tie it tighter,” Agatha says behind you, stroking your clit with her thumb, and you tense. You’re not sure you’ve breathed since Nicky walked out. Thankfully, from the way you’re angled and with how far away Nicky is standing, he can’t see Agatha’s hand down the front of your suit. 

He seems to buy it though. “So crackers or no crackers?” 

And you’re finally able to exhale. You can feel the tension literally seep out of your body. 

But Agatha shifts forward so think about it, which forces her fingers in deeper, and you clamp your teeth down so hard on your tongue that you taste blood. 

“You know, I’m getting hungrier, why don’t we make something–” But she cuts off in a gasp, because in the middle of her sentence, you clench your walls around her as payback. “For lunch?” She finishes weakly, but Nicky nods in agreement, none the wiser. “So we’ll get out and get dressed, yeah?” She asks you, and you catch her eye and give your hips a tiny roll. She gives you a warning look and the corners of your mouth tug into a smirk. 

It feels good to gain a bit of leverage over her sometimes.

“Okay, sounds good, I’ll be inside whenever you weirdos decide to come in,” Nicky says, having had enough of whatever you and his mom are doing. 

When the door finally closes, Agatha sinks her teeth into your shoulder and you moan loudly. “That’s for teasing,” she says and pulls her hand out of your cunt. You whine at the emptiness and turn around to face her, aching for release. 

“But–” you start and she splashes you gently to shut you up. 

“Maybe later. But we need to go in now before Nicky actually gets suspicious.” 

You grumble, but you know she has a point, so you begrudgingly get out of the pool, Agatha behind you, and you grab your towel to dry off. As you’re looking through your tote bag that you brought, you realize something. 

“Fuck, I forgot underwear,” you curse, mostly to yourself, but the older woman happens to be right next to you and hears it. 

You know she’s smirking before you even look at her. “You can borrow some of mine,” she says, all sickly sweet, and you just know she’s up to something. 

Once the two of you are sufficiently dry, you follow her back into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. She had told Nicky that she was letting you borrow something and you figured it was going to just be a quick trip. 

Which is unfortunate for you, because you are still dripping. You can feel the mess between your thighs with each step and it’s becoming uncomfortable. 

But you’re good, and you just stand there awkwardly while Agatha roots around in her drawer, shoving aside a multitude of other pairs that you’re sure would work perfectly, until she pulls out a lacy black pair and holds them out to you. 

“Put these on,” she says, grinning wolfishly, and you hesitantly reach out and take them. Just to tease, or at least maybe level the playing field for whatever she has planned, you keep eye contact while you reach behind you and untie your top. 

Her jaw slackens when you finally peel the fabric from your breasts and you can see her hands twitch, like it’s painful for her to not just reach out and touch you. 

And then her lips part when you start to slide your bottoms down and you can feel her eyes burning into you. When they’re around your feet, you kick them at her and she catches them in one hand, staring at them like her brain just shut off. 

“Mom!” Nicky’s voice rings through the heated silence in the room and Agatha shakes out of her daze. 

She fluffs her hair with her hand and throws your suit back to you. “Get dressed and come back downstairs quickly,” she orders, stripping naked and throwing on a crewneck and sweatpants, slipping something you can’t discern from the underwear drawer quickly into her pocket, before you even have a chance to ogle. 

Agatha runs out of the room and you hear her footsteps on the stairs and you turn back to the underwear she gave you. It’s thick and you can tell it is some special pair, but you have no idea what it is. 

So you put on your jean shorts and your t-shirt, comb through your wet hair, and go back downstairs. 

Agatha is helping Nicky make grilled cheeses but they both turn around when they hear you enter the kitchen. 

“There you are,” Nicky comments, while his mom gives you a wink. 

You walk over to them and rest your hands on the counter, observing what they’re doing. “What can I do to help?” 

And that’s when you feel it: vibrations against your clit that have you gasping and doubling over in shock and at the intensity. 

Nicky rushes to your side and cries your name out, but when the rumbling suddenly stops and you’re able to lift your head, you see Agatha wearing a wicked smirk.

The underwear. 

That’s why she wanted you to put them on, so she could tease you right in front of her son without actually risking being caught touching you. The thing she put in h

Fuck. 

“Are you okay?” Nicky asks again, shaking your shoulders. You stand up, instinctively bracing yourself against the countertop just in case she tries to do it again. 

You shoot Agatha a look before answering. “Yeah, sorry, just cramps,” you lie. To his credit, he doesn’t seem to be grossed out, he just helps you over to sit down on the couch. 

“Why don’t you just rest then and let us take care of the food?” He offers sweetly and you give him a smile. 

If only his mother was as nice as him. 

The second Nicky walks away, the vibrations start again and you have to bite down on your finger to keep from moaning. You can feel Agatha’s eyes on you as you start to sweat from how good it feels and your face is burning. 

In typical Agatha fashion, she teases you while she and Nicky finish making lunch by turning it up and then down or making it pulse against your clit. You can feel just how absolutely soaked you are and you squirm back and forth on the couch, silently begging for more. 

“Do you want anything besides the sandwich?” Nicky asks you and you open your mouth to respond but have to instantly snap it shut when Agatha turns it up even more. 

You take a deep breath and try to ignore the buzzing against the most sensitive part of your body. “I’m okay, thanks.” Your voice trembles from the effort of staying composed and you can see Agatha’s shoulders shaking with contained laughter. 

Nicky brings over two plates and sets one down in front of you. He sits in the chair adjacent to the couch while Agatha plops down next to you. 

“You doing okay, hon?” She asks, reaching over to pat your leg and her touch makes you clench around nothing. You dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from grabbing her hand and shoving it down your shorts. 

The teasing is maddening. 

“Yeah, good,” you rasp, glaring at her while simultaneously pleading with your eyes to be let out of your misery. 

It’s like she knows exactly when you’re about to cum because she either stops the vibrations entirely or slows them down to where you can barely feel anything at all. 

You try to focus on eating the grilled cheese, but you can’t stop your hips from undulating, no matter how hard you try. It gets so bad that Agatha throws a blanket over you, muttering something about how cold you look so Nicky doesn’t question it. 

With the extra privacy, you’re free to shift your weight more to angle the vibrations better against your clit. You can feel the rumbles throughout your entire pussy and you can feel your mind slowly losing the ability to think. 

You set down your plate, maybe three bites taken out of the food, and toss the other half of the blanket over Agatha’s legs. Thankfully, Nicky is flipping through the TV channels so he doesn’t notice. 

Agatha watches your face carefully when your hand digs into her thigh through her pants as she turns up the intensity, watching every little twitch of your eyebrows as you try to keep it together. 

And then, she suddenly reaches over under the blanket to cup your pussy and press the crotch of the panties against you hard, and a moan tears its way out of your throat. You have to fake a cough to cover it up, but luckily Nicky doesn’t look over. 

Her hand is gone as soon as it appeared and you’re left rhythmlessly stuttering your hips, frantically chasing the high you so desperately need. 

But it doesn’t come. 

Agatha keeps you on edge for almost twenty minutes, turning it up and down and off completely and then back on, and you’re practically panting into the blanket because you can’t breathe too loudly. 

It’s the sweetest torture one could bear. 

And then finally, finally, Nicky stands up and announces that he has to go to the bathroom. 

The moment he leaves the room, you literally throw yourself into Agatha’s lap, straddling her waist and grinding against her, each movement against her stomach pressing the toy in the underwear harder to your clit. 

“Agatha, Mommy, please,” you gasp against her lips and her fingers make their way down into your shorts. Instead of dipping into the underwear though, they go in-between them and your jeans so she can directly position the piece right where she wants it.

Her other finger fumbles with something in her pocket, the remote, you’re guessing, and you sink your teeth into her neck before the high-pitched whine can escape at the heightened intensity. 

“Better hurry up,” she taunts and you buck your hips at her tone. “You don’t want my son coming back in to find you cumming all over his mommy, do you?” 

You shake your head at the rhetorical question and focus on how the vibrations feel against you. You can feel them throughout your whole body and you’re getting so close. 

“Please, please, I need more,” you beg, having been kept on the edge for so long that you don’t think you can cum from just this. 

But Agatha always knows what you need, even after only spending one night with you. 

She pushes the underwear to the side to slide three fingers into you easily, curves them just right, and that coupled with the vibration still against your clit makes you explode. 

You bite her again to muffle your cries while you grind, dragging your orgasm out as much as you can. 

And then the toilet flushes and you hear the sink running. By the time it turns off, you’ve wiped your sweaty forehead and are sitting back in your normal spot, readjusting the blanket. 

Nicky walks back in just as Agatha pops her fingers into her mouth, sucking the taste of you off. Your body clenches weakly at the sight of that and of course she sees it and smirks. 

“Everything okay in here? Thought I heard something,” Nicky asks. You keep your eyes peeled on the TV even though you can see Agatha’s smile out of the corner of your eye. 

“Just the show,” she says casually and Nicky accepts it, settling back down in the chair. 

Agatha leans closer and chuckles quietly into your ear. “Next time, you need to make less noise.” 

And it’s impossible to miss the way your body shivers at the promise of a next time. 

[primehyuck]

dress

this is the hair, the face, etc

aka Mark thinks you look really pretty tonight (very “only bought this dress so you could take it off” / “can we hear it for the dress” esque )

word count: 3.5k

contents : pretty much pure smut, pussy worship, soft dom mark, oral (f receiving) , body worship - mark thinks you’re REALLY REALLY pretty, mirror sex (kind of), lots of pet names, established relationship, mark seduced me as i was writing this

“Don’t you look pretty?” Mark smirks at you from where he leans against the door frame and you smile softly at him in the mirror, taking off the jewelry you’d worn to dinner with your friends that evening. You place the items gently inside the white vanity he’d had made for you when you moved in together the year before.

“Thanks, baby.” you take him in, fresh out of the shower in sweats and a big t-shirt. He looks too hot for his own good, his hair the longest it had been since you’d met, freshly bleached strands curling over his eyes.

“Did you have fun?” He slinks up behind you, warm fingers toying with the thin strap holding your dress in place, his left hand shutting the top of the vanity before pressing heavy to the front of your hip.

You nod “It was nice to have some girl time, as much as I love spending evenings with the boys.” you scrunch your nose earnestly, thinking of Mark’s best friends who had treated you like family since day one.

“I’m glad, though you should have seen the look on Jisung’s face when he learned you’d be at dinner with your old roommate and he was stuck cooking for the rest of us” he murmurs and you can feel the smile on his face as he rests his cheek on your shoulder. The combination of his warm breath on your neck and thick lashes blinking over your skin makes you shiver “I was sad that I missed you before you left.”

“We ended up going for a cocktail before dinner,” you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair and he lets go of the dress strap to trace up the inside of your arm. Mark turns his head to press his lips to your shoulder, pretty brown eyes blinking at you in the mirror once before skimming down the reflection of your body.

His gentle fingers drifting over your arm make your skin tingle and you can hardly breathe when he grips your bicep firmly, supporting your arm as he kisses over the shape of your shoulder, all the way to your elbow and back up again.

“Is this new?” He mumbles, the hand on your hip moving to tug at the hem of your dress. You nod, and he smiles before guiding your raised arm down to rest at your side, fingers lacing through yours. You watch in the mirror as he drags his nose into the crook of your neck, tilting your head to the side to make space for him there.

“Pretty,” his eyes catch yours in the mirror again.

“You already said that.” you tease weakly, failing to keep your breathing under control.

“My bad,” Mark chuckles quietly, left hand stretching to rub your thigh, no effort needed to hike the short dress up enough to expose your panties “I mean, you look gorgeous. Good enough to eat.”

You're surprised your knees don't buckle when he shifts his hand between your thighs to cup your clothed core.

“You think?” You mumble, turning to face him rather than his reflection. He blinks slowly at you, nodding once before his lips are on yours.

His kiss fills your lungs and you both moan. The fingers that were warming your core finds your shoulder to spin you toward him without loosening his grip on your hand. He presses you against the vanity, free hand finding a home on the back of your neck while he brings your joined fingers down, rubbing over where his cock strains against his pants. Your dress rides up to your hips when he pushes your ass firmly onto the surface of the custom table, lanky fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to let me take you somewhere in this, love showing you off” he mumbles against your lips before trailing his own over your chin and down your throat “somewhere I can fuck you while you're wearing it.” You feel his cock jump at his own words, arching your chest into him when he licks gently over the swell of your breast on display beneath the low cut neck of the dress.

“Anytime,” you gasp, the hand not pressed between your bodies pulling gently at his hair in an effort to bring his mouth to yours again. He complies easily, pushing your intertwined knuckles into your clothed pussy and you feel him rut against your forearm at the damp spot growing there.

“Shit, the thought of me fucking your perfect pussy in public turns you on that much?” He stops kissing you for a second to tease meanly before taking both of his hands away from your body and you have to plant yours on the vanity to stop your head from banging into the mirror behind you.

“I want you to fuck me now” you pout, reaching pathetically for the fabric of his baggy clothes, but he’s just out of reach. You huff at him, quickly going for your own dress.

“Be patient baby, please. You’ve been able to see yourself all night.” he tuts, having to step between your legs to hold your wrists still “let me spend some time with the dress, too.”

You whimper when he drags your hips to the edge of the sleek wood to grind you against him, “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

You take advantage of his hands being on your hips to wrap your fingers through his damp hair, dragging his mouth to yours. Mark’s hands are everywhere; pulling your dress up to your waist, leaving hot prints in the wake of his fingers, gliding over the skin of your thighs before hooking beneath your knees to keep your legs open. When you try to wrap your arms around his neck he easily pulls out of your desperate grasp, but you can see the wanton look in his heavily lidded eyes.

“Gonna make you feel as good as you look,” he rasps and you nod eagerly. His fingers drag over the straps of the dress before deciding against it, leaving your upper body covered “If that's even possible.”

He pulls you off of the vanity and guides you to the bed, keeping your body flush to his until he lays you back onto the mattress. The mirror hanging on the wall above the desk tilts down so you can see your reflection from the edge of mattress, the way Mark had specifically designed it.

“That’s better, want you to watch.” he smiles, glancing behind him to make sure the only part of yourself you can't see is what he's blocking with his own body as he drops to his knees between your legs. He rubs the heel of his palm into your clothed center, fingers digging into your pubic bone while he peppers kisses up your legs. His hand keeps your hips from bucking up when he licks heavily into the crease of your thigh before he moves his palm to press a wet, open mouthed kiss to your underwear. He sucks the fabric between his lips before his strong fingers pull your underwear up tight against your pussy to perfectly outline your already engorged clit and Mark’s cheek rests heavily where his mouth had just been on your thigh.

“Shit, baby.” he groans, stretching the fabric of your underwear in his fist, shifting it side to side and watching your lips move with it “I did this to you?” he asks gruffly, face sliding further up your leg until you can feel his breath on your soaked core.

You choke out a weak affirmation as he releases your panties, moaning when the stretched out fabric sticks to you. Your whole body shudders when he leans forward, nosing over your clit and inhaling deeply, dark lashes fluttering prettily against his cheeks.

“Mark, please-“ you gasp when he opens his mouth fully over you, dragging your panties away from your skin with his teeth and sucking at the ruined fabric.

Sometimes Mark feels a little pathetic between your legs, completely intoxicated, essentially trying to drink the taste of your pussy off of your underwear. The fact that he's so desperate for you, and yet he still has complete control never fails to inflate his ego, and as always it has his dick straining painfully against his sweats.

He moves the limp fabric to the side and uses two eager fingers to pull you apart, exposing your clit and Mark swears he sees it pulse, the idea making pre-cum leak from his dick like a broken faucet.

“Could stare at this pretty pussy all day,” he murmurs, not even looking up at you “but then I wouldn’t be able to taste it.”

You both let out sighs of relief when his tongue finally makes contact, laving over your wet folds. He moves urgently, wanting to touch you everywhere but settling with one hand palming gently over your inner thigh, the other keeping your hole open for his tongue to fuck into. When you open your eyes to look down you see his own closed gently, blissed out as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Your eyes flicker toward the mirror, gaze following the firm circles Mark is tracing into the skin of your thigh, the callouses from hours of guitar make goosebumps rise on your skin. You wish he’d take his shirt off, the black material stretches over his strong shoulders as he moves his mouth over your pussy. You lace your fingers through his blonde waves, his moan vibrating through you when you tug at his scalp. He moves his mouth over you with intention, wetting his chin and nose as he buries into you, never spending too much time in one spot in an effort to spend as long between your legs as possible.

“Fuck, baby, I’m already so close.” you gasp, the few minutes of teasing wound you up like a clock, the gentle flick of his tongue over your clit enough to make your entire body shake. He looks up at you, blonde curls getting caught in his lashes. The deep brown of his hungry eyes is almost enough to make you cum until he suddenly pulls away.

“No, no, no,” you wiggle yourself toward his mouth and he has to close his eyes for a moment to restrain himself, wanting almost nothing more than to make you cum on his tongue over and over and over.

“Needy girl,” he leans away from you and you whine again until you realize it’s to tug his shirt off and toss it to the side. Both hands press back into your legs as soon possible, rubbing over your shins and thumbing into the pit of your knee before gliding up your inner thigh.

“You’re teasing me.” you pant, your own hand threatening to sneak down to rub over your spit soaked clit but he stops you, glaring.

“I don’t think so, baby.” he deadpans “you can make this easy or you can make this hard.”

“I make you hard.” You smirk, attitude overpowering your need to orgasm and Mark tilts his head in surprise.

“You know eating your pretty pussy does more than just make me hard.” He raises an eyebrow, reminding you gently of all the times he’s cum from grinding into the mattress while going down on you “makes me fucking crazy.”

Your breathy laugh turns to a moan when he puts his mouth back on you, nose buried in your skin. He drapes your thighs over his bare shoulders and it takes what feels like less than a minute of his tongue rolling over your clit to get you right back to where you were. You groan angrily when he pulls away again.

“Why?” you can barely get the word out, feeling your legs move up as your boyfriend shrugs beneath them.

“I told you to watch” his arms reach from around the outside of your legs so one hand can push your chin, directing your eyes to the mirror while the other drifts over the soft silk of the dress that might as well be suffocating you. You watch the muscles in his back flex, your toes pointing to dig into his shoulder blades.

He follows your gaze, guiding your leg down onto the mattress and shifting his tosro out of the way so you can see yourself, swollen and wet from the torment of his mouth.

“Tell me what you see.” He commands softly, the hand supporting your leg moves quickly to rub over your soaked center and you blush when you realize you can hear his fingers gliding over you. You both watch the reflection of his middle and ring finger slowly pushing into you. You’re so wrapped up trying to keep your eyes from fluttering shut that you barely notice the way his breathing quickens, mouth dropping open slightly, cock twitching as your pussy sucks his fingers in.

“I see you-“ you begin to choke out but he shakes his head, crooking his fingers up into your g-spot and cutting you off.

“No baby, tell me what you look like.” He turns his head to kiss the thigh still draped over his shoulder, fingers hooking up and dragging over your g-spot at a painfully slow pace.

“I look, fucked,” you moan when he nibbles at the soft skin his lips just passed over “desperate.”

“Hmm, what else?” He dips his head in to press his swollen, pink lips to your clit, smiling when you squeak weakly “tell me what I want to hear, angel.”

“I look,” you whine again, back arching off the mattress when he takes his fingers out of your fluttering walls in favor of rubbing them over your clit, so gently you’re not even sure you’d be able to feel it if you weren’t so worked up “pretty.”

You watch the back of his head nod in agreement, stroking his fingers over your clit in a lazy circle before dipping down into you once and traveling back up.

“That’s right,” He coos, free hand groping at your tits, thumb brushing over your perked nipple as best as he can through the layers covering your upper body “what makes you so fucking pretty?”

“My mouth,” you whimper, relief washing through your body when he keeps his fingers inside of you “my tits,” your hand reaches to cover his and he smiles up at you, expectant eyes waiting for one more answer “my pussy. You make me feel so pretty, Mark.”

His chin and nose are covered in your slick, moaning at the taste when he licks over his lips, forehead falling weakly onto your pubic bone, rubbing his nose against your throbbing clit as he nods in agreement.

“My gorgeous girl, every part of you is too fucking pretty for me” He moves back to face your body again, taking his fingers from your pussy and replacing your knee over his shoulder, reaching up to meet his other hand on your chest. He palms at your breasts through the dress, shoulders breathing heavily beneath your legs while he curses himself for not at least taking your bra off, dying to tug at your nipples beneath the silky fabric. Sometimes his attempts to edge you become self-torturous, but the way your whole body shivers when he rubs his nose into your clit harder makes it worth it.

You test his patience by pushing at his head, trying to get his mouth back where you want it and he concedes, but let’s go of your breasts to traps both wrists in a single hand. His pink tinged cheeks make your heart skip a beat as you watch him rub his face in your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth eagerly before licking back down into your hole.

“Please, please, please,” you beg and he looks up at you with those pretty brown eyes when he hears your teeth chatter, pulling away with a moan that makes your back arch toward his mouth. He drops your wrists, unable to stop himself from palming over his pants, pre-cum forming a wet spot on the crotch almost as soon as he dropped to his knees for you.

“I got you, baby.” His voice is barely audible over the ringing in your ears. He uses the hand that isn’t on his dick to spread you as far apart as his fingers can manage “fuck, look at that pretty clit.” he’s sure of it now, your clit is literally pulsing, body begging for an orgasm that he can’t wait to taste. He glances up at your shivering figure, straps of your dress fallen off either shoulder, chest rising and falling dangerously quick.

A cool blow of air through his pursed lips surprises your system, entire body spasming as your orgasm hits. You think you hear your boyfriend’s “no fucking way” before his tongue starts fucking eagerly into your dripping pussy, pressure from his nose on your clit making sure the orgasm lasts so long you have to push him away.

“That was fucking incredible, I didn’t even touch you” Mark stands, stripping off his pants and forcing himself into you before you have the chance to take a breath.

“Oh my god,” you gasp at the same time he chokes out “so fucking tight”, making quick work in stripping you to rub his hand over your chest. His head falls back, mouth falling open when the aftershocks of your orgasm make you squeeze around him.

“Kiss, please.” you have pins and needles in your fingers when you lift them to his shoulders, pulling him toward you eagerly to catch his mouth. A sturdy hand cups your cheek, kissing you deeply as he begins to move his hips. His tongue is hot and heavy on yours as he fucks into you, catching every short inhale in his mouth. You want to cry when he pulls away, but are quickly overwhelmed by how fucking good he looks.

His strong chin juts out when he stares down to where his cock slides in and out of you with eyes so heavy you’d think they were closed if he didn’t mumble something about “your pretty pussy was made for me, so fucking wet”. His abs are drawn in tight, your arousal shining on the skin of his lower stomach and you reach out to touch him, dragging your fingers over the dark patch of hair growing below his belt line. He slows his assaulting pace to lean into your touch, grabbing your wrist and drawing your slick soaked fingers up his chest and into his mouth, sucking lewdly and shutting his eyes. His hair is a mess thanks to your desperate hands, sweat dripping down the side of his neck.

“So fucking dirty baby, know I'm addicted to the way you taste,” he grunts, dropping your hand in favor of spreading your legs as far as he can “the way you feel.” He slows his hips almost to a stop, dragging his cock out of you intently, listening to the sopping suction sound you make together when he slides back inside just as slow.

“Hear that, pretty baby, how much your pussy needs me?” eyes focused on where the angry, pink head of his cock prods at your entrance “can’t believe you’re real, and you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” you whisper, not trusting your voice “all yours.” his lips pull up smugly, but his eyes shine with adoration as he brings his thumb up to your mouth and watches you eagerly suck on the digit before dragging it down your quivering stomach to land on your clit.

“That’s right,” he can’t help the deep groan that tears from his chest at the look on your face when he starts to rub in smooth circles, your eyes fluttering shut “shit, you’re so fucking pretty. Look at yourself, want you to see what I see.”

He forces your eyes toward the mirror, hips picking up speed again while his thumb stays working over your swollen clit.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum baby. Always make me feel so fucking good.” you moan at his words, thighs clenching around his hips “need you to cum with me, show me that you can take it all.” he practically begs, and you feel white hot pleasure shoot up your spine, the pace of his hips and thumb on your clit working easily with his hot words in your ear.

You make a noise between a moan and a scream, nails leaving indents in his shoulders, grinding your hips up toward his sloppily. His bicep shakes under his weight, fucking into you viciously, eyes focused on the blissed out look on your face that he knows is because of him.

“That’s it, take that fucking cock baby, take it.” all you can hear beneath his words is static sound when you feel him tense before he thrusts into you for a final time.

You can’t even hold your eyes open when he drops to his forearms to grab your flushed cheeks, kissing you lazily, letting you melt into him while he softens inside of you. You hum happily when his soft lips drag over your nose and cheeks, compliments falling on ringing ears and for a second Mark is nervous that he broke you.

“You okay, baby?” he rubs gently at the mascara smeared under your glazed over eyes and you smile softly up at him with a nod

“So good,” you assure him, lifting your neck to kiss him again and he happily obliges, laughing against your lips as you cage him in with your legs when he tries to pull out, murmuring a genuine “don’t go.” that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Not going anywhere, don’t worry.” he promises.

———

masterlist

[vividxpages]

"mine"

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

a/n: yeah..........I have nothing to say to my defense. This is me coping after that photoshoot drop. we've all seen it, you know what's up.

🌹

Your boyfriend had the prettiest moans you ever heard in your life. And god, how fun it was to make him sing.

Right now, you were seated very comfortably, your legs spread and wound tightly around Jacaery's waist as you sat on top of him. The lacy fabric of your bra pressed against his naked chest as you arched against him, gasping as the friction between your bodies hit just right.

The bathrobe he had emerged in from the steamy bathroom pooled around him and his dark hair was soft and silky between your fingers. Your heated breaths mingled ever so often and while he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, you could not decide where you wanted to look first.

It could've been a soft and adoring moment between you and him if you weren't currently chasing another high by getting off on his thigh, moaning shamelessly and unbothered as you allowed him to touch you - touch you everywhere but where he actually wanted to.

"Baby, please-" Jace whined against your throat, his hands trembling as they ran over your sides. His glassy eyes were fixed on your chest for a moment and the way your thighs quivered with the effort you needed to rub your drenched pussy against him, your wetness staining the perfect white briefs he wore. They had been expensive, but now you ruined them with relish, your previous orgasms and his leaking dick staning the fabric.

So far, you had made yourself come twice on Jace's muscular thigh while he had not finished once. You had not granted him the luxury so far and you were way too obsessed with seeing him like this for now, flushed and sweaty all over just for you as he stared at you with enchantment and unshed tears in his eyes.

"Please." He tried again, puppy-like, really, his breath hitching as you tugged at the hair in his nape, not stopping your efforts to come a third, powerful time. "Please, love, let me touch you, let me touch myself, let me do anything-"

You smiled sweetly at him, briefly kissing his pouty mouth before leaning back in his lap, out of reach. At the gentle shake of your head, Jace released a frustrated groan, close to a cute little sob.

"Uh-uh, just a little more, baby boy." You whispered, kissing him again with raw hunger this time, a siren feeding on the love of her captive. As you bit down on his bottom lip, a hiss ecaped his kiss-bruised lips and his hips bucked up into you on their own. "I know you can last a little longer, Jace. You've been teasing me earlier, let me have a little fun here, hm?"

"'havent teased you..." Jace murmured defensively and you cocked an eyebrow at him, grinning knowingly. "H-how?"

"You think I didn't notice?" You whispered and dragged your nails over his smooth chest, delighted at the way his robe kept slipping down his shoulders, exposing his bony shoulders for kisses and bites you loved to give him. "You've walked past me all innocently earlier, just in your briefs about...four times, was it? Were you trying to get your girlfriend's attention? You just could've asked, baby."

Jace whimpered, throwing his head back as your fingers drifted underneath the waistband of his underwear. You could feel the heat of his throbbing dick, neglected and overstimulated at once by your mission to tease the hell out of him.

Just a little more and you'd have him right where you wanted, eager to lay the world and himself at your feet. You knew he would let you do whatever you wanted in this particular state, no matter what you desired, he'd give it to you.

Maybe you'd let him eat you out while you picked out some of the expensive jewelry he got you for the night? Maybe you'd make him change into a new pair of briefs and let him finally jerk himself off while you watched, feasting on the fresh fruit the hotel had brought you? Maybe you'd cut the bullshit and ride him until he didn't remember his own family name anymore?

The ideas were blooming in your hazy mind as you smiled down on the boy beneath you. You two still had a few hours until the big black-tie dinner party with his whole family and you had a lot of patience, knowing it wouldn't be long until the love of your life would start begging.

[meracyn]

ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you're forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is- will you go back to him again?

warnings. cursing, female reader & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? the other 2 parts are up! click these; two, three

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.