#maybe I just need more F/F in that tag and in general

[millermouth]

pretty baby

Summary: When Joel returns home after months away, he doesn't expect to see your face in the church pews. Or rather, your mother’s face, clear as day, stirring up everything he tried to forgive and forget. He tells himself to keep his distance, but something (and he's almost certain it's the devil) keeps putting you in his path, like it was always meant to happen this way.

|| smut MDNI 18+, angst, hurt / comfort, reader is fragile and emotional, reader is having a bit of a hard time, joel is down bad, soft!joel, very flirty!reader, no outbreak, age gap mentioned but not specified, readers mom and dad are addicts, joel might be a baby bit of a perv for this, reader asks joel to be rough, she doesn't know how to accept someone being nice :((( ok smut tags: pinv, f!receiving oral, fingering, kissssinggggg, riding, reader cries during sex, its emotional smut ok, aftercare, reader's mom has a given name for story purposes, reader is often compared to a kitten and 1 reference to a puppy, little bit of daddy kink, lotta praise kink || notes: I uh...whewy is this a doozy. I had so many big emotions writing this which is probably clear. please please please heed the tags!!!! im in love w this and I hope you are too hehe // teased here

The thing about Austin, Texas, is that no matter how loud the city had gotten in recent years, a lot of the outskirts remained the same. 

It didn’t matter how many new buildings there were, or how many Californians moved in claiming they’d discovered it, there were still patches of the town that time hadn’t bothered to touch. Pockets of quiet where the same families had lived for generations, where they still gathered in backyard lawn chairs and strummed guitars as the cicadas screamed. Joel had grown up in one of those towns just outside the hussle of the main city. 

If there was anywhere he felt more like himself than in the rush of construction sites, it was there, on the quiet streets lined with sagging porches and humming box fans.

He was always happiest when he came back. Since his business took off and Sarah headed to university, he was taken far away more months out of the year now. Out of state, out of his rhythm, out of his usual comfort. And it was always the commercial ones that made him feel the most homesick. When he’d take jobs that required him to smile for millionaire owners who thought hard labor was something other people did. And so, on the first Sunday home, he found himself parked outside the old church in town again, pulled in by habit more than faith. He knew he’d see the same faces he’d grown up with, the same mothers and father of friends long gone, all still filing into the pews for their sunday worship.

Joel had never been much for man-made religion, but he respected and even enjoyed the community of it all. The way a small town church could hold a town together. Sarah needed that once, when she was young and angry and he wasn’t enough. Even though she was gone now, off to school with a future and friends, Joel still came. Maybe out of guilt, maybe out of hope.

Walking inside, the morning light bled softly through mosaic windows, washing the rows in color as he settled into a middle pew and exchanged handshakes with the men beside him. The voices were low and familiar, thick with that homely drawl he shared. They asked about business, how Sarah was, and told him how good it was to see him. He always reciprocated the kindness, it was cheerful and grounding all at once. But then, as everyone settled, he noticed someone else ahead. 

Just a few rows ahead, hair piled high and skin glowing in the light from the stained glass, was the outline of your frame. You had a gentle curve of your spine beneath that summery top, and it pulled at something buried in Joel's memory.

And when you turned just slightly towards your neighbor, the air went still around him. You were saying good morning with a sugar sweet smile and a voice that raised the hair on his neck, and his mouth fell open before he could pick it up off the floor.

But no, it wasn’t who he’d thought at first glance. No, it couldn’t be. Carrie would be his age by now, and besides, she never came to this church anyway, never got outside the house these days as far as he knew. But God, the resemblance—the cheekbones, the curve of your mouth, the glint in your eyes—

“You sure do you look like your mama, ya know?” the man beside you said with a grin, leaning towards you like he was sharing a secret.

You turned your head more to respond, and your eyes found Joel’s for a split second over your shoulder, and you winked at him. As if he was in on the secret too. 

“I know,” you said with a laugh, it was all honey and sickly sweet as you brought your hand up to grip the man’s arm, “She really taught me well.”

Joel had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth before a fly could land on his tongue. He was so in awe, so mesmerized by how much you looked like your mother. Carrie had never been the mothering type. She raised hell better than anything else. And if she had loved anything more than herself, it had been the chase. But looking at you now, standing in her place with a wink like that and eyes full of mischief, he felt a strange, uninvited gratitude. Maybe she hadn’t been perfect, but she’d given the world something beautiful. 

He barely registered the rest of the service. The pastor’s sermon faded behind the soft motion of your shoulder blades, the gentle slope of your neck, the way the baby hairs at your nape curled delicately in the summer heat. His thoughts wandered as his eyes followed the way you tilted your head when you listened, the way you shifted to cross your legs, sending that same light across the exposed skin above your knee.

And when the service ended, when the final hymns were sung and the congregation began to move, Joel rose slowly. He was greeted by a woman who hugged him tight and welcomed him home, another who remembered him as a boy with scuffed boots and far too broody for someone so young back then. But his eyes kept drifting. They kept finding you, all smiles and ruby red nails. 

You were standing at the altar now, speaking with the pastor and the sight of you nearly knocked him down. He couldn’t believe your chosen church attire. Cut off shorts that hugged you too well, a clingy tank top that damn near looked painted on, and heels on your feet. The pastor was red in the face, nodding politely as you leaned in close, thanking him for the service, for letting you volunteer at the soup kitchen last Friday. Joel could see the way the men around looked at you, all trying not to stare but by god, staring anyway. He wondered if you'd given any of them the time of day, if any held your interest as you spoke to the oldest man in the room. There was no ring on your finger, no boyfriend that he could see. You didn’t even glance at the youth pastor trying to make eye contact with you from the corner by the communion table.

But you looked at Joel suddenly. Turning away from the pastor with a quiet goodbye, you looked straight at him. And for a second, it wasn’t just Carrie’s features he saw in your face, but something else. Something raw and hollow. A well of grief, or loneliness, or maybe just the exhaustion of being too much in a town that wanted you to be less. And Joel knew the feeling like a bruise under the skin. 

He turned before he could think better of it, pushed through the heavy church doors and stepped into the scorching Texas heat. The sun fell hard against his shoulders as he walked to his truck, sweat already gathering at the back of his neck, and he sat in the driver’s seat with the engine off and his hands tight on the wheel, wondering where in the hell you’d come from.

The good thing was, by the time the AC was blasting in his truck and the open stretch of county roads rolled out before him, he had mostly managed to scrub away the thoughts of you, of how you looked a thim. As if you knew him. As if you knew he could see you for what you really were beneath it all. It had only been a wink, one lasting look, but Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that, in that moment, he’d seen straight through you. Past the lip gloss and the red nails and the way you curled your voice like ribbon. And worse, you’d seen him too. He needed to shake you off. Rid himself of the memories that threatened the corners of his mind, the way they spun backwards like some cheap cinematic flashback in a drama movie, the kind he’d roll his eyes at if it weren’t playing out in his own damn head.

The cicadas buzzed through the open window, his elbow resting along the edge as he turned onto the road that led toward home. His thoughts still wandered, the way they always did when he was behind the wheel without anyone else in the cab, and without meaning to, he found himself giving into the thoughts. Of his life before, when he was just a young man in love with someone.

With your mother. 

HIs first real girlfriend from highschool, the prettiest girl he’d ever known. She had a laugh like summer and eyes that could put any man on their knees. And she was so damn smart back then too, though she never would admit it. She'd always been kind, had been voted Most Likely to Become a Celebrity and Best Smile in their yearbook. She’d even won Cutest Couple, but it hadn’t been with Joel. No, because he’d loved her in a clumsy, boyish way young men do. He’d made her mixtapes and took her on dates sneaking into the movies or the lake. After a while though, she got tired of not being able to be spoiled or driven around. He always knew, though maybe he’d pretend not to, that he wasn’t enough for a girl like Carrie. She needed more, and even back then, Joel had more grit than charm. So she had left him for the golden boy of the football team, and he never could bring himself to hate her for it. The guy was everything he wasn’t, flashy and confident with his Camaro his daddy bought him. But the jock peaked his senior year, and now they lived in a rusted out RV on the far side of town deep in a drugged or drunken state as far as Joel knew.

And he hadn’t done that much better. Sure, he stayed away from the hard stuff, but he was the senior with a baby on his arm by the time graduation came around. He had found Sarah’s mom not long after the breakup with Carrie, and it felt like love for long enough. Even got married. And then divorced. And then left high and dry with a baby to look after. And Carrie and her washed up football star were still getting high every night, drinking their life away while he carried on.

Life was funny like that. In the end, it never mattered if you’d won Best Smile or Most Likely to Succeed, sometimes the one who burned the brightest burned out first while everyone else just kept…living.

He eased his foot off the gas now, rolling into the familiar gas station with the faded Coke mural across the cracked brick wall. He hadn’t thought about any of this in a long time, not with the ache in his chest blooming deep and familiar. But maybe that was what seeing you had done, like it had stirred something that had been sleeping just fine until you looked over your shoulder at him. 

He wondered if he was too deep in his head, imagining things as he cut the engine and looked towards the door of the storefront.

Because you were there, standing outside the door to the gas station. How the hell did you end up here?

Your heels were off and dangling from your hand, the late sun casting your bare legs in gold as you leaned a little too close to a man outside the gas station entrance. Joel recognized him as the one who said you looked so much like your mom at the church. And it looked like you were trying to talk him into something, the way your head tilted up, eyes wide and lashes slow to blink, your hand brushing his arm like you knew exactly how to play your part. Joel didn’t need to hear the words to know the rhythm of the conversation. 

He got out of the truck and shut the door loud enough for you to look over. When the guy turned, your hand pressed back against his chest like a quiet command. Eyes back on me. Joel didn’t linger, he just pushed through the door, the bells overhead jangling like wind chimes, and didn’t bother browsing. Straight to the back, cold shelf, six-pack of Miller Lite. He paid with cash, gave the man behind the counter a polite nod, and was turning to leave when he heard the muffled conversation outside turning louder, the heat of raised voices.

He caught a flash of your face between the cigarette posters taped to the window. Your expression had changed, all softness gone, replaced by something scornful and mean, your mouth tight and drawn. And as he stepped back outside with his fingers looped in the pack of beer, the volume shot up tenfold. 

“—not worth a fuckin’ thing if you’re just gonna act like a goddamn tease,” the man barked, voice booming and angry, “Got your mama’s reputation, but not her guts, huh?”

Joel didn’t raise his voice as he approached, only walked up slow and heavy, making his presence known. Your eyes found him over the man’s shoulder almost immediately. 

“That’s enough,” Joel said, voice calm as stone. “Time to head on.”

The man turned, gave him a once over and scoffed somewhere between annoyed and amused. “You her daddy or somethin’?” he asked, squinting into the sun, lips curling with a smirk. “Or just another sucker she’s playin’ for free shit?”

Joel didn’t flinch. “I said that’s enough. Get outta here.”

The man snorted. “Jesus, relax.” He held up his hands, backing away a step. “Mind your own business, man. She came up to me.”

Joel took a half step forward, not aggressive but assertive enough to be intimidating. He knew could rattle people without raising his voice with that burly, off putting kind of presence he carried whether he liked it or not.

For a second, the guy stood there like he might say more. Then he shrugged, the bravado wearing thin. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Ain’t worth the price of a bale of hay.”

Joel watched him go before turning back to you. “You alright?”

You nodded, lips pressed tight before you exhaled, shaking your head with a forced little laugh. “Real charmin', ain’t they?” you said. 

Joel hesitated, shifting the weight of the beer in his hand as his gaze flickered around the nearly empty lot. “What’re you doin’ out here anyway?”

You squinted at him in the lowering light, like you were trying to decide how much to say. “Lookin’ for someone to buy me a pack.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed back on you, “Not old enough to buy your own?”

That made you snort. “I turned twenty-one a long, long time ago,” you said, a little theatrical. “I just don’t got the cash or my ID. Left it at home.”

Joel tried to chuckle, but it caught in his throat. The guilt hit fast and hot, low in his gut. Christ. What if you weren’t? What if he’d been sitting in that church, eyeing someone who hadn’t even aged into the beer she was asking for now? 

His gaze dropped to the pavement as he exhaled, glancing back at his truck. “You want one of mine?”

You raised your brows. “Oh, and what’s the price, huh?”

Joel just shook his head, “Ain’t like that. S’just a bad side of town. Wouldn’t feel right leavin’ you out here, should get you home.”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Joel weighed his options. He knew he wasn’t going to leave you here, all bare feet and scraped knees, your hair falling out of the clip and lipstick faded. But he knew if he did what he really wanted, it would be toeing a line he wasn’t sure he had any business getting near, let alone crossing. You were too young—a complete stranger and yet so familiar to him. He should’ve just offered you a cab or pointed you towards someone else’s door, but there was something in your eyes again as he looked back at you. Something there that kept him from walking away. It wasn’t… want, not even need. Just an emptiness. Something cracked and quiet and too close to what he’d seen in his own rearview mirror more than once. Something that made you so different from your mother. 

“Then you can…you can come to mine,” he said softly. “Just for a drink. Just so I know you’re alright. Then we’ll talk about gettin’ you home.”

You didn’t answer right away, only watched him. He watched you back, saw how your eyes roamed over his broad shoulders in the late sunlight all the way down to his work boots, your tongue dipping out unconsciously to wet your lip before looking back in his eyes. Then finally, you gave the faintest nod, your voice low as you said, “Alright then. But only 'cause you asked nice.”

And Joel, gentleman to the bone, just walked you to his passenger door, held it open and said, “C’mon.”

The drive to his house wasn’t long, just a handful of turns and wide stretches of road that cut through dry fields and sleepy oak trees, but time seemed to drag, honey thick and viscous, like the heat still clinging to the asphalt. The air smelled of dust and engine grease and the faint sweetness of your perfume, something heady and cheap. The sun had dropped low behind the hills, casting the truck’s cabin in amber. Every so often, light spilled through your window and painted your thighs gold.

Joel had trouble keeping his eyes on the road. You had your feet propped on his side mirror, your red-painted toes catching the breeze, one ankle crossed over the other like you hadn’t a care in the world. When you cracked open the beer with a soft hiss, brought the rim to your mouth and drank slowly, he had to remind himself to breathe. The bottle looked big in your delicate hand, the polish on your nails glossy and the same shade as your toes. The same color as every warning sign he should be paying attention to.

You let your hair down halfway through the drive. The clip snapped off with a little flick of your fingers and your hair fell loose around your shoulders, catching in the wind pouring through the open windows. It whipped wild and free, strands of it drifting across the center console, brushing his arm. 

Eventually, you set the bottle down in the cupholder and pulled your feet back to the floor. You sighed and dragged your nails up the length of your bare thighs, mussed your hair again like you were trying to look casual. Then you turned to look at him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and lazy like syrup, “for all this.”

“No problem,” Joel replied, trying to keep his tone even, his eyes on the road.

“It’s just…” You glanced out the window, then back at him. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really alright,” he said again, a polite smile on his face as he leaned on his fist in the window.

You were batting your lashes at him now, slow and calculated. He recognized it as the same look you’d given that man outside the gas station, turning on whatever switch you had to melt men in your hands. And soon enough, your own manicured hand was sliding across the console and brushed his thigh, red nails bright against his faded blue jeans.

“I just really wanna thank you proper,” you said, your voice suddenly low like smoke curling through the cab.

Joel went still, his one hand gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Oh, darlin’, I don’t—”

“It’s just," you cut him off, "I’ve had such a long day,” and your hand began to move, stroking higher, your touch light but confident. “And you were so sweet to offer me booze and a ride…”

Your fingers found the edge of his belt, the cold metal of the buckle, and that was enough. Joel flinched, and he caught your hand firmly before gently placing it back in your own lap.

“That ain’t what this is, hon.”

You blinked and leaned away, your head ticking back like you’d been slapped. A grimace twisted your lips, one brow arching in wounded surprise.

“What, you don’t want me?”

Joel could barely keep the wheel steady. You said it like he’d insulted you and your grandmother all in one breath. As if the thought of you coming on to him was the most ridiculous thing he could’ve imagined.

“It’s not—” he said, heat crawling up the back of his neck. “I just—this ain’t…I don’t… It ain’t about that. I’m not doin’ this for any kind of… payback. I don’t want nothin’. Don’t need nothin’.”

You crossed your arms tight over your chest and leaned against the seat stiffly.

“I just thought…” You said quietly, beaten down, defeated, wounded, “You know. You bought me beer. You’re givin’ me a ride. Not like most guys do that kinda thing for free.”

Joel dared a glance at you, but your face had turned away from him, looking out into the darkening neighborhood around you. 

Something curled in his chest then, a slow, boiling heat that moved up his spine and settled sharp in his ribs. Anger, red and searing, but not at you. Not even close. It was for the men who came before, the ones who’d taught you that kindness was a transaction, that safety was something you had to pay for with your body. That you should expect to pay, just for needing something.

He pressed his lips together, eyes back on the road, knuckles whitening on the wheel as the sun bled out over the hills.

“No one ever done somethin’ for you just to be decent?” he asked quietly.

You huffed in annoyance and didn't answer him. 

You seemed to have relaxed a fraction since the car ride over, Joel now beside you on the porch in his rocking chair. He strummed his guitar every now and then, foot ticking to the beat in his head. You had taken his flannel that had been draped behind the back of your chair and pulled it around your shoulders, even though the night was tepid and still. The porch light buzzed above you, casting everything in a yellow hue while the world around you began to quiet. Somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked and cicadas had started to hum low, almost lazily, as if even they were winding down.

You were in the chair beside him, your knees drawn in close, beer bottle in hand as you took slow, thoughtful sips. You looked at your toes a lot, where they curled under you, chipped polish catching what little light the porch offered. Every now and then, your cheek would rest against your knees, eyes drifting to him or across the lawn or up to the sky.

Joel didn’t say much, just enjoyed the quiet evening with the beer sweating in his hand between strums. His gaze moved over the yard, the porch rail, the stretch of gravel drive beyond the gate. He liked this, the stillness, the quiet. He’d even venture far enough to say he liked your company too. 

“It’s so nice out here,” you murmured.

He hummed in agreement, not looking over.

“Peaceful.”

Joel paused his playing and took a sip. “That’s the idea.”

You tilted your head back, hair falling behind you as you looked up into the sky, now washed in that rich, late-summer indigo. A few stars had begun to blink through the haze, faint and patient, waiting their turn. Your lashes caught the porch light when you blinked, and Joel had to look away. His fingers found the guitar strings again, plucking lightly.

You spoke again, quieter now. “You always sit out here at night?”

“When I can.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

He nodded, eyes on your shadowed features, “Especially then.”

You were looking back at him, something gentle in your eyes. Not quite searching, not quite curious. Just... seeing him. He didn’t get that often. You smiled to yourself and let your legs unfold and slid upright in your seat, shifting to face him more. The porch creaked gently under the movement, boards worn smooth from years of foot traffic and hot sun. You leaned over and set your empty beer bottle on the table between you, fingers brushing the edge of his side of the table. 

“Empty?” Joel asked.

You nodded, quiet, almost sheepish.

He set down his old guitar and stood, “I’ll go grab you ano—”

“I’ll come with you,” you said, almost too quickly. “If that’s okay.”

He hesitated, looked at you a little longer than he probably should have, but he nodded.

He opened the front door and held it for you, and you stepped through, bare feet soft against the threshold, the screen slapping gently shut behind.

Joel followed, heart ticking a little louder now with that strange, prickling feeling of someone else walking through his space crawling up the back of his neck. His house had grown quieter over the years, the corners taken over by clutter and dust, a man’s house through and through. Photos still lined the walls—Sarah’s drawings, her soccer trophies, a lopsided art project she made in elementary school that he could never quite bring himself to put away. There were old horse paintings on the walls too and a chipped mug still drying by the sink, the faint scent of wood shavings from replacing the cabinets a few months back. 

He moved to the fridge, grateful for the small excuse to make himself busy. The cool air met his face in relief as he reached for two more beers.

“You have a daughter?” you asked, your voice gentler now. He peeked over the fridge door to see you standing by the entry table, holding a photo of him and Sarah at a soccer game. He knew the one, it was when she’d won her first trophy, his arm around her neck in pride, both of them wearing winning smiles. He’d been so proud, so happy to see her so happy. 

He shut the fridge with a grunt, moving across the kitchen back to you. “Yeah, she’s in school now. All the way at UCB.”

You smiled faintly, still looking at the picture. “Smart girl.”

“Don’t I know it.” The corner of his mouth lifted despite himself and he held the bottle out to you.

You took it slowly, fingers brushing his as you wrapped your hand around the neck. He caught the movement of your eyes then as they flickered down to his left hand, to the bare stretch of skin where a ring might’ve sat. You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t ask.

But you set the bottle down then on the entry table, and Joel didn’t care if it left a moisture stain, not with the way something had changed in your expression. 

“You never told me your name,” you said softly, stepping in closer, your hands coming up to press gently against his chest. His breath stuttered, caught somewhere between his ribs and throat.

“I—” he started, voice catching, and, clearing his throat, said: “It–it’s Joel.”

You smiled at that, eyes flicking up to his again. “Joel.” You tried it once, rolling your tongue around with it. He didn’t let himself think too hard about how right it sounded in your mouth.

Your fingers spread wide as they smoothed over his shirt, slow and certain, like you were learning him by feel. Joel put his beer down and his hands came up, cold with condensation and grasping lightly at your wrists, stopping their slow climb just before his collarbone. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, voice low. That ain't what this is.

“I know you did,” you said. “But… you’re just so…” you shook your head, tongue dipping out to moisten your bottom lip before tugging it beneath your teeth. He watched, transfixed, blood rushing in a low roar through his veins, dragging all his sense straight down with it.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, Joel,” you said softly, pushing up on to your toes, still barefoot and so god damn warm on him. Joel held his breath as your lips pushed against his jaw, through the thick scruff of his beard, and suddenly there was no more blood in his head, in his ears, in the rest of his body. It all rushed south. 

“Darlin’, please,” he begged, shutting his eyes tightly, gathering his wits, “I don’t…I don’t think it’s a good idea,”

Because he knew your mother. Because he’d loved her once, and that alone should’ve been enough to stop him. Because he saw you in church today and let his eyes linger too long, let his thoughts stray where they shouldn’t, let the devil lean in close and whisper. And God help him, he listened.

Because it was the devil, he was sure of it, who’d set you in his path. Not fate or chance or any hope of angels. The devil, grinning and cruel, who laid you out like temptation on a Sunday afternoon.

And even when he tried to ignore that pull, tried to quiet the ache, to drive home and forget the way you looked at him in that pew, there you were again laid out in his path a second time at the station. 

And maybe it was sin, or weakness, or something older than both, but part of him wanted to be the man who filled the ache he saw in you.

Because he’d seen the hollowness in your eyes, the sadness, the loneliness. And right now you were peppering kisses to his jaw, his neck, not listening to a word he was saying. He dropped one of his hands from your wrists, and you took that as some sort of consent to move in, but he stopped you. He pushed his hand into your hair, from your jaw to your ear to card his fingers through your locks, tangled and wind blown now, and latched his fingers at the nape of your neck.

You gasped in his hold, lips wet and parted, looking so goddamn tempting it made his teeth ache. But he held you there, held them away from his reach, scruffing your neck like a kitten too wild with need, your fingers clawing at his shirt, delicate and desperate.

“It ain’t right, darlin’,” he rasped, voice raw.

You whined softly, hips tilting toward him.

“If I do this,” he said, “there ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me from keepin’ you for myself. And that ain't fair. For you, for the boys your age.” 

“Don’t want them,” you breathed, “Want you,” you breathed, “Keep me, please.”

He groaned, low and pained, nose brushing your jaw, his mouth close enough to nearly taste the salt of your skin. Your hands curled tighter into his chest, and he felt you trying to close the distance, inch by inch, but he kept you in place. Far enough to keep himself from sealing your fate in him.

“Hurt me, Joel,” you whispered. “Please.”

That snapped him out of his reverie faster than a bucket of ice water.

His eyes narrowed, brows knitting as he looked at you. He let go of your hair, letting you fall away from him. You stumbled a little, hands dropping from his chest, your own brow furrowing in confusion.

“No,” he shook his head.

But you didn’t stay gone, you were clambering back to him, those kitten hands still needy, clawing and wanting. Your eyes were wild and shining now, lips pressed into a deep line. One hand grabbed his wrist while the other curled around his shoulder, anchoring you to him.

You pushed his hand under the curve of your jaw, “I know you want me,” you begged, eyes burning, lips parting now, “Please, Joel, I’ll be good, I’ll be whatever you want, just please…touch me, hurt me.”

Joel tried to pull away, trying to find the part of himself that still had a grip on this, but you were already kissing him, hot and frantic as you licked the slant of his mouth, hand threading into his thick hair. You clutched at him with such force, as if he might vanish if you didn’t cling to him with everything you had.

He didn’t mean to kiss you back, but he couldn’t help himself. A sound left him as your tongue pushed past his lips, low and guttural and equal in fervor, pulling you into him. He hoisted you up into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he took hold of you. He was losing this fight, losing his grip on the lie that he could be better, that he could say no, that he could walk away from this and still call himself a good man. That he wasn’t some pervert with a younger girl. He wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t—

Your tongues slid against one another, filling the desperate space between your mouths, teeth colliding, your entire body shaking against his. He was overwhelmed with the taste of you, the taste of his beer in your mouth, the warmth of it all. How fucking alive and needy you felt in his arms.

He barely remembered reaching the couch, just that he had you under him, laid out across the cushions like some sort of fever dream. He felt like he was eighteen again, desperate in his ache to have you. Your legs pulled him closer, your hands clawing at his shoulders, his neck, digging into his jaw like you needed him closer.

You arched beneath him, gasping, fingers clutching his shirt at his back.

“More,” you whispered, nearly sobbing it. “Please, Joel—please—I can take it—”

He caught your wrists in his hands, holding them down on either side of your head, not rough, but firm.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he rasped, breathless. “I’m not—I don’t want that—”

“But I do,” you cried, your voice cracking.

Joel stared down at you, chest heaving, and something twisted in him then. A wave of grief, of helplessness, of understanding he didn’t want. You weren’t playing, this wasn’t a game. This wasn’t kink or curiosity or seduction. This was a wound, deep and aching in its bleeding core.

“Baby,” he said softly, “Look at me,”

You paused, breath hitching, chest rising and falling as you looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears. It made his heart cleave in two, the way you looked at him like you didn’t know any other way to be loved. That it could be something else but violent.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

You looked away, eyes blinking hard. Your mouth trembled like you were about to speak, but the words didn’t come. You just shook your head, like you didn’t know either.

He let go of your wrists slowly, brushing his thumb across the inside of your arm, gentle now. Still between your thighs, but the fire had dimmed into something sad and raw.

“You want me to keep you?” he asked quietly, trying to bring you back. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

You looked back up at him then, eyes shining, cheeks wet. You nodded, quick and desperate like your whole body needed to say yes.

“Then we’re gonna do it my way,” he said, wiping your cheeks, “Alright? Ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m gonna show you.”

“Show me?” you echoed, voice small, cracking right down the middle.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured, petting your hair back from your face, his hand cradling the back of your skull. “Show you how good it can be.”

“Okay,” you whispered. He brushed his lips against your eyes, collecting your tears, kissing your lips again gently. 

“Gonna be a good listener too?” he asked against them.

You nodded, small and shaky. He could see how tightly your eyes were shut, how your lips trembled beneath his.

You threaded your hands back into his hair, tugging him close again, your mouth open, warm with tears and want, nibbling softly at his lower lip as you kissed him, tasting like salt and surrender.

“Such a pretty thing,” Joel murmured, pulling back just enough to take you in. He sat back on his haunches, hands gliding down the length of your sides, his palms broad and steady. He couldn’t help but admire how good you looked beneath him.

“Gonna take this off, okay?” he whispered, and you nodded as he pinched the hem of your skin tight tank top, peeling it up, revealing more and more of you to the quiet room. He did the same with his own shirt, tossing both pieces aside, not caring where they landed.

Your hands found his chest instantly, fingertips diving into the thick, wiry hair there. Your skin was so soft against his, so warm and open. He shivered.

“You’re so handsome, Joel,” you whispered.

He let out a breath of disbelief, smiling faintly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He bent to kiss you again, slower now, deeper. His tongue slipped past your lips, mapping the shape of your mouth, memorizing it. He licked every part he could reach, wanting more and more. Then his mouth began to drift, trailing wet, reverent kisses down the line of your jaw, along your throat, until he reached the edge of your bra. Red, like your nails and your faded lipstick. He wondered briefly if it was your favorite color. 

His fingers found the straps, easing them down your shoulders with aching care. He watched your eyes as he did it, saw the way your breath deepened and your pupils darkened, your lips parting as you panted. He pulled the cups down, slow and steady, until your breasts spilled free.

“Look at you,” he said, more to himself, and then he was lowering his mouth, pulling one nipple between his lips, tugging gently with his teeth.

Your jaw dropped, a quiet sound catching in your throat as your hands flew to his hair, holding him there. Your eyes had gone heavy-lidded as you watched him.

“Oh,” you breathed.

Joel groaned softly at the sound, the vibrations humming through his chest. He suckled you gently, unhurried and savoring and letting the soft weight of your breast fill his mouth as his tongue swirled lazy circles over the sensitive peak. 

He moved to the other, brushing the soft underside with his nose before taking you in, mouthing at the tender skin with a kind of need he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. You smelled like salt and that sickly sweet perfume, like a summer night. His palm smoothed up your side, fingertips brushing the swell of your ribs, holding the shape of you close.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” he murmured between kisses, letting his mouth drag up the center of your chest.

You nodded, breath shuddering as your hands traveled his body, delicate fingers feeling his shoulders, his arms, his wrists and fingers.

“I like it when you talk,” you whispered. “You have a nice voice.”

He huffed a breath against your sternum. “That so?”

You nodded again, eyes still hooded low and pupils blown wide as he looked at you.

“Mhm, makes me feel…” you trailed off.

“How do you feel, baby? Tell me,” he urged softly.

“Feel good, feel…safe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel blinked, that word doing more to him than anything else you could’ve said. It rooted him to you, to the moment. It kept him in the soft curve of your hip beneath his palm, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks as you blinked at him.

He smiled at you lightly, kissing down your belly now, your skin trembling as he descended your body. “That’s good, baby,” he assured you, tongue dipping into your navel, making you giggle. He would keep that sound in the back of his head for safe keeping, remember it for days after.

When he reached the waistband of your shorts, he looked up at you, hand already undoing the buckle. You squirmed, fingers flying to help.

“Easy,” he ground out, voice like gravel, a teased warning. You huffed but obeyed, hands retreating to trace over his knuckles as he dragged the zipper down. He kissed between the open denim, right where the little bow on your panties peeked out. That single spot made his mouth water. If he could unhinge his jaw, he’d have swallowed you whole.

He shifted down more, his shoulders bumping your thighs, pulling your shorts down. He kneeled over the side of the sofa to give you room and in one slow, reverent movement, he left you bare beneath him.

He groaned out a sound from deep in his throat before he could stop himself.

“Christ, baby,”

You smiled bashfully at him, your finger going to your mouth, holding your nail between your teeth as your knees bumped together. Your glistening puffy lips pushed together between your legs, until he gently nudged them apart, opening you. He swore he would’ve fallen to his knees if he wasn’t already there.

“Fuck,” he said, kissing the skin of your knee, your inner thigh, leaning his cheek against it.

His fingers came up, pressing into the apex of your thighs, collecting your arousal and spreading it. You gasped something blasphemous as he touched you, as he let his finger gently circle your shining little clit. He felt like he was drooling, his jaw slackening as he watched his fingers play with you. You looked so warm and wet and inviting, clenching and pulsing, needing to be filled.

“Joel—” you begged.

“I know,” he cooed, his eyes, black as yours, finding your gaze, “I know,”

You moaned and squirmed again, and he pulled his hand away to taste you even as you whined at the loss. His eyes rolled back at the taste of you, hunger flashing hot through his body. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He dove into you, head first, tongue hungry, all need and no hesitation. He ate you with slow, dragging strokes, his tongue flattened and curling to catch every drop of you. Your back arched in a perfect curve, your soaked pussy covering his face. He moaned against you, and you answered with breathy little sounds, each one sweeter than the last, like music pressed into his skin.

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty, honey,” he mumbled into your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently.

“Ah—!” you gasped, one hand fisting in his hair. He moved to bring his fingers up, prodding you with just one. He slid it in with ease, feeling you squeeze around him with a hiss.

“Oh my—” your eyes rolled back as he looked up at you, “You’re so—so thick,” 

“S’only one finger, baby,” he chuckled, kissing the skin of your thigh, “How we ever gonna get my cock in you, huh?”

“I can take it, I can take it,” you chanted, “want more, Joel, more!” 

“What’d I say about doin’ this my way?” he muttered, kissing your hipbone. “Gotta take my time, baby. Gotta open her up for me real gentle. You gonna let me?”

You nodded like your life depended on it.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, voice breaking on the last word as your whole body shivered beneath him.

And fuck, he was aching now. His cock heavy and stiff in his jeans, throbbing at the sight of you spread out and pliant—so ready, so damn pretty, and all his.

His mouth found you again, letting his teeth graze your clit as he slid in a second finger. His eyes never left your face. He watched as sweat beaded at your temples, your mouth parted in a perfect, wet little “o” as you watched him through heavy lids.

You clenched around him, your pussy fluttering as he felt your walls pulse and draw him deeper. He moaned into you, licking firmly, then suckling your clit between his lips, rolling it steadily with his tongue. Your head flew back, the long line of your throat catching in the light, letting out the prettiest yelp of pleasure he might’ve ever heard in his life.

“Oh fuck!” you cried, thighs trembling as you came hard around his fingers. He kept going, groaning against you, taking in every last second of it like it was the first breath after drowning.

When you came back down to earth, gulping in gasps of air, he was still kissing your clit, gentler now. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, careful not to jolt you.

You reached for him with both hands, cupping his face, your nails digging into the scruff at his jaw, “C’mere,” you said softly. He followed you, letting you pull him up and kissed you hard. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself as his swollen lips and tongue claimed you there. 

“Are you going to fuck me, Joel?” you asked, a little drunk on pleasure. 

“That what you want?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Please. I need it.”

“Okay, baby,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “Anything for my good girl.”

He stood up, pushed his jeans down his thighs, the denim stiff and dragging, and finally let himself breathe. No boxers. Just him, thick and aching and already leaking a pearl of arousal for you. He caught the way your eyes dropped to it, wide and wonder-filled, the way your breath filling your lungs in a little gasp.

You reached for him, helping him pull down the denim, your fingers finding the length of him immediately, panting like a puppy for him. You leaned up, only wrapping your delicate little fingers around him, that heartbreaker red glistening in the low light of the evening. You tilted your head up at him.

“He’s so pretty, Joel,” you said.

Joel’s stomach flipped at both your words and the contact of your hand moving to brush your thumb over the precum at his tip. He hissed between his teeth, watching your fingers curl around him, barely able to meet at the underside. That sight alone nearly undid him.

His hips twitched in your touch. He reached for your face, thumb swiping along your lower lip. You licked his digit without hesitation, parting your mouth in invitation. He pressed the pad of it against your tongue, slow and firm, pushing until the bend of his hand sat at the corner of your mouth and his fingers cupped the curve of your cheek. Your tongue fluttered, and he felt the moment you almost gagged, throat constricting just enough to make his eyes darken.

He pulled back with a soft hum, dragging his thumb across your lips, spreading your spit there like gloss.

“Think you can take it?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, lifting your hand to hold his palm to your mouth, nuzzling against him like a kitten again. Tamer now, domesticated.

Your eyes dropped back to his cock, mouth parted and inching toward him with intent, but he caught your scalp in one large palm, tightening just enough to hold your attention.

“Uh-uh,” he tutted. “Not today.”

“But–”

“Don’t start, baby,” he warned, voice like gravel. “Not if you want me to last long enough to fuck you proper. Need to be inside you, need to know how that sweet little pussy feels wrapped around me.”

You kissed the tip of his cock anyway, disobedient little thing, looking at him from under your lashes. It made his vision fuzzy around the edges, melting the shred of control he felt.

He groaned, remembering himself, and sat on the couch in one fluid motion, pulling you into his lap. You squealed, giggling breathlessly at the motion, but he had you steady between the breadth of his hands. His cock throbbed beneath you, so hard it almost hurt, balls drawn tight from how long he’d been aching for you. 

He smiled, nuzzling his nose beneath your jaw until you turned to kiss him, lips meeting his slow and deep, your mouth warm and wanting. He guided you lower, your hand wrapping around him again. He groaned at the feel of it, his cock heavy and aching as it notched at your entrance, arousal already dripping around the head of him.

“Gonna take all of me?” he rasped, voice rough with restraint. “Gonna make me proud, baby?”

“Yes, Joel… yes,” you whispered, eyes squeezed tight as you began to sink down on him.

His palm found your cheek, thumb stroking lightly. “Look at me,” he said, breathless, “open those pretty eyes… lemme see ‘em.”

You did. And when your gaze met his, he felt his control fray. You looked so undone, lips parted, brows drawn, tears threatening from the stretch of him inside you. He moaned, the sound caught low in his throat, as you sank down another inch, and then another. Your thighs trembled against his sides, hands clutching his shoulders, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you. He could hardly breathe as he watched you take all of him. And when you finally seated yourself all the way, your ass resting against his thighs, Joel’s jaw slackened in ecstasy.

You felt like heaven and sin all at once, velvet and silk and so god damn warm. 

“Oh, baby,” he exhaled, kissing the corner of your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that. So good. So tight around me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your arms wrapping around his neck as you clung to him, your chest pressed flush to his. Joel brought his chin to rest between the soft weight of your breasts, brushing his lips along your jaw as you shifted against him. You whined, gasping at the feeling of him opening you.

“I know, baby, I know.” he soothed, “Don’t move just yet—gotta let yourself adjust. Gotta take it slow.”

“But I wanna,” you whined petulantly, a bratty little sound as your hips rolled, slick and insistent, breath warm on his neck.

He wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you in tighter, his voice slipping lower.

“Told me you’d be a good listener, didn’t you?” he murmured, “So listen, baby.”

Then, as if he’d torn free from whatever leash he thought he had on himself, letting that buried, wanton part of him take over, he added—

“Listen to daddy.”

You froze for half a second, and so did he.

Your breath caught, his grip tightened.

And then your hips rolled again, slower this time, steadier, your voice a little dazed.

“Yes, I will, I’ll be good,”

Joel sighed in relief, heart still punching his ribs from the inside.

“Yeah?” he asked, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Need daddy to take care of you, huh? That all you wanted, sweet baby?”

You whimpered, nodding into the side of his neck, and he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him as you clenched around him again.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, holding your hips down so you couldn’t move, keeping you filled to the brim. “That’s it honey, I know, just needed to filled up and taken care of, like a good little girl.”

You were panting above him, your thighs slick with arousal and anticipation. Joel kissed your collarbone, your jaw, your cheek—murmuring quiet, dirty little things between each one as you clenched around him.

“You ready, honey?” he whispered against your ear.

“Yes,” you sighed dreamily.

“Yes?” he asked with a crooked smile. He felt one spread on your lips against his shoulder, and you turned to bite his earlobe.

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, and the words hit him like a spark to dry kindling, skin lighting up in goosebumps, cock jumping inside you as his blood rushed hot and fast.

“Atta girl,” he said, lifting you slightly, just enough to slide out an inch, then dropped you back onto him. The sound you made was sharp and breathless, like the air had been knocked clean from your lungs. Joel pulled you closer, leaning back into the couch, one hand threaded through your hair, the other curling around your spine.

He started to move, thrusting with even, sawing strokes, letting you just lean into him and take it. Each one was deep and controlled, his cock dragging through every inch of your sweet, wet, addicting center. Your body trembled and beaded with sweat against his, your breath catching on each pass as he filled you again and again. You were so warm and velvety against him, pulling him in deeper, squeezing the life out of him every time he bottomed out.

“How’s that feel, hm?” he murmured, pushing your hair back with gentle fingers before sitting you up to face him.

He was surprised to see tears flowing down your face.

“Baby…” he cooed, stilling his hips. But you let out a helpless breath at the pause, rocking against him in search of friction.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he said, his hand firm at your back to keep you still. 

“I just…” you sniffled, voice catching. “I want you—I want—” Another breath. “It feels so good, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded, tears streaking your cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you said, wiping at your face. Mascara smudged under your eyes. “I’ve just never felt like this before.”

Joel kissed your trembling lip, soft and reassuring. His hands never left you, anchoring you in his lap.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I’m gon’ take care of you. Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop,” you hiccuped. “Even if I cry. Just—hold me. Please.”

He nodded, brows knit as he kissed along your jaw, your chin. “Okay. You sure?”

“I’m begging you,” you whispered. “It feels like heaven, Joel. You feel so good inside me.”

He let you rock your hips, guiding you with a hand at the base of your spine. Your clit caught on the rough thatch of hair at his base, drawing a breathy moan from your lips.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice rough. “How’s that?”

“Perfect,” you breathed.

“Good girl,” he moaned, thrusting up into you again, slow, deep, and steady, "I got you, I got you, take what you need,"

Joel kept one hand on your back and the other cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing under your eye where a fresh tear slipped free. You weren’t sobbing or in hysterics, but the tears kept falling, thick and hot, like your body couldn’t contain the multitude of emotions, like it was breaking open somewhere soft and untouched inside you.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “You feel good, baby? I got you.”

You nodded again, lip caught between your teeth, still trying to keep quiet even as your hips moved with more urgency, chasing the fullness of him. Your hands gripped his shoulders, then his hair, like you didn’t know where to hold on.

“I—” you started again, breath shaking. “I want you, want to be with you, want to feel like this all the time,”

“I know, honey,” Joel murmured, kissing your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth. “I know. And you can, I’m right here, gonna keep you, gonna show you how good you are.”

You moaned louder when his hips rolled up to meet yours, slow and deep. His cock hit that spot inside you and he felt you flutter around him. 

“There she is,” he praised, voice low, lips brushing yours. “Look at you, takin’ me so good. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your hands found his chest, nails curling into him as he fucked up into you. He kept it deep and measured, taking his time with you, letting you feel every inch of him that burned for you, that ached and needed. And maybe one day he’d give in to all of it, that hunger to take you hard and fast and leave you marked and shaking. But not tonight. Not when you were looking at him like that, when your brain and your body needed to be shown softness, gentleness.

He wanted to show you something else. That you didn’t need bruises to feel wrecked. That it could be slow, and warm, and still ruin you completely. That he could be that for you. 

His nose nudged yours, voice barely more than breath. “She’s close, I feel her chokin’ me, feel how much she loves it.”

You mewled, your thighs beginning to tremble around him. “So close. Joel—please—”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I got you. You’re doin’ so good. Yeah, that’s it.”

His arms wrapped around your back, holding you tight to him, guiding your rhythm as he fucked up into you just a little harder, a little deeper, dragging those moans out of you with every pass. Tears clung to your lashes again. Your mouth hung open, eyes unfocused, your hands clinging to him like you’d fall apart without him to hold onto.

Joel stared up at you, undone by the sight. Every time you rocked down onto him, every time your body gripped him like that, he felt it deeper. Felt something in him start to fray.

“Christ,” he breathed. “Look at you.”

His hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your lips.

“You’re takin’ me so good, baby. So fuckin’ pretty like this. Makin’ me proud, sweet girl.”

You moaned and panted, head tipped back in a mix of agony and pleasure, “I’m gonna—oh god—I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Let me feel ‘er. Come for me, sweet girl, gooood girl—there you go—oh, fuck—”

You cried out, body clenching down around him, your thighs tightening as your orgasm crashed over you hard and electrifying. Joel held you through it, kissing your face, your neck, rocking into you. Your walls clenched and fluttered around him, pulling him in deeper, squeezing him like you needed him deeper, milking every last bit of him. It scrambled his thoughts, popped them like fizz in his chest. 

“Oh fuck that’s so—” he groaned, head falling back onto the back of the sofa, “so fuckin’ pretty,”

You returned to him, kissing his jaw as you came down from your high, dazed and breathless, your lips trailing to his throat, to the thrum of his pulse. Your tongue flicked there, tasting the salt and skin, and Joel let out a strangled sound. He gripped your hips hard, rocking into you, his cock pulsing, twitching deep inside, thick ropes of his spend coating your walls, leaking down between you as his whole body tensed and strained. His mind went white around the edges, like all he could feel or think about was you.

He stayed there through it, and eventually his panting turned to a soft, easy sigh and he tilted his head up to look at you with a lazy smile on his face.

Bringing a hand to your face, he brought you down to him to kiss your temple once, then again, then your cheek and your jaw. Soft, aimless kisses like he didn’t want to stop touching you, like he couldn’t.

“You okay?” he murmured into your hair, his voice low, still wrecked from everything he’d just felt.

You nodded against him, slow and a little dazed, your fingers weaving into his hair. The curls behind his ears were damp with sweat, soft between your fingertips. He didn’t move, just let you touch him. Let you stay.

Joel exhaled and pressed his nose to your hair, breathing you in. The room had gone quiet now, save for the soft sound of your breaths mingling. His cock was still tucked deep inside you, softening, but still thick with presence, the warmth between you both beginning to fade.

“How about I start you a bath, hm?” he said softly. “Get you cleaned up. That sound okay, baby?”

You leaned in, placing your lips against his. Not even a kiss, just a gentle press, in the shape of one, soft and plush and lingering. Joel kissed you back with the same careful slowness, like he didn’t want to startle whatever fragile thing was unfolding between you.

Then, his voice came quieter than before. “You can… stay here. If you want.”

He felt it the moment the words landed. The way your body stilled, the shift behind your eyes. Not a flinch, exactly, but something close. Like a thread inside you had pulled too tight, stretched too far.

You inhaled the tiniest gasp, gaze dropping down, retreating into yourself. He saw it, saw the question in your eyes, saw the moment of uncertainty. And for one awful second, he wondered if he’d broken whatever this was, if he’d asked for too much.

But you didn’t move. You just sat there, caught in the space between something old and something new.

Joel watched you, silent and waiting, even as his heart started to ache with the fear that you’d pull away. He knew that look. The kind of quiet panic that wasn’t about him, not really, but about what came after. About what it meant to be wanted and not just… used. To be safe and not trapped.

He didn’t rush you, he let the quiet stretch as his thumbs softly brushed over your skin in wait.

And then you looked up at him slowly, studying him. Your fingers brushed through his hair again, slower this time, thinking. You combed it back, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes like you were memorizing something. 

Joel let you. His eyes never left yours.

He saw the flicker of something in your expression—fear, maybe, or hope. Maybe both.

Then your hand paused at the back of his neck.

“Okay,” you whispered, so quiet it barely reached him.

His heart kicked hard in his chest. He slid his hand to your nape, curling his fingers gently there, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper, but still sweet and soft. 

“You won’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmured against your mouth. “You don’t have to stay if it feels too much.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Joel closed his eyes, and you leaned down to press your forehead to his.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, voice so full of quiet emotion it ached.

You nodded, your nose brushing his.

Joel kissed you one more time, a little peck, a little check in. It didn’t need to be some grand gesture or heart filled confession just yet, no explanation of everything you’d seen and everything he’d done. He knew that. Knew it would come, when you were ready. When he could finally let himself believe you might actually want to stay.

He exhaled like he’d been holding it for years, something heavy easing in his chest as he shifted beneath you. His hands slid under your thighs and he rose carefully from the couch, cradling you close to his chest.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s get you in that bath.”

don't talk to me for 7-10 business days this ruined me and IM THE ONE WHO WROTE IT

[explorevenus]

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

call it quits or call it destiny | h. umemiya.

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader(she/her pronouns, referred to as a girl, gets dressed up by tsubaki and kotoha), reader gets their hair braided (no desc of texture) and puts on makeup, lore heavy reader backstory + personality, deliquent!reader, gap moe, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, themes of insecurity, mutual pining,the use of she/her for tsubaki, jealousy, confessions, loss of virginity, creampies / unprotected sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering, 18+

✮ wc ; 13.9k (dont. don't say anything)

✮ a/n ; me when i completely lose my mind because i have a weekend off. whats wrong with me.

anyways. there's no major triggers for this but be forewarned reader is meant to be very rag-tag deliquent type. she has a strong personality and generally is not feminine. she is like a mangy street cat a bit. also if u want u should listen to easily by bruno major while reading.

✮ synopsis ; you've been quietly pining for umemiya for a little over ten years with no plans of confessing.

you did not have a plan for what you would do if umemiya confessed to you first.

Once a day, everyday - Umemiya will come into your store, pause, smile, and confess his love to you before going off on his own.  

And once a day, everyday, you reject this confession with a soft huff  telling him to quit being stupid before shooing him away.  

It's become a ritual. A fixture in your daily routine that you're not allowed to ignore despite how hard you're trying.  

He's been doing it for three months, more or less. 

His reason for confessing everyday? Because he’s waiting on the day you confess back, of course. Which you've refused to do for the last few months and will continue to refuse for as long as you’ve got.  

It's not because you don't like him, alright? 

You've known Umemiya since middle school and you've liked him for about the same time. One of the core memories of your childhood is the day you met him, crying while sitting on a  swing-set, after what felt like the worst day of your life. 

( On the day you run away from home, you seriously consider not going back.  

You don’t really know how long you sit there. People walk by but most of them move on quickly. It’s mid-day before anyone bothers to stop and ask you something.  

 "I've never seen you around  before.” A strange looking boy approaches, friendly and unassuming but not entirely cheerful “Did you just move here?"  

You keep quiet, closing your eyes and hoping your lack of response is enough to push him away. Your hope fizzles out when you hear the swing creak as he sits besides you. 

"I'm Umemiya Hajime. I live close by." His voice is airy and causal. "I'm sorry you're having a bad day.”  

"Fuck off," You reply bluntly, frowning. “I don’t need sympathy. Leave me the hell alone.”  

He pauses before pushing himself slightly forward to barely swing.  

“I couldn’t leave you alone while you’re sad,” He voices willfully. "It might make you feel better to talk about it." 

In disbelief at his response, you finally look up and asses him properly. It doesn’t do much to change your initial unfavorable impression. White hair, blue eyes and a little taller than you. You’re definitely about the same age. All of that to say, there’s something weird about him that you can’t quite place.  

Despite his manner and way of speaking though, you don’t actually think he’s that weak which makes his whole aura even more unnerving to you. His attempt at being non-threatening doesn’t work for him. He’s being a real try-hard about trying to make you comfortable… 

Either way, he’s got an air about him that puts you on the defensive.  

 Talking to someone about it had never been much of any option, and somehow it pisses you off that he’s being so brazen about it.  

Maybe if you tell him about, he’ll stop prying into your business. Or maybe you’re just looking for excuses to let off steam. 

You don't care anymore. You wipe your nose with the back of your sleeve.  

"I don't live here and I didn’t move. I ran away." You reply.  

He keeps looking at you, curious, inquisitive and sympathetic.  

"Why?"   

"I broke a girls nose." You scowl. The words rise up in your throat like bile. Make you feel cornered. The wounds too fresh. "It—she bullied me for years for one. And I never fought back, it was all petty bullshit anyway and I didn't like getting calls home. I didn't care about that but she—it wasn't for nothing. She was causing trouble for Sensei."  

Umemiya keeps to himself, humming in response to your troubles. Your voice breaks on your next sentence, chest tightening.  

"It doesn't matter what she does to me but—" Your hands ball up at your first. Your throat feels thick, eyes suddenly watering as your chest throbs . "Anyway, I couldn’t let it go like normal."  

He hums. "So you hit her?" 

You shake your head, sniffling. "Not at first. Just told her to shut up. Said that she didn't know what she was talking about. She hit me first..." You screw your eyes shut, sighing. "...said she was gonna spread rumors about him just trying to get under my skin and be malicious,” You lean back slightly and look up towards the gray sky. “I punched her after that."  

You realize he's looking at your bloodied knuckles, but he isn't making an expression that you can read easily. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to someone like this who wasn’t Tsukimori-sensei.  

"Are you crying because you got in trouble?"  

“Who cares about that?” You sigh “Sensei had to put his job on the line and take responsibility for me,” Your brow furrows in frustration. “He’s the one person I don’t want to cause trouble for,” You grip the iron chains of the swing set with a closed fist and finally admit what you’ve been avoiding to say out loud. “I don’t want him to hate me…”  

The kid besides you smiles  absently at your words. Half-way between listening and recalling something else, it seems like. You can’t help but wonder what the hell his deal is. You barely know him but you’re spilling your guts. 

He speaks after a long while. "I don't think he sees it that way. I think you should try to talk to him about it."  

You make a face, rejecting the idea. "What? No way." 

Umemiya shrugs, smiling - though it doesn't quite meet his eyes.  

"He sounds like he cares about you. If he knew your reasons, there's no way he would hold it against you. And it’s important to share your burdens with people who care for you." You look over and see him smiling somberly at the mulch beneath his shoes before returning back to what you’ve grown to know as his usual self. "Anyways, I think we should be friends. Tell me your name."  

You sniffle again. What a weird guy. Well you say that but 

You still give him your name. 

"What a pretty name," 

When you tell him to shut up again, your new friend Umemiya just laughs.  

And you find you feel just a little bit lighter.)  

That night, Umemiya walked with you to take the last train and told you to come see him again  with good news. 

You aren't sure what compelled you to follow his advice. Maybe because he was the first person who sat down and listened to you about it other than Sensei himself. 

Tsukimori-sensei was your school counselor and the only adult in your entire life that seemed to worry about. You didn't have any friends in middle school and you were a scary looking delinquent girl without a mother and a mostly absent father.  

But Sensei was always incredible gentle to you and incredibly kind. And despite what rumors that girl tried to spread  - he was never anything more than an important mentor.  

It was fucking embarrassing crying in front of him but because you were honest - you got to keep in touch with him. He attended your middle school and high school graduation - supporting you as you started to sort your life out. Became the closest thing you ever really got to a parental figure.  

Over time, you got close with Umemiya and developed strong loyalty to him. You attended an all-girls middle and high school the next town over - totaling one other friend in all six years of your remaining education. Lack of socialization meant that Umemiya somewhat became the very center of your existence. 

It was easy to visit him thanks to parental neglect. You sort of melted into his life. Tsubaki once called you his guard dog as a half-joke, but there's some truth to the sentiment. Quick to defend, quick to heel, and always happy to see him.  

You, like many people, owe Umemiya a lot. His meddling over the course of ten years gave you reason to push forward. He even encouraged you to try and attend school and not give up on living a half-decent life. 

You've got a never-ending list of short-comings but being with him didn't make you hate yourself. It made you want to be better because you knew Umemiya would accept you for whoever you decided to be.  

So despite your delinquency, you managed to graduate high school. Post-graduation, you attended a vocational culinary school and became a patisserie before moving to Furin for permanent residency. You opened a bakery and supply bread to Kotoha-chans diner.  

You made something of your life mostly 'cause of Umemiya. He's not your only friend anymore but he's still your best. Even though you never really pictured things like dating or romance - in some way it only makes sense that it'd be that meddling, kind-hearted idiot that you end up falling for it.  

Lovesickness aside, you respect Umemiya more than anyone in your personal life.  

He’s stuck around with someone like you this long after all. That means a lot to you.  

Somehow the two of you mesh well despite being totally opposite.  

You decided as soon as you realized it sometime in high school that you'd keep your feelings a secret for the rest of your life. You had a strong resolve in your beliefs about the whole thing which made it easy. You hid 'em so well even Sakura's stupid accurate romance detector didn't uncover them.  

When you picture Umemiya's future - it was easy to picture the kind of woman he would end up with. Another kind-hearted idiot like him, a social butterfly. Someone a little softer.  

In any case it definitely was not you. You didn't need it to be. You've received so much from him already, you never entertained the idea. Plus, Umemiya has dated other people over the years, so in your head there was never any hope to cling onto.  

For all reasons listed above, a requited romance is at the very bottom of your expectations.  

That's why you've been in this fucking conundrum.  

To say it was a complete shock to you when Umemiya openly confessed to you many months ago would be understatement of the goddamn century.  

He confessed right on the last day of Spring, totally out of the blue. 

(It’s a little unusual for Umemiya to call you at this hour. If it were anyone else, you’d be a little upset since you’ve gotta be up around four-am to get prepared for the day.  

It’s him though so you’re particularly tolerant, yawning as you find Umemiya on a familiar swing-set, still wearing your PJ’s.  

"Why am I out here in the middle of the night with you?"  

Your words lack any real malice as you sit down. Umemiya remains totally quiet. It's unusual for him to not immediately go on a tangent upon seeing you.  

"Oi. Earth to Hajime." You frown at him. "Did ya get beat up before coming here and scramble your brain? Give me the popsicle before it melts."  

He looks over at you and chuckles as he hands you the bag from the convenience store. You ignore his odd behavior and open up said popsicle before it melts  - carefully splitting it down the middle and giving him the bigger side before going to town on your own. He takes it from you but doesn't even bring it up to his mouth.  

Weird.  

"Did something... happen? Like seriously happen?" You take a long lick of your iced treat. It's melon flavored, your favorite. "Seeing you frown doesn't feel right. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."  

He cracks a little smile at that. It makes you feel better. He shakes his head.  

"Mm, nothing happened. I just have something I want to tell you."  

You nod in understanding. "'kay. Take your time."  

He blinks, surprised.  

"Hm? Aren't you gonna scold me for wasting your time?"  

"Nah. Whatever it is must be serious if it's making you all introspective or whatever. 's fine. Bring me coffee tomorrow and I'll forgive ya."  

His lip twitches up. "I l really like that about you."  

You feel yourself flush and wave a hand at him. "Ahh, shut up."  

He pauses for a second then shakes his head. "Mm. It's more like I like everything about you, actually."  

You twist your face in confusion. "What are you on about now?"  

"That's what I came here to tell you." Umemiya says after a deep breath. He says it so casually you wonder if you're mishearing him - leaning back to look up at the stars. "I really, really like you. I just felt like I had to tell you that"  

You stare at him in disbelief.  

"Wha—huh?"  

He doesn't even flinch as he repeats it.  

"I like you."  

"No the hell you don't."  

He furrows his brow with a light laugh. "I just told you that I do, silly."  

"But that's—" You don't say the word impossible. You really want too, but you know exactly how he would react if you did. You simply shake your head. "No, you don't." 

"I thought you might respond like this so don't worry but how about you?" He shrugs then looks at you intently. "I thought you might like me too."  

Your eyes go wide. Oh fuck.  

You feel like a deer caught in headlights. You know you should be happy about this, deep down. That'd be the normal response.  

But you just feel complicated as shit instead. Fuck does he mean? Umemiya.... likes you? There's just no way that's true. Not after all of this time. And how the fuck does he know you like him back when you've been keeping it in? 

You can't bring yourself to look him in the face and lie. Your heart rises to your throat as you shakily stand to your feet.  

"Stop...thinking whatever you've been thinking. I'm going home." You reply in complete panic. 

 The minute you say it, you turn on your heel so you don't have to look at his face. You don’t even want to know.  

And before Umemiya can catch you and try to talk it out, you bolt. 

What the fuck was that?)  

For the last few months, you've been avoiding the topic of conversation as much as you humanly can.  

The possibility of Umemiya even just accepting your feelings was already far beyond your imagination, but him returning them? Confessing first? That wasn't even in your realm of possibility.  

Ever since then, you've been losing your mind trying to force your life and train of thought to go back to normal. You’ve done all of the math on it.  

Realistically, you can't ignore him. Your lives are so mixed together it'd be impossible unless you went under protection and changed your name which you briefly considered. You thought of turning him down but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to actually do it despite how good you are at keeping it in. Either way, your best option logistically is feigning ignorance and trying to keep the whole thing out of your mind entirely which should've been easy.  

Tricking yourself into believing the whole thing was a dream? Lightwork.  

Except. Except.  

Umemiya just won't give up.  

He confesses to you again every single day. Worse, he doesn't care whose around to hear him. No one in your friend group seems even the tiniest bit shocked by it which doesn't help the situation. You can't get used to it, can't get used to him being so fucking cheeky as he stops you midway through normal conversation to tell you he loves you.  

He's persistent to a fault and while you've done well feigning immunity - you can't survive like this.  

You've graduated to tell him to go away and treating the whole thing like some big joke.  

But honestly? 

You're avoiding having a proper conversation about it. Umemiya is especially keen in not letting you forget that. And determined to make you confess.  

But you're not going to to let him sway you.  

You've got principles, after all.  

__  

After you close up shop on Friday, you get dressed to attend a kickback with all of your friends.  

It's a barbecue technically - commemorating the end of summer. Togame is really into grilling and in their weird domestic partnership, Chouji really enjoys hosting. They've done this once or twice a year ever since they started living together.  

Once you've finished cleaning up the store, you take the train to Kotoha's place - mistakenly assuming you'd leave as soon as you got there. However you failed to realize that Tsubaki and Kotoha would be getting ready together.  

You got jumped as soon as you walked through the door - so now you're wearing a different pair of clothes that Tsuabki got for you and waiting for them to finish getting you dressed up so you can leave.  

Tsuabkino is inches from your face while Kotoha braids your hair. You feel itchy and exposed but with both of them here there's no way you're going to get out of wearing it. 

"Can we just go?" You grumble, not enjoying the feeling of being poked and prodded.  

"No," Tsubaki insists, frown making her expression pinch. "You have half an eyelash on. Sit still." 

"He'll be happy to see you dressed up," Kotoha adds, trying to encourage you. You frown and look down.  

"Whatever. I don't care about makin' him happy."  

The both of them pause and stare at you until you fold under the pressure - screwing your eyes shut and making you flush.  

“Such a blatant lie.”  

Tsubaki giggles. “Right?”  

Your face feels hot. "Ahhh, alright already. Shut up."  

"Honest girls are much cuter," Tsubaki coos. You give her a half-assed glare.  

"Don't you like Hajime? Why're you trying to set me up with him still?" You mumble. You always think they’d make a perfect pair.  

"Of course I like him. He's my prince." She smiles at you. “But it’s a little different to how a certain someone loves him. And well, if you knew the way he looked at you…"  

You frown, feeling hot all the way up to your ears as you ball your fists up and look down at your lap. "Whatever." 

"You should stop trying to worm your way out of it," Kotoha adds, much less sweetly. "You know how he is. He couldn't give up on you for ten years like some idiot."  

You blink. "Huh? But ten years would mean -"  

Kotoha braids your hair even tighter making you wince. "I know. You're both stupid like that."  

"Don't be mean, Kotoha-chan. And you, be a little more honest, okay?"  

You sigh deeply. 

"Ain't like anything is gonna happen either way. I already told you both I'm not accepting his confession," 

"Cause you're a huge wuss, yeah we know."  

You elbow Kotoha lightly.  

"Maybe nothing will," Tsubaki hums mischievously.  "But it feels nice to dress up for him, right?"  

You pretend the thought doesn't make your hear flutter.  

Tsubaki does you the kindness of laughing lightly before moving on. 

__  

You arrive to the function an hour later than planned and stick mostly with Kotoha and Tsubaki until half way through the evening.  

Loosening up with a few drinks, the three of you part ways to catch-up with different people. It's not rare you see them, but it's not often everyones schedules allow them to be in the same place.  

Lucky for you, Umemiya does you the courtesy of not confessing during the first half of the night before food comes out.  

(Though you do spit beer in his face after he calls you pretty, which he takes on the chin after cleaning up.)  

After dinner, the function simmers down significantly. People quietly break off into groups and chat to each other into the late night. About that time people split whatever desserts they brought among guests.  

You brought cookies and something specifically for Chouji and Togame as thanks for hosting.  

Towards the end of the night, you find yourself sticking sort of close to Umemiya. Though he's having his own one-on-one conversation with Hiragi while sitting next to you , turned the other way.  

You busy yourself catching up to Suo, Sakura and Nirei - all of whom you consider yourself close to.  

Of them, you're the closest to Nirei which always surprises people. 

The kids a total wimp but he helped you years ago study to graduate so you're a little closer to him than everyone else. He's a great guy though and you hang out alone sometimes too.  

The conversations gone far left at this point in the evening.  

Suo leans back against his chair and looks toward Sakura besides him with a lazy smile.  

"Sakura-chan would make a great wife." 

You snort listening to them bicker. Sakura grows beet red, throwing an empty beer can at Suo's head that he catches gracefully.  

"Go die."  

"What? You're good at domestic work and you have a cute side, Isn't that all you need?"  

"Shut up. I'll kill you."  

As Suo breaks out into laughs, Sugishita comes down from the kitchen just in time to catch the argument. He crinkles his nose up.  

"Oh, Sugishita-kun. 'Sup."  

He nods to your greeting as he leans against the wood railing of the outdoor deck.  

"What the hell are you two talking about?" 

'What? You mean about Sakura being a good wife?" Suo asks. Sugishita crinkles his nose. 

"Don't phrase it so repugnantly but yeah I guess." 

"We were talking about marriage 'cause I was complaining at work."  

"What's happening at work?" 

Nirei sighs as he lays it out again to Sugishita after having given the spiel to the three of you once.  

"One of my superiors at work is a lot older than me and keeps bringing up marriage," Nirei explains woefully. "It's all he talks about. He thinks I'm seeing someone."  

Sugishita frowns. "Eh? What gave him that impression?"  

A good question you hadn't considered asking.  

You raise your brow at Nirei who laughs awkwardly while he holds your gaze.  

"You know that picture of us from highschool? When he came to the cafe at your school festival?"  

You smile spitefully, crinkling your nose in faux distaste. "The one wear we wearing those stupid maid costumes?"  

"Yup. That's the one. It's a good picture of us so I keep it on my desk and he saw it so..."  

"You keep a picture of just the two of you on your desk? No wonder he got that impression.” Suo adds.  

You sense Umemiya suddenly tense which you find weird. He's still talking to Hiragi though when you glance from the corner of your eye. You brush it off.  

Nirei blushes, elbowing him.  

"Shut up. I've got group pictures and stuff too. But he just singled out that one cause you know,"  

You nod in understanding before it dawns on you. Your eyes widen. "Oh, shit? Does that old man think you're dating me?"  

Nirei closes his eyes and sighs. "He won't even let me correct him." 

You pause before breaking out into genuine laughter.  

"Pfft, that's terrible." You reply sympathetically, taking a sip of your beer before giving a mischievous grin. "Maybe you can make it work for you though, eh? Tell 'em we got hitched forreal and then I'll call you on the phone and nag you to get home for dinner so you can leave earlier."  

Nirei acts like he's touched making you laugh even harder. "You'd do that for me?"  

You give him another toothy grin. "I'll even help you fake some wedding photos. We'll be accomplices." You lean back with a shrug. "You gotta wear the dress though." 

Sugishita laughs at that. "You being a blushing bride is a little..."  

You snort, shooting him a dirty look "Shut up."  

"Deal. Not a bad plan honestly." Nirei says with a sigh. "Whatever gets me out of the office early."  

"Even if that means being married to me?" You joke.  

He smiles at you. "Aw, what do you mean? That's the best part."  

You chuckle at him good-natuedly and the conversation quickly moves on.  

The alcohol is starting to make you dizzy so you eventually tune out as the four of them talk, glancing at Umemiya from the corner of your eye.  

You swear you catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking.  

__  

For the rest of the night, Umemiya is off.  

No one else can tell. You know that because the atmosphere remains light until everyone leaves around two-am. There's no blips or tension, no awkward pauses. 

But you know Umemiya. He's been real weird all night and it's bugging the shit out of you.  

It's a well past two now, and you've just left the late night cab you took with him. Umemiya lives close so he's walking you home.  

He's usually energetic after a get-together like that so his dead silence is weirding you out. You're pretty good at figuring his feelings out but for once you feel totally clueless.  

It feels as if even the cicadas and crickets have gone to sleep. There's nothing bu the streetlights overhead and soft glow of the moon, coupled with the soft click of your shoes on the pavement. Occasionally, a car will pass by.  

At one point, it becomes too much. There's still a few minutes until you're home.  

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn around to look at him. Umemiya pauses, startled as he stops with you, and doesn't smile which only makes your concern worsen.  

"Oi. What's up with you?"  

"Hm?"  

You cross your arms over your chest.  

"Don't 'hm' me. You've been in a bad mood few for the last few hours. It's gonna bug me all night if I don't ask, so what's up?"  

He stares at you.  

"You noticed?"  

"How could I not notice?"  

"I was hiding it pretty well, I thought." He states more than asks, half-smile on his face.  

"Yeah. But well," You shrug. "I'm always looking at you for better or for worse. So. What's wrong?"  

He stares at you a long time before sighing, running his fingers through his hair. You've never seen him like this. You've seen him pissed off before, seen him mildly irritated - but never this... pouty? It's not like he's pissed.  

He's quiet, taking a deep breath of cool night air before sliding his hands into his pockets and taking a good look at your face. 

"Do you know that I like you?"  

Your eyes widen as you blink wildly.  

This is what he wants to talk about? 

He pins you down with his stare, hands in his pockets and intense as ever.  

"Don't even think about bolting this time, okay? I'm asking you seriously. Do you?" 

Your eyes flicker down the concrete - feeling extremely uncomfortable and suddenly sweaty. You shrug, unsure of what else you could say or do.  

"Hard not to know." You mumble. "You tell me everyday." 

"But do you get it?"  

Your frown deepens.  

"Of course not. How could I possibly get something like that, stupid?"  

He takes a deep breath. "But you like me, don't you?"  

Panic sets in. If you could sink straight into the Earth you would.  

"...Never said that." 

He calls your name quietly. "Look at me, at least. Stop running away from me and just look." 

You know you're being stubborn but you can't help it. You've kept it a secret for ten years and all of a sudden he wants you to tell him you like him? You've held it in for so long already and he's telling you not to run away.What other choice is there?  

One wrong move move and everything will come crashing down inside of you. You can't even lie about it either.  

Damn it.  

"I won't look." Your voice is warbly and it makes you feel so pathetic you could die, tucking your chin petulantly "Don't wanna,"  

Umemiya frowns at you.  

"If you say you don't like me I'll let it go."  

You remain very quiet and close your eyes tighter. He sighs softly, making your chest hurt.  

After a minute, you muster up the courage to be dishonest - determined to drop it at all costs. You're slow as you pick your head up.  

"I don't like you," You repeat slowly, carefully - trying not to stumble the words. "So quit it, alright?"  

He laughs humorlessly and holds your gaze.  

"That's the first time you've ever actually lied to me. You're terrible at it," 

"I'm not lying." You snap. Umemiya smiles somberly when he sees tears on the corners of your eyes. He steps closer to you. You freeze. When his hand reaches cups your cheek, you feel your legs lose all their strength and close your eyes. You're terrified to even look at him, not wanting him to see what you know is obvious on your face.  

He wipes them as he tilts your face towards him slowly. 

"Tell me, at least. If you're going to refuse me, don't I deserve to know why? Do you hate the idea of dating me that much?"  

You shake your head. "Stupid. How would anyone hate that?"  

"So I deserve to know why you're turning me down."  

A long moment of silence draws you out of your feelings. You guess that's fair enough. Maybe this way he'll leave you alone  - as long you're clear about your reasons. He’s the earnest type after all.  

You manage to suck up all your tears and clear your throat enough to give him an explanation. 

You step back a little from him, putting some distance between you as you stare down at the sidewalk. 

"You know... I respect ya more than anyone else. You've always been someone I admire. And I uh, owe you a lot. So I only want the very best for you and all." You scratch your neck, taking a deep sigh. "For me... regardless of my feelings, I want you to be with someone who really fits, you know? Well put-together and everything. Someone that suits you better"  

He pauses before frowning.   

"Regardless of your feelings? Does that mean you were willingly pushing them aside?" He says distraught. "For how long?"  

You shrug, trying to lighten the conversation. It’s too devastating otherwise. "About ten years, give or take." 

The sheer distress in his face makes you want to keep talking, just he doesn’t look so disheartened. Like some explanation will clear things up.  

"It ain't a bad thing, Hajime. You've given me a lot and I'm serious when I say I want the best for you. I love you, if that's what you wanna hear. I'm content just being besides you as your friend." You say with a shrug. "I can be kinda selfish but there's a limit to my greed,yknow."  

He looks like he's in shock. 

"Wanting someone to love you back isn't greedy or selfish."  

You find you don't have anything to say with that, but hope he drops it for the time being. 

Umemiya stares at you seriously. It makes your breath hitch meeting his eyes, blue with all the depth in the world. You feel like you can't pull yourself from his gaze.  

"And there was never a possibility? Not once that I could've liked you? That I wanted to be with you?"  

"It doesn't matter." You say. "And no, it never crossed my mind.."  

"Stop saying it doesn't matter. Of course it matters. Your feelings matter the most so don't toss them aside so easily. Do you really believe that you're not right for me?"  

You aren’t sure how to answer him.  

"You think you're not good enough for me." He says with some realization more than asks.  

It's the first time you see his face change. When you look up, he looks well and truly angry. The whole thing is confusing.  

"I'm sorry," You say. It’s such a timid thing to say but you don’t know how else to fix.  

"It's not—I just don't like hearing you talk about yourself like that. I don't like hearing someone I love get spoken about like that.” 

You ignore the sentiment again and wait in the quiet. You always thought this would be an easier conversation to have but it hurts.  

He sighs a bit, getting closer to you again. He’s less upset than before but there’s something else in his expression.  

"You wanted to know why I was upset earlier right? It's because of you and Nirei-kun." He admits.  

"What about him?"  

"You talked about marrying him so casually. I overheard and it bothered me all night."  

Your eyes go wide.  

"I—it wasn't serious."  

"I know that. I never thought I was that childish either but you being married to someone else as a joke." He laughs humorlessly. "I really hated it. That’s why I asked if you know how much I like you."  

You feel frozen in place by his admission. 

Umemiya steps towards you faster than you can muster up a counter for why he shouldn’t bother.  

His arms around you feel sudden. His grip on you is so tight, like you could slip through his arms all at once if he loosens it. He smells like cologne and beer and summer but it's not unpleasant. He rests his chin on your head and lets out a deep breath.  

Your chest is throbbing for different reasons now. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  

"If you won't be greedy, then you should at least let me be." He lets out a long, tense breath "At least let me have what I want." 

You're stuck. Your mouth moves faster than your brain.  

"Why me? And why now?"  

Umemiya pulls away to stare down at you. You can't bring yourself to turn away from him. 

"It was always you. I felt guilty... for wanting to you that way when you were a precious friend. Wanting to treat you delicately when you were strong and proud." He admits. Hearing him say that out loud embarrasses you to no end, “But it was those things that made me love you. Strong yet clumsy. Prideful yet honest. Awkward yet trying to be gentle. Loyal. And always considerate of everyone. Of me, when I was taking care of everyone else."  

Your stomach feels like it's going to erupt. You're losing your resolve faster than you know how to mend it.  

"Stop saying stuff like that."  

Umemiya holds you tighter and shakes his head. "No. How else will I get you to change your mind?"  

"I won't change my mind." You say stubbornly.  

"I love you." He repeats.  

You squirm.  

"Stop it,"  

"I want to be with you. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you. I want to stay by your side forever. I want to do things with you and make you feel good. I want to make you smile. I want to grow old with you." 

Your hearts fluttering. Fuck.  

"Idiot. What are you saying? Let me go."  

"It has to be you for me. I won't have anyone else no matter what you think. The person I love is you. I love you."  

"Hajime." Your voice is shaking. 

His drops down to a whisper.  

“I can’t change how you think of yourself overnight but I can tell you that there’s no point in trying to push me away. Whether or not you accept  me, we’ll never stop being side by side - so please stop fighting it.”  

You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away. “Stop it,” 

"Please tell me it's okay to love you how I want too," He says, soft and doting while he crushes you in his arms. "And please love me in return."  

You put your hands up to your misty eyes wanting to wipe them away as he melts through the rest of your resolve like it's nothing. It's hard not to be moved. You've been pretending for ten long years that you don't love him at all and he's declaring his love for you like it's the easiest, most sensible and sane thing in the world.  

A kind-hearted, willful, meddling idiot. How you are you supposed to push him away when he's holding you this tight?  

"Shit," You voice, huffing as your voice shakes. "Don’t be stupid, alright? If you’re so insistent, I wont let you back out if you meet someone else."  

He laughs wetly.  

"I already tried meeting other people, but it's still you. Always was."  

He smiles above you. 6'2 with watery eyes with the look of pure relief like it's the best news he's ever heard in his life. It's too much for you. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if you're gonna die.  

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.  

Your eyes go wide as you look away, not wanting to look too eager. "That's..."  

He makes another puppy-dog kinda face. "Please?"  

You're embarrassed by how easy it makes you give in. "...Do whatever you want."  

He laughs bright and warm as his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and kiss you with all the passion he can muster. It's intense, almost suffocating the way he slots his lips against yours and breathes you in. He doesn't let you up from it, doesn't part from you for a second even when he pulls away - noses brushing and stealing the air from your lungs.  

It's your stupid first kiss and it's perfect - so perfect you wonder if you're going to wake up in a dream. He kisses you hard and makes you stand on your toes to chase his lips when he pulls back. Elated. Ecstatic when you grasp the front of his shirt and keep kissing him when he stops. 

He pauses before littering your whole face with pecks even as you weakly protest, unable to stop frowning but feeling the happiest you've ever been.  

There's so much longing in between you, you feel like you could die. You feel helpless.   

"Can I come home with you?" He asks, once he stops - only holding your hand a short distance away. "I want more time together." 

You feel your skin burn hot as you nod, all while trying not to read too much into it. 

"Yeah."  

__ 

You barely get to lock your door behind you before Umemiya crowds you in the door way.  

His arms circle around your waist, chin resting against your shoulder.. Broad chest against your back, you try not to flounder as his warm voice caresses your ear.  

You're going to die young if he keeps this up.   

"I love you,"  

You flush. "Enough already. And let me go so I can wash up."  

"Do you need to sleep early? Thought you were closed tomorrow. Wanted to talk a little longer."  

You pause.  

"...Sleep?" 

"Hm?"  

You both freeze as the miscommunication dawns at the same time. You try to pull away from him as soon as you realize, skin burning hot. You're quick but Umemiya is quicker.  

"Hajime." You say gravely. "If you don't let me go, I'm gonna kill you."  

"No way," He laughs  as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. "Is that why you let me in? Were you expecting something?"  

"Shut up! Don't say anything, I swear I'll —"  

"Don't be like that, baby. I'm not making fun of you. Hey, turn around. Look at me."  

You're upset but you think the reason is more embarrassing then the feeling.  

"Don't wanna,"  

Umemiya laughs as he gently turns you around to face him. In your utter mortification, you can barely bring yourself to meet his gaze.  

"Stop staring."  

He doesn't.  

"Do you normally invite guys in just 'cause they ask?"  

"Wha—no! It's because it's you, stupid!"  

He smiles in satisfaction.  

"You shouldn't say yes so easily even if it is me. What if I took advantage of you?"  

You think he's just being smug for the sake of it, which is pissing you off. You grab him by the front of his shirt.  

"Fuck off. Maybe there's a reason I said yes."  

He pauses before his eyes widen. You push your hand against his mouth before he blurt anything else out but he's quick to pry your hand away.  

"Don't say it." You hiss.  

"I was planning on taking my time. I cherish you and I want to make sure you know that. I'm just a little surprised you’re moving so quick when you were telling me not too long ago."  

You can feel the tips of your ears growing hot, feeling even more self-conscious. "Whatever. If we're just going to sleep I still need to wash up."  

He keeps his arms behind your back so you can’t move.  

"Hey. Didn't say that. It's not like I don't want to do it with you. Just don't want you to regret anything."  

You give him an flat look. "I was prepared to give you my virginity and you're worrying about that. Unless you're planning on backing out, there's no way I would."  

"Your—" His jaw drops a little.  

You drop your voice down just a little close as you grab his collar.  

"If you get it, then hurry up and fuck me. Stupid Hajime."  

He gives you the dopiest smile you've ever seen while your face grows increasingly hot, leaning to in to press a kiss to your lips. He brushes his nose with yours. Laughter from deep in his chest.  

"Yes, ma'am."  

__ 

Once you give Umemiya permission to have you, you get the feeling that there really is no going back from here.  

You both know it. The tension in your bedroom is so thick you can barely breathe around it.  

Umemiya lands gently onto your bed - sitting up as he holds you by your waist and pulls you over to him. You're so aware of his touch it makes your nerves feel they're on fire. You're not a total virgin - at least not enough to be feeling this worked up over someones hands lingering on your waist.  

But they're Umemiya's hands—Hajime's hands, so you can't rationalize your thoughts of out it. His hands are strong and big, a little calloused and rough from the gardening and fighting. You can feel how much he adores you in a gesture so small it makes you concerned for your own heart thinking about how the rest of the night will go.  

He invites you into his lap gently, so pleased by the way you go to him so willingly. You spread yourself over him with your knees on either side of his thighs. He's big - wide and broad.  

Your barely hovering over his bulge as you lean your weight onto him. His hand barely brushes underneath your top, just barely touching the skin.  

You shiver.  

"Are you really sure this is what you want?" He asks. "I don't mind waiting as long as you need,"  

You give him an bored look. "Not very convincing when you're makin' a face like that,"  

He chuckles nervously. "That bad?"  

You nod before adding a little bashfully. "Dunno if I mind, though."  

He buries his fact against your chest all of a sudden making you jump.  

"The hell?"  

"You're so cute when you're honest like that," He mumbles into your chest, cheek pressed against your tits.  

"Jeez, shut up. What're you talking about?"  

Umemiya pulls back and leans forward - enough to breach the inches of space between you. Nose to nose, your eyes meet. A bated breath, you put your hand on his shoulders and work up the nerve to kiss him.  

It's chaste. Mostly for you to break the ice otherwise you're sure you're gonna pussy out.  

He smiles at you when you pull away.  

"See what I mean? So cute," He hums, and leans in again. "Come on. Kiss me again."  

Something about him is different when he tells you to kiss him. It's not smug or cheeky. But it's not casual either. Softness tinges his words, his touch - his whole demeanor screams like he loves you absolutely. It makes your heart rate pick up again, hands shaky as you try not to lose your nerve.  

He's restraining himself though. How he intense he could be vs how soft and calm he is being. You know Umemiya like the back of your hand so you want him to do what he wants. It's hard to find your voice.  

"You don't have to.." You cast your eyes down in embarrassment. "…hold back with me, either. I'm not some maiden."  

He smiles at you a little. "You really do know me better than anyone, huh? I was keeping it together pretty well."  

"Look I know I’m kinda difficult…I'm not real good with stuff like this either," You fidget with the collar of his shirt with your free hand. "But once I say yes I don’t back out. So don't worry about scaring me off or putting too much pressure on me or whatever. ...'s fine to just do what you feel like. I’m scared out of my mind but I wouldn’t do that to you,"  

“Don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll do my best to make you feel secure. Might take some time but we’ve got our whole lives.” You flush at the implication. He smiles a little. "Whatever I want seems like a lot to give, though."  

"Well...depending on what, I'm might not be good at it,"   

He shakes his head. "I don't want anything like that."  

"What do you want then?"  

"You." He says easily. Your stomach flips. "All of you. I just want to make you feel so good you can't stand it. Want to worship you top to bottom. There's not a single part of you I don't want."  

You flush. "The hell... I meant like a blowjob or some shit."  

He laughs. "I know. And I want that too, another time." He hums, taking a deep breath. "Right now I just want you to feel so good for me. Is that okay?"  

You can't look at him. You can barely stand how bashful you're being, but you can't even play coy. Something in you is bursting at the seams.  

You love him so much you don't recognize yourself, or your voice, or how you're acting. It makes you sick but you can’t do anything but go with it. "Yeah. 's okay, if it's what you want."  

"It is," He says, leaning in. "All I've ever wanted."  

You ignore the latter half of his comment as he finally goes to kiss you again.  

He pulls your body close to him as you do. Until your chest to chest, arms wrapped around the span of his shoulders as you press your lips together soft and slow.  

He slides a hand underneath your top, undoing the clasp of your bra. He lets his palm stay on the center of your back while you keep kissing - straps of your bra falling down your shoulder as he splays his fingers to feel more of your skin and hold you. Hugging you close to him, his other arm wraps around your torso. His forearms feels especially strong they way they hold you by the waist.  

You're so close to him. Kissing him so deep, his tongue sliding against your lips. Something about the kiss is languid but the touch is so hot it makes your skin burn. You feel wrapped up in him, can't even tell whose heartbeat you're hearing. 

More of your weight ends up in his lap as you feel your knees go weak. Something hard presses against your clothed cunt and you gasp a little into his mouth.  

"Oh, shit." You mumble in surprise. Umemiya laughs.  

"You're making me feel good." He hums.  

Your face heats up. "I barely did anything." 

"You just being on my lap is more than enough."  

You make a face at him before rubbing yourself over the zipper of his jeans, slow and deliberate trying to get a feel for it. You hear him moan, nearly jumping out of your skin in surprise.  

The way Umemiya moans is a lot for you to process. Breathy and a little low. It resonates through your whole body like a caress.  

You make a few more tentative passes over his bulge, just to hear him do it again. Driven by your instinct more than anything, you lean into kiss at his jaw - making use of the limited experience you do have to try and draw more sounds from him.  

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, still breathless. Maybe amused.  

"Like the way you sound." You mumble in reply.  

"I thought I told you I wanted to take care of you, hm?"  

You frown. "So what? I can't touch you at all?"  

He thinks on it. "You can touch me everywhere else and you can have your way with me later, if you want it. I don't wanna cum too fast."  

"I'm just..."  

He shakes his head. "You're underestimating me. I'm still a guy, you know? With a woman I love at that. There's no way I would make it through our first time if I didn't focus on you. Don't pout,"  

Hearing him describe you in such an embarrassing way makes you flush. You roll your eyes half-heartedly. "Fine, whatever."  

He smiles.  

"Good girl. C'mere. Lay down."  

You decide not to think about how effected the praise makes you as you comply.  

Umemiya lays you down carefully, making sure you're comfortable before hovering over you. He looks a lot more imposing from this view - the dim lights of your room making his face seem more well-defined. Your nipples harden in arousal, peeking from underneath your shirt as he stares long and hard.  

"You're so beautiful to me."  

He leans down and presses a hot kiss to your jaw, just underneath your ear before slowly kissing down your neck. Open-mouthed kisses along delicate skin, tongue sliding over every patch he scrapes lightly with his teeth. You fidget underneath him, a dull throbbing between your legs. You try to figure out what to do with your hands but you’re too nervous.  

He kisses your throat where it's extra sensitive and you bite back and involuntary noise. 

"Don't hold your voice, please?"  

"It's embarrassing,"  

"It's not," He assures, bumping his forehead to your shoulder lightly. "I want to know what makes you feel good. Let me pay attention to you."  

You frown but nod ultimately.  

Umemiya isn't the first sexual encounter you've had in your life. You've done other things, but you've never really gone all the way with anyone. All of your other partners were mostly strangers - people mutually interested in using someone else to try and get off.  

This is the first time anyone has taken this much time with you. A little kissing and groping, sometimes touching your chest.  

No one's ever touched you like this, though.  

His hands feel like they're all over your body no matter where they actually end up being. Makes your heartbeat rain drumming on a tin roof. Makes your stomach tingle, a heat in your calves and a prickly feeling on your back. Your whole being drowning with pure anticipation.  

"Take this off for me." Umemiya mumbles. You nod, feeling absent as you wiggle yourself out of your tight little tee and toss it somewhere.  

The air shifts again when you're naked. His eyes drink you in, tracing the soft lines and edges of your body. Looking over scars and stretchmarks with pure, blown out wanting that shoots lust straight into your veins.  

You want him to fuck you so bad it's killing you but the very thought makes you feel so shy you could die.  

"You're beautiful," Sounds dirty the way he says, makes it spill from his lips like wine tipping over a glasses edge. "Perfect. Every inch of you is so perfect."  

He proves this to you by kissing you again. Running his hands over your skin. Up against curved sides and down against your arms, brushing the back of your biceps and forearms.  

Infatuation in his touch ruins you. Makes your voice let out. You can't think of anyone whose treated you so preciously in your entire life and you find you don't resent it as much as you should.  

(You find it feels so good to let someone touch you so kindly. A touch like you're being loved.)  

Nonetheless it's embarrassing. Of course it is.  

But it's so hard not to feel pulled in when you feel the way he kisses you. Draws a trail with his lips and tongue from jaw to shoulder blade - kissing down your biceps with his hands on your body, taking  gentle inhales of your scent.  

Anticipation makes your stomach tie in knots but finally he relents. Both hands squeeze the soft weight of your chest, palms brushing your hardened nipples.  

"Fuck."  

He laughs a little, heavy with want. "Yeah? Do you like being touched here?"  

"Mm." Is the best reply you can get out.  

He brushes against the tips with his fingers in a feather-light gesture, testing the waters before rubbing with a little more pressure. Your body jolts from the stimulation, wetness pooling and dampening your underwear. He leans in and takes one of your nipples into his mouth making another dull wave of lust wash through you.  

And he makes sure to pay attention to both. It's just like him to be so attentive to some shit like that. Your spine arches as he sucks on your sensitive nipples, letting his tongue flick across them and giving into a sweet friction. You buck your hips up against instinctively, gripping onto the sheets as your sense of restlessness grows.  

Your voice is whiny to your own ears but you can't calm down to save your life.  

"You're taking too long," You huff. He laughs lightly, looking up at you from underneath his lashes.  

"Don't be impatient." He tsks.  

"It's enough already," 

He shakes his head. "Nope. Still got a long ways to go. Promise you'll have me when you're ready for it, so just try and focus on feeling good."  

You make a frustrated sound. "It's embarrassing being the only one feeling good,"  

He pauses before standing up on his knees. He takes his black t-shirt off in one swift go until his torso is bare, and undoes the top button of his pants. He gives you a little glance. "Better?"  

There are too many layers of that to process in the moment it happens. You mumble. "A little,"  

He beams. "Good. Now let me take good care of you,"  

Sliding down lower, he kisses you from sternum to navel. Hands gripping at the softness of your sides, smoothing over the bare skin as he his thumb finds the waistband of your skirt. He glances up at you, silently seeking your permission. You nod back at him, watching him slide the short skirt away from your waist.  

The sudden air feels cool against your skin. He presses his cheek against your belly, both hands on your hips..  

"You're gorgeous. Even more gorgeous than I thought. I feel so lucky being able to touch you when you're this perfect.” He praises endlessly.  

You cover your face with your arm.  

"Ugh. Quit it. You're sayin' too much."  

"Seeing you get so shy when I praise you a little is so cute." He trails his lips down further and further - just above your sex before stopping. "You're so cute."  

He sits back, standing up and bending your legs slightly at the knee. You hold the position as you feel him massage your calve. Thumb drawing hard circles in the muscle, slowly working his way up to your knee. He kisses you afterwards trailing the same spot his hands were touching seconds ago before moving onto the other side.  

There's nothing you can call it short of worship. The nagging feeling that it's undeserved is washed away each time Umemiya holds your gaze.  

Devotion colors every touch no matter how small. And it’s so obvious, so prominent - it feels outright wrong to deny the fact it’s there.   

You think the closest thing you can compare it too is the way Umemiya gardens. A patience as his fingers root through earth and soil, a kindness towards delicate things that makes even hours of work under the sun look beautiful and easy. His expression is what's most uncanny - what makes you you feel so hot. 

An expression that says he loves doing it from the very bottom of his heart - not even a hint of apathy or complaint.  

A face that says he loves every long, drawn out motion and actions of repetition all fro the very core of him.  

Having it directed at making love to you so blatantly makes you more aroused than you know what to do with. You don't know how to let yourself be treated like the most cherished flower in Umemiya's garden - and you aren't so sure how you're meant to get used to it no matter how much it makes you feel...nice. You don’t have any other experience.  

Which is why you're trying to be patient. Trying to be at least temporarily secure in whatever he sees in you that makes him worship every inch of you, memorizing all your ins and outs.  

Umemiya places hot, wet kisses on your inner thigh before laying himself between your spread legs - breath barely hovering over your sex.  

By the time he gets there, you feel utterly melted into your sheets. Your mind is hazy, impatient and wanting as strong hands secure your thighs. He's so close.  

"I wanna eat you out. Is that okay?"  

"If you don't do something soon I'm gonna kill you."  

He laughs warmly. "I'll take that as a yes."  

You pause. Umemiya waits.  

"I didn't uh," You clear your throat. "Wasn't planning on getting laid so y'know. Haven't shaved in a while."  

"Were you worried that I'd change my mind? I like it for the record. Feels natural." Umemiya says. "It's your body so there's nothing I would dislike about it."  

"You're too much." You reply back in earnest. You cover your face with your arms. "So cheesy."  

"I'm being serious." He says suddenly solemn with how sincere he is. 

The sudden change is amusing. You pause before breaking into genuine giggles, unable to help yourself.  

"You're really somethin', yknow that?"  

He's quiet for a long time. Long enough for it to catch your attention, turning your gaze more clearly towards his face. Swiftly, he pushes himself up to catch your mouth in another kiss. It stuns you a bit, very different to all the rest. More teeth and tongue than lip.  

"I like you," He murmurs, forehead to yours. "How can someone be so cute?"  

"Would you quit embarrassing me and get on with it?" 

He smiles. "As you wish,"  

Umemiya settles back down between your legs after easing your panties off and putting your feet flat on the bed to give himself more access. You can barely look down at him doing it. His fingers brush the slick hairs back gentle as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy apart and look at you more intimately.  

You can feel him. Feel his every breath and movement. He stares at you awestruck. "How is all of you so pretty? Even here it's such a beautiful color."  

"Stop looking so much,"  

He takes a breath, taking in your scent one more time before pressing a kiss to your clit. You make an attempt to squirm away from his grip as his finger dig into your thighs and hold you down. The strength of it knocks the wind out of you, forcing you into place. Umemiya pushes his tongue and gives you a long, tentative lick through the seam of your cunt.  

Your whole body breaks out into shivers at the sensation. The warm weight of his tongue on your sex makes feels like an electric current through water - your toes curling as he makes the same few passes over and over. He collects your pooling arousal on the tip as he drags upwards and flicks your clit tentatively. You grind against his face instinctually, hips chasing the pleasure. Amused laughter vibrates against your core as you do, mumbling at you to be patient while he's still face deep in it.  

You let out another pitchy whine before he finally stops teasing. He lays his tongue flat against your clit, cupping it lightly before drawing it around experimentally. He watches carefully as he plays around with pressure and angles - trying to see what makes you react the most. You can feel how closely he's watching you. 

You cover your mouth with your hand when he does find it, your voice breaking off as he licks carefully right where you need. He smiles into your cunt as he toys with your with the sensitive bundle of nerves, pleased by the change in your reactions. The obvious pleasure he's making you feel.  

Something blooms into your chest. You've never— 

"You're—" You close your eyes, hands tangling in the sheets as you break out into a fever. "Ngh, never had someone l-lick me,"  

He must've heard you because he seems to laser in his focus the minute you say it. He's lapping at your clit so deep, licking precisely and holding you with nose against your bush.  

You reach down tentatively, pushing back the hair falling in his face and he gives you a look so lovesick you want to run away. The pressure changes gradually, more intensely.  

It feels better somehow. Makes you feel restless. Your whole body curls in tight with want at the sensation of it, the lower expanse of your belly tensed. You're shaking as you drift closer to the edge, arousal upped by the wet sound of him sucking your clit.  

"Hajime," You warn, spine starting to arch as you helplessly try to pull away from the intense sensation. It's not familiar to your body, so much so your mind can barely make sense of what's happening to it, "Cumming—c-cumming!"  

Something in you goes undone as Umemiya keeps pace during your orgasm. All the tension inside of you suddenly comes loose - specks of white matter behind closed lids as you screw your eyes shut. Your back curves up into arch, your hips trembling, your insides pulsing. It comes running into you, crashing into your body as waves of pleasure drown out the noise in your head. He eats you out until you feel borderline hysterical.  

You feel melted and reshaped by him - yanking him off when he continues to be insistent after you're too oversensitive. He laughs when you pull him away, resting against your thigh as you take worn out heaving breaths.  

He kisses the inside of your knee as you calm down, bright smile on his features - painted pink with a slight flush. "You came. I'm so happy."  

You look at him in shock. "You're a scary guy."  

He pushes up to kiss your temple, voice soft. "Did I scare you?"  

Your stomach flutters, tucking your chin. "You were intense, but I didn't... hate it or anything."  

"Yeah?" He grins, pressing a few kisses to your cheek and face before whispering against your ear. "Then, is it okay to go farther?"  

You nod silently. Umemiya smiles.  

He stands up on his knees, pushing his hair back as your eyes are drawn to his pants. You reach out for the waistband of his pants unthinkingly, hooking your finger into it. "Isn't it stuffy?"  

He blinks, frozen before rubbing a hand across his face. "Ah a bit, but it's fine."  

"Take 'em off. Please?"  

Umemiya looks unusually distressed by the request, but follows through without another word. You watch him undress - revealing the tight black fabric of his boxer briefs snug against his waist. Your eyes go wide as you see the outline of his cock - head still half hazy. You voice your unfiltered reaction.  

"Your dick is so big,"  

He laughs breathlessly. "Are you trying to stir me up? What's with you?" He pauses to lay down besides you. You turn to lay on your side and face him a little better. "You're being cute. I'm not used to seeing you so docile."  

"Shaddup," You reply half-heartedly. Your body is still on fire but it knocked the wind of you to cum once already. "Your fault."  

He grins, a hint of smugness as he laughs. "That's true."  

"You gonna fuck me?"  

"Mm, yeah. Gotta open you up first or it'll hurt."  

"I've put stuff in before. Toys. Should be fine."   

"Still wanna play it safe. It's your precious first time after all."  

You make a face before pulling him into you, hugging him tight as your whole body breaks out in a shameful flush. "Then hurry up and do it already."  

His arms slide underneath where your laying, holding you to him as he hikes one of your legs up. He slides his free hand in over your leg - his forearm holding your thigh. You press your face to his neck and shoulder - hiding your expression. "Guess I should huh? You were always impatient,"  

You can barely tell him to shut up, the way your body waits for it. A warbled little noise leaves your mouth as he slides his middle finger through the sticky folds of your cunt - careful as it catches on your hole. Wet and so aroused, the first finger he puts in goes in completely smoothly with no real effort 

Umemiya speaks low and soft as he holds you. "I don't know if I can get used to seeing you like this. I'm glad no one else but me ever wil You’re really all I think about lately," He catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth gently. Your head spins. "People misunderstand you because you're prickly, you know? For a long time, only I knew what it felt like to be liked by you. I liked that,"  

"Why are you—mmgh," 

He slides another finger in carefully after the first one slides inside of you with no resistance. His voice is so hot against your skin, the low bass of it in your skull as he speaks so close to your ear.  

"Don't get me wrong I'm happy seeing you with so many people surrounding you. But I was a little sad too. And it kept getting worse over the years until I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t figure out why for a long time and then it clicked,” Umemiya explains. You realize half way delirious this is his real confession. God, you’re gonna kill him. “Suddenly it was all I thought about. I wanted to be special to you. I wanted to monopolize you. It was my first time having thoughts like that,”  

Another finger slides into you easily. Umemiyas fingers are so much bigger than yours. Thicker than they are long. The stretch is enough to make you gasp.  

“Hajime—“ 

He curls them up, careful until he finds the spot he’s looking for. Your body reacts, another sensation of pressure as his middle finger rubs tenderly against your gspot. You weakly try to wiggle away as he holds you firm.  

“I felt a little guilty, too. You’re my very best friend. You’re independent and diligent. Tough. But you know, when I saw you for those few months - all I could think about was how much I wanted to spoil you,” He whispers. Something in your body shifts the way touches you. Pushes in further and further - stretching until it’s easy for him to be inside. “Somehow everything I liked about you became so cute I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t help but want to dote on you over every little thing even though I knew better than anyone you didn’t need something like that.”  

Your eyes well up but not necessarily from emotion. Totally overwhelmed. You don’t feel like you’re gonna cum but there’s something else that’s waiting and each time he thrusts his fingers into you it comes a little closer. Your voice is shaking.  

“It—fuck, quit talking. Somethings gonna—“  

His smile grows a little. It’s the first time it looks so hungry.  

“I was happy in general when I realized you liked me too. Even when you were being stubborn, I liked the way you couldn’t turn me away. I liked how happy you looked talking to me as usual as if that alone was something so precious,” He hums, so focused and precise as he stretches you open on a third finger but never once losing his train of thought. Like saying all of these comes to him so easily it doesn’t matter. “I didn’t want to corner you. But it felt like I couldn’t rest until you were mine completely. Which is why I’m being so unfair to you. Why I’m so persistent. ” 

Your voice breaks on a whine. “It’s gonna come out—“  

“You make a pretty face when your heads filled with nothing but me. I don’t think it’s bad to wanna stay that way,” He hums, almost conversational as he presses a kiss to your skin. “Go on. Let go,”  

Something hot sprays between your legs as Umemiya fucks you open on all three of his fingers.  

A rush of warm liquid squirts onto your sheets as your legs shake wearily. Umemiya marvels at the mess. Your hands curl into fists, nails digging in your palms as he finally pulls them out - leaving you stretched, almost gaping.  

You lay limp in soaked sheets as you pull away from Umemiya with a very weak glare.  

He’s smiling at you, dopey and lovesick.  

“Too much?”  

Angrily, you smack at his bare chest over and over, trying to recover your pride.  

“You’re insane. What’s,” You swallow thickly. “What’s with you.”  

He shrugs. Wordless, he flips you onto your back again before hovering over top of you. Pressing his forehead to yours, he brushes your noses together and plants a tentative peck on your lips as if trying to gauge whether or not you’re upset. He melts when you kiss him back, smiling happily.  

“Were you like this with your other girlfriends? No wonder they broke up with you,”  

He laughs. “Mm, no? I was more of a gentleman.”  

You break out into another exhausted fit of laughter.  

“Pfft, yeah? Guess I’m pretty special,” 

“Yeah. You are.” He kisses you again. “Wanna keep going or are you too tired? I don’t mind if we sleep.”  

“Stupid. I said it already didn’t I? Hurry up and fuck me.”  

“Okay, okay. Let me go get the condom from my wallet,”  

You wrap your legs around his waist and stare up at him plainly as he tries to move, keeping him pinned in place. You’re frowning, brows furrowed with a hard glare. He stares at you.  

“Did you want something else? Water?”  

“Want you to fuck me,” You restate, arms reaching up to circle around his neck. “Just do it already.” 

He pulls back to look at you seriously.  

“Do you know what you’re asking?”  

You flush. “Of course I do. Stupid. Are you trying to get me to say it out loud?”  

“I might think I’m deluding myself otherwise.”  

You sigh, looking at him flatly as you try to tamp down the part of you that’s screaming to be more tactful.  

“Don’t bother with the condom, a-alright? Or pulling out,”  

He looks like he’s experiencing the shock of his life. “But…” 

“Stop being dumb or I’m never gonna have sex with you again.”  

He nods suddenly solemn. “Fine. But,”  

You give him another look that silences him. He sighs again, getting the message before kissing your cheek and pull back to sit up on his knees between your legs. Pulling his briefs down, his cock springs free. It looks a lot bigger than you saw underneath the fabric, weighed down from it’s own weight even though it stands up stiff. He opened you up with three but you wonder if it’ll be enough not to stretch you open.  

You reach your hand out to touch it tentatively, feeling it’s weight and heft. He clears his throat but seems content to let you. The palms of your hands cup the shaft, feeling all the veins pulse. The tip is sticky with precum. You pull your hand away, another sudden wave of self consciousness overwhelming you.  

Umemiya hovers over you again, placing he length of his cock against your pussy. You shift a little feeling it slide against you, hard and hot.  

“Gonna put it in now, okay?”  

Nodding, you put your legs up. You take a deep breath when the head pushes in, letting out an involuntary noise. You feel well-stretched but the thickness of his cock is still enough to make you feel it in your legs. Umemiya is focused above you, barely sliding the tip through your folds as you open up around him. The air feels punched out of your lungs on just the first inch.  

His face is strained is he holds his hips steady, leaning down to tap your foreheads together. “Feeling okay?”  

“Mm,” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. Feels different.”  

“Different?”  

“Yours is bigger than all the stuff I own,” You explain. “Feels hotter. Harder, too.”  

You feel his cock twitch inside of you suddenly, shocking you. He smiles sheepishly.  

“Gonna push in a little more, okay?”  

You nod, watching as Umemiya so slowly presses his cock into you further. Enough that it doesn’t hurt when you take him, as much as it just feels like something is inside of you. You feel a warm sense of satisfaction at how full you feel. You feel like him like he’s in your stomach, taking up so much space. After a while of pushing, stopping, and going again  - he finally bottoms out.  

“You feel incredible,” He murmurs, half-smile on his face. Your stomach flutters. “It’s hard not to cum right away. Feels so good inside of you. I love you.”  

You feel yourself twitch, frowning at the expression of delight Umemiya has. You put your hand against his fact to keep him away but he kisses your palm and moves it. Bottomed out, he grasps both hands and holds them  - pinning them to the bed as you watch him wide-eyed.  

“Think you’re used to it?” He hums, clasping your fingers together. “Is it okay if I move?”  

You feel so damn bashful. “It’s okay.” 

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll go slow.” 

As promised, Umemiya pulls out carefully before pushing back into you. You’re so wet that it slides in without any real friction. It takes a few thrusts of him going slowly for your body to get adjusted to the sensation. After a few motions, though - it starts to feel different.  

Starts to feel good. Really, really good.  

“Oh,” Your eyes flutter open. “Shit. You c-can go faster.”   

“Yeah?”  

You nod, trying not to seem too eager. 

When Umemiya picks up pace, you feel your  the whole lower half of your body weaken all over again. Something in your legs, your spine go soft against the bed underneath, a sudden unusual arousal swelling. Somewhere in deeper as he cocks thrusts against your gspot, knocking against it with more force than before. The change in pace coupled with the visual of Umemiya over you, face drawn together in focus as he fucks you is too much. Split open on his cock, you can hear how wet you are each time he moves.  

“Feels…” Your words come up empty. “’s so much.” 

“Yeah? Is it too much for you, baby?”  

You shake your head as your thoughts get increasingly cloudy. It’s like there’s nothing else your body can focus on. The way his cock drags against your sensitive, silken walls. The feeling of being full to empty and then full all over again. The way your pussy gets so much wetter each time he moves, sloppy and sucking him in so tight. You can feel your body want for him.  

Umemiya lets go of your hands, sliding one between your bodies. Palm resting on your sex, he lets his brush against your clit. The difference it makes is significant, makes your eyes go wide. He smiles a little, hair falling in his face as he pushes it up with his free hand.  

“That’s it,” He hums, contented to keep at it like this. “Feels good, right? Your holding onto me so tightly it’s hard for me to pull out even though you’re so wet.”  

You make a whiny noise and wonder if other peoples first times feel this good or if you’re just outrageously lucky. You decide on the latter he fucks you faster and matches his thrusts with the movement of his fingers. You’re warm all over - skin scorching as your hands find his biceps and shoulders to cling onto.  

Your voice is so whiny when you call out for him “You’re so deep, ngh.”  

He laughs, deep and raspy. “Yeah? Tell me what you’re feeling,”  

“It feels good when you’re in me.” You reply drunkenly. “Want it faster. Please,”  

He complies with your request almost immediately. You cry out loud, physically incapable of holding the sound in as he gets to fucking you faster and harder. Your pussy is throbbing. Senselessly horny, you pull Umemiya closer to you as he fucks you and smash your lips together. You feel so good, so thoroughly fucked and completely out of it. He’s in you but you want him even closer, want the scent of his skin to mark you.  

A second time your body builds up to that familiar feeling but it’s so much farther inside. An orgasm pulled right from your core. Stomach tied in knots as Umemiya fucks you hard, you wrap your legs around his waist and take him. 

“That’s it. You’re so good. Cum on my cock, sweet girl. Let me feel it” He murmurs against your skin, holding you close. “You’re making me feel so good. So cute. Go ahead, it’s okay. Let me see how good I’m making you feel.”  

Pliant to his request, you hold onto Umemiya for dear life as your body gives into second orgasm. Your nails dig into his biceps as the built up arousal gives way pleasure - and you cum hard with his cock sheathed all the way inside of you. All the wind gets stolen from your lungs as you press forward with another kiss, your whole body trembling violently as you let go.  

Umemiya sweet talks you through without letting go once, only stopping to take a pause when you’ve fully ridden out your high.  

You stare up at him in a daze as he takes a breather to kiss you, still hard as he’s bottomed out inside of you.  

“You gonna cum soon?”  

“Mm,” He nods. “Yeah I’m close. If I move, I will.”  

“’s okay to cum in me,”  

Umemiya laughs warmly. “I’m already about too. You’re not helping,”  

You smile a bit as you hug him close to you and tell him again that it’s fine. Before long, he holds you too, whispering the same three words into your neck as he finally lets it out. It’s a weird feeling, thick white ropes of seed spilling into the deepest parts of you.  

You don’t really hate it, though.  

“I love you,” Umemiya repeats. Tired you don’t try to fight yourself.  

“Love you too,”  

__ 

The next morning, you’re stirred away by the sound of your front door unlocking and the sound of Kotoha’s voice echoing through your apartment.  

You’re still half-way asleep, so it barely dawns on you that anything is off. Not cognizant enough to think twice, your body tries to go back to sleep.  

Or it does until you hear a very loud shout coming from your kitchen that wakes you up with a start.  

“No fucking way,”  

You sit up suddenly, hearing faint conversation before the sound of steps barreling towards your door. You just barely manage to pull the sheets up over your chest before she comes storming through the door of your bedroom.  

You watch her eyes scan your entire room, mentally collecting data before she finally lands on you. As your brain starts to load back in, your eyes go wide with horror at the look of pure scandal on her face.  

Fuck. You were supposed to be having dinner with her and Tsubaki tonight. Usually you confirm with them in the mornings since your up. It’s not uncommon for her to drop in when you don’t reply to check in since you live close by. 

Fuck.  

“You—Oh, I have to text Tsubaki-chan, I can’t believe—“  

Before she gets to finish her sentence, Umemiya appears behind her in your door way. The sight of him only adds fuel to the flame of your embarrassment. You went another round or two before bed last night and it looks like it too. Shirtless in sweats he left over a while ago, his biceps are covered in scratch and with a few hickies, he’s wearing his hair down with a cup of tea and a very apologetic smile.  

You cover your face with your hands unsure of how to deal with the feeling of pure mortification.  

Kotoha snaps a picture of your room that causes even more distress.  

“If you don’t delete that right now, I’m gonna kill us both.”  

“In your dreams.”  

Umemiya laughs warmly. “Please don’t kill each other.”  

He slides past Kotoha coming over to you. Bending down to kiss your forehead, he pulls the blanket up over you so you’re more well-covered. You give him an incredulous but Umemiya is unfazed - smiling as bright as ever. 

“Good morning,”  

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Kotoha says. She points at Umemiya. “You, go put on a shirt.”  

“Fine, fine. Stay for breakfast,” Umemiya says with a smile. “It’ll be nice having it with my two favorite people.”  

You make another face as Umemiya gives you a long, affectionate look before disappearing. She sighs as she looks at you, pinching the bridge of her nose.  

“I would ask if you’re gonna meet us for dinner but you don’t have a choice anymore so show up at seven. I’m gonna leave before that tactless idiot comes back. We’ll talk later.”  

You nod in understanding. She turns to leave but then turns back with a genuine smile.  

“And, well - congrats. He’s a tactless idiot but he does love you or whatever. Cherish each other,”  

You flush, nodding your head. “Yeah…thanks.”  

With that Kotoha leaves quickly. Umemiya returns still shirtless, pouting a little when he notices she’s gone.  

“She left already?”  

“Of course she did. I can’t believe you would invite her for breakfast.”   

Umemiya shrugs. “No point being coy about it. I thought it’d be nice. I was looking for a shirt but I guess I don’t need one now,” He sits besides you on the bed, turning to face with a goofy smile. “Anyways, good morning.”  

“You already said that.”  

“You didn’t say it back,”  

You frown. “G’morning,”  

He smiles suddenly  before grabbing you from underneath the blankets and sheets - pulling your naked body ontop of him as he grins. Sunlight pours through the window as he holds you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head before pressing his cheek into your hair.  

“Mm, yeah. It’s a really good morning after all.”  

“You’re stupid.”  

“And you love me,”  

You fail trying not to smile.  Damn him. You're so happy it hurts. You roll your eyes.

“I guess so.”  

[absinthe-over-tea]

either way it's gonna || the pitt

pt 2 <<prev • next>>

pairing: jack abbott x f!resident!reader warnings: age gap (older man/younger woman), probably lots of medical inaccuracies, brief mentions of rehab and miscarriage a/n: Did I stay up until 2 a.m. to post this bc Jack Abbot and The Pitt have fully taken over my brain? Yes, yes, I did. This story is just getting started and I hope to keep posting updates throughout the week as I have time to write, so let me know if y'all want me to start a tag list?

As predicted, Robby was on the roof nursing a beer. Though at least tonight he was on this side of the railing. 

“Should I be worried about how often I find you up here these days?” Before PittFest a little over a month ago, it was rare for Robby to come up to the roof unless he was looking for Jack. Now, he was up here more nights than not. 

“You sound like Heather.” 

“Dr. Collins is a smart woman.” 

They both stood there leaning against the railing in silence, staring out over the skyline of downtown Pittsburgh in the distance. Jack knew better than to push Robby for a real answer. If he wanted to talk about what happened today, he would. If not, Jack was content to spend a few minutes in silence before what was sure to be another hectic shift. 

The sun was starting to set, and the soundtrack of the city was starting to morph from day to night — honking from rush hour commuters replaced by live music and happy hour laughter. The bar down the block that the day shift residents were always heading to after shift was playing some new pop song that Jack had heard too many times on the radio. He wondered briefly if you would head there after today’s shift with the others, or if you were the type to keep work and your personal life in two completely separate boxes. 

“So, I met your new resident downstairs,” Jack broke the silence. 

Robby’s eyes cut over to him, one eyebrow raised in that annoying Robby way that meant he was reading into something Jack would really rather him not. 

“Yeah, I needed a backfill for Langdon, and Gloria only made me promise half my soul in exchange. She’s a transfer from Mercy.” 

“She any good?” 

He tried to sound casual, unaffected — just an attending asking another attending about a new resident. But the way Robby fully turned to look at Jack suggested that he was unsuccessful. He pointedly ignored the growing smirk on his friend’s face. 

“Very. Calm under pressure, quick to diagnose, generous with the interns and med students. She’ll be an asset. Gloria actually smiled when she looked at her resumé, amd I didn’t know she was even capable of anything other than a disappointed frown.”

Jack just nodded slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the skyline as Robby continued to study him with his arms crossed over his chest and hip propped up against the railing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re asking because you want to sleep with her or because you want to steal her for the night shift.” 

“Oh fuck off, I’m not trying to steal her,” Jack rolled his eyes. He’d technically stolen Ellis away from day shift after her intern year, and Robby still hadn’t let it go. And even if Jack was plotting to steal you to add to the night shift roster, it’d be fair game. Night shift was even more understaffed than the day shift. 

“So you’re trying to sleep with her then?” 

Jack nearly gave himself whiplash turning to glare at Robby. “No, I’m not trying to—that’s not why I—Christ, Robby, she’s like half my age!” 

Robby barked out an amused laugh, shoulders shaking with what could only be described as unabashed glee while Jack sputtered out his response. “That must have been one hell of a first impression, Brother. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this flustered.” 

“I’m not flustered. Forget I said anything. Maybe I do want to steal her for the night shift,” he grumbled. “Get someone to keep Shen on his toes.” 

“Whatever you say, man. God, I need that after today. Thanks.” He pushed off from the railing and headed back to the door inside, still chuckling to himself. Jack followed behind him with a deep sigh, regretting almost every life choice that led him to becoming friends with this asshole. 

*** 

You liked working at The Pitt. It was a faster pace than Mercy. More cases, higher stakes, less oversight. Given how often you saw Gloria following around a visibly annoyed Robby, her heels clacking rapidly against the vinyl tiling, you suspected that last bit was thanks to him shielding the ED from higher influences. 

Robby was a great boss, and Dana ran a tight ship. Plus, there was a real sense of camaraderie between the staff that you didn’t realize you were missing before. It’s always a red flag when an HR department tells you that a workplace is “like a family,” and you thankfully hadn’t heard anyone say that during your interview process at PTMC. But you also sort of felt like it might be true in this case. 

The Pitt was sort of a family. A wildly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. And you’d been in desperate need of one. 

Collins was a tough chief resident, but she was constantly looking out for everyone else. Princess and Perlah may endlessly bully poor Whittaker, who was hands-down the most unlucky person you’d ever met in your life, but you’d seen them both slide a piece of candy across the counter toward him on numerous occasions when he was having the kind of shift that left him cycling through multiple sets of scrubs. Santos could be a pain in the ass, but she also didn’t hesitate to throw herself in between Mel and a patient who was getting a little too aggressive.

And by the end of your first month on the job, they’d brought you into the fold, too. 

You and Collins got close quickly. During your first week, you’d accidentally stumbled across her crying in the stairwell. You’d sat down with her quietly, just so she wouldn’t be alone, and after shift, she told you about her miscarriage and the case that had triggered her tears earlier in the day. You told her about breaking down in the ambulance bay after the kid whose father accidentally pushed them down the stairs during a bender. She wasn’t a lesser doctor because a case got to her; you all had your shit, and in the end, it made you better doctors. 

The guys invited you to join in on the betting board — something Mercy most certainly did not have. Everyone bet on everything, but there was also a mason jar at the nurses station labeled “coffee stash,” and every single person who won money from the pool shoved a few bills into the jar from their winnings. Dana used it for cafe coffee runs on hard shifts and beer runs after good ones. 

Santos and Mel always invited you out for drinks after shift, even though you said no more often than not so you could visit your mom before visiting hours ended. Robby fist bumped you after successful cases you worked together. Princess told you about the unofficial bet the nurses had going on about Javadi and Mateo. 

Things were…good. Great, even. 

And then there was Dr. Abbot. 

You’d been so fucking embarrassed after that first meeting — snapping at him like he was an intern and then rambling like a moron before essentially running away. The absolute height of professionalism. 

But he didn’t seem to hold it against you. If anything, it seemed that unfortunate introduction had somehow endeared you to the stoic night shift attending. You weren’t sure if it was borne from how you handled that code, the bumbling apology after, or the ironic duality of the two interactions happening back-to-back (you really hoped it was the former). But the next time you were both working on the same patient, he’d handed you a pair of iris scissors and walked you through your first-ever emergency lateral canthotomy. 

After, he’d given you a proud smile. “Hell of a job, doctor. You just saved this man’s eye.” 

You didn’t get to work with him every day, only on the days he came in early for his shift or you stayed late to wrap up a case or catch up on paperwork. But the occasions when your time in the ED did overlap, you found yourself gravitating toward him. He was gruff, no-nonsense. He scared the shit out of the interns, and the nurses all had stories about him Macgyvering procedures. But he was also a phenomenal doctor and a patient teacher. Had a clear soft spot for vets and kids. 

And yeah, okay, he was unfairly handsome. You weren’t above admitting that to yourself. The corded muscles along his forearms, broad shoulders, the constant five o’clock shadow, the salt and pepper hair grown out just long enough to start to curl, the slight rasp in his voice. It was a very specific combination that caused a weird swooping sensation in your belly every time you locked eyes with him. 

You asked Collins about him at the bar one night, three whiskey diet cokes deep and unable to hold the question back. 

“What about him? He's the most senior night shift attending. Great doctor. Surprisingly good teacher, given the whole ‘ED cowboy’ reputation. He’s worked at The Pitt for… 7 years now, I think? Obvious workaholic, given how often he comes in early and stays late.” 

“I don’t mean what’s in his personnel file, Heather," you say, exasperated. You wanted to know what he was like, his hobbies outside of work, if he was single...

“Then what did you mean?” 

“I don’t know, something that’s not in his personnel file? I know him and Robby are friends.” 

She slumped down deeper in the booth, her legs stretching across until her feet rested on your side of the booth. “And why would that mean I know anything about him? Do I look like Princess and Perlah on the gossip squad to you?” 

You leveled an unamused look at her, one that said, Do you really want me to lay out exactly why I think you would know all about Jack because he and Robby are friends? 

She sighed dramatically, putting her hands up in surrender. “He’s a combat vet. Afghanistan. Three tours as a medic before an IED ended his military career. He wears a prosthetic, though he does a pretty good job of keeping it hidden at the hospital. Lately, him and Robby do this weird post-shift hand-off thing on the roof, which is morbid and more than a little concerning. He’s a widower; further details unclear.”

“Shit.” The liquor buzzing through your system prevented you from saying anything more eloquent. Heather just nodded in agreement. 

That briefly brought the mood down, silence stretching between you in the booth. Your mind wandered to Dr. Abbot. He’d be at the hospital right now, rounding on patients. It was late enough that there might be a lull. You wondered what he was like during those periods of downtime. Was he restless, constantly finding something to keep him busy, or did he relish a chance for a break to get some peace and quiet? Was he more relaxed with his night shift crew? Did he have secret jokes with the nurses? Did he give that small, proud smile when Ellis or Walsh pulled off a successful procedure under his tutelage? 

God, the whiskey was really making you pathetic tonight. 

“So, traumatized, tired, self-loathing older men. That’s your type?” Heather’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. 

You thought about denying it. It’s not like anything would ever happen between you anyway — he was an attending and older and a fucking widower, apparently. It was just an innocent work crush; something to keep your mind occupied during shift lulls and stilted visits with your mom. 

But then she waggled her eyebrows with a smug, shit-eating grin on her face, and you knew lying would be pointless. Instead, you threw a straw wrapper at her and shot her a mock glare. “Shut up, you’re one to talk.” 

She dodged the wrapper easily, sitting up with a burst of energy and demanding you to tell her everything. You were going to need another whiskey diet.

[lady-djarin]

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

~

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

~

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

~

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

~

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

[justauthoring]

This is the Beginning [4/?]

Summary: You never thought you'd be able to escape Buggy, and yet, a boy with a straw hat, a man with three swords and a girl with orange hair somehow manage to free you. The journey that follows afterwards is your chance at freedom and maybe something more.

A One Piece Live Action Rewrite

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, bits of jealous!zoro, that's really all!

Word Count: 9,323

A/N: Well, we made it! We caught up to seaon one of OPLA! Unfortunately, that means this series will be taking a hiatus until the new season comes out since it is a rewrite. But! I might do little bonus chapters and bonding moments!!

I have started watching the anime, so I know the general direction the live action will probably follow. If you guys would like bonus chapters, let me know!

Tag List: @emmaiscool22 - @bethleeham - @veryunoriginal - @sun-rae04 - @medievalfangirl - @sylum - @academiq

Chapter Four - This is It

“Y/N! My old friend!”

Before you can even register the fact that Buggy is talking to you, a body steps in front of you, fully blocking you from view. The expanse of Zoro’s broad shoulders is the only thing you can see as he glares down at Buggy; “don’t talk to her.”

Buggy just laughs, loud and mocking. “Yeah?” He taunts, “and what are you going to do about it? Bleed on me?”

You can see the tension build in Zoro, muscles tensing and his shoulders raising with every word Buggy throws at him.

You don’t blame him. You still remember when Luffy had all but dropped the fact that during their fight with Arlong and Nami’s betrayal, they’d reunited with Buggy, or rather the head of Buggy. It was made ten times worse when Luffy also elected to inform you that Buggy was coming with you all and helping you to Arlong’s island, as part of a deal he’d made with the pirate. He told you the two of them had made it in return for his navigation to the island, he’d get his body back.

And even though Luffy had assured you he wouldn’t let Buggy try and pull anything on you, you still felt uneasy about him being onboard.

You had no doubt that Buggy’s intentions were not as pure as he was making them out to be. He had something up his sleeve, or at the very least, he would betray you all. At one point or another.

Still, it didn’t matter because you were stuck for him for now. It wasn’t up to just you and you did need him, at least to find where Arlong and Nami had gone. And after spending the first day refusing to go up onto deck in fear of having to face Buggy, your once captain and long-time tormentor, you were sick of hiding away. You’d decided to go up on deck, especially after Zoro had shown concern with you hiding away. Buggy only had his head, after all, so despite saying whatever he wanted, he couldn’t do much.

You try to remind yourself of that.

Your attempt at not being seen, however, had failed the second you’d made your way up to the deck as Buggy had clocked your arrival instantly.

Ignoring the racing of your heart, you reach forward, setting your hand on Zoro’s arm. He pauses at the touch, looking as if he was ready to just kill Buggy and be done with it. He turns his head around to glance down at you, and you send him a reassuring smile.

You remind yourself that you were with a crew of people who cared about you deeply and no one was going to let Buggy hurt you in any way. Not to mention, you’d grown yourself. You weren’t the same girl Buggy had spent years tormenting; you could stand up for yourself now, especially if you had your friends by your side.

He looks like he wants to argue, but still, Zoro doesn’t fight you when you step out from behind him, turning your eye on Buggy.

“I’m not your friend, Buggy. And I never was,” you say, voice firm in your defiance. “And don’t think that I don’t know all your tricks. If you even try to betray us, I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing!” Buggy laughs, loud and piercing. “Just like you never did back on my crew! You always were too helpless for your own good. All it took was that cage and—”

It doesn’t take you much to figure out what he was implying with his words and it leaves an unpleasant taste in your mouth, thinking back to that horrible cage. However, he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Zoro is crossing the distance over to Buggy in seconds. Usopp, who’d been standing at the helm, steering with Buggy’s degrading instructions, looks all too pleased as Zoro grabs Buggy by the top of his head, lifting him off the barrel he’d been set on. You, however, look concerned, wanting nothing more than Zoro to actually just get rid of Buggy but you knew you needed him to get to Nami.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait!” Buggy pleads almost instantly, words coming out in a rushed panic. “I was just joking!” He tries to excuse himself, and your eyes widen as Zoro moves him so he’s hanging over the edge of the ship. Buggy’s voice rises in terror. “I was joking! Y/N knows I was joking! Don’t you, Y/N—”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Zoro cuts in, voice sharp. “You don’t talk to Y/N.”

Biting your lip, you stare at Zoro’s back. You knew, obviously after the conversation the two of you had had, that Zoro cared about you but seeing him so openly defend you made your heart flutter in ways you didn’t know it could.

“You don’t look at her. Or bother her in any way. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yes,” Buggy rushes, voice a blur of desperation. “I won’t bother Y/N!”

“And if this is just another one of your tricks… or you leading us into a trap. Then…”

“Zoro, buddy!” Buggy laughs, “honour amongst pirates. Right? Come on. How about I sing a nice sea shanty to pass the time.”

Sighing, you press your hand to your forehead.

“Oh, there once was a girl with tangerine hair…”

Buggy continues, but a shared look back at you and Usopp makes Zoro’s decision for him easy. Turning around, he makes his way back up to the helm, where Usopp waits with the lid of a barrel topped off.

Zoro doesn’t hesitate to drop Buggy right inside.

“Ow! God, right on my nose!” 

Whatever else he’d been about to say is muffled as Usopp quickly places the top of the barrel back on.

Usopp turns back to you. “I hate clowns.”

Huffing a laugh, you nod your head, instantly eased at his silence. “Me too.”

Making his way back over to you, Zoro dusts off his hands, as if disgusted that Buggy had even been anywhere near him. You glance past him, making sure Usopp wasn’t paying attention anymore, before you reach for Zoro, smiling up at him.

“Thank you for defending me,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Zoro smirks, confident by your praise, but you see the soft flush to his cheeks. “It was a long time coming,” he shrugs, “I hate that clown.” He pauses, briefly, as if unsure of his own words. “Especially for how he treated you.”

The words, despite what they mean, pull a smile to your lips. Your grip on him tightens, and you lean into his embrace. Slowly, Zoro’s arm comes to rest around your shoulders, and you’re reminded of how new all of this still is. The two of you had only confessed your feelings a little bit ago and the two of you were still trying to maneuver those changes; especially since everything else was also still new. 

It was hard to believe it had only been a few short weeks since Luffy, Zoro and Nami saved you from Buggy and you joined them on their adventure. Finding Usopp, fighting Kuro and the Black Cat crew, then arriving at the Baratie, Nami’s betrayal and Sanji joining you… so much had happened in such a short amount of time. A part of you wondered if Zoro and you had moved too quickly into something beyond just a friendship, but then you feel the bandages across his chest on the skin of your cheek and you remember how close he’d been to dying.

Even if most would consider it quick, you didn’t want to waste a moment when you could lose him or he could lose you at any time.

Besides, he and the rest of the crew were stuck with you now. There would be plenty of time to work out the kinks.

“It’s okay,” you reassure Zoro. “I won’t lie and say what Buggy had done to me still doesn’t… haunt me. But, I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be when Luffy said he made a deal with him. Especially because now I have you guys. Because I have you.”

Zoro shifts and you pull back, giving him the room to lean back so he can meet your eye properly. A man of action as always, he raises his left hand, brushing back your hair to cup your cheek and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. It’s quick, the touch of his lips hovering for what feels like far too short, before he’s pulling back, smiling at you.

“I should talk to Luffy.” He says a moment later, “figure out our plan for when we find Nami and Arlong.”

You nod, finally letting your hands fall to your sides as you watch him walk away, sending one last warm look back at you. Your heart is still fluttering, even as he gets further and further away, feeling hot and weak at the same time.

“Someone’s down bad.”

Blinking, you turn around, finding Usopp staring down at you with the widest shit-eating grin on his lips.

Cheeks warming, you shake yourself out of your stupor, making your way up the stairs over to him. “Ha-ha,” you huff, but the smile on your lips is fond. 

Usopp just giggles. “Seriously,” he teases, “the two of you barely notice the people around you when you’re together.”

Coming to a stop next to him, you lightly nudge him with your shoulder. “Haven’t you teased me enough?” You whine, pouting, as your eyes glimmer with mischief at him. “The second Luffy told you what he saw, you haven’t let me off the hook.”

“It’s too fun,” Usopp shrugs, turning his gaze ahead to continue steering the ship. “You always get so embarrassed.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you raise a brow. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you, Usopp.”

“Oh?” He challenges, “and why’s that?”

“Because you forget I saw you and Kaya,” you smirk, watching as the smile on his lips falls and is replaced by a bright red across his cheeks. “If you want to talk about two people smitten…—”

“Okay, okay! I won’t tease you anymore!”

You turn to Usopp, his face turning bright red as he wildly shakes his hands in front of him. It pulls a laugh from your lips, loud and warm, enough to pull Usopp from his own reverie as he blinks back at you.

Turning your gaze back ahead, you soften your smile; “I’m happy for you, Usopp. And I know you’ll see her one day again.”

Shoulders easing, Usopp grabs hold of the helm again and grins to himself. “Thanks,” he says earnestly, “and I’m happy for you too. You and Zoro.”

You squeeze his arm in return, smile infectious, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with one another for a few minutes.

Then, you catch sight of something ahead. 

“Usopp,” you call, shaking his own arm before pointing ahead of yourself. “Look!”

He leans forward, eyes squinting. “I don’t see anything,” he mumbles, confused.

You frown; “you don’t see the island up ahead?”

“How do you…” Usopp frowns, but his voice trails, squinting even more before he pulls back in realization. “Wait. I see it!” 

Instantly, he cups his hands around his mouth, breathing in sharply so yell out to the three at the front of the ship; “land ho!”

-

Walking behind Zoro, you frown at the sight of the village in front of you. In a lot of ways, it uncomfortably reminds you of the village Buggy had destroyed; the one Luffy had saved.

It’s desolate. Any sign of happiness that probably flooded these homes is gone, without a trace of it ever exiting. It makes your chest tight and your heart sinks.

You slow to a stop when you notice the rest of your crew doing the same, turning to the left and your lips part when you see what’s caught their attention.

“This is terrible,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your lips as you stare back at the flipped upside down house.

Zoro eyes you, before turning to the house; “never seen that before.”

“What could have done this?” Sanji asks, brows furrowed in bafflement.

Usopp hovers next to you, shuffling on his feet. “Maybe I should head back… make sure the Merry’s secure.”

Without hesitation, you reach for Usopp, squeezing his arm. He turns to you, the fear in his gaze apparent.

But before you can say anything to reassure him, Luffy speaks up;

“Arlong did this.”

His voice is unusually low, tinged with rage. You stare back at him with surprise.

“Hey, shit-hat!” Buggy calls, voice muffled through the bag Sanji is currently carrying him in. “I think we can all agree that Arlong’s a bad fish. But why don’t we quit lollygagging and get my body back?”

You scoff, “as if we should hurry for your sake.” Letting your gaze drag across the village once more, you frown. “This is no different than anything you’ve done before. Same innocent people being hurt, just different pirates.”

Sanji’s eyes fall on you, and you figure it’s because he’s the only one on the crew that doesn’t know how Luffy had found you. Sure, Usopp hadn’t been there, but he’d heard bits and pieces of it and probably was able to piece it all together. Sanji, who’d just joined, wouldn’t know. All he knew was you’d once been on Buggy’s crew.

You avoid his gaze. 

“Come on, Y/N! I certainly wasn’t as bad as—”

“Pipe down in there!” Sanji cuts him off, for your sake more than anyone else's. 

“Or what?” Buggy huffs. “You gonna whip me up a souffle?”

Dropping the bag, Sanji sighs, gesturing to Usopp. “How about you take him for a while?”

“Ooh,” Usopp breathes, shaking his head. “New guy carries the clown head.”

Feeling bad for the guy, you step forward, reaching for the bag. “Here, Sanji, I can—”

“Absolutely not—”

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got it—”

Both Zoro and Sanji speak at the same time, and almost instantly, the two turn to each other with glares.

“Y/N is not carrying that clown head,” Zoro growls, shifting beside you.

“I agree,” Sanji bites out, shouldering the bag again before turning to you with a smile. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I got it under control.”

You hesitate, frowning, but seeing the smile on his lips and the way Zoro continues to glare at the cook, you decide to let it go. “Okay,” you shrug, “if you’re sure.”

The five of you continue to make your way, picking up the pace in your step when you see a group of people up ahead.

“Everyone! Please!”

The man speaking stands at the front of the crowd, holding a box. His expression is grim.

“We don’t have much time,” he continues. “And we’re short again this month.”

You frown when you watch a man step up, dumping a handful of Berry into the box.

That sinking feeling floods your stomach again.

“Is it enough?”

With a frown, the man at the front shakes his head slowly.

“Do we have time to get some more?”

“No.”

Your back straightens, recognizing that voice.

Sure enough, the crowd splits instantly, and you see Nami step through.

“You don’t,” she says, slowly making her way through the crowd.

Luffy steps forward, as if to go to her. Zoro stops him.

A woman with blue hairs steps right up to Nami, face twisted with rage. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.” Nami doesn’t say anything in return, even when the woman spits right at her feet.

She walks off a second later, your eyes follow her. 

A moment of silence passes, then, Nami turns her attention back to the man with the donation box. “Got something for me?”

Slowly, he hands over the box.

It takes Nami one look; “you’re short.”

“Nami, please,” the man begs. “This is all we have. Arlong has bled us dry.”

“Then find more blood.”

Swallowing thickly, the sight breaks your heart. There was no way Nami could actually be this… heartless, right?

The man walks off as does the rest of the crowd. Nami, with the donation box still in hand, lets her gaze wander, freezing the second she catches sight of the five of you.

She makes her way over in seconds flat.

“Luffy?” She calls, voice sharp. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing.”

“This is where I belong.”

Luffy shakes his head, “I don’t believe that. This is not you.”

“No,” she argues. “This isn’t the me you want me to be.”

“Nami…” Luffy calls, voice soft. He steps towards her. “If you need our help—”

“No, I don’t need any of you.”

You flinch at that, watching as her eyes dance across the five of you. When her eyes meet yours, she’s quick to look away.

“Arlong wanted the map,” she explains, “and I conned you into getting it for me. And you bought it. I was never part of your stupid crew.”

“You don’t mean that.”

For the splittest of seconds, Nami’s face wavers. You see it, watch it happen, but it’s gone before you can do anything about it. It feels like you’re the only one who does see it.

“Take the rest of these clowns and sail away from here,” she spits. “I never want to see you again.”

She spins around, moving to walk off. You instinctively move to walk after her, knowing what you saw and not ready to give up, but Zoro grabs your hand, tightening his grip. Turning to him, his expression is sympathetic for you but firm; she won’t listen.

Usopp huffs behind you; “okay, that went about as bad as it could. So back to the boat before the fishmen find us? Sail the hell out of here? Okay.” 

Sanji shakes his head; “there’s something else going on here.”

“I think she was very clear she wants us to leave,” Zoro argues.

“You don’t know women,” Sanji instantly rebuts, “they never say what they mean.”

You blink, “well, I—”

“Tell me again why the cook gets a say.” Zoro huffs, turning to face Sanji.

“Don’t you guys get it,” Usopp cuts in, and you watch as the three of them circle around each other, bickering. All while Luffy remains standing where Nami left him. “She’s one of them. She’s a bad guy. The villagers are terrified of her.”

Raising your voice, you step forward and interrupt them before any of them can speak. “The look on her face was off,” you explain, remembering exactly what you’d seen. Turning to Zoro, you look back at him determined. “I know what she said, Zoro, but she looked like she was this close to breaking down. Sanji is right, there is something more going on here. I’m sure of it.”

Zoro, who looks put out that you’re siding with Sanji, steps towards you. “Y/N, I know that you don’t want it to be true but Nami…” He hesitates, seeing the look on your face. “Usopp is right. The villagers were scared. Of her.”

Face falling, you can’t deny that.

“Not all of them,” Luffy says, speaking up for the first time. You turn around to face him, but he steps forward before you can ask what he meant. “Hey! Scar guy.”

Only chancing one more glance back at Zoro, you quickly follow after Luffy.

“Who was that girl?” Luffy asks the man who’d been collecting the donations. “You know, the one with the cool hair?”

The man eyes you five. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy,” Luffy introduces, voice serious. “I’m a pirate—”

“—Hunter,” Zoro cuts in quickly. Hands shoved into his pockets, he steps up beside Luffy. “Pirate hunter. We’re here to collect Arlong’s bounty.”

Sensing the apprehension on the man’s face, you think that was definitely a smart save on Zoro’s part.

The man just raises a brow. “You? I’ve seen men twice your size and with twice your number go into Arlong Park. None of them ever came back.”

Luffy smiles. “We just want to talk to her.”

“Trust me,” the man argues, “you don’t. But if it’ll get you out of my town, try the house down that road, on the edge of the tangerine grove.”

-

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Jumping at the voice, you turn around, easing when you see it’s just Nojiko.

Turns out that girl with the cool hair, as Luffy had dubbed her, was Nami’s sister. After managing to convince her into talking to you with the promise of a home-cooked meal, Sanji had whipped her and the rest of you up a meal. It was only then Nojiko had agreed to tell you the story of how her and Nami’s mother had died because of Arlong, who’d taken control of this island eight years ago. And how Nami was now working for him.

The story had left the five of you all upset in your own ways. When Usopp had solidified the fact that Nami really was working for her mother’s killer, the air in the house had thickened with tension.

You’d stay for a while, but after Buggy had insisted on being let out of the bag to the point Sanji had been forced to do so, you’d taken your leave. Luffy, and then Zoro who had gone after him, had left the second Nojiko finished telling you everything and you hadn’t heard from them since. You figured it was best to give them space, so you’d chosen to wander through the tangerine grove right by Nojiko’s house.

When Nojiko had found you.

Meeting Nojiko’s eyes, you glance at her inquisitively.

“Deal with being stuck with four men,” she laughs lightly. “Especially on a ship. I’d go crazy.”

You smile back at her, snorting. “You get used to it.” Then, smile wavering just faintly, you can’t help but add; “it was easier, too. With… you know, Nami.” Hugging yourself, you glance at your feet. “It was nice having her onboard with us. Nice being her friend, if she ever thought of me as one.”

Nojiko doesn’t respond, probably not sure how to. Still, she offers a gentle and sympathetic smile in return. It’s clear she understands in her own way.

“Are you okay?” You ask, gesturing back to the house. “Sanji didn’t say anything, right? He’s a flirt and never means anything by it, but I’ll kick him for you if he makes you uncomfortable.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Nojiko shakes her head. “He didn’t say anything,” she reassures with a wave of her hand. “I just needed some air. I was… I was actually planning on visiting her grave.”

Your lips part; “your mother’s?”

She nods.

You hesitate, glancing back at the far stretch of the tangerine grove and then back at Nojiko. You decide to just ask what’s on your mind. “Could I come with you?”

She seems shocked by our question, eyes widening and brows furrowing. 

“Only if you don’t mind,” you assure, shaking your hands at her. “I just… Just thought maybe you’d like a friend. And, well… I know what it’s like to lose a mother.”

Face easing, Nojiko frowns; “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “It was a long time ago.”

Nodding slowly, Nojiko shrugs; “you can come then. And we can send a prayer to both of our mothers.”

Your smile brightens at that, worrying easing from your body as you nod at her. She returns the smile with ease and the two of you begin walking, Nojiko leading the way. The grave isn't that far away, so it doesn’t take you long before Nojiko is informing you you’re close.

“Just around this…—”

But her voice trails as you both hear… grunting? She glances back at you, worried, and you mimic her expression, rushing forward. You worry it’s someone from Arlong’s crew, heart sinking at what they could possibly be doing.

Only, it’s Nami you find.

You hesitate, feet freezing, but blind with anger at the realization of what Nami was doing, Nojiko rushes forward. “How dare you,” she hisses out, barely able to contain the anger in her voice. “It’s not enough that you’re working for our mother’s killer, but now you’re desecrating her grave too?”

You notice at the same time Nami does, her calling out for Nojiko, as the latter grabs the shovel next to the digged hole, swinging it back behind her to hit Nami.

Racing forward, you grab the handle of the shovel before Nojiko can swing it down just as Nami flinches back with a scream.

Nami’s eyes zone in on you; “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”

Meeting her gaze, your lips part; “I…—”

“Never mind that,” Nojiko spits, and she lowers her hands when you step back, but doesn’t let go of the shovel, looking ready to try and hit Nami again. “I can’t believe you would do this!”

Nami only glances at you once more, hesitating, before turning back to Nojiko; “it’s not what you think.”

Nojiko goes to swing the shovel again, and you move to grab her, but don’t reach in time. 

“You have no idea what I think!”

Nami’s name leaves your lips in a shrill cry and she just narrowly misses the edge of the shovel smacking her across the face, falling back. Instead of Nami, Nojiko hits the chest right next to the hole.

Bills and coins of Berry come pouring out of it.

Panting, Nojiko shakes her head; “what’s this?” She slowly turns to Nami. “Is this the money that you stole? And you’re hiding it next to our mother’s body?”

Confused and bewildered and definitely feeling like you’re encroaching on a moment between sisters you shouldn’t be, you remain silent, taking a step back.

“Nami,” Nojiko whispers, “what kind of monster are you?”

“You don’t understand,” Nami cries.

“Then make me understand.”

Her eyes flicker between you and Nojiko, unsure, before she focuses all of her attention on Nojiko. 

“I’ve been stealing this money because of a deal with Arlong I made,” she starts, moving to crawl out of the hole and grab her bag. “I told Arlong I’d work for him on one condition. That he let me buy back Coco Village. And he said he would for a hundred million Berry.”

“A hundred million?” You echo, unable to stop yourself. “That would take a lifetime.”

Nami shakes her head, reaching for Nojiko. “I have the money,” she explains. “All of it. And now I can buy the freedom of the village and everyone in it.”

Seeing the look on Nojiko’s face, you inhale sharply, turning. It occurs to you should give them a moment alone. This news was shocking enough to you, you couldn’t imagine how Nojiko, who’s obviously hated Nami for the past eight years, would feel. Sending the two of them a gentle smile, you walk off, moving to the edge of the woods.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you think about what Nami had said.

That look you’d seen her eyes, the one only you had seemed to be able to notice, made so much more sense now. None of this had been of Nami’s own volition or choice. And for the past eight years she’d been forced to work for and do the bidding of a man who’d killed her mother and threatened her family and friends.

The thought made you sick. You couldn’t imagine what Nami’s been forced to endure.

Minutes pass of you stuck in your thoughts, until you catch something through the foliage of the forest. It gives you pause, head turning in the direction as you squint, trying to figure out what you’d seen.

When you catch sight of a familiar white and blue uniform, your heart drops.

“Nami, Nojiko!” You call, rushing over to them as you reach for Nami’s chest of Berry. Nami stands at the sight, the conversation between her and Nojiko cut short as she assumes the worst of what you’re doing.

“What are you—”

“We don’t have time,” you cut her off, staring at her with panic in your eye. “The Marines, they’re—”

“Already here.”

Lips left parted, you, Nami and Nojiko’s heads snap round, back in the direction you’d come from, bodies freezing at the sight of a line up of Marines stopping in front of you.

“A shame to interrupt such a touching moment,” the lieutenant Marine offers, voice not at all sympathetic. “I’ve heard that pirates are stashing their plunder in this area. You three wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Feet frozen in place, you eye the back of Nami and Nojiko, before shifting your attention back to the lieutenant. This was bad. Very bad. There was no way to hide Nami’s stash, especially not when it was clear it was exactly what the Marines were already looking for.

“That’s obviously been stolen,” the Marine lieutenant comments, eyeing Nami’s money. “By the authority of the Marines and the World Government, I'm going to have to confiscate it.”

“No,” Nami gasps. “No, you can’t do that. It’s mine!”

“A hundred million Berry?” The lieutenant raises a brow, “and where would you get that much money?”

“Nami got that money fair and square,” you hiss, stepping forward as you glare at the man. “You have no right to take it from her.”

“No right?” The lieutenant laughs, loud and mocking. “I have the right as a Marine lieutenant, silly girl.”

“Wait,” Nami cuts in, breathless, before you can speak, as if having realized something. “How did you know it was a hundred…” But her voice trails, and a glance back at her tells you she’s figured it out.

“Arlong put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Your lips part, gasping. 

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” the lieutenant shrugs. Then, he shifts, nodding at the men behind him. They listen instantly. 

Nami and you both start. She reaches for her bag, trying to grab her weapon, but the Marines are too quick. Two of them flank her, grabbing her by the arm. You growl at the sight, stepping forward to help, but then the men that had been standing to the left of the lieutenant step towards you. 

“Watch yourself. Or we will take you into custody as well.”

Past their shoulders you can see the Marine officers holding Nami shove her to the ground. Rage floods you, and you move towards her, but you’re blocked by more officers. Instantly, they go to grab you, but you dodge their grasps, trying to slither past them. You make it past one, reaching for Nami and then a sharp sting radiates across your cheek.

You trip over your feet at the impact, stunned, falling to your knees as your hand hovers across your cheek in shock, staring up at the officer who’d punched you. He stares down at you, unbothered. His hand rests on his baton, as if baiting you to try again.

Nami, who’d watched the whole display, continues to thrash and fight the hands that hold her down.

“No!” She screams when she sees them grabbing her Berry. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this!”

Cheek stinging and eyes watering in despair, you watch the Marines grab her money all while Nami screams, helpless to do anything. They take it all, not leaving a single Berry behind, and not offering even a glance at Nami who cries out for them to stop.

When the officers let her go and walk off, Nami instantly moves to get back up. Nojiko, who’d seemed frozen in the spot until then, grabs her. “Wait, Nami,” she pleads. “Stop! Wait. Wait!”

“Let me go!” Nami cries, fighting her sister's grip. “Let me go! They can’t do this!”

“Nami,” you breathe, staring at her in shock.

“There’s nothing you can do!” Nojiko tries.

But Nami doesn’t listen to her.

“Arlong will kill the entire village!” She bellows, voice pitching in distress, finally breaking free from Nojiko’s grip and running off in the opposite direction of the Marine’s and instead towards the village.

“Nami, wait!” Nojiko begs, screaming after her.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you wipe your tears, grabbing Nojiko’s hand and pulling her eyes on you.

There’s only one thing that can help her now. Or rather, people.

“Nojiko. Nojiko, listen to me,” you pant, tugging on her hand. Her eyes fall on you, wild and terrified. “We need to get Luffy and the rest. They can help! I promise!”

Chest rising and falling and breathless, Nojiko inhales sharply, trying to calm herself.

“Okay.”

Never letting go of her hand, you pull her along, the two of you take off in the direction you’d first come from. Nojiko’s house is closer than the rest of the village, separated off, so it doesn’t take either of you very long to get back to their house and your friends. The two of you break through the tangerine grove, breathless and panicked, and Zoro and Luffy who had been up on the roof see you instantly.

“Y/N?” Zoro calls, concerned. Him and Luffy glance at each other briefly before quickly climbing down the roof. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Zoro’s voice must’ve caught the attention of Usopp and Sanji because they come running out of the house too,

“What’s going on?” Usopp asks.

“Y/N?” Sanji’s gaze instantly zones in on you, taking in your distressed state. “And Nojiko? Are you—”

Luffy and Zoro come to a stop in front of the both of you.

Nojiko, unable to catch her voice, shakes her head. “Nami, she’s…” But a cough wracks through her body, exhausted after everything from the Marine’s, trying to stop Nami and then running.

Zoro zones in on you then, catching sight of your face. “Y/N, your cheek,” he breathes, voice low as he reaches for you, cupping your jaw to pull your gaze up on him. His eyes flood with anger when he gets a better look at your red and stinging cheek. “Who did—”

Resting your hand over his, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss, and cut him off quickly before he can argue. “We have to help Nami. Arlong… Arlong is going to destroy the village!”

“What?” Usopp squeaks, “he’s coming here?”

“Is it because the village was short on money?” Sanji frowns.

Meeting Nojiko’s eyes, you both frown. “Nami had a deal with Arlong,” you explain, shifting from Zoro to Luffy. His face is serious, and he listens to you carefully. “He betrayed her. The Marine’s stole her money and now Arlong is going to destroy the village. We have to help them. We have to help Nami!”

“Please,” Nojiko pleads beside you. “Please.”

Zoro steps towards you, and you turn to him, barely noticing the way your eyes are watering. He frowns down at you, before turning to Luffy.

“Nojiko, stay here. Y/N.” You turn back to him, breathing in. “Lead the way,” Luffy says, voice sharp. 

Meeting his eyes, you nod.

-

Walking past Luffy, you fall to your knees next to Nami.

She starts at the sight of you, teary-eyed and gasping, but you just smile gently at her. Shifting your bag, you pull out the bandages in there. You’d originally grabbed them for Zoro, but staring at her bleeding arm, you figure it was best her wounds were cleaned and wrapped.

“Here,” you say softly, slowly grabbing her arm. You hesitate, not wanting to startle her, but she doesn’t flinch away when you reach for her. Comforted at the action, you grab the cloth you’d also pulled out, wiping at the blood.

“I can clean it better later,” you explain, “but for now.”

She doesn’t respond, and you let her remain silent, incapable of understanding what she could possibly be going through in that moment.

The two of you sit in silence, away from the boys as they figure out how they’re going to go up against Arlong. Nami watches as you bandage her, and you do so without saying anything. Truthfully, you don’t know what you could say. Your heart broke for her and the villagers and every sting of betrayal you’d felt before is gone. 

Now, you only feel guilt for having ever doubted her.

“There,” you whisper, doing the last loop of the bandage. 

Nami glances down at her arm and she ponders it for a while, before;

“Thank you.”

Lips parting, your head snaps up, blinking. 

“Back there, with the Marines,” she points at your cheek. “You tried to stop them.”

“Oh,” you frown, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them then.”

Blinking back her tears, Nami’s face falls.

“Luffy will be able to stop Arlong, Nami,” you smile at her, taking a leap and squeezing her arm. She straightens at the touch, but her gaze is warm as she looks back at you. “We’ll help you. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Her eyes fall shut, a single tear escaping her defences as she leans towards you.

“Thank you.”

-

“I can fight.”

“We’ve hardly done any training—”

“Zoro,” you huff, balling your hands into fists at your side. “I want to help.”

He eyes you, frowning. “I know you do, but Arlong’s men are strong.”

Mildly insulted, despite knowing he was right, and frustrated, you glare up at him. “I’m helping. You can’t stop me.”

Clearly frustrated himself, Zoro presses a hand to his face. “You don’t even have a weapon.”

“Nojiko gave me a gun,” you counter, grabbing the rifle from the wall you’d set it against, and holding it up to him to see. “She taught me the basics of how to use it. I probably won’t be as good of a shot as Usopp, but I can still try.”

Breathing in sharply, Zoro glances back at the crew, noticing the way they’re getting ready to go. Turning back to you, he steps towards you, cupping your cheeks. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Wrapping your hands around him in return, you smile, “I know. Because I don’t want you to get hurt too.” Squeezing his hands, you look up at him reassuringly. “I’ll stay back and not put myself in danger. But I want to help Nami. Don’t ask me to stay behind when she’s my friend too. That’s not what we promised each other.”

Sighing, Zoro knows you’re right. “You stay away from the thick of it,” he orders, voice serious. “And if you need my help, call for me. I’ll come to you right away.”

Biting your lip, you smile. “I promise,” you assure, nodding. “The second I’m in danger, I’ll call for you. Only you.”

Cheeks flushing, Zoro rolls his eyes. “As long as you promise.”

-

Despite losing sight of Usopp in the mess, you think you’re doing a fairly good job.

Obviously, Sanji and Zoro were taking down most of the men, but you can proudly say you’ve at least gotten a few really good shots. There was even the time you’d shot down a guy that had been gunning straight for Zoro, to which he’d smirked back at you in response.

The pride you’d felt was imminent. 

Just like how you’d been able to see the island before anyone else back on the boat, or how you’d seen the Marines coming through the thick forest foliage, your left eye was able to catch sight of Arlong’s man easily. And even though you were still rocky with the gun itself, your eye  helped you see things you’d never been able to before.

You’ve never seen things so clearly.

Taking one last shot at one of Arlong’s men and watching him crash to the ground, you straighten up from behind the rock you’d perched yourself behind. You couldn’t see Zoro and Sanji from where you were and a quick glance across the park told you you’d all (mainly them) managed to take out most of Arlong’s men.

Standing to your feet, you climb down the rocks and head in the direction you thought you’d last seen Sanji and Zoro go in. Despite being further back, you’d watched them argue the entire time they’d been fighting, so you figured checking on them was probably the best idea.

Sure enough, eventually you can hear their muffled voices arguing. You follow the sound, coming around a broken down stand, only to come crashing into someone.

You stumble back, blinking, until your eye lands on the familiar sight of Buggy. With his body.

Your grip instantly tightens on your gun, while his lips stretch into a wide grin.

“Sorry, my Angel Eye,” he laughs and you hiss at the sound of that nickname, stepping towards him. He holds his hands up as he wiggles his fingers at you in a mocking goodbye. “I’d love to catch up but I gotta go!”

He runs past you in the next second before you even have a second to blink, and your hand twitches, wanting to stop him. But honestly, the thought occurs to you it might just be best to let him go; if he was gone, then at least you didn’t have to see him and listen to his grating voice any longer.

You also don’t know at that moment if you were strong enough to kill him. Not in the physical sense, but… mental.

Shaking your head, you let the thought leave you, focusing back on finding Zoro and Sanji.

Figures he’d betray you guys anyways.

Scoffing, you continue making your way forward, face easing when you see Zoro and Sanji.

“I see Buggy betrayed us,” you comment, gesturing behind you.

Sanji and Zoro turn to you.

“He didn’t do anything did—”

“What did that fucking clown say—”

Blinking at the both of them, you watch as they turn to each other, before promptly turning the other way.

You bite your lip, laughing. “You guys are—”

Whatever you’d been about to say gets cut off the second you let out a scream. A sharp, aching pain radiates from your left eye, making you fall to your knees as you clutch at your face, curling in on yourself.

Your name leaves Zoro’s lips as he and Sanji run towards you, Zoro kneeling in front of you.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice pitched in panic. “Y/N, what happened? What’s going on?”

“I—” Hissing, you cry out as the sting continues to radiate across your face.

Hands fall on you, careful and slow, pulling your own away from your face.

Leaning forward, Zoro pauses at the sight and Sanji behind him gasps;

“Y/N, your eye…”

You stare up at them, hand hovering by your face, trying to bear through the pain.

“What… What’s happening?”

“Your eye is glowing, Y/N,” Zoro mumbles, shaking his head. “It’s like… shining.”

Frowning at him, you ease when the pain lessens somewhat. Still, your heart is racing with terror of what’s happening.

“Does it still—”

Footsteps cut Zoro off, all three of your guys’ attention snapping to the right where you see one of Arlong’s main lackeys coming over. He grins wide at the sight of you three, and instantly, Sanji is shifting into a fighting stance as Zoro stands, stepping in front of you.

“Stay back, Y/N,” Zoro calls, stretching his arm in front of you.

You nod up at him, pushing yourself back as you try and bite back another cry of pain.

It doesn’t take them long to fight him. Even though Sanji gets kicked around a bit, the second the bad guy says something about Nami, Sanji is zoned in on him. With a series of powerful kicks, you watch as Sanji takes down the guy in seconds.

Zoro turns to you, sure that it was safe to, crouching. His touch is gentle as he tries to get a closer look at your eye.

As their fight had progressed, the pain had lessened. And now, it’s nearly gone, just a faint, residual itchy feeling.

“Does it still hurt?” Zoro frowns.

You shake your head, “it’s just… uncomfortable. Is it still glowing?”

“Not anymore,” he shakes his head, shifting his hands to your hips as he helps you back to your feet.

“Has that ever happened before, love?” Sanji asks, staring back at you in concern.

You ignore Zoro’s huff at the nickname, shaking your head at Sanji. “No,” you frown. “I have no idea what that was.”

Turning back to Zoro, it’s hard to hide your fear.

Brushing his fingers across your cheek, Zoro shakes his head. “It’s okay, just tell me if it happens again, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

Eased at his reassurance, you lean into his touch.

“Also,” Zoro smiles down at you, “you did great.”

His words bring an instant beam to your lips, appreciating his ability to shift your mind away from your worries and praise you at the same time. You grin, clapping your hands in front of you in joy. “Really?” Then, turning to Sanji, your eyes sparkle. “You think so too, Sanji?”

Any discomfort he’d shown at Zoro’s words to you eases as he grins at you. “Of course, love, you did amazing.”

Your face is practically sparkling.

“Would you stop calling her that?” Zoro huffs, “and what was with those stupid names with your kicks?”

“All great heroes have names for their attacks,” Sanji shrugs, unbothered.

Zoro hesitates before sighing. “Yeah, you’ll fit in great.”

You grin, happy they were (sorta) getting along.

Just then, a familiar screaming catches your attention. Turning your gaze to the entrance of Arlong park, you watch as Usopp comes running in, slingshot at the ready.

“Never fear, the Great Captain Usopp is…” But his words trail when he realizes everyone is already down. “Is… oh. You guys did pretty good in here.” Sighing, he grins at you all, sending you a thumbs up. You send him one back. “Good job guys!”

He nods to himself, and the four of you shift, falling silent.

Putting a hand to your right eye, so you see nothing, you frown to yourself, unable to ignore the unsettled feeling still in your stomach.

“Nami!”

Blinking at Sanji’s call, you look up, face brightening when you see Nami running over to the four of you.

Sanji’s arms stretch wide for a hug, but she runs past him, gunning straight for you, Usopp and Zoro. You stumble as you’re brought into an embrace, squished between Zoro and Usopp as Nami’s face falls into the crook of your neck.

“You’re all okay!”

Smiling at her, you nod as she pulls back, taking one last long look at the three of you before turning back to Arlong’s base.

“Where’s Luffy?” Zoro asks.

Glancing at Sanji, who’d been rejected seconds before, you offer a small wink when he meets your gaze.

“Still inside,” Nami answers, “fighting Arlong.”

Turning back to Arlong Park, you frown, however, at the sight of the building crumbling apart.

-

“That was crazy, huh?”

Smiling down at Zoro, you take a seat next to him, letting your arm brush against his before turning to meet his gaze.

Zoro snorts next to you, returning your smile with a softer one of his own. He leans back as you sit next to him, and you don’t fail to notice the way he leans back, his right hand falling to a spot behind you, silently giving you the room to lean into him.

Biting back your smile, you don’t hesitate to do just that.

“Thought we were going to be fighting off the entirety of that Marine force,” Zoro comments dryly, letting his gaze drift in front of the both of you. You think back to what had just happened moments prior and the realization that the Vice Admiral, Luffy’s grandfather, had been chasing after all of you as some sort of test for his grandson.

Letting out a laugh, you glance up at Zoro, an adoring look in your eye. “I bet you would’ve too,” you comment. With a teasing grin, you poke at his side, careful of his wound. “After all, you like being Luffy’s first mate more than you’ll admit.”

Rolling his eyes, he smirks down at you; “maybe.”

You giggle, letting your head fall onto his shoulder and drift your gaze across the crowd of bustling and happy villagers. It’s a stark contrast from when you’d all first arrived on Cocoyashi Village, but it was one that made your heart swell with pride and warmth. Arlong and his goons were gone and now Nami’s village could live in peace like they always should’ve been able to.

Speaking of, you pause in your thoughts when you notice Nami and Nojiko walking past you. Both of their eyes are on you and Zoro and while Nojiko offers a simple wave and a warm smile, the look in Nami’s eyes is telling as she wiggles her brows at you, gesturing loosely to Zoro. You flush, but the grin on your lips is undeniable.

You watch them walk off, happy the two sisters could have these final moments together.

“How’s your eye?”

Looking up at the sound of Zoro’s question, you find him staring down at you, chin dipped towards you and eyes dancing with concern.

“Better,” you say honestly, letting your hand fall over your left eye, covering your vision completely for a brief second before turning back to Zoro. “I don’t know what that was but I… have been noticing things recently.”

Zoro’s brows furrow; “what things?”

“I just… see things,” you shrug, unsure how to explain it. “See things before others can. Like when I saw the island… Usopp didn’t see it for a minute and we all know that the one thing he does have is good vision. Or when the Marine’s stole Nami’s money, I could see them far before I should’ve been able to.”

Zoro takes in your words, slowly nodding. “You think it could have to do with Mihawk?”

“Maybe,” you nod, the thought having already crossed your mind. “I’ve never understood why my eye looks like this or why my right one is blind… My mother had normal eyes. Maybe something went wrong when I was born?”

Still leant against him, Zoro shifts, moving to slip your hand in his own as he squeezes. “Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, yeah? There’s gotta be an answer somewhere out there.’

His voice is sincere, serious with the promise of helping you. Warmth floods you, heart fluttering, and you think back to the first time you ever met Zoro. When he’d stumbled in that tent that day, you never would’ve thought this is where you’d be now.

Nodding up at him, you say; “it’s a promise.”

He smiles, and with that, you let your head fall against his shoulder again, hand still in his.

The two of you spend the rest of the celebration like that.

-

“So…”

Glancing over at Nami, you huff; “so?”

“You and Zoro?” She grins, wide and from ear to ear. “Can’t believe I missed that.”

Letting out a chuckle, you shake your head. “Don’t tease me,” you whine faintly, pressing a hand to your forehead as the two of you make your way to the kitchen. “I already got enough of it from Usopp.”

Nami barks out a laugh just as the two of you slip inside.

“Get enough of what from me?” Usopp asks, looking up for one of his new ammo experiments he’d been working on.

Meeting Nami’s eyes, the both of you giggle.

“Nothing!”

“Ah,” Sanji comments from the counter, “it’s so nice to be rewarded with such lovely laughter from two lovely ladies.”

You let out a chuckle, moving to sit next to Zoro as Nami grins over at Sanji.

“Oi,” Zoro calls, looking up for his swords. “What have I said about flirting with Y/N, you damned cook?”

Sanji just shrugs, not at all bothered; “I can’t help it. Y/N’s elegance merely demands it.”

Nami and Usopp cackle but you notice the way Zoro moves to get up, quickly grabbing ahold of his arm to stop him.

“You—!”

“Guys!”

Thankful for the distraction, your face lights up as Luffy comes bounding into the kitchen, a slip of paper in his hands. Moving towards the table, he slams it down.

“Look.” 

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, staring down at the wanted poster.

“Hey, look,” Usopp cheers, “I’m famous!”

Sanji shakes his head; “what are you on about? That’s Luffy’s wanted poster.”

“Not just Luffy,” Usopp smirks, reaching forward and pointing at the paper. You follow his gesture, huffing a laugh when you realize, sure enough, there Usopp is in the left corner of the poster.

Or, at least, the back of him.

“Sorry, guy,” Usopp chuckles, glancing at you all. “Maybe if you work a little harder, you’ll get a bounty too.”

“That doesn’t count.” Sanji rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay to be jealous. Feel what you need to feel.”

“I… mm…” Cutting himself off, Sanji submits; “this is stupid.”

“This is gonna make things much harder,” Zoro comments from next to you. “With that price on your head, every bounty hunter in the East Blue will be gunning for you.”

“Not just Luffy,” Nami adds. “They’re gonna be gunning for all of us.”

Everyone falters, faced with reality, but you just smile over at Luffy.

“Still,” you speak up, pulling Luffy’s attention on you. “Good for you, Luffy! That’s the first step to being the King of the Pirates!”

He sends you a thumbs up, as the rest groan.

“What have we talked about,” Nami frowns at you. “You don’t need to encourage him anymore than he already encourages himself.”

You just shrug, grinning.

“Besides,” Luffy shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Because we are not staying in the East Blue.”

Staring up at all of you, he grins; 

“We’re going to the Grand Line.”

-

“Straw Hats! All hands on deck for a cast-off ceremony.”

Listening to Luffy’s order, you step out onto deck behind Zoro, raising a brow when you see Luffy, Nami and Sanji already gathered around a barrel.

Usopp’s the last to arrive, and the second he comes to a stop, Sanji raises his leg, placing it on the edge of the barrel.

“I’m gonna find the All Blue,” he promises, and your heart starts with realization of what’s happening.

Luffy follows his lead with ease, slamming his leg on the barrel with a bit more force. “I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

Zoro shifts next to you, smiling wide, and then, he does the same. “I’m gonna be the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“I’m gonna draw a map of the world,” Nami promises, raising her leg as she smiles at you all.

“I…” Usopp hesitates, shifting, before raising his leg. “Am gonna be a brave warrior of the sea!”

Laughter echoes, and then, everyone’s eyes shift to you. Hesitating similarly to Usopp, you glance at the barrel and then each of your friends.

Feeling your heart flutter with excitement, you raise your leg, taking up the last bit of space left on the barrel.

“I’m gonna discover the truth about my eye!” You promise, biting your lip.

You glance at everyone, grinning, until your eyes fall on Zoro who smiles back at you with pride.

“This is it, crew,” Luffy calls, “The Grand Line.”

He pauses, meeting each and every one of your eyes, before, his raises his hand to the sky and screams;

“Nothing’s gonna stand in our way! Yeah!”

Without hesitation, you lean back, inhaling sharply before letting out a bellow of; “Woohoo!”

[loganficsonly]

Logan smut where y/n and logan are basically insomniacs and hang out together in each others rooms in the middle of the night until one night they decide to break some tension👀 I’m talking friends to lovers and some rough kinky stuff

can't sleep love

trilogy!logan x f!reader, 5k WARNINGS/TAGS: SMUT MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!, alcohol consumption, spanking, piv, creampie, public sex, mentions of reader's hair, friends to fuck-buddies to lovers (?), reader hasn't done it in a while, reader is a teacher with unspecified powers, slight grumpy x sunshine themes as i am wont to do... it's a reflex at this point, slight corruption?? like it's not even a kink lmao it's just FREAKYYY, a lot of logan's pov as usual, not proofread we die like senator kelly AUTHOR'S NOTE: you cooked with this ask, anon. i had to tweak it a little, hope you don't mind. also lowkey tipsy while writing this ehe

He didn’t realize this when he first got to the mansion. The moment he wasn’t snarling at every extended hand, he could see things more clearly. 

Ororo’s generosity and compassion. The unseen temper under Jean’s skin. How Scott is harder on himself than he is on others.

And then there’s you.

How everyone likes you. The softness in your gaze, the general ease about you, as if you weren’t also a mutant that people cast away. As if you never got hurt.

You are the opposite of him, and that’s what makes things awkward.

His face is nearly locked in a permanent scowl, while you smile at people effortlessly. Breeziness to his petulance. Clean cut to his rough edges. He feels like he shouldn’t be around you at all—like stepping into a prairie with bloodied boots on, afraid of crushing the daisies under his step and turning them red.

But proximity means he can’t not acknowledge you. What started out as polite nods in the hallway and short small talk when exchanging classrooms shifted into something more genuine.

As he finds safety within the mansion walls, he lowers his own. 

When exactly you became friends, he’s not quite sure. That would be akin to asking him on which day of the month spring turns to summer. You make it seem so natural, friendly as you are. Always warm—not the kind that is cloying or irritating, but one that’s ready to oblige, whether it’s sharing a pot of coffee for breakfast or staring off into the distance in the backyard.

Or training together, despite knowing you’d instantly have your back against the mat in a physical no-powers spar against him. God, you were so game, and he remembers how fun it was—something he hasn’t had in a long time. 

How the two of you laughed, yours louder than his, when an easy maneuver from him caused you to miss him and fall. He got you to yield multiple times after that first blunder, but you put up better fights with each round.

In the end, though, he got you breathless, sweat dripping down your brow. You were flushed.

“You got me,” you said with a smile, your tone airy and tired as you pushed your hair back. That was when he realized the color of your cheeks, and wished that he’d given you that rosy blush some other way.

…Okay, maybe he doesn’t know when exactly you became friends.

But that February day he trained with you, he realized he was looking at you the way friends didn’t.

You can’t sleep.

Resigning yourself to this fact, you sit up in bed. The past two hours or so of lying in it—counting sheep, doing breathing exercises, visualizing a still lake in the middle of nowhere—is evidence that tonight is going to be a restless one.

Trying not to be annoyed (that’s only going to make it harder to fall asleep), you slip out of your bedroom, not bothering to change out of your old T-shirt and shorts.

It’s warm, you think to yourself as you walk silently in the hallway. May is around the corner, but it feels like the temperature is hiking up more than it should for spring, especially at night. Maybe a glass of ice cold water is what you need. The thought of it makes you aware of the dryness of your throat.

A glow at the end of the hallway where the kitchen is. Someone’s up, too. You can feel your heart rate picking up as a little voice in your head hopes to find a certain someone who’s prone to being awake at this hour…

“Hey Logan,” you call, alerting him of your presence. His back is towards you, but you don’t need to know it’s him. You’re acquainted with how he fills up that gray tank top. He turns to look, not appearing the slightest bit surprised, heightened senses probably alerting him way before you arrived.

“Hey,” he replies, voice low and quiet, “why’re you up?” 

You move next to him, trying to get a glass from the top shelf. “Just can’t sleep.”

“Join the club,” he says, sipping on his drink.

Narrow eyes look at him while you fill your glass with water. He doesn’t reek, but there’s a sharp scent in the air. “Is that alcohol?”

A rogue smile from behind the rim. “Depends. You gonna snitch?”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you take a seat at the island, staring into a bowl of tropical fruits. This man and his contrabands.

“Not if you share your stash with me.”

He slides up to sit across the way. “Getting naughty, aren’tcha?”

You give him an unimpressed look that has him smirking, as if he won something. Gaze softening, your eyes roam his face, catching the paleness of his face and the slight dimness in his eyes. He looks tired.

“Another nightmare?” You venture quietly, not wanting to cross a line.

Logan’s expression hardens—you can tell from his jaw—and for a second you think he’s going to brush it off, or worse, leave.

A small nod as he downs more of the stuff in his opaque mug. You press your lips into a thin line, relieved he isn’t evading but displeased at the truth.

Having to helplessly hear your friend down the hall groaning in nightly terror is akin to torture. The Professor did a great job working on restoring his memories, and so did recent events at Alkali Lake, but the nightmares seem to remain. A stubborn remnant of the past.

When you first confronted him about it, he sternly demanded you to leave him be, fearing a replay of what he accidentally did to Rogue. You remember how terrified he was at the accident. 

“They’re not as bad now,” Logan's murmur cut the silence. He’s not meeting your gaze. You nod, quietly acknowledging his words, not knowing what else to do. 

You choose to place your hand over his, thumb stroking his knuckles. He feels a touch too cold.

Something flashes in his eyes. You don’t catch it, preoccupied with unmarred skin where claws would come out. He has nice hands.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” He asks.

Your answer is a noncommittal shrug as you make eye contact again. “You?”

His answer is a grunt. Something to the effect of unlikely, according to your Logan dictionary—a language you learned when he started opening up to you.

A string of words bubble in your throat. Maybe it’s a stroke of loneliness, but you think it’s mostly because it’s him who’s sitting in front of you.

It's him you want to spend time with.

“Want to hang out?”

Hazel eyes on yours make you feel more awake than ever. What you're asking is certainly pushing the boundaries of your relationship: keeping each other company past midnight, fresh off a bout of bad dreams and sleeplessness. You're not just being friendly to a colleague anymore.

When he doesn’t answer immediately, you add, not wanting to scare him away.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Your nightmare, I mean.”

He gets up. Your eyes are glued on his figure as he circles the island, and you’re still not sure what he’s doing until he gestures with his chin for you to come with, mug of alcohol still in hand. Biting the inside of your cheek, you follow.

That was the first time. The two of you sat on the living room couches for a while before Jones wandered in. The very young technopath is often sleepless as well. In this school for Gifted Youngsters, you’re not the only night owls around.

He had the cheek to ask if the two of you were having some kind of secret rendezvous.

“Who taught you that word?” Logan retorted, but the two of you dispersed anyway, feeling strangely like trespassers in the presence of little Jones as he flicked through the television channels silently.

You seek refuge in the backyard, but after a while, the bugs got much too annoying. The balcony wasn’t that much of a difference.

That’s how you ended up in his room for the first time. 

It was very simple on his part. “Want to go to my room?" He asked. Equally simple for you to say yes.

And that’s how he ended up in your room the next night.

The night after that, you're in his room again.

The two of you seek solace in each other’s quarters, escaping sleeplessness by talking to each other. Despite being in private, the conversation is hushed, like you’re afraid somebody could hear. Once there’s nothing left to talk about, you’d say good night and return to your rooms.

He occasionally brings his poison into these meet-ups, sharing some with you, until eventually he keeps part of his stash in your room. 

“You’re complicit now,” he teased.

It started out with the two of you sitting on the rug next to the bed, head tipped against the plush surface as you talk about all sorts of nonsense except for the reason you’re awake. Now, the two of you are comfortable enough to be in each other’s beds—platonically, of course.

Logan recalls the night you gave up being on the floor. You climbed into his bed, sitting languidly with your head propped above your hand like you were some kind of painting.

“Do you mind?” You asked that night, citing the need for relief in your back. He shook his head, eyes darkening at the sight of you on his bedsheets.

The things you wear to go to sleep. Lord, help him. As summer begins to inch closer, Logan notices how your pajamas begin to shrink. T-shirts become tank tops. Shorts turned into short shorts, your legs on full display. Logan remembers a time you opened the door to your room, wearing a baby blue pair that looked so soft and a tank top that betrays the curves of your chest—he felt his mouth water.

It’s damn near impossible to separate the comfort of your company from the carnal want in his adamantium bones. He doesn’t mean to defile your so-far-wholesome nightly conversations, but he can’t help it. And he has a feeling that you’re not entirely oblivious to the tension, either, what with the way he catches your gaze dropping to his exposed biceps every now and then.

Like tonight. You’re sipping on some Tennessee whiskey from his stash, lovely eyes dropping to his hand enclosed over a mug before expertly meeting his hazel ones in the low light of your room.

Maybe you don’t realize you’re looking at him. Maybe you do, and you don’t realize he’s fully aware of your gaze. 

Either way, it’s taking a lot not to pull you into him and take a bite out of you.

He fights the urge with every fiber of decency in him. Yes, he’s the Wolverine, animal mutation intertwined with his own DNA, but he wouldn’t be here if not for your shared trust and vulnerability. You’re probably his closest friend at the Institute. Maybe ever, a little voice whispers. 

Tonight, the two of you are in bed. Your bed, to be precise. He’s come to memorize the scent of you, all the notes of it, and even after paying many visits to this sacred place, he still finds it intoxicating. You started playing a boozy version of ‘never have I ever’ about ten minutes ago, despite his initial complaints—the two of you have long drained deep conversations and are left with the dregs, it seems.

He doesn’t like the game, but credits it for what it’s worth. It lets him see glimpses of you he hasn’t seen before, while making you drink with stupid statements like “never have I ever worn a dress”.

“Your turn,” he says. He’s lying next to you, stealing a glance at you while you look up at the ceiling.

You hum, thinking. A sentence brews in your head. Hopefully this one wouldn’t be too weird? The two of you ventured quickly into sexual territory almost as soon as the game started, but it was mostly trying to get each other to drink with cheap shots.

You try to think of something less… risqué, but it’s too late. The thought is stuck.

He looks at you expectantly. You look into your cup. It’s nearly empty, but you feel strangely sober. You gather your voice—the last thing you want is to sound pathetic.

“Never have I ever… had an orgasm by someone other than myself.”

He’s supposed to drink, but you delivered that semi-truck of a sentence with the stability of a weatherman declaring all sun and shine for the entire week.

When you look over at him, he looks almost mad that you’re afraid you’d offended him somehow.

“You should drink—”

“No one’s ever made you come?” 

The weight of his question hit you, and the way he worded it makes you flush a little. Was it too weird to say that after all, in a ‘never have I ever’? You shake your head as a wordless answer. 

“Jesus, what kind of assholes did you hook up with?” He asks, face contorting, eyes glued to yours. You stop breathing for the second you see a simmering anger. He really was mad.

“I… didn’t hook up a lot,” you offer tentatively, though you aren’t lying. Life was largely unpredictable, especially as a mutant. Exploring your sexuality with another person becomes a privilege, a luxury that was fundamentally inaccessible when it’s already difficult to find people to trust. By the time you arrived at Xavier’s, your time was devoted to serving and educating others.

There is a single moment of quiet as you see Logan appearing to calm down, though the intensity of his stare doesn’t let up. 

In a smooth movement, he places his cup by the nightstand before taking yours out of your hands, doing the same, not breaking eye contact. You don’t exactly know how he got on top of you, his large palm on your jaw making sure you look up at him. Darkening eyes flicker down to your lips, a thumb pressing down and parting them ever so slightly. Your heart nearly stops.

“Want me to show you?” He asks, voice deep as he hovers over you. He can’t stop himself. How could he, when he knows he can take you to heights unimaginable—when he wants to, so badly? The things he wants to do to you, the thoughts that plague him as a sinful substitute to his nightmares, they all flash in his mind’s eye for half a second. 

His sense of control frays to a single thread.

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. The hazy warmth clouding you might be just the whiskey’s doing, but that's a lie. This is something else that’s been brewing for a while. Perhaps since that time in the kitchen when you put your hand on top of his.

Perhaps even before that.

Steeling yourself, you nod at his question. He groans, lips against your ear. That alone makes you shiver.

“Ah—”

He says your name sternly. “Words. Tell me you want this.”

He doesn’t part, can't. He takes your earlobe in his mouth. You let out a soft moan. 

“Logan, want you…”

It’s enough for him to snap, his lips pulling away from your ear before crashing against yours in a wild kiss. Your breath hitches, hands flying to his shoulders as he devours you, teeth almost clashing in a storm of desperation. You’re dizzy as he latches onto your neck, hands traversing your body like he’ll die if he doesn’t feel you. 

To a certain degree he feels like he’ll die either way. The outline of your chest over your light tank top, the plump flesh of your thighs, they’ve occupied too much of his mind for him to act like this is just some other conquest. With every brush of his hand against your skin, he stokes the primal part of him, the beast purring, pleased but wanting more. 

Meanwhile, a fog takes over you, lowers your inhibitions as Logan continues to touch and grope, moving you against some pillows until you’re sitting up slightly. A quiet noise escapes you when you feel his teeth sink into your neck, leaving the first of many marks as a hand moves up under your tank top. Dancing past ribs, reaching your chest.

“Oh, God,” you sigh as calloused fingers pinch your nipple. Pulling. Circling. He growls against your skin, letting go so he can watch the outline of his hand under the fabric of your top.

“When was the last time someone touched you, sweetheart?”

You look back at him, the nickname making your head spin as you attempt to find the right answer.

“I don’t know, a while,” you pant.

“Yeah, can tell,” he rasps as he paws at your shirt. “Need to take this off.”

When he does, you shiver, both at the initial hit of cool air on your skin as well as the way he stares at your bare, heaving chest. He’s studying you, the way your nipples harden as he brushes a finger against it. His other hand keeps yours above your head, a loose grip on both your wrists.

“So fucking pretty…” He murmurs, sitting between your legs as he watches your face while his fingers toy with your chest. The measured movements are nearly criminal. You bite your lip, trying not to make so much noise at this dead of night, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like a man starved.

Like he’s wanted this for a while.

He lets go of your wrists to prop himself up over you, lips descending to your collarbone, then sternum. Then, slowly, as if to give you space to say no, his warm breath is over your chest, and your hands are flying to his shoulders. A wordless response, telling him you want this just as much.

His eyes are already pinned on your face when he latches his mouth to your nipple. A sound of pleasure escapes you.

“Ha-ah—Logan,” you pant, unable to take your eyes off him.

Tongue works on a hardened peak, sucking and nibbling with just an edge of roughness to distract from the hand snaking down your body while his mouth switches to your other breast. Your eyes widen, feeling him cup you through your shorts before fingers easily find their way in, circling your dampening panties.

A hum around your nipple when his hand is fully underneath your shorts. You arch, eyelids fluttering close as his thumb brush against your clothed clit.

“God, you’re so wet, sweetheart. For me, hmm?" He leaves a languid stroke over the gusset of your underwear, groaning at the feel of your cunt, the way the fabric sticking to your flesh accentuating the shape of you.

It doesn’t take long till he has you completely naked under him, sleeping clothes forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor while he’s two fingers deep in your pussy, his other hand on your thigh, keeping you open. You cling onto his back as he pumps steadily into you, drinking in every single shift in your expression.

When he hits a spongy spot in you, somewhere your fingers could never reach, you cry out, forgetting your attempts to maintain the quiet of the night. 

He grins.

“You like it here, pretty?” 

His thick digits move in and out of you more fervently, eager to exploit your sensitive spots. He knows he’s doing a good job because your responses are becoming less verbal, unintelligible noises escaping you, eyes glossed over as they stare into his.

You’re slipping into an abyss of pleasure, the wet sounds of your juices as his fingers plunge into your core making it impossible for you to think. How did you get here? What were you doing before this? Do you really care, when Logan is whispering filthy things against your ear, your slick coating his fingers, dripping down his hand?

“You hear that?” A loud squelch as he sinks in. “That’s your pussy making that sound. Taking my fingers so damn well, sweetheart.”

Electricity zaps down your spine as he brushes a different spot, making your eyes nearly roll back. He watches, stills, then drives into it again.

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the cry that you can’t help but let out as he exploits your body, but his other hand shoots out quickly, caging your wrist by the side of your head. 

“Don't hide those noises,” he groans. “Wanna hear you when you come. You’re close, huh?”

“P-please—”

Hips begin to buck, a soft stream of noises escaping you as he plunges his fingers faster. Your heavy breathing tangles with his as you feel the knot in your belly threatening to unravel. Fingers try to warn him of your impending release, digging crescent moons onto his back that disappear as soon as they form.

When you come, it’s a silent scream. He watches you climax, admiring the way your body shivers and spasms, quietly growling at the sensation of your cunt squeezing him in. His ego preens, basking in the fact that he is the first man to make you orgasm.

His fingers are soaked when he pulls them out, dripping on the sheets, and he makes sure that you’re watching when he sticks them in his mouth.

One lick. They emerge clean. 

“Tastes so good,” he growls, and before long his face is between your legs, hands pushing them open for him.

He makes you come on his tongue once before putting his cock in you.

The sight of it makes your stomach churn. There’s a reason he acts so cocky, and the reason is the thing he’s pushing into your core, girthy and veiny and ready. He looks down, unable to take his eyes off the debauched scene of your cunt swallowing him whole. 

“Oh, fuck,” he sputters, feeling your plush walls suck him in, voice wavering just a touch. “So fucking tight.”

You mewl, gripping his biceps as his hands hold onto your hips, making sure you stay still. It’s a little while until he’s all the way in. You feel so incredibly full, as if he’s up against your stomach, big and pulsing with heat. It’s overwhelming. Almost painful. Would be, if he didn’t prepare you as much—considering how long it’s been for you, it’s a wonder he even fit.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just need to… get used to you,” you whisper, hands on his shoulders.

He looks down at you, eyes boring into yours. His jaw is set with restraint, face contorted with pleasure as he feels you cling to him. Chest heaving, you take deep breaths. Not long after, the immense stretch of his cock stirs a want within you, enough for you to tell him.

“Can you move?” You ask softly. He lets out a strained laugh.

“Can I?” He growls. “Been dying to, baby.”

The first time he pulls away slightly, only to slide back into your heat, the two of you moan. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp, the friction making your head tip back. His eyes flash with wanton determination, arms by the sides of your head, bracing before he moves his hips. Slowly at first, thrusts shallow. 

Your hands snake up his arms, caressing his shoulders and moving down to his chest. His heart is hammering under your palm, the very pulse that you feel in your core from his thick length. He gradually moves out of you more before sheathing all the way back in.

It’s like he’s trying to get you to memorize the shape of him.

And you do—your body does, cunt swallowing him easily. He looks down where you’re joined, licking his lips at the way you’re absolutely drenching him.

“More?” He asks, slightly breathless. You nod.

He shifts. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, anticipation coiling at the bottom of your gut.

Then he fucks you, slow but harder at first, faster and wilder afterwards, pounding your brains out. You’re a moaning mess, fingers scratching down his back. He thrusts, filling you up completely to make you a vessel for only pleasure—pleasure he’s giving you. Sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo in the room, a constant staccato over his grunts and your whines.

You come with a gasp of his name not long after he places your legs on his shoulders, plundering the deepest parts of you. He follows soon after, hot spurts of release on your stomach, oozing out of him almost endlessly. It slowly drips down to your mound, as if marking you his.

A sight he’s not going to forget anytime soon.

If Charles so much as brushes your minds with his powers, the two of you would be fired on the spot for indecency.

That first time did nothing to quench your shared hunger. It worsened it. And not just because the two of you always had the best sleep after sex.

Both he and you find it difficult to exercise restraint. It was mainly you who tried, wanting to be decent in an environment filled with children, but you soon gave up thanks to his diligent temptations. You don’t understand how a simple look from him can be so full of explicit promises. 

As for Logan, he thoroughly enjoys stripping you of your steadfast propriety with every visit he pays to your bedroom, taking you in all of the ways he imagines. He thanks whatever God is out there for the fact that there are empty rooms between your quarters and the next occupied one, and that no one gets to hear the beautiful cries that escape you. Your little “ah, yes,”es and “Logan, please”s are for him alone. 

It’s dangerous, is what it is. You occupy every nook and cranny of his brain like some kind of drug. Smoking his cigar in the backyard of the mansion between classes, his mind easily turns to you.

In particular, the bounce of your breasts as you rode him, face red and thoroughly fucked out, a bit of drool escaping the side of your lips as his large hands on your waist helped you move up and down his cock. 

“Logan, so big,” you whimpered, head lolling to one side. He called you his good girl then for taking him so well, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear.

He grunts, feeling the obvious discomfort in his jeans. Seven minutes to kill that boner before his next class.

Neither of you remember how it began, but your surreptitious activities spilled outside the privacy of the night and into broad daylight. He starts to take you in the mornings, too, gentle and slow, basking in how husky your voice sounds after a night of doing the same deed. How could you resist, when you wake up in his arms under the sheets, warm and comfortable? 

And then it slowly seeps outside of the bedroom.

The brush of his hand down your arm when you pass each other in the hallway. Your lips innocently pressed against his knuckle. A kiss that’s a second too long. 

Seemingly chaste encounters quickly turn into wicked ones.

Once, most of the children are out for a day of sports under a blue sky. Logan dragged you into an empty classroom and bent you over the teacher’s desk, hand shoved up your sundress. He pulled your lace panties to one side, making you wet with his fingers. 

“Look so good like this,” he rasped into your ear as he finally took you from behind, a hand against your mouth to muffle your moans, smearing your lip gloss, the other gripping the flesh of your ass. A resounding smack and a moan follows—yours, as you feel your skin burn pleasurably from his hand.

At this point you’ve been doing it so much that you started taking the pill—something he’s eternally grateful for, because it lets him spill his cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim. He loved watching it leak out of you, only to use his finger to push it back in, plugging you full before pulling your panties up.  

“Want you to think of me all day, pretty,” he pressed a kiss on your temple as you slowed down your breathing, “want you to remember who’s got you filled up. Whose cum is it inside you, princess?”  

“Yours, Logan,” you mewled weakly in response, knees shaking.

It’s not like the others don’t know that there’s something between the two of you—they just don’t know the extent of it. How much of your bodies are intertwined.

How he owns you, and you him.

Evidenced by the way you still talk like you used to. Yes, most of the talking has been replaced with fucking, but sentiments of friendship remain. It remains in the way he’ll save coffee from the pot for you in the morning, in the way you’ll sit with him in the backyard and stare into the distance.

Things you did in the very beginning. 

And when he catches a glimpse of you in the hallway after class, saying something to your students that makes them laugh out loud, a different feeling emerges in his chest. It’s tight, like a string wrapped around his heart and pulled taut for a second or two. A feeling that makes him weak in the knees.

A feeling he knows can be spelled out with four letters.

He exhales a shaky breath, feet frozen in place with realization, though it’s not a surprise.

If anything, it feels like it’s been there the entire time, waiting for the right moment to ensnare his reality with the finality of it. As his gaze softens, watching you give high-fives to your younger students, he knows there’s no escape.

What started as a cure to one condition is turning into another of a much deadlier caliber. 

This one, he doesn’t mind being sick with.

Maybe he’ll tell you tonight, before bed.

i spent so long working on this it's not even funnyyy lol

[twst-aceofhearts]

could you maybe do a Lilia x reader..... Where they are Also a fae and have been around for as long as him. They got married when he was a general. And are pretty much Silvers mother figure?

Eternal Vow

a/n: I actually have an oc with this exact prompt! this was very sweet to write, I love it words: 1123 tags: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx +ask if you want to be added <3

The war didn’t stop for weddings. Not even for generals.

But in a lull between battles, under the blood-red light of a fading dusk, Lilia stood in a glade hidden by ancient trees and layered enchantments. Armor still clung to his frame—dented, scuffed, proud. His black and red hair was braided back hastily, and he smelled faintly of smoke and moss.

And then you appeared.

Your cloak billowed as you stepped out of the shadows, and Lilia’s breath hitched.

You wore no ceremonial silks, no regal gown. Just the armor you’d fought in—the same that had shielded you when you had carved a path to protect his flank two weeks ago. A new scar peeked from beneath your collarbone. He knew where it came from. He had nearly gone feral when he saw you bleed.

“General,” he greeted softly.

“General,” you replied, just as formal—but your eyes glowed with something far more personal.

“Still want to go through with it?” he asked, tilting his head. His fangs flashed with a crooked grin. “You do know I snore when I’m wounded.”

You stepped closer until only a whisper of air separated you. “Only when you’ve been hit in the ribs.”

“Which is often,” he teased.

You laughed. It was soft, tired, real.

Then silence.

Only the wind spoke, threading through the canopy above.

Lilia’s voice dropped low, quiet in reverence. “I have lived too long in blood and shadow. But every time I turned, you were there. Shield at my back. Fire in your heart. I never once felt afraid, because you were beside me.”

You reached for his hand, pulling off your gauntlet to intertwine your bare fingers with his. “And I never once faltered, because I knew you’d carry me if I fell. We’ve walked through death and emerged whole, Lilia. I want to keep walking—with you.”

He brought your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles, reverent.

There were no priests. No crowds. No thrones or officiants.

Only a bond woven in blood and choice.

“Then I vow,” Lilia murmured, “to love you with all the ferocity I once gave to war. I vow to protect your life, your soul, your peace—until the stars burn out.”

Your voice was steady. “And I vow to guard your back, your name, your dreams. Even when time tries to wear us down, I will remain.”

Two fae. Two immortals. Two hearts forged in war and sealed in vow.

The air shimmered.

A quiet hum spread through the glade, wild magic responding to the union. The trees bent slightly toward you. The grass brightened. Fireflies rose.

And then—he kissed you.

Not with the passion of a prince in a fairy tale, but with the grounded ache of someone who had seen too much, lost too much, and now stood before the only thing he never wanted to lose.

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead to his, eyes damp.

Lilia chuckled. “You know, you’re terrifying when you’re in love.”

“So are you,” you whispered.

“Perfect match then.”

Silver’s soft breathing stirred against your shoulder, still dozing peacefully. Lilia brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes half-lidded.

“Do you remember,” he asked quietly, “how you looked the day we wed?”

You smiled. “Covered in blood and half-dressed?”

He chuckled. “And still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his cheek.

“Still?”

“Always.”

Lilia didn’t need to open his eyes to know you were already awake. He could feel the way your mana brushed gently against his, steady and radiant like morning sunlight after a night of storms. You always woke before him these days—not because you needed less sleep, but because you liked to watch the sunrise over Diasomnia’s towers.

When he did finally open his eyes, you were sitting by the window, bathed in blue-green light, your silhouette still as a statue. Regal. Timeless. Just like the first time he saw you across the battlefield in Briar Valley—armor gleaming, hair tangled from wind and spellfire.

“You’re staring,” you murmured without looking. “Again.”

Lilia chuckled as he pushed off the bed with a quiet hum. “Can you blame me, my darling general? You were the most dangerous sight I ever saw. And centuries later, still are.”

You turned your head at that, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement. “If I recall, I outranked you once.”

“Only for a century or two. And I didn’t mind being beneath you—metaphorically and literally.”

You threw a pillow at him, snorting with laughter. “You’re incorrigible.”

He caught it with ease and pressed a kiss to the soft fabric. “And you married me anyway.”

Your smile softened as you stood, walking toward him with quiet, graceful steps. He reached out for your hands—still calloused from weapons long set aside—and pulled you close until his forehead rested against yours.

“You’ve changed,” you whispered.

“So have you,” he replied.

“But not this.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not this.”

The tender silence that followed was broken only by a soft knock. A familiar one.

You both turned toward the door as it opened just slightly. A silver-haired young man poked his head in, his hair disheveled from sleep and his eyes still cloudy with dreams.

“Mmh… M-Mother? Father?” Silver rubbed one eye, voice low and heavy with drowsiness.

Your heart swelled.

You crossed the room in a few swift steps and gently placed your hand on his head, brushing his bangs aside. “Good morning, sweet one. Did you sleep well?”

Silver leaned into your touch with a sleepy nod, like he had done since he was a boy. “I had that dream again. The one with the forest and the lullaby.”

Lilia joined you both, humming as he placed a hand on Silver’s back. “That was a real memory, you know. You were only four. You wandered off during training, and your mother sang to calm the forest spirits.”

Silver blinked. “She… really did that?”

You smiled at him, brushing your fingers gently through his hair. “And I’ll do it again if you ever wander off. Though I think it’s more likely you’ll fall asleep before you get lost now.”

Silver gave a soft chuckle and, without hesitation, leaned into your arms. “Can I stay here? Just a little longer?”

“Of course,” you and Lilia said in unison.

The three of you sat by the open window then, with Silver’s head resting on your shoulder, your arm around his back, and Lilia’s quiet humming filling the room like a ward against the world.

So much had changed. The battlefield had faded. The swords had been laid to rest. But the love? The family you'd built together?

That, like you and Lilia, endured.

[smileysuh]

sage & stardust - TEASER

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.7k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday the 22nd of November 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact to be tagged when the fic is posted, reblogs and replies will be prioritized

[skzthelomlhehe]

"But bestie... He's so hot..." "BRO THATS MY COUSIN" Lee Know x F! reader

Masterlist Total Masterlist Tag Reqs:@arestoucries

Genre: smut (A LOT OF IT), fluff, romance (I literally do not know what else genre this shit is please forgive me my exams are coming 😭)

Synopsis: You and your best friend Lee Yuna, both fresh college graduates, go to a beach house that you thought was owned by her uncle. To your surprise it was actually owned by her "snobby" cousin who was to spend the entire month long summer break with you girls. And that isn't the only surprise you'll get... You're in for more ❤️

Warning: use of 'toys', fingering, public sex, pool sex, spanking, mentions of degradation/praise kink (yes both because I'm kinky), soft bdsm, kitten-master Kink, unprotected sex, oral (both M and F receiving), mentions of pregnancy (if you squint)

A/N: Hey guuyyysss~ im back finally lol~ I had so much of writing done but the og post got deleted for some damn reason. Anyways~ I'm on a mission to make it kinkier and smuttier lmao~

Also if you see any typos or mistakes... No you didn't.

Vibe with:

"eekk!! Im so excited for this!! I've never been to a beach house before... Im gonna faint!!" You squealed getting the things out of the car after Yuna had parked it in the garage. "Girl I know! Uncle is so generous to let us have his beach house ALL TO OURSELVES NO LESS!!" Yuna squealed along.

Both of you cheered at the thought of the thrill that laid in front of you. Amidst all the chaotic joy, a voice broke you both out of your fantasies, "Damn why are you girls so fucking loud?? There's people here!" A mascular voice yelled out, seemingly frustrated.

You were still at the back of the car so you couldn't see the man's face. All you got was that the dude had a hot as fuck voice. "Minho oppa?? What are you doing here??" Yuna yelled back.

Minho oppa? Does she mean the Minho oppa she always grumbles about? The very snobby music nerd? You peeked through the car bunker and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"Snobby??? YOU BITCH!! WHICH PART OF THIS MAN IS SNOBBY????" You thought to yourself. The man wore a white tank top and black shorts with beach slippers. His hair was dark brown and fuzzy. FUCKING GORGEOUS! Your heart pounded in your chest. You've never seen a man this beautiful before.

You found your face getting hotter. You were sure it was as red as a tomato. "Y/n!!!" Yuna yelled next to your ear making you flinch and almost tripping. "What the fuck, Yuna?! Why would you yell in my ear?!" "Well maybe if you responded to me when I called you I wouldn't have yelled?!" "jee okay calm down! Now what's going on? Can someone tell me?!"

You looked around, the man aka Minho was chuckling while Yuna rolled her eyes and sighed, visibly frustrated. The guy helped you girls with your million bags and seated you in the giant living room with some juice and snacks.

Silence followed until you couldn't take it anymore, "can someone please explain??" You said frustrated. Turns out, the beach house wasn't Yuna's uncle's but rather Minho's and he was gonna 'supervise' the both of you during your stay here.

Shortly after, Yuna's mum called to let you guys know of it. Apparently she had forgotten to include that part in the list of things you both needed to know. So in conclusion, you were stuck in a huge mansion with your clearly grumpy bestie and her extremely hot cousin. This could either go completely disastrous or... *Aggressively fans face*

"I'm Minho. Lee Minho. Lee Yuna's very hot cousin." Minho introduced himself, giving Yuna a sly smirk before reaching his hand out for a shake.

"Ah I'm Y/N! It's nice to meet you too!" And just as you were about to grab his hand, Yuna grabbed yours instead, "And I'm Yuna. The clearly hotter cousin" she grinned frustrated mockingly at Minho, "and hands off! She's mine!" She hissed, hugging you like a kitten hugging her favourite human.

You giggled at the cute sight in front of you, "you're so cute, Yuna-ssiii~" you cooed at her. Minho leaned back on the couch in a manspread (NO CUZ THATS SO HOT), "oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, "we'll see about that. Though... I didn't think you'd snag such a hot friend, kid." He looked at you as if he were a predator looking at his prey.

It was a mystery how he had the innocent face of a bunny but inside he was more like a very sly kitten. "Well... I guess the cousins are similar in that aspect" you thought to yourself.

"now then, how about you guys go ahead unpack and rest up? I've got a pool too so you guys can relax there as well. Let's head to the beach tomorrow. It's already pretty late." Minho said, getting up with a heave. "I'll go prepare something to eat for you guys."

"ugh I'll skip. Driving since yesterday and eating all those snacks has got me an upset stomach. Not to mention having to see your face" Yuna glares at Minho, "I would rather sleep, hmph!" She huffed. Both you and Minho chuckled at her childish behaviour.

"this is why I said we should take turns driving!" You nagged at her, "buuuttt I couldn't possibly let my wifey driiivveee~" she hugged your arm, looking at you with a pouty puppy eyes speaking in a high pitched voice. You flicked her forehead as she returned an "ow!"

After much nagging and pleading, Yuna finally went to go shower while you stayed back to help Minho with the food. "So? How long have you guys been friends?" Minho asked as he cut up the apples while you washed the other fruits. "Ah, we met during the student orientation in college. We both sorta clicked over drinks, lol" you replied. Your eyes sparkled as you reminisced all those memories of you guys together.

"and? You guys are dating or something?" He continued. "What? Pssh! No! Yuna is so much like a child, she feels more like a little sister to me. Plus I'm straight. What about you? Are you seeing someone?" You kept the conversation alive, wanting to know more about this person.

"Nah, I'm not dating anyone." "Why not? You're literally so hot! I can't believe you're single!" Minho chuckled at your response, "haha I guess I just didn't find the one yet." He stopped cutting the apples and turned to look at you, "how about you? You seeing someone?" He asked. You stopped what you were doing and turned your back leaning against the counter, "hmm... Nope! As single as a Pringle!"

Upon hearing your answer, he inched closer to you, until he was standing between your legs, his hands rested on the counter on either side of you, his face inches apart from yours, "and you think I'm hot?" He whispered softly. His voice in itself felt like a drug. Some sort of an aphrodisiac. "Very..." You replied. Your voice low and seductive.

He brushed your hair away from your face, his eyes locked onto yours, "hot enough to want to kiss me, hm? I saw how you were practically drooling over me earlier." He chuckled. A blush crept up your face but you felt a wave of boldness wash over you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him a little closer "Hmmm... Yeah. Maybe I was drooling. Why? Are you gonna kiss me?"

A sly smirk painted your face. Your heart was pounding and you desperately wished he didn't hear. You surprised yourself by how bold you were. Was this really you? Damn... Good job Y/N 👏👏 {round of applause for the klutz!}

"Maybe I will~" he replied, his hand reached for your face, holding your chin gently as his other hand went for your hip, pulling you close. His lips grazed against yours, both of your breaths clashing against each other. You could hear heart beats. At this point, you had no idea whose it was.

Grazing turned to a deep kiss, both of you savouring the soft wet sensation. Amidst the heat of the moment, a sudden sense of deja vu washed over you. All of a sudden it felt like you've faced this similar situation. Breaking away from the kiss, your vision blurry, both of you panting, the foggy view of Minho seemed far too familiar to you. "Ha... Have we met before...?" You asked, still huffing. "Who knows~ have we?" He replied.

"what...?" Just as you were gonna ask more, a loud noise jolted you back to reality, "ARGH!! WHY IS THERE NOT A SINGLE BOTTLE OF WATER UPSTAIRS?!" Yuna yelled. Both of you immediately got back to your original positions just in time when Yuna came downstairs. "Jeez Yuna! You need to stop yelling so much!!" You yelled back.

After a bit more bickering Yuna decided to eat with you guys. The three of you sat on the grand table. Yuna next to you, Minho in front of you. She refused to let you sit with him.

You all chattered and for once, Yuna was finally laughing and not bickering with her cousin. You would steal glances at Minho every now and then and catch him looking at you too. It sent shivers down your spine and butterflies went rampant in your stomach.

After much more teasing, chattering and laughing you guys were done with dinner. "Y/N-aaaaaaahhhh" she whined, hugging your arm again, "come with meeeeee~ our oppa can take care of the dishes hehe~" she giggled, giving Minho a sly grin while she tugged at your shirt.

Minho looked done and disgusted by her whiny act, "ugh do you really think you're being cute right now?? Disgusting!" He pretended to gag while Yuna glared at him, popping up a middle finger. You laughed at the two's bickering and decided to follow, "ok fiiinnee~ I'll go with you but stop arguing jeez!" Yuna returned a very jolly cheer to your acceptance and pulled you upstairs catching you off guard.

You took one last look at Minho who smiled at you slyly before walking upstairs feeling flustered.

Having reached your room, Yuna flopped herself on the bed, patting the mattress asking you to sit down as well. You chuckled, crossing your arms, "Yuna... I haven't showered yet. You do realise that right?" "Gosh! Then go do it, pabo-ya! Why didn't you do it earlier?" She rolled her eyes before both of you joined in on a loud giggle.

You took a towel and a set of clothes before heading inside bathroom. You closed the door almost all the way but peeked through the open crack, "no peeking ok?" You warned, Yuna threw a towel at the door which you closed just in time, "you think I'm a pervert like you or something??" She laughed.

Locking the door, you put the fresh set of clothes and towels aside and proceeded to take your clothes off, looking into the mirror. You rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy when a sudden vision appeared in front of your eyes. It was a vision of you kissing a guy. Was it a memory from when you went to that bar a while ago? And if so, why are you remembering it now? You brushed it off and ran the hot shower letting yourself relax in the soothing heat of the (scorching hot) water (cuz you're just a girl 🎀)

After the shower, you came out feeling utterly relaxed. You noticed your friend was sitting up waiting for you while nodding off. You giggled under your breath getting closer to her quietly to boo her. "You're scaring nobody like that, Y/N-ah" Yuna glared at you. "Awww.... Could've played along, y'know!" You whined.

She rolled her eyes again before laughing along with you. Lying down, you turned to your side facing Yuna who was now lying on her tummy. "So? Wanna tell me why you hate him so much?" You asked. "Hate who?" Yuna turned to you. "Your cousin. You guys fight like kids, honestly!" You exclaimed. "Eehh... I don't hate him. He's just super annoying. Plus... There's also that incident"

"incident? What incident?" "The... One... At the... Ba..r.." "the bar??" Before you could get any other answer, Yuna had already fallen asleep. "Yuna? Yuna??? Hey!! You can't just fall asleep like that!!" You tried waking her up but the girl was just out like a light.

You sighed, laying on your back facing the ceiling knowing real damn well that this was gonna make you lose sleep. While your friend slept like a baby, you kept tossing and turning on your side of the bed unable to sleep as expected.

You got up, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. Your head was ringing for some reason. Just what was it trying to remember?? You went to the bathroom again, slipping a plain old bathing suit under a thick bathing robe making your way to the pool.

You loved swimming. Its what you do or at least try to do when you're stressed. You let the robe fall to the floor, gently placing your body in the water that was surprisingly warm. "Wow... Now that hits the spot.." you whispered, let yourself relax in the water.

"Does it now? Im glad." A voice spoke out. A very familiar one that jolted you back to reality. You turned your head to see Minho standing there. No shirt, just wearing shorts likely to go for a swim.

"oh uhm- y-yes..." You found your face getting warmer as you saw the sight in front you. Looking away immediately as if you could hide your expression, "a-are you gonna take a dip? I can leave if you want-" before another word escaped your lips, the man has already walked close to you. When you turned to look at him again, your faces were inches apart. "Nope. It's fine. You can stay." He smiled slyly again.

"My goodness!! When did he get so close?? How can he be so quiet?? What is he? A cat?? " You thought to yourself. Minho sat down on the floor, dipping his legs in the water while you leaned on the edge of the pool wall. It was the shallow end so you could relax pretty well. He gently swung his legs in the water while you made swirls in it. "So? What got you here so late?" He asked, "Hm... I couldn't sleep." You said, sort of absentmindedly before looking up at him. "What about you?"

"well... I usually come down here at times. Im not much a swimmer to be honest, but I've been trying to learn so I could go swimming with my friends. It's too embarrassing to do it in day time though... So I prefer practicing at night" he chuckled.

Your eyes glinted in interest. "Do you want me to teach you? Im a good swimmer myself, y'know!" It was true. You liked swimming and had been doing it since middle school. Plus, this could be an excuse for you to see him more often. You were gonna be staying for a whole month anyway. Might as well make it interesting.

He looked at you with surprised eyes, "you would do that?" He asked. "Mhm! Of course!" You nodded excitedly, "come on now! Get down here!" You raised your hands up, reaching out to him while all he did was stare at you with sparkly eyes. He leaned down, gently grabbing your face in his firm hands placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Your eyes widened at the sudden action, but soon they shut as you felt your heart pounding. You wrapped your arms around his neck, delving deeper into the kiss. Breaking the kiss, you both looked into each other's eyes deeply and passionately. "Couldn't hold back, huh? Who's the one drooling now, hmm?" You whispered in a sultry voice. He chuckled, "I can't help it. You looked so cute~" you gave him a mischievous grin and he raised his eyebrows knowing damn well that grin was no good. "What are you planni-" before he could finish his sentence, you pulled him into the water with a big splash.

He rushed out on the surface, pushing his hair back, "Hey!" He yelled. You laughed at the sight. He looked like a wet kitten who was very angry. After finally gaining stability in the water, he pulled you by the waist causing you to stumble, "and what exactly makes you think you can be so naughty, hm?" He whispered, his jaw clenching. His warm wet hands against your bared waist sent shivers down your spine.

"Now now~ let's not get hasty here~ I'm gonna be your teacher after all!" You giggle, sliding your index finger down the middle of his torso. He scoffed leaning in closer whispering against your ear, "sure teacher... And once you're done teaching me... I'll make sure you feel my wrath." His breath against your skin was hot despite the chill that followed. Your chest heaved as your breath got heavy. You felt your knees get a little weaker.

You pushed him away, holding him at arms lengths, "o-okay! That's enough! Le-lets get the lessons on." You looked away, your face a pretty pink. Minho chuckled, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

And thus, your lesson started. Each touch during the lessons sent sparks up your entire body. The sexual tension was undeniable. Around 45 minutes later, you couldn't take it anymore. The guy was a total novice and got countless giggles out of you from the way he struggled, but given how serious he was, you couldn't help but feel aroused.

"come on let's get going. We've been out here for long... We both will catch a cold at this rate." You said, looking away, trying to walk out of the water. But Minho had other plans. He held your arm as you tried to leave, pulling you in again, "and where do you think you're going, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. A mischievous look painted his face.

"T-to... To get to my room... Obviously..." You blushed hard. You couldn't look into his eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest like there was no tommorow. He gently place his index finger under your chin, pulling your face up to make you look at him. "This fast? I told you, you'd feel my wrath after we were done, didn't I?" He smirked. You whimpered under your breath, "wha... What do you mean...?"

"You're really gonna ask me that? Why don't I show you instead?" And with that, he leaned in for a kiss. At first you were caught off guard, your eyes widening but soon you closed them shut, wrapping your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you closer as if to close any bit of gap you both could've had.

You moaned into the kiss, grinding against his crotch. He broke away from the kiss, scoffing again, "hah... What a naughty girl." His voice was a low whisper, a sultry tone. You breathed heavily from the after effects of the kiss. You had been aroused the entire day practically and you couldn't take it anymore.

"yeah... Im a naughty girl... So punish me, won't you?" You huffed, pulling him into a deep kiss again. Your tongue darted out, wanting to penetrate his lips. He smirked into the kiss, granting you permission to enter. Minho grabbed the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair deepening the kiss.

You moaned into the kiss, your body wanting more. He slid one of his hands down to your ass, grabbing it and giving it a tight squeeze. You squirmed a little in his firm hands. Breaking the kiss, you both huffed. Both of your eyes locked onto each other's in a lustful gaze.

"Let's stop at that, baby... It's just your first day here. Don't want you to get tired too fast..." He chuckled, tugging a few strands of your hair behind your ear, a seductive spark glistening in his dark brown eyes.

The rest was a haze. Somehow you got into bed wearing your nightsuit, your hair dried. Yuna slept like a log unbeknownst to all the adventures you had in that short while. You stared blankly at the ceiling wondering what just happened and soon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up feeling groggy with the very little sleep you got. To your surprise, Minho was quite energetic as if he didn't get the same amount of sleep as you if not lesser. The entire time you both had breakfast, you couldn't keep your eyes on his. You felt shy... A bit too shy...

The day went by without much except for the sexual tensions that still lingered. Every touch, intentional or not, sent shivers down your spine. You found yourself biting your lip at the thought of wanting to be touched and ravaged by this man.

And thus, it started. A daily routine. Every night you both would come down to the pool when Yuna fell asleep given how heavy of a sleeper she was. You both would greet each with a soft kiss and get into the lessons. When done, you'd give him a reward for doing so well.

It started with kisses, then fondling your supple tits, then letting him feel you from over your bikini that barely counted as clothes, really. On the beach you would sometimes find him staring at you with hungry eyes as you splashed around in the ocean. You would pull him to a secluded spot to make out but that's all. He wouldn't go any further than over the clothes.

A week or so later, he had gotten a lot better at swimming. After you both were done, as usual both of you made out again. He touched you again, making you moan, "Oh... Oppa..." You mewled at his hot touch. He looked at you, eyes widened. You looked back at him, a wave of shame washing over you. "I-im so sorry! I don't know why I..." You looked away and before you could say anything, he pulled your face back to his, diving in to a kiss.

"why? That was cute... You should do it more..." He smirked. You bit your lip. You couldnt take it anymore. The slowburn was too much for you. (Pretty sure it's the same for us as well lol) "no. How about you make me do it, instead?" You gave him a mischievous smirk, giggling like the naughty slut that you were.

He grabbed the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, "make you huh? You sure you can take it?" His voice was stern. You loved it when you were treated bad. It just added to your arousal.

"mhm~ I can take anything~" you hummed. The smirk never leaving your face. Your lips were barely a centimetre apart, the tips of your noses softly grazing against each other.

He chuckled under his breath, his hands reaching for the waistband of your panty, his fingers hooking onto it. "You've been warned, kitten." "so I have~"

Both of you shared a deep hungry kiss, his hands pulled down your panties making you gasp in his hold. He gave your butt a quick squeeze before one of his hands came down to your front, rubbing your swollen bud.

It felt like you could cum from just that. You haven't felt a man's touch in so long. But this time in particular, something felt awfully familiar.

It was then that you remembered, a few months, almost a year ago, you and Yuna went out for some drinks at the bar a few blocks away from your dorm. There, both of you got drunk. You were carried to your dorms by a man who had taken Yuna as well. When he dropped you off at your room, you kissed him, almost making out. You asked him to touch you, so he did, but only to an extent. After having rubbed your clit a little, he stopped. You whined at the absense of his hands. But he said something that you vaguely remember, "not now, kitten. You won't remember it when you wake up anyway. Plus, I would rather do it when you're sober instead." And left. You had finally remembered. That man was none other than... Minho.

"you... We... You were the one who got u-us... home from the... The bar that... day..?" You could barely breathe, let alone speak. But you wanted to ask, and you wanted to know. Minho chuckled, holding your face gently in his hand while his other hand was still busy playing around with your nub, "so you finally remembered, huh, kitten?" He smirked and thrusting a finger in almost instantly making you gasp a moan.

"and since you finally remember... Im gonna give you all the things you begged me for that night... Only if you beg again~" you looked at him in surprise. Biting your lip, you smirked. Your grip around his neck tightening, pulling him closer. "Yeah~ your kitten wants it as much as she did that night. Won't you give it to me~?" Your eyes glistened in plea as your lips puckered to form a pout.

"oh I sure will..." His eyes stayed adamant on yours and so did the smirk on his face as he picked you up, seating you on the edge of the pool. "Spread them." He commanded, you licked your lips and spread your legs wide apart for him to see. He hooked his arms under your thighs, kissing a softly biting your plump thighs, climbing up with each touch.

Soon his face was barely inches apart from your throbbing wet folds. His tongue darted out, licking your slit from the bottom to the top making you shiver. The cold wind flowing on the rooftop added to your arousal as well.

You whimpered and gasped under his touch. His tongue ravaging your insides. Penetrating your hole and licking your swollen nub. Filthy wet sounds along with your moans and his grunts were all you could hear. It was a feeling you'd felt never before. You couldn't understand what made you shiver more, his touch? Or the way the cold wind hit your wet body? Honestly, you didn't care anymore.

You held on to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair into a grip as you pushed him in even more. He unhooked one arm, giving love to your twitching clit whole fingering you ruthlessly. He looked up at you, a moaning mess, with hungered eyes of satisfaction. He chuckled as he sucked more into your folds.

You could feel his veins inside you. Not in a gross way. It just felt so... So right. (Yes I took inspiration from here lol. Credits to @bbokicidal) you bit your lip, trying your hardest not to make more sound than you should. That was, until, you felt a knot form in your belly. And you knew exactly what that meant. "A-ah...! Cuh-cumming! Im cumming!" You moaned out loud. Louder than you were supposed to.

"nuh-uh. Not yet." Minho pulled away from you, leaning up to kiss you again. You could taste yourself. All this time, you'd thought that kissing right after being eaten out would be disgusting but it wasn't that bad. You whimpered and begged, "p-please... Let me cum... Please, oppaa..." Minho just smirked, "not that easy, kitten. You had your chance and you blew it. And it's not gonna be 'oppa' for you anymore." He licked your neck down your jaw. Biting into the flesh above your collarbone.

He got up, sitting next to you kissing you again. "Fuck... Your lips are so delicious I just can't stop kissing them." He whispered, grabbing onto the back of your head, roughly pulling you down. "Your turn." He commanded, your face right above his bulge.

You gulped, pulling his pant down revealing a big throbbing and veiny cock. It was firm and girthy, much like his hands. You were doubtful, wondering if you could even fit it halfway in your mouth. "Go on now, suck." His voice was low into a growl. You were scared but you were equally aroused. Letting your hands trail up to his hot length, you slowly licked the tip, letting it dive into your mouth.

A muffled moan came out of your lips as you struggled to take it all in. (I legit came back to continue writing only to realise the next 7 paragraps (yes I counted) I wrote are gone. Like- gone. Apparently Tumblr didn't save it and I'm losing my mind rn. 🙂) He pushed your head further in, a loud groan left his lips as the tip of his cock hit your throat. You whimpered with the sudden intrusion. It was a bit painful getting used go it, but in no time you loved it. You were a woman with many kinks. You liked a little bit of pain every now and then and this pain was perfect.

You bobbed your head up and down on his dick, liquid oozing out of your lips. At this point, you weren't sure if it was your saliva, his precum or just a mix of both. Minho threw his head back, moaning uncontrollably at your action. You licked and sucked, occassionally pulling away and stroking his length.

"Fuck... You're such a good kitty... You're taking it so well~" he groaned. That just added to your arousal. Your mind was fuzzy and you couldn't think straight. Your eyes glistened in ecstacy and your pupils wouldve turned into hearts had you been in an anime.

You reached down to his balls, massaging his sacs. "Sh-shit Y/N... Cum... Gonna cum..." Minho groaned. Having heard his warning, you pushed his cock deeper inside your mouth. He scoffed at the sight, "wanna drink me up, huh? Since you're so eager, I'll let you swallow every last bit of it. Don't you dare let it go to waste."

Your heart pounded in your chest hearing his threat. Minho was red down to his nape, helping you suck him off. Without wasting much time, with one last thrust in, strings of white warm cum shot into your mouth. You swallowed around his cock making him let out a grunted moan.

You licked his cock clean, following suite, not letting even the tiniest drop go to waste. You didn't let another second go to waste as you climbed up on him delving into a kiss, letting him know exactly what he tasted like.

Your arms rested on his shoulder, both of you panting. Your chests heaving from the heavy breaths. "I've... I've been such a good kitty... Won't you g-give me... A reward...?"

He laughed at your desperation, grabbing your hips. "Yeah... You've been a good kitty... I should definitely reward you." He smirked. You positioned your entrance on his tip while he rubbed on your folds. One of his hands holding your hips steady while the other's thumb played with your clit.

You pushed his cock in, gasping as your hole stretched from the impact. Your head fell on his shoulder. He pushed you down slowly, helping you get used to his size. "Easy kitten... Relax... You're gonna snap me in half..." He groaned. "Big... S-so... Big..." You cried. "Mm... I know, baby... I know... Just a little more..." He hummed.

You let yourself relax in his firm arms, finally putting the entirety of his length inside your core. "Le-lets... Let's stay like this for a little..." "Sure, kitten... Take your time..."

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting yourself get used to his size. A few moments later, after you had finally gotten used to his length, you let yourself lift up a bit and push down. Not a word needed to be said for Minho to grab hold of your ass and help you ride him.

You whimpered and moaned as you rode him. A few thrusts later, your paces fastened. You moaned heavier now, your tits bouncing from the action.

While you rode him, Minho grabbed both your tits, fondling with one and sucking on the nipple of another. "Sen... Sensitive..." You whimpered, shivering from the stimulation. "You like that, don't you kitten?" He continued to lick and suckle on the plump flesh of your breasts.

A while later, you felt a familiar knot form in your belly again. "M'gunna... Gunna cuuumm..." You moaned. Minho was amused and aroused at the sight. "What a naughty slut. A good fucking slut. You haven't even been riding me that long... Gonna cum already?" He groaned, biting your shoulder making you yelp. "Y-yes... Yes...! Please... Let... Let me cum please....!!" You begged desperately. "Go ahead, baby... Go right ahead... Cum all over me..." He lifted you up higher, slamming you down on his cock.

You moaned out louder, feeling an overwhelming wave of pleasure flood in. Letting your load go off on his dick. Flinching and trembling from the stimulation. Safe to say, you were VERY close to losing your mind.

Minho took this chance of your defenselessness and pushed you down on the cold hard floor making you yelp, your eyes widening in surprise. "My turn to go crazy darling... You were being such a dirty little whore just now... I can't let you go that easy can I?" He said, pulling out almost all the way and slamming hard into you.

You shrieked at the sudden slam, "aah!! I-I just ca-came!!" But he had no plans of listening. Slamming into your relentlessly, his pace faster than ever. Your nails dug into his back as if to mark him as yours while he left his love bites on your tits claiming you as his.

Both of you fucked like beasts. He didn't hold back. You let loose again, blowing another load, squirting on his dick. He pulled out, rubbing his dick roughly on top of your belly. "Fuck..." He groaned before shooting out those white strings of ecstasy all over you.

He panted after blowing his load, looking at you with a gaze of deep satisfaction. He used his hand to spread his cum on your belly like some lotion while you laid there flinching. Safe to say, you had lost your fucking mind. "What a sight... What a good fucking sight..." He huffed.

He gave you another soft kiss before picking you up bridal style. He carried you to his room, cleaning the both of you squeaky clean. He put on your night suit on you while you laid there tired out of your mind.

He carried you down to your and Yuna's room where she laid asleep, clueless of all the adventures. Given how thick the walls were and how heavy of a sleeper Yuna was, it was less than likely that she heard you both. You let out a sigh of relief.

He laid you down on the bed, giving you a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He leaned close to your ear whispering, "I'll see you tomorrow night then, kitten... Sleep well..." You blushed hard, hiding yourself under your blanekt peeking through it like a child.

He chuckled under his breath when suddenly Yuna moved. Turning to face you both and throwing her arm and leg on you. You and Minho flinched thinking she was awake. But she continued to snore. You both sighed in relief again. He waved a bye at you and you slowly waved back.

And thus started a new routine. Every night you would help him learn swimming and after each session, making out was the least you would do. Kissing underwater to full on fucking while your bottoms remained submerged. The nights felt like wet dreams of all your kinks full filled.

One day while on the beach, Minho looked at you licking his lips as he stared down you playing in the water with Yuna in that sexy bikini of yours, thinking of all the ways he'd ravage you that night.

All of a sudden you were approached by three men. They were thin and almost scrawny in your eyes. I mean, after laying your eyes on Minho, any other guy would just look like squids (skz is an exception and you can't change my mind 🗣️).

You let yourself have a small conversation with them since they didn't particularly make you uncomfortable and you didn't wanna seem rude. That was, until, one of the bigger guys rested his arm around your shoulder. That made you uncomfortable. They started cracking jokes that just added to your discomfort.

Before you could pushed them off, a voice called out. "Oi. The fuck do you think you're doing?" Minho chimed in and he looked mad pissed. Behind him stood Yuna in all her glory. Both Lee cousin glaring at the men. Yuna was a black belt in Taekwondo and also recently started learning Muay Thai which meant she was quite built. Minho himself looked menacing since he was well built as well.

Forget squids, the dudes looked like little shrimps on front of the two. Minho glared at the guy who had his arm around you. Without a thought the dude let you go. The three of them looked at each other awkwardly before clearing their throats and walking away, heads hanging probably ashamed.

"hey? You okay?" Yuna asked, handing you one of the bottle of waters she had in her hand. Her gaze soft unlike just a moment ago. Her eyes glistened in concern. You nodded, smiling back at her, "I'm okay. They didn't do anything don't worry."

Minho on the other hand still looked extremely pissed. "Yuna. Go get us something to drink. Gotta cool myself off." He commanded, his eyes locked into yours. You flinched, feeling a little scared but aroused at the same time. "What?? Why me???" Yuna whined. Minho glared at her, making her flinch. "Fuck fine. I'll go. Y/N-aaahhhh come with me!" She was about to hold your hand when Minho commanded again in a stern voice, "She stays. You can go alone." Yuna looked a bit awkward but she didn't say anything. She knew when to not poke her nose and she quietly left.

Meanwhile, Minho grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards a big rock in a secluded area catching you off guard. "What are we doing here?" You asked, you didn't dare look at him in the eye.

(this part with "your guilty pleasure" by Henry Versus is a MUST)

He pushed you against the rock, holding your chin gently. Your lips not even inches apart. Your breaths crashing with each other. Your knees felt weak.

His dark brown eyes had an intense look, his stern gaze never leaving yours. "Did that feel good, kitten? Being touched by some random guy? Think I didn't see you smile all nice and shy to them you fucking slut?" He groaned. Your breath was shaky, fear and lust overcoming you.

"n-no... I... I just... I was just trying to be... Nice..." He mumbled. His hand trailed down to your neck in a feathery light grasp. His other hand, pinning you to the rock. "And who gave you the permission to be so nice, hm kitten? I know you're a whore but don't forget you're mine, ok? You only get to be slutty around me and just. Me. Is that clear, my love?" He whispered back in a sultry voice. His eyes almost looked maniacal. As if he was obsessed with you.

You liked it. You liked being obsessed with. You loved being treated like this. Boldness took over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, "why? Jealous? Scared someone else will take me, hm?"

He scoffed, his hold on your neck tightening a little more making you gasp. You looked at him slyly. Loving every touch. "You'll never find anyone better than me anyway..." He chuckled, kissing you deeply. His tongue intruding your lips before you could even react making you moan into the kiss.

That hand that grabbed on to your neck slid down to your tits, squeezing you roughly making you yelp. You tried to break away from the kiss, but he just grabbed on to the back of your head while fondling your boobs, kissing you relentlessly until you were out of breath.

He trailed down leaving wet kisses down to your boobs, suckling on your nipples while his hand slided down your body making you shiver under his touch.

He hooked his hand under your knee, pulling it up to your belly while his other hand pushed aside your panty. "I'll fuck you so hard you won't even have time to think about another dude." He pulled out his cock that was hard and throbbing. He rubbed it on your hole.

But you know what he didn't forget? Foreplay. Sure, he wanted himself to be engraved in every inch of your body, but he didn't wanna hurt you. He spat in his fingers, sliding them in to your pussy. "Fuck... Look how wet you are already, kitten... You like it when I call you those filthy names don't you? You fucking whore." He grunted. The way he called you whore just made you clench around his fingers making him chuckle.

The leg being held was almost starting to hurt as he focused on fingering the wits out of you. After a little more of prepping and deeming you ready, he pulled his fingers our making you whine. He let go of your leg, turning you around. Your back now faced him.

He rubbed his dick on your folds a little more before pushing it in. You moaned, taking him in. He held you, pulling you close to him, shutting down any gap you might've had between the both of you. With his other hand, he turned your head, kissing you as he fucked you till you lost your mind.

You moaned out his name. Honorifics? Well fuck that. He liked it when you called him Minho in that sexy raw voice of yours. "Angh~! Aahh! Min- Minhooo~ too much. You're... G-going too... Too hard... Slo... Slow doowwnn..." You moaned. He spanked your ass and scoffed, "slow down? Slow down my ass. You like it when it hurts. You like when I go rough don't you? I know you can take it, kitten. So take it."

With another hard slam, you moaned loud. He shoved his fingers in your mouth, "shhh kitten... I know it feels good but you gotta keep it down... You can moan like a slut when we're home, love. Be a good girl won't you?" The fingers muffled your moans but you really couldn't hold back. Not when he was being so fucking ruthless.

You grabbed on to his hand. He pulled out is fingers. "Gon... Gonna... Gonna cum master..." You whined. "Oh yeah? Go ahead. Cum all over me, kitten. Do it." He ordered.

Without another wasted second, you bit your lip, letting loose on him. Twitching and flinching from the aftereffects. He pulled out, stroking his dick on your back, cumming all over you. Both of you panted heavily. He took off the small towel that was around his neck and used it to clean both of you up.

You fixed your bikini, still panting. You turned to him, hugging him close. "So? Were you jealous, darling?" You asked, a sly look in your eyes. "Come on, kitten. You're mine and I'm yours... Would you not be upset if some girl was all over me, huh?" You chuckled at the idea, placing a kiss on his lips. "You say that but we aren't even dating yet..." You nuzzled your nose on his, holding him close.

He was about to say something when a sudden noise flinched you both back to reality. Turning towards the source of the noise, both of your eyes widened in horror. It was Yuna. She had gotten drinks for the three of you. But the sight of you guys kissing had made her drop the drinks. She stood there stunned, "Wha... What are you..."

The drive back home was dead silent. Yuna refused to look at you both. Sitting alone in the backseat while you sat on the passenger seat and Minho drove.

When all of you got home, Yuna stormed upstairs. You hurried ans followed her while Minho flopped down on the couch sighing knowing him going up there would just fuel the fire. "Shit... I fucked up real bad didn't I...?" He groaned.

Meanwhile upstairs, Yuna was about to slam the door shut but you came in the way, "Yuna please! I can explain!" You cried out. "Explain what? That you've been screwing my fucking cousin behind my back??"

"look Yuna... Im sorry... But please let me explain..." You sighed. She just threw the door open, flopping down on the bed, seething.

"come on don't be like that..."

"like what?"

"you're mad at me..."

"I'm not mad."

"uh-huh... Sure. I can literally see smoke coming out your ears."

"how long has this been going on?"

"Yuna please look at me..."

"I'll look at you when you tell me."

"f-for a while..."

"how long?"

"since... Since the day we came here..."

Yuna jolted, looking at you with a swift turn of her head, "WHAT?! WHEN?! I WAS WITH YOU THE ENTIRE TIME!!!"

You gulped, "we-well... When you fell asleep... I was giving him swimming lessons and we... Um... Just..."

"wait... When I was SLEEPING?!" She yelled.

"I'm... Im so sorry..." You stood there, like a child being punished for breaking a vase.

"wow... While I was sleeping you slept with my cousin?? Were you like... Recreating the bar moment??" "Wait... You knew...?" "Bitch that's my brother of course I know!! Is that why he's been so nosy about my friends?" She looked away, wondering deeply. "Huh? He was what?"

"argh girl come sit the fuck down. There's so much you need to know." She pat on the bed asking you to sit. You quietly followed.

Apparently, after dropping the two of you off at your dorm, Minho had grown excessively curious about Yuna's friends. He'd been looking to talk to you but always held himself back because he didn't wanna seem weird.

"he would always ask about my roommate but since Kim Bomi is also my roommate I didn't know whether he was talking about her or you. Should've known it was you since he's never seen Bomi. Apparently he's seen you before the bar incident too. He always stopped before asking anything too personal cuz he thought you might find him weird."

You were surprised at the revelation. Realising he might harbour feelings for you. This all happened at the beginning of your third year which meant around 7-8 months ago.

You sulked, feeling like you betrayed your friend. She glared at you, while your head hung, your eyes glued to the floor. She smacked your back, making you yelp, "YAH! WHY YOU SULKING!" "CUZ I FEEL LIKE I BETRAYED YOUR TRUST"

You sniffled, on the verge of tears. "AYE! WHATS THERE TO BETRAY?! I mean yeah I was sorta caught off guard when I saw you kiss my cousin and shit but I'm not betrayed!! Just upset you didn't tell me" she looked away pouting. "I was scared you'd find me weird or shit." "The only way I'd find you weird is if you fucked some 40 year old." You cringed at her statement. Clearly disgusted, "exactly." Yuna scoffed.

"well I mean... If I marry him I'll be... Well... You're sister in law hehe" "girl- I know I always wanted you to be my sister BUT NOT LIKE THIS??? IT FEELS WEIRD!" "But bestie... He's so hot..." "BRO THATS MY COUSIN"

In the end of the day, Yuna accepted the fact that you screwed her cousin despite her finding it cliche. You both came downstairs to Minho sitting down on the couch, manspreading and his eyes closed. While you found it extremely hot, Yuna had a cringed expression.

"get the fuck up, you ass!" She yelled. Minho groaned. Sitting up straight, looking at you both. "Yuna... Look... Im sorry..." "Save it. I heard everything." She crossed her arms, looking away again in a pout, "I know you like her but make sure you make her feel comfortable." Minho chuckled. "I sure will." He looked at you, love overflowing in his eyes. It was then that you realised, what this man felt towards you wasn't just some simple attraction or lust. He actually did like you.

He then turned to look at Yuna, "please don't tell aunty about this, Yuna..." "Don't worry I won't..." She mumbled. Both you and Minho looked down, relaxing your shoulders and sighing. Yuna, although, had other plans. She smirked slyly, "in exchange... You won't tell mum about the fact that my boyfriend and I are gonna go out on a date tomorrow." "Wait what?!" You and Minho looked at her, baffled.

She cackled, finding extreme satisfaction with your reactions. "But thats-" Minho tried to speak only to be cut off my Yuna, "come on you don't want aunty or my mum OR Y/N's parents to know that you guys fucked right? Her mum might let it go... But will aunty and uncle? They trusted you to supervise us... Not fuck your cousin's friend" she smiled as if she were the most innocent beanie in the world.

Both of you were left defeated. Knowing y'all fucked up. And with that, the three of you came into a pact. Yuna gets to hang with her boyfriend while you and Minho get to fuck around and come out to your parents at your own time.

Now... This has stretched out long. Most people would think the story's over. But NAH! Y'all remember the "use of toys" in the warning? Yeaaahhhhh~ this is where it gets wilder.

That night, Yuna and her boyfriend who was a good friend of yours since first year of college as well went out for the night. The giant mansion was now for the both of you to ravish.

Minho picked you up almost immediately after locking the door. He took you to his room, throwing you on the bed. You licked your lips in anticipation.

"now then... Why don't you be a good kitty hm?" He whispered in a sultry tone. He opened a box that was inside his closet and turned it upside down on the bed revealing a lot of things you least expected.

You see, he had found out about your numerous kinks and fetishes in the middle of fucking you. His collection contained cat ears, cat tail with a butt plug, lube, hand cuffs, dildos, vibrators, whips, collars and ropes.

"You mentioned ones that you were into soft bdsm when I was cleaning you up once. 'bout time I fulfil your dreams~" you shuddered at his demeanor. And before you know it, you had cat ears on, hands cuffed and a collar around your neck. He squeezed the bottle of lube on your ass hole, the cold paste making you shiver and whimper. He rubbed on your hole, gently shoving a finger in, prepping you until you were ready to take the butt plug in.

Once you were, he wasted no time shoving the toy in. He bit his lips, shuddering at the sight of you fully prepped to be his kitten. "So pretty... You look so fucking pretty..." He whispered.

He squeezed some lube on the dildo too which was perhaps a little less big than his. Rubbing it on your folds, he leaned in closer kissing you deeply. "You like that don't you?" He whispered, shoving the toy in making you moan ever so loud.

While he ruthlessly thrusted the dildo inside you with one hand and fondled with your breasts with the other, you laid there losing your mind. "You like that don't you? You greedy little slut. You fucking whore. You like it when I abuse you like this, huh? You fucking pervert."

You shuddered, words refusing to leave your lips. "Go on. Tell master how much you love this. Use your words, kitten." "Ye-yeeaahh~ I love it~ I lo-love it s-sooo much ma-masteerr~" your eyes rolled up almost to your head. All this stimulation driving you crazy.

He yanked the dildo out of your pussy making you yelp and whine. He took a vibrator next, pushing it in switching it on the highest setting. Your body shuddered as electric sparks ran through your entire body from the vibrations. You squirted everywhere like a fountain.

He scoffed, taking the whip in his hand, running it through your torso, "haaahh... Look at you... What a mess..." He tutted before whipping you softly on your boobs making you yelp again. At this point, you were beyond gone. There's no way you could've said anything other than incoherent broken sentences which were more like moans.

He whipped you again, your nipples now swollen and twitching. He leaned down on you, kissing you deeply, biting your lower lip. "You like that, kitten? You like being masters little slut?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded, unable to speak. He got up, wipping you again, harder this time, "words, love. Use your words." His face was stern and cold and so was his voice.

You scared by the way he acted, but also aroused out of your mind. "Y-yeesss~ yes masteerr~ I love it... I love it so muuucchh~" you moaned.

He smirked feeling satisfied. "Get on all fours." He commanded. You did as told. Getting on all fours, your face now directly in front of his crotch where you could see his painful bulge through his shorts. You giggled, "hehe... So hard... Master is hard for me~" you mumbled.

He grabbed you by your hair and pulled your head up making you look at him, "that's right kitten. Im hard for you. You're gonna do something about that no? I'll give you a very good reward~" you bit your lip at his suggestion.

Pulling his pants down, his bulge sprang up slapping your face. You wasted no time, shoving his entire lenght inside your mouth. At this point, you were used to his size so it didn't hurt as much as it did before. You went ahead, bobbing your head up at down, swallowing and sucking around his cock.

He threw his head back, groaning as you sucked him off. The feeling was phenomenal. It was something neither of you had felt before, making the experience all the more better. After a while of sucking, he was close. "Hold it in your mouth, kitten. Don't you dare swallow it." He commanded. You fastened your pace as he shot his load inside your mouth, filling you up with warm cum.

He grabbed the back of you head and brought you close to his face. "Show me." He commanded. You opened your mouth wide, bringing out your tongue a little to show him how his milk was in your mouth. He smiled contented, "swallow." Without a thought, you did as asked.

"what a good fucking girl." He grunted, kissing you roughly. "Go ahead... Tell me what you want for a reward?" He huffed. "Fu... Fuck me..." You mumbled. He let you fall on the bed, grabbing the leash attached to your collar and pulling you close, "louder kitten. I can't hear you." "Fuck me master... Fuck me pleeaassee...~"

With that, he smirked, letting go of the leash, snatching away the vibrator too. "Since you're asking so nicely... How can I say no, hm?" He positioned himself on your entrance, thrusting in without warning making your arch your back.

"yeeaahhhh~!! Just like that!!" You moaned while he thrusted in you ruthlessly. He grabbed the leash again, pulling you close kissing you. Your wrapped your arms around him, "te... Tell me... Im your... Your favourite... Tell me I'm yours..." You begged. "Yeah... You're mine kitten... Only mine... No one else's... I love you so much kitten... I love you so much, Y/N."

You felt a shift in the mood when he called your name. What was a rough just a moment ago suddenly became sensual. Feather light touches gliding down your torso, the tight tug on your collar that suddenly felt gentle, his pace still fast yet loving. It felt like you were drugged. Intoxicated in the strongest aphrodisiac.

It felt like time had slowed down. Both your breaths shaky and heavy. Both of you divulged into a deep passionate kiss while he thrusted into you like there was no tomorrow. It felt like you were the main character of an R-rated romance novel being fucked by your lover. (4th wall break who?)

A few more thrusts later, you reached your climax. Digging your nails into his back. With one last push, he came inside filling you up.

He flopped on you, his weight feeling a different kind of warm and comfy. After a bit of lying there still, a sudden thought occured to you. "Wait... Did you just cum inside...? Without a condom...?" You looked at him horrified. He got up immediately, "fuck!! Im so sorry, y/n!! I got lost in the flow and..." He rushed to the bathroom, wiping you clean desperately praying for the worst to not happen.

Usually, you would worry your ass off over this. But you were just too tired. Your entire body ached from the action. "Fuck... Forget it... Im tired..." You mumbled. Minho kissed you on the forehead, "it's okay love... Sleep. I'll clean you up." You hummed and nodded, drifting off to sleep.

Next morning, you woke up at around 11:30. You were fully clothed but you felt wet down there. Rubbing your eyes you wondered if he had missed a spot or two. You got up and went to your bathroom. To your utter surprise, a delightful one at that, it was your period.

"MINHO OPPA!!!" You yelled from the bathroom. You heard something crash downstairs and soon Minho came in slamming the door open. "WHATS WRONG?!" He yelled back. His eyes dropping to your pants laying on the floor as you stood in the bathroom pantsless. "Y-Y/N!! I know I've seen everything but cover up please!!" He looked away shyly.

"aahhh that's for later!!! I started my period!! Im not gonna be pregnant!!!" You jumped in joy. "Oh.." he looked a bit disappointed. You walked up to him, (still pantsless btw) and held his face gently. "What's wrong? Did you wanna impregnate me?" "We-well no but like... Argh I don't know I'm just being dumb." (Minho admitting he's dumb?!?!?! Now you know this is just a fic.) You chuckled at his response, giving him a kiss.

"also... To respond to your statement last night..." You paused, smiling at him, "I love you too..." "Hu-huh?? What??" He looked surprised and confused. "Well... Ever since the bar incident I've been looking for you too... And well... Although I'm not very sure about my feelings... Spending the past few weeks with you... I know my feelings aren't just an attraction towards you..."

He hugged you tight, "thank... Thank you..." He sniffled. You giggled by his actions. You'd thought he was so mature and stuff but really... He was just a little child at heart.

Both of you decided to wait it out a little more before going official. In the meantime you called Yuna to let her know to get some pads since you only had two on you. The final week at the beach house was spent with Yuna and Minho coddling you.

Fin~

I know the story stretched out a lot 😭 I just wanted to include a lot of things in here Lolol hope you guys enjoyed this brainrot!! It took me a long time to write cuz writer's block is a bitch and apparently I attract bitches, good or bad, left and right. Sooo yuh~

Anyways yeah that's that! Make sure to like, comment or reblog if you liked it! Thank you for reading! Next oneshot will prolly come out in like- Jan Lolol till then! Adios!

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!rafayel, hints of switch!rafayel, reader is hesitant with intimacy, descriptions of self-esteem issues and general insecurities, mentions/implications of toxic relationships, implications of dubcon (not with rafayel), praise and reassurance, kissing and making out, heavy petting, first time sex (with each other) (no virginity loss), masturbation (f), oral (m. receiving), vaginal sex, cowgirl and missionary positions, unprotected sex, creampie, soft sex, use of pet names "cutie" "princess" "baby", references to card "fiery undercurrents", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 7.9k (help me)

youtiful masterlist

a late birthday os for our favorite deep sea painter! ✨

You jumped at your phone, nearly gasping at the caller ID that flashed on your screen.

"Rafayel!"

Your grip on your phone was tight, held against your ear with an immediate burst of excitement.

It had been days.

You knew how it was, of course—an artist's inspiration was often sporadic and fleeting, and you'd even lost count of the number of times Rafayel had told you that. How essential it was to grab the spark of creativity before it you lose it; how paramount it was to focus on your flow before it disappeared... It was ingrained in the forefront of your mind, by now.

And even more than that, if Rafayel had always been one to speak of the elusiveness of inspiration, then Thomas had always been one to insist you leave him and his stroke of genius alone whenever he called for it.

You didn't understand much about the world of artists, so it was natural for you to take their words to heart, but it hadn't been easy.

Rafayel, being Rafayel, would always send you texts and updates, never failingly missing a single day... But it had been days since you'd last heard his voice at all—much less seen him. Now, marking a week sinve you'd been to his studio at all, you were pacing back and forth in your apartment, wondering how long you had to wait, and if maybe you should take a chance and visit him yourself—

But you didn't want to be selfish.

In fact, you quite despised being needy at all—with a quiet laugh, you thought, that was usually the role that Rafayel would play in your relationship. You wouldn't think to take it from him.

Yet, now, your phone rang, and the ever-familiar sound of his voice brought on a wave of butterflies in your stomach that had your mood lifting in seconds.

"Heeyyy there, cutie!"

In the background, you could make out the faint sounds of metal against concrete in the background, and your ears perked.

"Is... that your ladder? Have you finished your painting?"

"Yeah! It really took a while, this one... But Thomas'll be happy to know that it's finally finished! ...That is, if I could get ahold of him..."

You carefully sat on the edge of your bed, swinging your legs in sheer happiness at his little ramblings.

"...And, actually, I kind of need your help."

You blinked.

"Hm? Help? With what?"

"Well, you know how I told you it's been kind of a while since I last cleaned this place...?"

"...Yes..."

"Are you free now?"

"Rafayel, you can't mean...?"

"Yeah! Can you come over and help me clean?"

You couldn't believe his first thought with this call was to ask you for your cleaning services. You strained to hear the familiar tease in his voice, even waited for a moment for some kind of "Just kidding!" or whatever else that could tell you he wasn't being serious—

You felt your eyes narrow in disapproval when you found nothing.

"Rafayel, I'm not your maid, you know."

Not even an "I missed you", not even a " Want to hang out later?".

"Yeaaahh.... But you're my bodyguard, right?" The hopeful tone in his voice now would have made you laugh.... In other circumstances.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" There was a laugh, then, on the other side of the line, and you huffed. "Rafayel, don't joke with me—"

"Look! I told you, right? Thomas won't answer me, and, seriously! The studio's a mess. I really need some help... Please?"

He was laughing completely now, and the sound brought over that same, very familiar ripple of butterflies, despite all the odds.

You caved.

"This is labor abuse, Rafa. Of your own girlfriend, might I add!" You hmphed, but stood up from your bed, haphazardly gathering your things into a purse and walking out of your flat. "Fine. I'm on my way there."

"Oh, you really are the best girlfriend I could ever have wished for! Thanks, princess! See ya!"

Not even a "stay safe"!

You wondered if this was what Rafayel felt whenever you were late to receive his calls or to reply to hia texts, and you sighed.

Is he just trying to get back at me...?

Regardless, he made up for his actions by immediately twirling you over with a kiss the minute you knocked on his door, and you smiled.

"Nice to see you again, princess," he grinned.

You thought you could never have wanted to see his smile as much as you did now—

But you couldn't bring yourself to admit that to him.

"Would've been better if you said that when you called me, huh?" You rolled your eyes playfully, shoving him aside and scanning the space in front of you.

He hadn't been lying.

Paint had been scattered around, well past the patches of safety paper he usually had lying all over his studio. While you were used to seeing the place mostly messy, anyway, this seemed a lot less like the organized mess you were used to. What's more, the painting wasn't even in this room anymore, and god knows where he'd put it now to dry.

You turned towards him with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Geez, Rafayel... This place looks like it's been through a hell hole. What were you doing?"

"Painting."

He shrugged, ever nonchalant and casual, only as if stating the obvious—that clearly being so engrossed in your painting would result in such a mess, and that clearly—he handed over a bundle of cleaning supplies—this was a very normal way of greeting your significant other.

You sighed.

You supposed, nothing was ever truly normal with him, anyway.

By the time you had finished, the sun that peeked through his windows bathed his studio into a golden glow. You settled onto the couch beside him, silent as he rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder, your head resting contently on his shoulder.

"You're rich, Rafayel," you mumbled, a little tiredly. "Why can't you just hire a maid if you don't want to clean things yourself?"

"And where do you think I'd find one I could trust enough to let near my paintings?"

The scoff in his voice made your lips quirk into a smile, and you tilted your head up to look at him.

...Ah.

Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes met, the gentle mix of red and purple hues in his eyes once again having you transfixed. His hair was slightly unruly from the work you'd both done, but the sunset rays streaming in from the window had little specks of sunlight painting his tresses in such a way that had you utterly mesmerized.

He chuckled slightly.

"Cat got your tongue, princess?"

You could barely bring yourself to mumble a response when he leaned in, shifting your positions just enough to have you lying on your back against the couch. Half of his weight rest over you, and you could feel it; his heartbeat against yours. You could almost amazed feel at the comfort in your synchronicity.

He sighed, brushing your hair out of your face. "...Why haven't you been to the studio?" he mumbled.

His words pulled you out of your reverie, and immediately, you felt your heart sink.

"...I thought... I thought you'd be busy..." Your voice came out meek, already searching his eyes anxiously. "Thomas told me not to disturb you, a-and I thought, maybe, you didn't want to be interrupted? I know how hard it's been for you to finish that painting..."

You swallowed thickly.

"Yeah, that might be true..." Rafayel nuzzled your nose affectionately, succeeding in soothing your nerves down to a certain degree. "But what if I wanted to see you, too?"

"...You... You usually just ask..."

Your words were met with silence, and you squirmed under the intensity of his gaze.

"Rafayel—"

"But you can't expect me to be the one asking for you all the time, right?"

Something at the back of your mind told you he didn't mean it that way, but his words stung nonetheless. The disapproval in his pout made your stomach churn. The atmosphere had, to you, become a little weightier, and your chest felt heavy with guilt.

You promised you wouldn't make him wait... But didn't you, in the end? Some useless game of seeing who'd cave first?

Your gaze shifted away from him, and you played with the hem of your shirt.

"Sorry, Rafa, I didn't mean to upset you... I-I don't know much about art, and I didn't want to bother you, and—god, actually, maybe it was stupid of me to just rely on Thomas' words instead of asking you, I'm such a terrible girlfriend—"

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you spoke, but before you could proceed any further, you felt the soft sensation of lips upon yours.

You blinked your tears away rapidly, refocusing to meet his, parting your lips slightly in shock when he pulled away.

"Don't say that, princess." He shook his head, and there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "You're not a terrible girlfriend. You're perfect, actually, and... I'm partly to blame. It was wrong of me to test you like that... You're right. I should have just asked."

You drew in a breath.

Perhaps, it was because your roles had been reversed today; perhaps, it was because you'd been so anxious to see him again that even the slightest signs of any conflict had you feeling like walking on eggshells. But it was rare for you to see him take the situation at hand so maturely, and it did well for the tenseness in your shoulders to melt away.

He moved his hand back into your hair, soft, gentle strokes, if only to soothe you further away from your worries.

"...Well, actually, maybe we both are a little stupid. I... kind if made the studio messy on my own."

Your ears perked up with that, and you looked at him curiously.

Rafayel laughed.

"It wasn't that bad when I'd finished! And I wasn't lying, I had been neglecting the studio, I just..."

When his voice trailed off, you found the courage to speak again.

"Did you.... Make an excuse to bring me here?"

He smiled, bringing his lips over to the top of your head, another one on your temple, and then another one over the corner of your eye.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I missed you a lot. I guess I just got creative... A little too much, anyway."

His lips were on yours again the next second, soft pecks that made your heart soar with glee. You wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, barely registering the way he'd pulled himself over you, feeling safe under the weight of his body—you liked this. And you missed it, being close with him, having a few moments to yourselves just to revel in each other's warmth.

With half-lidded eyes, he pulled back for air, panting softly over your skin.

"...You really could have just asked me," you whispered, gazing into his eyes and allowing yourself to get lost in them once more.

He let out a soft laugh. "Hm, yeah. Buuuut, maybe I thought this would be more interesting... And maybe, then, you could stay the night, too..."

His eyes flickered closed as he ran his hands through your hair once more, bringing a lock up to his face and letting out a sigh.

"You used that shampoo again."

You faltered slightly at his words, but he pressed you against the couch, capturing your lips into a deeper kiss.

...That shampoo.

You knew exactly what he was referring to.

The last time he'd noticed this scent on you, the way he'd pressed his lips against yours had been anything but innocent—it was one of the first times the both of you had made out together, the hairdryer and towel that had started the whole ordeal then long-forgotten beside you. The mere thought of that night brought an undeniable flush to your face, an all-too-familiar tingling sensation breaking throughout your body.

And you knew what he was insinuating. Even as he continued to kiss you, and even as you felt yourself easily melting into him the way that you would.

His hand began to roam your body, slowly stroking down your sides, making their way to your thigh and inching closer, closer, to the heat of your clothed core—

Your breath hitched.

You couldn't control it.

It was like instinct, whatever this conflict of mind and body really was—

You immediately reached out to grab his wrist, and his reaction was immediate. In an instant, his lips were off of yours, and he froze in place, wide eyes searching yours.

"Shit," he whispered. "Princess, I'm sorry— Did I— Did I go something wrong—"

Though breathless and panting, your lips quivered, and your grip on his wrist tightened.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Slowly, you felt him peel himself off of you, sitting up carefully... And you took in a deep breath.

"R-Rafayel, I..."

The waver in your voice and the alarm that had found its way into your eyes weren't missed by him, and you turned your head. "I'm sorry," you swallowed thickly. "I... I don't think i can do this right now..."

You felt feeble and small as you moved to draw your knees up to your chest, almost as if with the intention of hiding yourself away. "I... M-maybe, just... Not tonight...?"

When you sneaked a glance back up at him, you could see it. That glimmer of hurt in his eyes, perhaps just barely there, but more noticeable to you than anything else. You were also made painfully aware of the sun that had set, the studio now darker into the night—a cold draft blew in through the windows and made you shiver, and now, you felt incredibly small.

Rafayel, however, gave you another soft smile, gently moving to sit with your legs over his lap, resorting to holding your hand in his gently.

"Okay," he said.

And it was so simple the way he accepted your rejection, so devoid of judgement, that it made you feel...

Guilty.

Even guiltier than you already were to begin with.

"...I'm sorry, Rafa, I—"

He shook his head, giving your hand another squeeze.

"No, that's... Well, also on me. I should have asked you about this first, too..." The regret in his voice made you want to hit something. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything today. I'll wait until you're ready, princess."

...He'll wait?

Quietly, you moved to crawl back towards him, snuggling into his chest.

This wasn't the first time he had tried to go further with you. That night, after drying your hair, had been one of such times, and it wasn't as if you didn't want to take the next step in your relationship.

In fact, you wanted it just as much as he did.

You've fantasized about it for nights on end, laying on your bed, fingers playing with your clit and imagining how well his hands would have worked you, how well his cock would have stretched you out and filled you up far better than your fingers ever could. You lost count, how many times you'd come undone, alone on your bed, having his name spill from your lips as you did.

You wanted so badly for him to ravage you.

But thinking of it was incredibly different from having the situation at hand right in front of you.

You were nervous.

There were so, so many things that could go wrong from just exposing yourself to him as you would have if you did go that far—just as so, so many things had already gone wrong the last time you had, with other people.

You buried your face into his chest, pressing against him, drowning yourself in his warmth.

"...Are you mad?" You whispered.

"Me? Why would I be, when you're cuddling me like this so tightly?" The playfulness in his voice chased enough of your worries for you to let out a little laugh. "Just so you know... I'm perfectly fine with this."

You shifted, tilting your head to look up at him.

Rafayel gently poked at your nose.

"I can't be mad at you, princess, just because you said no to me. There are other ways for us to be affectionate, and I don't need to have sex with you, you know?"

"...But you want to?" Your voice remained meek, still very obviously wanting to hide yourself back into his shirt. And you would have, if he hadn't pried you away, hands firmly over your arms, leaning down to study your gaze.

"R-Rafa—"

"I want to, princess, but only if you want to. And I need to make that super, suuper clear to you, because I won't be forcing you into anything you don't want. 'Kay?"

His words sent a flurry of comfort into your stomach.

"...But... But what if I make you wait too long? You dislike waiting... A-and it's normal, anyway, right? For couples to have sex? If we don't, then..." As you spoke, you noticed a frown frown gradually form over his face, and you faltered.

"You... You expect me to leave because of this?"

You turned your gaze away in silence.

"Princess... You... May I ask where that's coming from? Do... Do you feel unloved with me? Am I doing something wrong?"

It was like a trigger—the way his voice dropped into a soft whisper, his hands falling back down to take yours in his, lacing your fingers together.

He was so gentle with you.

You felt the unwelcome sting of tears in your eyes, and you shook your head—"N-no," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. "You've done nothing wrong, but... But you're so—so nice to me, Rafayel..."

"...Baby? Of course I'm nice to you! Aren't you my girlfriend?!"

The nickname switch made your heart jump, and you nuzzled yourself further into his embrace.

"...I don't deserve you."

A pause.

You felt as if you could drown in the silence, even though you knew that he was just thinking of what to say.

"I'm sorry, I just made things worse—"

"...Deserve me? There's... there's nothing for you to say that—princess, that's my line, you know. You deserve everything—every little good thing out there, and so much more than me."

"But—! You—you're so good to me, and I'm—! How many times did I disappoint you? This whole week, and even just now, and—"

You felt yourself sniffling, and Rafayel once again brought you to look up at him. You chewed on your bottom lip, a flash of insecurity in your eyes that made him sigh softly.

"No, no, no... Don't cry, princess... Nothing's going to change just because of this, yeah? You know I love you. And nothing in the way that I love you is tied to... whatever ways you'll allow me to love you. I get it, you know? If you're not ready to go there yet, then that's fine. I promise. I don't make promises without reason, princess."

His gaze, now, was firm, and his words were warm. Genuine—like he always was with you. In the silence that followed, you felt yourself calm down slightly, your breath easing, the tears in your eyes blinked away in your insistence not to cry in front of him.

And more than anything, you found thr conviction in his words to be something you could... Trust.

You took in a deep breath.

"I've... I've done this a couple of times before," you spoke, slowly, quietly. "It's been a while since the last time, but— it's— it's just scary, Rafa."

Your voice trembled, and you hung your head.

"And I feel like it's so silly to be scared of it. It's always so obvious that I am, because I get too focused on trying to relax that I never really do, and then in the end I can only ever make up for it by letting them finish. So I— I don't know. Everyone says that couples always do this, like it's supposed to be a staple... Or else, what are they for, right?"

You let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, but it almost came out as if you were scolding yourself.

"Wait—hold on. You... You've never orgasmed?"

You blinked in surprise this time, looking up at him with a confused frown. "Huh? Only on my own, I guess... Never with them, no, but—"

"Oh, princess..." he began, almost like a whisper. "You've never enjoyed it, have you...? To call it a staple... Gosh. It's not something necessary to maintain a relationship, let's get that out of your pretty head first."

You watched him bring his hand over to the side of your face, a gentle caress.

"I don't know if humans really do think such fickle things, but I wouldn't leave you just because you won't go further with me. I want you to be ready before we go there. Okay? God, who have you been with?! They sound like the worst kind of humans!"

Despite yourself, you laughed at his indignation, watching him fall back against the couch with his arms crossed.

"No, seriously, baby—doesn't it sound wrong to you?! You know, I wouldn't have stopped until you came. In fact, I bet I could make you feel so much better than they ever could—" He paused, ears turning slightly red in telltale embarrassment. "...Sorry. I'll be totally patient, I really mean it. I was just, you know... saying..."

You giggled.

Rafayel was always cute when he was embarrassed, even if just a few moments ago, he'd so obviously reduced you to just a puddle through his kissses alone.

But his words, once again, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When you looked at him, his eyes were as gentle as the waves of the ocean you'd grown to love almost as much as him, and you couldn't help but feel... safe.

You'd never really felt safe before—not with anyone else.

Any time you opened up about this, your previous partners would have scoffed in your face—would have told you there couldn't have been a basis for what you felt, and that there was nothing more irrational than all of these needless worries of yours.

It was silly.

You had always believed that.

Yet you couldn't help feeling the way that you did.

Whenever you experienced sexual intimacy with anyone else, though you had let it happen in the end, you had never... associated it with anything special. Like you'd said, it only ever felt a mandatory part of any relationship. It was like going through the motions, and then you'd find out that you'd been a terrible experience—no matter how pretty they said you were, no matter how much you'd always be told that they were looking forward to it.

You were disappointing.

That was what conclusion you'd come up with, after several times of the same result.

And you always envied your friends, too.

Whenever the topic came up, they'd speak of how magical it was—how sweet, and how loving, and how good it felt... Yet you'd felt none of that. If there was anything good you associated with sex at all, it had been you—by yourself—in your room.

You really didn't know how to reconcile all of these feelings together—

And, yet, Rafayel had been the very first one to let it slide in a way that put your feelings first.

You promised him you wouldn't make him wait...

Yet here he was, adamant on letting you do exactly that.

You looked up at him, again, listening to him guide the conversation elsewhere, talking about how his week had been, and how painful it had been to get that painting done.

"You haven't seen it yet, have you? Hmm... I'm thinking if I should show you. I guess my girlfriend can have early access to it before the exhibition, right...?" He had one hand resting on your back, the other brought up to his chin in thought. "What do you think? Do you want to see it now?"

You stared, silently, as his eyes were back on yours.

That familiar, adorable tilt of his head, the inquisitive gaze in his eyes bringing that familiar shine to it that you loved, loved, loved, so very dearly.

You watched a small smile form on his features, and he pulled you close enough to have your foreheads touch.

"Hey. What's on your mind, cutie? You're spacing out again. Everything okay?"

God. You really loved him.

Even the simplest phrase had the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around almost mercilessly, and if you hadn't known better, you thought you were very likely blushing in that moment.

"Just you," you spoke, softly, quietly, barely even registering that you'd spoken so honestly in front of him before you recognized the look of surprise on his face. "Shit—I mean—"

"Nuh-uh, no take-backs! I like it when you're honest," he cut you off with a laugh, placing a quick peck on your lips.

Though he didn't say anything more on the subject, you knew he was thinking it—even if you'd tease, endlessly, of Rafayel's own clingier habits, you knew that in the end that you could easily eat your own words.

Rafayel was so good to you.

Sometimes you'd think he was too good to you—too good for you.

But admitting it out loud was always so difficult to you; your honesty of your own overwhelming feelings for him often more than you could speak to him yourself.

He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ears.

"Maybe we should go to sleep, yeah? It's pretty late. You've worked hard!"

Slowly, you moved to straddle his lap, and then buried your face into his neck.

"...Princess..."

"...Are you really okay with this, Rafa?"

"Me? I told you, I'm perfectly fi—"

"I just—I could make you feel good, at least..."

Maybe you'd let him consume your thoughts more than you'd intended, or maybe the guilt was simply eating away at you, having never been truly placated. You didn't know which side of emotions you were acting upon, and perhaps, it seemed as if he'd sensed that.

"Baby... No. We're not going to do it tonight. I want you to set your mind straight first."

"But—"

"No buts!"

He lifted you off of his lap, another firm shake of his head. "I want to ease you into this. And that means I won't be taking any pleasure for my own just yet, because I want you to feel good."

"...Wh- What do you...?"

He smiled, before poking your forehead.

"I mean, I want you to be comfortable around me first, before you even think of trying to give me an orgasm." Rafayel gave your hand another squeeze. "I'm hoping I can at least show you that it's not supposed to be a bad experience. So we'll sleep on it first, clear our heads, take things slowly... Then we'll see how things go from there. 'Kay?"

"Rafa..."

"Baby, relax. No rush. I'm not going anywhere."

Rafayel was always so good to you.

Even through your biggest insecurities, there would be no exception.

It had been quite some time since that conversation, and, sure enough, he had been adamant on taking things slower with you. You could feel it, how he'd constantly hold himself back with you. The way he would be sure not to take it too far when he kissed you, always respectfully lifting you off of his lap whenever he felt like it would get too much if you continued...

He took things step by step, just like he said he would. From kisses, to slowly dipping his hands beneath your clothes—You had found, over the past couple of days, how warm his hands were around your breasts, cupping and kneading them like a perfect fit. It was comfortable. And it had become almost a staple to your cuddling sessions over time.

Those nights in his bed slowly, slowly became less than innocent as weeks passed by.

And then one other night, you'd finally gained the courage to let him go even further. His fingers were long, able to reach deeper inside of you than you ever could, and the stretch in your walls felt more than welcome after so long. It was just as you'd fantasized—he'd buried his fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, slow thrusts gradually picking up the pace until you were trembling around him, his arms holding you safe as you released. Even now, when you thought back to that night, you felt tingles all over your body. It was the first time anyone had made you cum, the first time anyone had bothered to cradle you in their arms afterwards, the first time anyone had cleaned you up without you having to do it yourself—

You hadn't known that this could really feel so intimate.

So loving.

That Rafayel could ease all your worries away, so... naturally.

It had gotten to the point that you began to notice a boldness in both of your actions—you were growing more comfortable with him, like he'd intended you to, and now, you found yourself gladly on your knees, feeling the drag of his cock against the walls of your mouth.

He'd gotten you to cum from his fingers and his mouth multiple times over the past few days, and you had promised him—promised him—that you were only returning the favor because you wanted to. Because through the past weeks, Rafayel had been gentle with you, and patient—always asking for your consent, never pushing you to do anything you didn't want to, never even giving a thought to his own pleasure as long as it meant focusing on yours.

And this, you thought to yourself with a smile, was now a reward for for him just as much as it was for you.

Your eyes closed as you swirled circles over the tip of his length, taking your time with him as he often did with you. Your tongue ran up and over his cock, wetting him fully becore taking him in again, keening at the way his hips would stutter and his moans would reach your ears in a well-received melody.

"Fuck, yeah—Just like that, princess—" Rafayel's words were broken, his eyes half lidded as he watched you work him. "So good for me, baby—ngh, shit—"

You found his praises go straight to your core, eager to please him, eager to hear more. And in effect, your pace quickened, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, stroking and sucking him with a new hunger. His hands tangled in your hair, the sensation more than welcome as he guided you into a rhythm, hips bucking upwards to meet your mouth.

"So, so good— Feels so good, princess, don't stop—"

Another tug on your hair had you moaning against him, feeling him throb in your mouth at the extra stimulation.

He was close.

Determined to take in the sight, you watched, fondly, as his head fell back into the pillows, the skin of his thigh hot to the touch, your eyes drawn to the way his mouth hung open, his own eyes squeezing shut.

"Shit— M'gonna—! Gonna cum, baby, pleas—"

He arched his back, his hands fleeing from your hair to fist into the sheets beneath him. It hit in an instant, then—the sheer intensity having rendered him silent, mouthing curses, eyes still shut as streaks of cum shot out of him and onto your tongue.

You were familiar with the taste; warm in your mouth, and salty—thick. There was a certain discomfort to it, swallowing every last drop, but it couldn't compare to the thrill of it. Having Rafayel finally cum in your mouth, finally come undone for you... Your eyes locked as you released him with a wet 'pop', licking your lips and then hastily wiping your mouth with a little smile.

"Damn... That was..." He was breathless, chest heaving, barely moving to allow you to climb back up on the bed and reach for the bottle of water on his nightstand. "You're really... Really good at that, princess."

Feeling warm at another word of praise from him, you exchanged the bottle for the washcloth beside it, and crawled over to gently pat him clean.

"...Baby, I can—"

"If you won't let me do it when I finish, then I won't let you, either."

Your gaze was firm, and he laughed.

"Well played. My habits are growing on you, huh, cutie? That's good."

He pulled you up into his arms for a kiss, and you snuggled into his embrace. The heat from his skin was comforting—another thing you'd slowly gotten used to, having your activities now easily practiced without the need for any more clothes on.

"...How are you feeling? Was that okay?" He mumbled into your hair as you buried your face into his chest, lifting your leg over him as if to draw him even closer to you. You nodded quietly, and a soft sigh escaped his lips when you brushed your wetness against his still-sensitive cock. "Princess... Did sucking me off get you all wet?"

You could hear the laugh in his voice, and you whined.

"You— you made me wait to do that!" You protested, and you didn't need to look up to know he had that ever-present smirk on his face. "...I wanted to make you cum, too..."

He only replied with a chuckle, trailing his hand down your back to settle upon your waist. "I know. And thank you, by the way. Your mouth feels heavenly. Did you know that?"

You swat at his arm playfully. "Rafayel!"

"What? I'm only saying the truth! And, anyway..." You squealed when he leaned over to nip at your earlobe, completely sure of how flushed you were in that moment. "You're drenched, so which one will it be? My tongue? My fingers? My thigh?"

When you didn't reply immediately, he gently gave you squeeze. "Or do you want to sleep it off? We don't have to do anything if you—"

"N- no!"

You looked up, pouting, and found that the mirth in his gaze had melted away into one of pure adoration.

"I... I think..." You gulped, your eyes traveling downward to where you rest over him.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You would have been lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about it on a constant—how he would feel inside you. And though you'd thought about it generally before, you found yourself warming up to the idea. Craving it, even, in a way you hadn't before.

You raised your head to meet his eyes again, holding your breath as you moved to straddle him, sliding your folds over his cock gently.

The moan that he let out was music to his ears, but when his hands gripped your waist tightly, you stopped.

"Fuck, wait—are you sure, princess?"

You smiled slightly at that.

Truly, Rafayel had been nothing but gentle with you; nothing but patient.

You nodded.

"I-I mean... Only if you want to? But you just came, right...? S-so, maybe not... Sorry, I don't mean to be needy, you can just—"

"Hey, hey. Deep breaths for me first, baby, yeah? Relax."

Immediately, his hands were rubbing soothingly into your sides, and you fell forward onto his chest, holding him close.

"Don't you worry about being needy with me, I don't think I'm any less needier than you, anyway," he laughed. "I want this. I really want this. But, princess... I need to know that you aren't forcing yourself into it."

You remained silent, only managing a nod.

"Look at me?"

Compliant, you raised your head once more, and Rafayel reached over to thread his fingers through your hair. He smiled.

"Verbal consent, princess. I've given you mine. Now, I need your confirmation before we do anything. Have you decided? Do you want me?"

Your heart swelled in your chest.

You didn't know how Rafayel could be so selfless with you.

None of the others you've been with would ever treat you this way, and it was... new.

It was true, what he said—it wasn't a secret to you how much he wanted you. Though he wouldn't say it, so determined not to make you feel pressured, you'd see it in the way he looked at you. The way he touched you. Even the way he spoke with you—always the more vocal one in terms of clinginess, even though you, yourself, secretly enjoyed his attention.

You'd understood from the start that he was doing his best to stay firm in his self control just for you, and it made you feel warm—Loved. Appreciated.

Even now, as you were sitting on his cock, readjusting your position only to have it poke against your back—he was patiently waiting for your answer. He was waiting for you to be sure about this.

You thought it ironic, almost.

It wasn't as if this was your first time, and yet... you'd never experienced someone be so gentle with you.

With another determined nod, you sat back up, placing your hands on your lap.

"Okay," you said, and took a deep breath. "I'm sure, Rafayel. I want you."

You swore you could feel the way his cock twitched at your words, and couldn't help the way your lips quirked into another smile.

He read your expression, and laughed. "You really drive me insane, princess."

His hands remained firm on your hips, gently lifting you off—"Do you want to stay on top? Set your pace for me?"

"...Um... Do you?"

"Baby, don't turn this back to me! Doesn't matter what I want right now, I wanna make this about you. In case you haven't noticed, I'd be more than happy to take you in any way you want me to."

You almost rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "...Okay, then... I'll try it like this. But, Rafayel, sometimes it's concerning how much you pay attention to my needs..."

"Me? Concerning? Says the one who's had some of the worst sexual experiences on the planet!" He scoffed. "Listen, princess. I say this a lot, but you understand, right? I'm not in this relationship for your body. I'm not using you for your body. I love you, because you're you, and not just so I get to fuck you some day." He paused, then, and you saw a flash of contemplation in his eyes, "...Which miiiight be today, but that's besides the point."

You laughed, this time, and perhaps in any other situation, you'd playfully hit his chest, and tell him to stop being so silly. But the lighthearted atmosphere was welcome, and you felt your shoulders slump in some sort of relief.

"I know, Rafa. I..." You bit your lip, steeling yourself, willing yourself to say it. "I... I-I love you, too."

Immediately, you watched his eyes widen, a certain shine in them that almost could have made you melt.

"...Seriously?" he whispered. "You mean it?"

You flushed at the way he sounded so much in disbelief, despite what you were about to do. But, perhaps, you understood the shock that he displayed. While he would often use the words around you—having made it clear that they were his feelings, and that you didn't have to reciprocate them immediately—you had yet to say it back.

You did love him.

Of course you did.

And you have, for a while now.

But it wasn't easy to speak these feelings out loud; wasn't easy to make yourself so affectionate and so vulnerable around him. At least, not as easy as it has been for him. It had been long established that Rafayel was the more expressive one—though he would tone things down with playful jokes and banter to match your pace of things, you knew that his feelings had been nothing but genuine for you.

And you'd always struggled to make sure that he knew you felt the same, but...

You nodded.

You could do it, this time. Give back all the love that he'd always given you.

Slowly, you reached behind you to guide his cock to your entrance, letting out a slow breath at the feeling of his tip—hot, and wet, and stiff—prodding your hole.

"I love you," you whispered, feeling confident, now, as you spoke.

His fingers dug into your skin as he gasped, finally having you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock. "Fuck," he muttered. His eyes closed—you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You feel so... so..."

A loud whine rattled past your lips when he finally pressed all the way inside of you, so big, and so filling, like nothing else you've ever had before.

"Shit," he continued to curse under his breath. "So—so good, baby."

His hands, shaky, massaged your hips in reassurance, eyes opening to reveal a hazy glimmer of lust that you had yet to see on his face before. The image before you made you shiver—every ounce of self control was slowly slipping away from him, and he was trembling with the little bit of patience he still had left in his body.

"M-move," he whimpered, looking up at you with pleading eyes that made you gasp. "Please, princess—please—can you do that for me?"

Your jaw clenched, and you obliged—how could you resist?

You rocked your hips slowly, at first, getting used to the feeling of him in side you. And, you found—you were enjoying this. Whatever you'd imagined could never compare; he felt good inside you. Every sensation you felt of his cock against your center was pleasurable, every moan that fell from his lips having you swirl your hips with a need to hear more.

You bit your lip when he slowly began to rut his hips up to meet your pelvis, now finding the strength to guide your hips gently up and down his length—

"Fuck, baby, don't hide from me, please," he moaned, eyes locking with yours with an air of desperation. "Haah—Let me hear you—hear how good it feels—'s it feel good, princess?"

You found yourself obedient.

As his tip knocked up against your sensitive spot, a loud moan spilled from your lips—immediately, you rest your hands on his chest as your head hung, feeling yourself bounce to his rhythm, hips moving in sync.

"F-feels good, 'fayel— Ah—!"

"Yeah? Like that, baby? That spot, huh?"

You grinded down on his cock, eyes screwing shut at the sound of your arousal slicking around him. His words guided you through your motions, whisperes of praise and reassurance that had you soaring—and you could feel it. The tightness that had gathered in your stomach, slowly, slowly building into something more—but so far away, so unobtainable, that it had you whining.

"R-Rafayel!" You cried as you leaned forward, burying your face into his chest. Even as he planted his feet on the bed and thrust up into you, picking his pace up a little and grunting into your ear, you shook your head— "M-more, please— I— I can't—"

"Oh, fuck, princess—"

He groaned when you clenched tightly around him, and with quick movements, he had you lying on your back, caged between his arms as breathless pants fell from his lips.

"I—fuck, baby... Are you okay with this? I'll—Shit— Sorry, I m-moved—"

He'd snapped his his hips back into yours the minute you wrapped your legs around his waist, but when he looked at you, your own eyes filled with a desire that dared to rival his own, he let out a slow breath.

"...Okay?" he whispered.

You nodded. "Please."

Rafayel laced his fingers through with yours, holding them against the pillow. At your consent, he resumed his pace, fucking deep into your cunt with thrusts so precisely rubbing against your spot that you closed your eyes with another loud moan.

"Ah, Rafa—Rafayel, s-so good—"

Any thoughts of holding back your sounds were lost in the pleasure raking through your body, feeling the way his cock would brush against all the right places. So thorough, and so loving—and so, so good.

Rafayel was making you feel good.

Better than you've ever felt—better than your fingers, and better than his, and you thought—

Fuck.

You wished you'd gotten to do this sooner.

"P-princess," he whimpered, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead against yours, drowning a myriad of moans of your name with the way he kissed you. So needy with his touches, you melted into him like you always did, easily following his thrusts and receiving everything he could give you.

"Princess—are you—are you safe?" he breathed.

You could feel the way he tensed inside you, his hips slowing slightly into a pace that had you whining as he waited for your reply.

"Can I... Can I cum inside? If—If you—"

It almost seemed like he could barely form coherent words, and you smiled slightly. Your arms wrapped around his neck; "I'm safe," you mumbled. "Go ahead, Rafa."

The moan that he let out sent a shiver down your spine, and then his lips were on your neck, kissing and sucking—you didn't even mind, anymore, whether or not he'd be leaving marks on you by the time you were done. Groans spilled from his lips between his kisses, and you felt yourself moaning along with him. The pace he'd set picked up, no longer as gentle as you'd started with, but you found that it was more than welcome.

"C-Cumming," you shut your eyes, breathing out his name in endless chants into his hair. "Cumming, Rafa, I—!"

You felt it.

The throbbing of his cock as he spilled rope after rope of cum into your cunt, just in time with your own release. Your nails dug into his scalp as you clenched sporadically around him, throwing your head back with a drawn-out moan of his name, feeling yourself drown in the sheer intensity of it.

"Rafayel—!"

"Fuck—Fuck—Take it, princess— Shit—" He hissed into your neck, pumping his cum into you, moans falling back into whimpers.

A moment passed after, and you smiled contentedly as he hugged you, pulling out of you but still so determined to keep you close to him.

"...R- Rafayel?" You whispered, soothingly stroking his hair. And only then did he look at you.

Your breath caught at his expression.

Tired, undeniably, but so... tender.

"Hey..." he mumbled, slowly moving up to give you a quick kiss. "Can you say it again?"

"H-huh? Say what...?" You felt your face grow even warmer at the mere thought of all the things you'd possibly moaned in the midst of your lust.

But he only smiled. "What you said, earlier. Say that you love me."

A giggle bubbled at your throat, and you pushed him onto the space next to you—

Naturally, he only pulled you back against him, arms wrapping around you, tucking you under his chin.

"C'monnnn, baby. Please?"

It was so hard for you to say no to him like this.

You turned around to face him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Rafayel," you mumbled with a smile.

His expression relaxed.

"...And, thank you. For always making me feel so loved. I've never... I've never thought it could feel like this, a-and..."

"Did you like it?"

"More than liked it! I... I enjoyed it. Really. Thank you."

He grinned, then, gently setting you down on the bed and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Then, mission accomplished! So... Let's clean you up before we sleep, yeah? We can have another round in the morni—"

"Rafayel!"

"I'm kidding!"

⁺₊ / an: holy shit this took an eternity to write??!?!?!! nearly 8k words, what do u know... all this love for the birthday boy, this is an insane amount of special treatment for rafayel fr 🍰

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[pretentious-blonde]

stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair. 

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge. 

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.” 

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer. 

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter. 

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride. 

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off. 

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him. 

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you. 

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin. 

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour. 

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment. 

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations. 

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple. 

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating. 

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider. 

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly. 

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process. 

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend. 

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.” 

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore. 

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time. 

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth. 

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him. 

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love. 

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but. 

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue. 

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to. 

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest. 

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy. 

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really? 

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried. 

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster. 

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space. 

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away. 

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too. 

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession. 

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don’t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?” 

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something. 

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right. 

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through. 

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should. 

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place. 

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours. 

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt. 

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again. 

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer. 

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation. 

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full. 

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again. 

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids. 

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going. 

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again. 

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league." 

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing. 

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries. 

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now. 

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand? 

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever. 

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call. 

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill. 

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer. 

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I… I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious. 

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with. 

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves. 

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this. 

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.” 

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here. 

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved. 

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule. 

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck. 

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him. 

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that. 

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation. 

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies. 

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor. 

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.” 

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind. 

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove. 

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head. 

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him. 

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache. 

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble. 

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words. 

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor. 

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal. 

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise. 

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle. 

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen. 

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened. 

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist. 

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt. 

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure. 

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed. 

Get it over with. 

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality. 

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style. 

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him. 

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was. 

God, what a mess. 

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities. 

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there. 

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face. 

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles. 

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh. 

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. 

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you. 

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek. 

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump. 

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed. 

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer. 

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising. 

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips. 

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for. 

One that he knew deep down was not true.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part VI

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope come full circle. Word Count: 5.6k Content Warning: angst; uncomfortable conversations; typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: you guys have been so amazingly kind about this series. if I could give you each a lil forehead kiss in thanks, I would. just know that I'm reading every comment, reblog, tag, and message you guys post and I'm giggling kicking my feet and twirling my hair. I appreciate every single one of you who have been a long for the ride so far, and to everyone who is just hopping on the Pope x Hawk train. please comment & reblog :)

Hawk’s head pounded as she woke up the next morning. The increasingly familiar hangover was nothing new for her, not recently, and she figured it would be a close companion if things continued the way they were going. The smell of coffee wafting through the air made her eyes snap open and sit up like the living dead. Hawk’s stomach rolled as she stood on wobbly legs. She didn’t give herself a single second to acclimatize herself before trudging down the hall and out to the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Pope greeted stoically as he leaned against the counter, sipping from a coffee mug.

“Hey? Ten days of absolutely no contact from you and hey is the best you’ve got? Give me a fucking break, Pope.” Hawk moved around him, grabbing her own mug and filling it with what was left in the pot before taking it back to her bedroom so she could nurse the headache from Hell that was approaching. 

“We need to talk,” He called out to her, but the only response he got back was the slam of her door that shook the whole back end of the house. 

The sound of Hawk’s cell phone ringing made her head spin. She had fallen back asleep after downing her cup of coffee and the disorientation was making her feel like she needed to puke. Hawk’s hand sloppily hit around the bedside table blindly until her fingers reached the offending tech. Her dry eyes cracked open and squinted at the name on the screen. Sighing, she hit decline before she let her face fall back onto her pillow. Another thirty seconds later, it rang again. 

“I’ve heard enough from you to last a lifetime, Baz.” Hawk’s voice was dry and rough as she spoke. “Someone better be dead.” 

“Have you, uh, talked to Cath at all, Hawk? In the last day or two?” Not to alarm you, Hawk, but we haven’t been able to contact Catherine in nearly two days. Hawk’s stomach sank and bile made its way up the back of her throat. “Hawk?”

“No, I haven’t talked to her, Baz. Is everything alright? Is Lena okay?”

“Yeah,” He paused. “Lena’s here with me. Just haven’t been able to get a hold of Cath. Can you do me a favor and reach out to her? Maybe she’ll answer your calls. She’s probably just pissed at me and I want to make sure she’s alright.” Catherine wouldn’t leave Lena. Never. Hawk wasn’t close to the woman, but she knew how fiercely she protected her daughter and would never leave her behind for anything.

“I’ll give her a call now, alright? I’ll let you know if I hear from her.” Hawk had a horrible feeling that she’d never get a hold of Catherine, not after what the police told her. If Smurf somehow found out about it…Hawk let the thought die where it began. 

“Thanks, Hawk. I appreciate it.” He hung up, not waiting to hear anything else from Hawk and she was grateful. She shakily brought a pillow up to her face and screamed until her lungs burned. 

Hawk knew Pope was watching her. He had been watching her every move since she resurfaced after Baz’s call and he attempted to approach her three more times before she got in the shower, and all times he was unsuccessful. 

Pope stood in the doorway of her bathroom, and unlike the first time he watched her in the shower, there was nothing inherently sexual about it. He needed her to say something, to look at him, to acknowledge him. He’d take anything at this point because being ignored by her was starting to do his head in. 

Hawk took her time, listening to the music she had playing from the speaker she kept in the bathroom while she exfoliated and shaved. She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed, and Pope knew she was doing it to drag this out as long as she could. 

The shame Pope used to feel when he upset Smurf, and occasionally still felt, was nothing compared to what he was feeling currently. Now, it was amplified to a degree that made his fingers twitch at his sides and made his jaw tick. He’d look away when she turned in his direction because Hawk looking through Pope was worse than not looking at him at all. 

After the third time she brushed Pope off, he gave Hawk her space, but still moved from room to room with her as she went about her day. It was a Monday and the shop was closed, so she had nowhere to go and only had time to kill. 

Pope haunted every room Hawk inhabited and it killed her when he looked at her like a wet cat. When Hawk sat on the sofa, Pope sat on the armchair, both in silence as she flicked through the channels on the tv. When she made herself lunch, he stood in the entry to the kitchen and watched as she moved around the kitchen. After a while, he started straightening things out in every room they occupied because it was the only thing his brain could control in the situation. 

Every tidy. 

Everything in order. 

Everything in its place.  

The shower turned off and Pope continued to watch as Hawk grabbed a towel to wrap around herself before stepping out of the shower and around Pope like he was an obstacle. He followed her, as he had all afternoon, and sat on the edge of her bed facing the closet while she got dressed. Pope’s fingers continued their nervous tapping against his thigh, jaw clenched, and he looked ready to puke if this went on for much longer. 

Hawk was still slightly damp when she bypassed Pope to grab her sunglasses on the nightstand. He swallowed thickly when the scent of her body wash enveloped him, teasing his senses in the worst way. Hawk slid the door open to her private area on the deck and stepped outside. She heard him sigh from inside as she lowered herself to sit on the top step. 

“Please just talk to me.” Pope broke as he came to sit next to Hawk, his knee boldly resting against hers, searching for any form of physical contact he could get with her. 

“I haven’t heard from you in over a week, Pope. You did that, not me. I tried to fix this and you wouldn’t let me so as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing that needs to be said.” The warmth of the sun was relaxing in an otherwise tense setting. 

“There’s plenty that needs to be said.” Pope’s eyes squinted, brows pinched together, as he looked out to the horizon. “I know it wasn’t you. I confronted Smurf about the pills.”

“I heard.” He glanced over at Hawk quizzically. “Baz stopped by a few days ago. I’d say I was disappointed you didn’t actually strangle her, but I’d never want to put that on you. Not when I could do it myself.” Hawk mumbled the last bit under her breath, but Pope still heard it. 

“We had a job-” He started to explain, but was swiftly cut off.

“-Yeah, Pendleton.” Hawk chuckled sardonically. “How’d that go, by the way? Considering you haven’t landed yourself back in lock up, I’m going to assume things either went fine or you haven’t done it yet.” 

“You really want to know?” Hawk shrugged, looking to the flowerbed she missed a few weeds in. “How do you know about Pendleton?”

“It doesn’t matter. Is that why you iced me out? So you could focus on the job?” Hawk picked at her nails, doing everything she could to not look at him. 

“No.” Pope admitted, “Not completely, anyway.” Hawk scoffed, turning her head in the opposite direction of where he was sitting so he couldn’t see her face at all. “I had some shit I needed to figure out, Hawk.” Vin, Cath, Smurf, Lena, the job. 

“And you couldn’t have just said that? Jesus Christ, Pope, I didn’t deserve that.” Hawk shook her head, turning back to Pope. “Ten days, Pope. Ten fucking days of silence. In what world does what I did require that kind of punishment?”

“I wasn’t punishing you.”

“That’s exactly what it was.” She snapped. “You were punishing me because you couldn’t punish Smurf.” Baz’s explanation regurgitated through Hawks’s mouth and the words, although true, felt acidic like bile. “You were punishing me because you knew I’d care that you did, and that it would hurt me if you did it because I hurt you -and that gave you control over the situation.” He didn’t deny it. 

“That’s part of it.”

“Well that doesn’t work for me, Pope.” Hawk’s voice was firm, reprimanding, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep her spine about her when he looked at her like that. Like he knew he disappointed her. It was scarily similar to the look J gave her the night before -a Cody trait shared with J’s mom’s twin. “And that’s not even the biggest problem we have right now.” Hawk turned to face Pope fully and he could feel a tug in his chest at how goddamn defeated she looked. 

Hawk sat for a moment, contemplating her next words as she let out a sigh. 

“You have been purposefully lying to me since you stepped foot in my house.” She removed the sunglasses from her face to reveal her bloodshot eyes. Pope blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for something to say. “From day fucking one, you’ve lied to me.” 

Pope’s heart raced. The only thing that crossed his mind was Catherine, but the timeline didn’t line up and there was no way Hawk could’ve learned about what he did. He and Smurf were the only two people alive on the planet who knew about what Pope did, and Smurf wouldn’t rat him out to Hawk of all people. Not about this, even at her maddest. Still, it felt like his stomach was trying to escape through his throat the longer she held his eyes with hers. 

“I was so unbelievably angry with you. I wanted to scream and yell and take all of my anger and frustration out on you when you finally decided to grace me with your goddamn presence, but now the fight’s left me, Pope. Now I’m hurt more than anything because you of all people know what it’s like to be deceived by someone you cares about you.” It wasn’t even the latest pill incident she was referencing. A lifetime of deceit from his own mother and Baz had its hooks dug deep into Pope. He carried that weight with him, unable to release it because there was nowhere to release it. That feeling stuck around like an old friend and he never wanted Hawk to feel that, not intentionally. Pope knew he fucked up something, he just didn’t know what it was or when it happened. It’s hard to keep track of the skeletons in your closet when it’s filled to the brim, even when you’re as meticulous as Pope Cody.

“What are you talking about?” Pope’s voice was low, genuinely confused at the direction Hawk had taken this conversation. This couldn’t just be about the time he fell off the face of Hawk’s Earth. 

“J, Pope.” There it was. Everything lined up and Pope finally understood. Somehow, probably from the kid himself, Hawk found out about J’s little field trips. “I’m talking about J and the shit you’ve pulled him into after telling me, promising me, that he wasn’t involved in any of it.” Hawk glared at him. “I don’t know why you did it, but you kept it from me and you lied about it when I asked you point blank.” She broke eye contact with him, looking back out into the yard. “I understand that I hurt you in my own way, Pope. I’m not minimizing that, but these are two very different situations.” Pope released a breath of relief, as fucked up as that was. With everything else going on around him, this was one of the smaller problems he could deal with -and he would deal with it. 

“I know. ” Pope squinted again as he looked over the backyard with her. He needed to fix this rift that he let split between them, and Pope wasn’t the type to lay his feelings and emotions out in the open, but he had to let Hawk know that he understood. “I saw Julia in him, Hawk, and I hated it. I hated how close you were to him and I guess…if I could bring him in, destroy some piece of him so I could let go of her, but I realized that yeah, he looked like Julia, but everything else?” He turned to Hawk, “That was all you and by the time I figured that out, he already got a taste of it.” Hawk rested her elbows on her thighs and she let her face fall into her hands. 

“You don’t understand the lengths I went to, Pope, to keep this from happening.” Pope squatted in front of her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Josh is supposed to go to college, have a life, maybe have a family one day. He was supposed to exist in a world where this shit didn’t touch him and you helped decimate that. All I’ve thought about was him either ending up in prison, or worse -dead. I can’t lose him too. I won’t come back from that.” Pope didn’t have the heart to tell her that Prison was the worst option of the two. If J was lucky, he’d end up in a casket before it ever got to that, but looking at Hawk, he silently vowed to himself to look after the kid. As much as he could without being obvious about it, anyway. 

“I told you before that everything I touched...” Turns to ash. “J was no exception.” Hawk picked her head back up and leveled Pope with a look. 

“Just because it’s been that way, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.” He nodded, standing back up. Pope turned his back to Hawk so he could face the ocean and cut that line of vulnerability so he could take a breath. His hair was a brighter red under the direct sunlight, Hawk noticed as she watched Pope. 

“J is a part of my life, a very big part, and he always will be.” Hawk left no room for speculation. “If this is going to be a continuous problem, then you need to say something now because I will never leave him behind. For anyone. You understand that, right?” The slightest of nods was given to her, though he didn’t turn around. “J is with me for life, Pope. We’re a package deal. You don’t get one without the other.” Hawk hoisted herself up and walked over to Pope to stand next to him. “But that doesn’t mean I give anything less to you, Pope. They’re different parts, each one a different type of love. One is just as important as the other. Are you okay with that?” Pope turned to fully face Hawk, initiating touch with her once more by bringing his hand up to cup the side of her neck, just under her jaw. Her eyes closed at the contact and she took a step closer to Pope.

Hawk missed him, even as pissed off as she was, she truly missed his presence in the house -in her bed at night. He was quiet, observant, but dutifully by her side when he was home. She missed his touch, his presence, his cologne -him. She missed the space he took up, even though he didn’t try to take up any of it. From being alone for so long with J coming and going as he got older, to having Pope fall back in and out of her life, the whiplash Hawk was experiencing was hard to manage.

“I get that now, believe me.” Pope bit his lip before letting it go. “I don’t have any more problems with J. He’s not a bad kid,” His shoulder raised in a half shrug, “-especially to have around you. He’s smart, loyal.”

“Not nearly smart enough and loyal to the wrong people apparently.” Hawk scoffed, thinking back to the fight she had with J the night before. Hawk tried to give J some leeway, she really did, but it was hard. She experienced what he did, albeit just slightly different. It was easier for her to say no to the temptation because the people she was saying no to were her age at the time. J, on the other hand, was dealing with four grown men who were at least twice his age and had decades of experience being who they were. They were pushy, aggressive, even downright mean at times. She was in denial, Hawk realized. As long as J was in that house, he was never coming out unscathed. 

You left me, Hawk winced, shaking the thought out of her head as she pulled away from Pope.  

“He cares about you.” His eyes followed Hawk as she stepped around the yard. “He loves you. He’d die for you. That alone makes him okay in my book.” Hawk turned to walk back towards Pope, determination filling her.

“And you?” Hawk put Pope on the spot. His face hardened, but not in anger. Pope matched Hawk’s seriousness as she stopped directly in front of him. 

“You know I do, and I would.” Pope said without hesitation, as if his admission wasn’t absolutely earth shattering to Hawk. Pope’s eyes stared into her soul as he reached his hand out to take hers. Hawk let him pull her hand up to his lips, both of them yearning to feel any part of each other that they could before bridging that gap. He gently pulled her closer, coaxing her in just close enough to lean down to press his forehead to hers.

Pope let his confession settle for a moment before continuing, his voice lowering even further as he spoke. It was intimate in a way Hawk had never heard Pope speak before. “My time locked up -I don’t need to tell you how bad it was.” The feeling of his lips moving against her temple was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more she craved him at a molecular level. 

“The day you showed up, I felt like I could breathe again, you know? You’re all I thought about for three years, Hawk. This,” he held up their conjoined hands, “is all I thought about -what I imagined you felt like, the way you smelled, your warmth. Everything. And every time I closed my eyes, it was you. Every call and every visit kept me going and made me feel like I was dying a slow agonizing death all at the same time because I was stuck there…” He trailed off, letting the impact of his words hit her. His hands, both of them this time, returned to her jaw. 

“I’m sorry for pulling J into this.” He nodded with his words, “I did it for selfish reasons, plain and simple. My head wasn’t screwed on right.” He swallowed thickly, “I was just released, I finally got to be around you without any kind of barrier and that was overwhelming. Julia was dead, and then here comes this kid -her kid, who knew every single thing about you. He lived in your house. He spent time with you. He existed alongside you for years. He loved you and you loved him back so fiercely in a way I didn’t think anyone could love their kid. He’s not even blood and you’ve done everything to give him the best life he could have because you loved Julia.” There was something underlying there, and Hawk knew exactly what it was. Pope resented Baz for how Smurf treated Baz as opposed to himself -her actual son. This didn’t excuse what Pope did, but it was starting to make a little bit of sense to Hawk. 

“Smurf gave him my room like I was never coming back -they sold my house. J had you, he had Smurf, he had my things. And it was like I was obsolete and replaced with something new and untainted. I was territorial, unadjusted, and backed into a corner, but he was still a kid who didn’t ask for any of this. None of us did.” Finally, Hawk wrapped her arms timidly around Pope’s waist. He allowed her head to drop to his chest and let his eyes close after finally truly feeling her against him. 

“We can’t do this, Pope.” Hawk mumbled against his shirt. “Not if this is how this relationship is going to function. I can’t live like this -I won’t.” 

“It won’t be.” He promised. “I can’t lose this, Hawk.” Pope’s hands ran up and down between her shoulders as he held her. Pope was very obviously uncomfortable with the conversation, but he was willing to be vulnerable with her -for her. “There is no one else and there never will be after you.” Hawk pulled back just enough to create a little bit of space between them without actually letting go.

“I’m not ending this, Pope, but this” Hawk pointed between them, “is a partnership, and we are supposed to act as a unit. I’m too old to be doing this. I’m not asking for the world, just you. Not Smurf, not the bullshit. Just you.” 

“Okay.” Hawk’s palm held Pope’s cheek so his attention stayed on her as she spoke. 

“Then all of that ends now. The lies and the scheming -all of it. Do your jobs, but you don’t bring any of that shit home. If you need to talk about it, that’s one thing, but anything physical stays out.” He nodded. “We do this our way. If something is bothering you, if something happens, you need to talk to me about it. You don’t disappear and then reappear when you’re ready because I won’t be here waiting again. The same goes for me. We talk and work things out, but we always stay honest with each other.” Hawk thought for a moment. “And we don’t go to bed angry. I’ve had too many of those nights as of recent and I’m done with it. Those are my stipulations for this.” Pope nodded again. “I mean it, Pope. No more lies. I need to hear you say it.” 

“We talk things out. Stay honest. Never go to bed angry.” His eyes were earnest and Hawk genuinely believed him as he said it, but that little bit of doubt that stuck around -like a gnat flying in her face- kept itself nice and cozy in the darkest recesses of her mind.  

“Okay,” Hawk whispered, closing the distance between them for the first time in ten days. 

It’s fixed. Can we talk?

That’s the text Hawk receives from J while she’s working at the shop a few days later. She stared down at her phone for a moment, typing and then deleting what she wrote, then typing it out again. 

When I’m ready. Was Hawk’s response. She wasn’t mad at J -not anymore, but the hurt still lingered and she needed time to work through everything that had come to light between him and Pope. She’d invite him over for dinner soon and they’d hash out what they needed to so they could move forward. Hawk meant every word she said to Pope about J -she’d always be there for him. In no way was she okay with what he was doing, nor did she know just how deep he was into it, but they would make it out of this. 

“Still no word on Cath?” Hawk asked as she got comfortable in the bed. Two months had passed since Pope essentially vowed his heart and soul to Hawk. Things had moved slowly between them, both reacclimating with the other. Pope tiptoed around Hawk, needing to be reassured that he was fine and that his presence was wanted.

“No,” Pope answered as walked out of the bathroom fresh from a shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hawk wiggled her eyebrows at him and checked him out very obviously, causing a furious blush to travel from his chest, up to his neck, then flushing his cheeks. Pope rolled his eyes knowing that was the reaction Hawk was going for, but she still saw the tilt of the corner of his mouth nonetheless. 

Pope did not inherently seek attention. He avoided it at all cost, but he did secretly love it when Hawk threw it at him in the intimate confines of the house. Just to be a tease, he dropped the towel coyly as he stepped into the closet, giving her a show of his perfectly sculpted ass and muscular back.

“Watch it or I’m liable to start howling at the moon.” Hawk called out to him as she flipped the comforter over her legs. She heard Pope laugh, ever so lightly, from inside the closet as he fumbled around for a pair of pajama pants. He was typically a nude sleeper, but when Lena was in the house he made sure he was appropriately clothed at all times. Both of them did after Lena tried to climb into their bed after she had a nightmare.  

It had been over two months since Catherine left, or went missing. Hawk leaned on missing considering the fact Pope said Lena was left alone in the house the night that Cath disappeared, but he also mentioned that she stole cash from Smurf -ten grand. That wasn’t chump change, but it also wasn’t enough to just disappear without a trace. The thought of disappearing was one of the scariest things Hawk could think of. 

Lena was the light of Cath’s life. She lived for her daughter  and even Hawk knew she would’ve never left without Lena. Something didn’t add up with any of it, and Hawk spent more time than she’d like to admit dwelling on it. On the other side of things, Baz wasn’t equipped to be an actual father to a child (ironically). Cath did all the nurturing -school drop offs, doctors appointments, feeding, and all around caring for Lena with minimal help from Baz, so that left the young girl in the hands of Smurf when this whole catastrophe started.  

The interesting turn of events for Hawk was when Pope casually asked her one morning over breakfast if it was alright to bring Lena over occasionally. “Just to get her out of Smurf’s.” He said, like he needed to convince Hawk. He still considered himself a guest in the house they both essentially shared, and he wasn’t the type of person to assume anything under someone else’s roof. Pope had taken to his niece like a house on fire and it was genuinely endearing to see him interact with Lena. They were kindred spirits of a sort, an unlikely pair, but they connected with each other when the remainder of the family neglected them. 

Of course, Hawk was perfectly fine with Lena coming over and so “occasionally” turned into “most of the time”. Taking care of Lena brought a spark to Pope that Hawk didn’t know he had and it was refreshing to see someone who lived such a tortured existence let go.

Hawk’s heart hurt for Lena. The first couple of weeks without her mother were trying on everyone at Smurf’s, according to Pope. Hawk wasn’t around the house during that time for obvious reasons, but Pope made sure to tell her what was going on between the family. 

Lena had a lot of questions, as a young child who was attached at the hip to her mother would, and she didn’t get many -if any- answers back. Baz was short with her, Pope said when he brought up the idea of Lena initially coming over. Baz’s annoyance and short temper at having to actually parent was actually baffling to Hawk. Lena was well mannered, quiet, and liked to express herself in ways that mostly involved some kind of coloring utensil and a coloring book. She was a dream kid if Hawk ever saw one, considering who her father was as a child. Smurf, on the other end of the spectrum, let the kid run amok eating whatever she wanted, staying up as late as she wanted, without a single rule in the house. Not that Lena was bad by any means, but structure, even a little bit, was needed for any kid as they grew up. Hawk learned that very early on with J. 

After a couple weeks of Pope bringing Lena around, she became attached to Hawk. Hawk was maternal in a way her grandmother wasn’t and she latched onto any kind of comfort she could -and that happened to be Hawk. Lena didn’t smile often anymore, reserving herself after being told to stay quiet by her father time and time again, but with Pope and Hawk, she was as happy as she could be in the absence of her mother. Pope also told her about how Baz would yell at the little girl and how Lena would act out in ways that weren’t destructive, but just annoying enough to get a reaction out of her father. She needed attention, nurturing, and love - things that children were owed, and Lena wasn’t getting any of that from Baz. Hawk almost blew a gasket when Pope mentioned Lucy’s presence in all of this. She told herself that if she ever saw Baz in the street, she’d hit him with her car first and ask questions later.

In her own way, Hawk also became attached to Lena. It was a familiar feeling she remembered having when J was little. J and Lena were similar when J was her age. Both were kids with easy temperaments who just wanted to matter to the people who brought them into the world, and both had been let down spectacularly. 

Lena was kind, smart, polite and as cute as a button. She had an adventurous streak to her and she also had a very peculiar sense of humor when she wanted to come out of her shell. Pope, out of everyone, seemed to be one of the only people to be able to get her comfortable enough to do that. 

The spare bedroom that Pope had occupied when he first moved in was turned into a bedroom for Lena so she could have her own space. Sage walls made way for a pastel lavender that Lena picked out herself one weekend when Hawk and Pope took her shopping for some things to call her own, and the queen sized bed was swapped for a twin canopy bed that Pope was all too happy to put together the same afternoon they bought it. Pope paid for it, all of it, even when Hawk argued to just split. He insisted that Lena was his responsibility and that letting her stay in the house was more than he could’ve ever asked of Hawk. 

Childrens clothes, shoes, toys, and books slowly started to fill up the pastel room. Dress up costumes had their own rack that Pope mounted to the wall. Then came a little desk so Lena could color and draw in the comfort of her own space. Hawk’s mind imagined what it would’ve been like to have Pope here while she was raising J and she wondered if he could’ve ever loved J as he very openly loved Lena. How different things could’ve been for all three of them.  

Before Hawk knew it, she couldn’t imagine Lena and Pope not occupying the house with her. Pope, in turn, had moved into Hawk’s bedroom -now their bedroom. Lena spent nights over frequently, more frequently than Smurf would’ve liked. At one point, about a month after Hawk and Pope made up, the hatchet between Smurf and Hawk was finally buried. Hawk still kept Smurf at arm's length, but Smurf was all too happy to have her back in the circle.

Pope padded back into the bedroom after finally finding his chosen pair of pajamas for the night. They were blue with little birds on them and they hung dangerously low on his hips -low enough to show off the v-cut of his lower abdomen that disappeared beneath the waistband. It was distracting, and as Pope got more and more comfortable in his own skin around Hawk, the saucier he’d get around her. This was one of the things he knew drove her crazy.

“My eyes are up here.” Hawk barked out a laugh of surprise at Pope’s deadpanned joke. 

“Your eyes may be up there, but mine are down there.” She motioned with her eyes to where she was looking before, then rolled them back up to meet his. Pope crawled up the length of the bed until he reached her. His hand immediately attached itself to her waist as Hawk pulled him up to meet her kiss and toyed with the waistband of his pajamas with a single finger, letting it slide just under the hem to get his blood pumping. 

“Not while Lena’s here,” Pope mumbled against her lips, knowing she was teasing him. 

“I know, but who’s to say we can’t make out like a couple of horny teenagers?” Hawk challenged with a grin that told Pope she was up to absolutely no good. She wiggled her eyebrows once more for good measure and that was it for him. “Make up for lost time.”

“Can’t say no to that.” His mouth captured hers once more, both of them pawing at each other.

please comment & reblog :)

and just like that, we've transitioned to season two. there's plenty more to come for hawk and pope.

[pedgito]

february is over and i can feel the seasonal depression leaving my body as we speak, i was a little lacking on reading this month being so busy irl, but i still have so many goodies on this list. i'd also like to add that some lovely mutuals are spreading much needed love to our BIPOC writers, so if you have any recs that you'd like to give some extra attention to you can check out these posts linked below (& feel free send them to my inbox too! i'm always looking for more fics to read!) x — x also, i've said this a few times in the past but i do have a tracked tagged #useralii and that isn't just for gifs (so if you have fics or edit that you'd like to tag me in, please feel free!)

this key will help you figure out which fics are more your vibe, or if you’re just curious of the contents before you dive in:

smut = 🌶️, fluff = ☁️ angst = ☄️

total fics listed below: 21

✎ — 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

↝ prisonic fairytale by @kedsandtubesocks — 🌶️, ☄️

You’re looking for someone… what you find here in the fog instead has you staring into the abyss - and you discover it stares back (& wears the face of someone terrifyingly handsome)

↝ what remains of a man by @jolapeno — 🌶️, ☄️ (AO3)

Joel Miller doesn't care. Not about Pretty Eyes. Not how she feels beside him. Not when she's under him. Not when she's hurt and she doesn't come to him. Not. At. All.

↝ just this once by @punkshort — 🌶️

After yet another argument with your dad, his buddy across the street is there to help make you feel better.

↝ trashed by @gutsby — 🌶️

You fuck Joel in his filthy double-wide.

↝ see you at three (series - ongoing) by @/almostfoxglove — 🌶️, ☄️, ☁️

When your sister starts working nights, you're stuck with afterschool pickup duty for your eight-year-old niece. You love the kid, so you don't mind. And, sure—maybe you don't mind having an excuse to check out her classmate's dad, Joel, five times a week, either.

↝ the fuck it list (series — ongoing) by @auteurdelabre — 🌶️, ☄️, ☁️

During work at your father’s construction company, you’re inspired by your sexually liberated bestie to create a F*ck-It List of sexy experiences you’ve always wanted to try. But when the list accidentally ends up in the hands of Joel Miller— your dad’s best friend, the company’s co-CEO, and your immediate supervisor—things take an unexpected turn. Initially shocked by the discovery, Joel eventually agrees to help you tackle the list, leading to sexual adventures and undeniable chemistry.  However as you begin to fall for Joel the complications of your relationship come into focus, leading you both to realize that love may be one item you won’t be able to check off your list.

✎ — 𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀

↝ visitation by @gothcsz — 🌶️

Javier visits you in prison after putting you in there.

✎ — 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐔𝐒

↝ guilty as sin (series — in progress) by @ovaryacted — 🌶️, ☄️

Being the daughter of a Senator of Rome has it's pros and cons, you lived comfortably while constantly being reminded of your insubordinate position in society. However, upon meeting General Acacius, your life changes as you begin to grow fond of him. The question is, will he reciprocate your feelings, or cast you out to suffer your impending doom of unwanted courtship?

✎ — 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

↝ golden kisses by @mrsmando — 🌶️

Newly single, Dave finds comfort in life’s simple pleasures; among other things.

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

↝ the mirage of a goodbye by @sawymredfox — ☄️

Forgiveness and healing are heavy words. They come with a price, one that may be life-changing tonight.

✎ — 𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓)

↝ wash & hold by @ak-vintage — 🌶️, ☁️

After discovering some unfamiliar clothes in your laundry (and losing some of your own in return), you begin exchanging messages with another resident in your apartment complex.

✎ — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

↝ of death and butterflies by @galway-girlatwork — ☄️

Everyone’s heard the stories of Lilith. Of how she came to be. But are the stories true? Is she really a demon or something else? She was not born of angels but created by Death himself. To walk between the land of the living and dead. But what happens when The Fates intervene and present her soulmate? Countless lives and re-incarnations have been lived and lost. Will Oberyn remember before another life slips between their fingers like sand?

✎ — 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒)

↝ leverage by @/ovaryacted — 🌶️

Clint kidnaps you and takes you on a crime filled cross country roadtrip where you slowly start to fall in love with him.

✎ — 𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒

↝ sounds dangerous by @almostfoxglove — ☄️

When you reply to a bizarre craigslist ad, a stranger on the other side of the country charms his way into your life.

↝ the prettiest (series — in progress) by @/almostfoxglove — 🌶️

After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in. Now he'll do anything it takes to have you.

✎ — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒

↝ double lovin' (+ dieter bravo) by @iamasaddie — 🌶️

You doomed yourself to spend Valentine's day alone, buried in blankets and sobbing over Bridgit Jones' love story, but a surprise visit from Lucien and his friend turns your plans to waste.

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐎

↝ cowboy like me by @chaotic-mystery — ☄️, ☁️

Dieter is terrible at accents for his new cowboy role, and an even more terrible neighbor.

✎ — 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

↝ cherry stems by @gracieheartspedro — 🌶️

Eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. So you use them to your advantage. Piss Eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. Maybe.

↝ eat your heart out by @eiightysixbaby — 🌶️

In which Eddie masters Valentine’s Day through the art of eating pussy.

↝ make me feel (+ gareth emerson) by @/gracieheartspedro — 🌶️

You fly out to reunite with your rockstar boyfriend Eddie Munson. After a long day, you decide to return to his bed on the tour bus, but it seems like it is already occupied by his bandmate, Gareth.

↝ the hat rule by @ghost-proofbaby — 🌶️

When eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

likes, reblogs, and comments keep the motivation alive, so if you’re taking a look at these for the first time, please leave a kind word for these writers or just reblog, even. support your writers <3

[olderthannetfic]

Ancient argument, but I still just do not get how the explanation for why mainstream source material is all about men is OBVIOUSLY because Hollywood is a misogynist culture dominated by men, so OBVIOUSLY the solution to get more stories about women is to support way more women creators, but also, OBVIOUSLY the reason why fanfiction is all about men is because fandom is primarily women creators, so OBVIOUSLY the solution is ?????

--

Well, you could start by not conflating all the arguments into a silly strawman, anon.

Do I need to put in the fucking FFN vs. Wattpad vs. AO3 shipping chart?

Don't come to the gay bookstore and act surprised about what you find.

Fandom is not all about male characters. Slash fandom is, for obvious reasons. It's just that most dumbass analysis ignores how and when female characters are popular.

For example, Darcy Lewis circa 2012 got a lot of that same little black dress OOC drivel treatment that other fannish faves do, and it was great. Did I read a bunch of badfic where she had Loki's baby or whatever? I sure did! But that wasn't good enough because whiny little babies thought boring Jane was the character everyone ought to care about. It was ~offensive~ that there was more meme-y nonsense fic for Darcy/Jensen from The Losers than for [virtuous but boring ship]. How dare, how dare, etc. (Darcy/Jensen made perfect sense! The only possible objection is that it should be a threesome with Cougar!)

Tony/Pepper was an actual ship people cared about in 2012. No, it wasn't just an over-tagged side ship in m/m fic... It's just that those het writers had no reason to switch to AO3 at the time and may never have uploaded their old work.

Despite what the haters think, plenty of those het juggernauts like Dramione or Reylo are full of fics by women who really like the female lead, not just the male one. There are whole communities of people writing OFC/blorbo and supporting the other writers who do this. I used to read all the Ardeth Bay/OFC stuff back in the day. I've never been into readerfic, but there again, plenty of people are quite into a f!reader character. Haters will mischaracterize all this stuff as a nonentity plus a hot guy, but that's not necessarily the case.

Video game fandoms are awash with f!player-centric fic.

Anything where you're making up the woman has women writing women.

Mainstream Hollywood trash with poorly-written women and/or women only in the feelings babysitter role and not the hot mess/woobie/deadpan snarker/pop culture-obsessed wisecracking geek/etc. roles doesn't always generate fanfiction because fanfiction builds on what is already there. If there is no appealing lady there, that is not what the fandom will build on.

But in general, women absolutely do write fic about female characters.

The only reason I don't have a billion more examples is that I personally tend to ship m/m for a host of reasons that you can find in all of the tedious "Why slash?" meta going back to the 1970s. I don't personally particularly like self-inserting, and I especially don't like doing it as a woman.

Don't come up to my face or the faces of other AO3y types and go "You know, the world would be better if you just gendered harder!"

Go find some women who experience more gender euphoria around their assigned gender. They're often not found in slash spaces. Maybe try the Romantasy girlies.

The fact that you can't find women writing aspirational or wish fulfillment female protagonists is because you are too stupid to live, not because it doesn't happen.

[caprisun89bakerstreet]

Call it what you want

( Oneshot )

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

“I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck, not because he owns me. But because he really knows me.”

Summary: Obi-Wan had a rather meaningful gift in his pocket for the past few days and finally build up the courage to give it to you.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!reader

Wordcount: 2,1k

Tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, forbidden love, anxious obi-wan, no hurt only comfort

Warnings: Obi is such a cinnamon roll it’s awfull (luckily i love cinnamon rolls)

‘’it’s a pretty one, isn’t it? It’s made out of the shells from our ocean which were cracked open. Which seems sad, but given the way they look like from the inside I suppose it’s worth it.” She told him and smiled. Obi-Wan’s mind went to you for a split second, then looked back at the pendant in his hand and swallowed.

‘’I suppose it is..’’ He mumbled a little absently. He didn’t know why he was still here. Jedi didn’t really buy eachother things. Maybe a smaller souvenir, something like butter tea or Alderanian liquor. But not something this… intricate.

‘’So, who’s the lucky girl?’’ That startled Obi-Wan. And he forced himself to get back to the present moment.

‘’It’s— no one.’’ He fumbled quickly. But hated that made it seem like you meant nothing to him. ‘’She’s a friend. Another Jedi.’’ He added after a moment, his voice more controlled.

The seller smiled knowingly. ‘’Ah. Ofcours, forgive me.’’ She told him and seemed to rummage behind her stall for a moment. ‘’Here.’’ Obi-Wan looked up at her and as she was offering him a small cloth and leather strap. He looked at her puzzled.

‘’Was I not allowed to touch it without buying it?’’ He asked confused, but the seller gave him a small nod.

‘’Consider it a gift. For making sure our village remains safe, thanks to the both of you.’’ She told him and offered him the cloth and strap. Obi-Wan looked at her for a moment, clearly hesitant because he wasn’t used to niceties like these. But accepted.

‘’That’s very generous, thank you.’’ He replied. And carefully put the golden chain along with the pearl in the small cloth.

‘’Do me one favor, will you?’’ The seller then asked with a gleam in her eye which Obi-Wan thought borderlined on mischief. He raised his eyebrows slightly in curiosity.

‘’Tell her it brings out her eyes.’’ She smiled.

Obi-Wan flushed. Silently cursed at himself for it, but nodded once out of respect and turned around. Sliding the wrapped up necklace into the pocket of his robe.

She had barely known him for 2 minutes and could see right through his carefully build walls. Walls which took years to built. Walls that should’ve been unbreakable.

For the past few days the small wrapped up cloth had been a burden rather than a gift. It had been burning an aching hole into his pocket since the mission because he couldn’t seem to give it to her. Why was this so difficult? It shouldn’t be. It’s difficult because it means something- and it definitely shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help it. Every time he fumbled with the leather strap of the wrapping, all he could think of was her. How it should be hers. He couldn’t explain it. Not without crossing a line or two which had been written centuries ago. But they were friends, that’s all. He knew it was never going to be anything more— he just— needed her to know…. He needed her to know. That he saw her, that even when she feels insignificant or small, when she’s hurting and won’t show it, that he sees her. For who she is. And wouldn’t change a thing about her.

So when Obi-Wan went to his usual spot in the Room of a Thousand fountains to think, and get his mind off of things. But he stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Sitting next to the water gazing down at it, fingers lazily trailing over the small ripples. Your hair was partially tied up, a few strands had fallen out of their usual updo. And he knew that if he didn’t give it to you now, he might find an excuse to never do so at all.

You could sense his presence easily and wondered why he still wasn’t joining you after a minute or two.

‘’Are you still coming?’’ You ask then and tilt your head to look at him. Your expression soft but curious as he looks back at you.

‘’Right- sorry.’’ He spoke and shook his head slightly, clearly lost in thought. But he sat down next to you.

You were both silent as you looked at the water again, just being in eachother’s presence was often enough.

‘’I… have something for you.’’ Obi-Wan then spoke slightly hesitant. And that made you look up at him.

You blinked. ‘’You do?’’

‘’I know Jedi aren’t supposed to be very sentimental…’’ He started, choosing his words carefully. ‘’But I saw this on Takonadona, when we were at that market in the village. I didn’t go looking for it, it just— stood out…’’

You look at him, still confused as you watch him struggling explaining— something. But then, without another word, you see Obi-Wan pulling out a small wrapped up cloth from his pocket. And he gently hands it to you. You watched him for a moment but then slowly take it from him. Eyes flicking between him and the gift.

‘’What’s the occasion?’’ You ask after a long moment. And Obi-Wan looked down. Contemplating his awnser.

‘’It reminded me of you.’’ He said softly and his eyes met yours. You weren’t sure what else to say so you looked down and your fingers carefully untie the strap. Then you fold open the cloth and see what it holds.

Obi-Wan noticed the way you froze.

You saw the delicate heart-shaped necklace which looked to be made out of a pearl, the iridescent and glimmering surface almost gave you the illusion of it faintly glowing. It was simple. Subtle even, despite it’s light reflecting qualities. It took you a moment to be able to breath properly again.

‘’… Obi-Wan,’’ You spoke softly.

‘’It— I almost didn’t notice it. But when I was walking past some stalls, it caught my eye…’’ He explained quietly. Obi-Wan didn’t know why he felt the need to explain himself. But he did.

After a moment you look up at him, feeling a heaviness in your chest. ‘’But why? It’s— It’s beautiful. But I don’t understand..’’

He hesitated. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to tell you. Because he couldn’t even admit it to himself without feeling like he had crossed a few lines. But he didn’t want to lie either.

‘’There’s something about it.’’ He eventually started. ‘’The way it catches light- it’s subtle. But it shows more color the longer you look. And it’s soft— but not fragile. It’s… centered. The seller told me it was made out of the insides of shells. Because even the most hidden parts of them can reflect the most light. And when I held it, I thought, this feels like you.’’

That explanation hit something deeper in you. And you open your mouth to say something- but you can’t.

‘’It doesn’t mean anything—’’ Obi-Wan quickly added, even though it did. ‘’’Not like that I just—’’ His voice faltered for a moment as you looked at him. ‘’I thought you should have something that reminded you of how others see you, when… when you can’t.”

You lowered her gaze then, fingers closing around the necklace carefully, almost reverently. After a moment you’re able to voice your thoughts, although quietly.

“…I don’t deserve something like this.”

Obi-Wan turned to you then, and placed a gentle but steadying hand on your arm.

‘’You always say that. And it’s never true.’’ He told you gently.

You clench your jaw for a moment. The soft ripples of the water infront of them suddenly being the only sound around them.

You eventually unclasp the chain, slowly and still usure. Almost afraid to wear something this pretty. You’d recieved gifts before in your life, but not many. And never ones that were this… Meaningful. Even though it didn’t mean anything, like he said, but you could almost feel the small pendant weighing heavy with unspoken significance.

After a moment of hesitation you lift the chain and slip it around your neck. Fingers fumbling slightly at the clasp but you managed to secure it. The pendant settling just over your sternum, light reflecting on it from the sun.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught.

It looked better on you than he had imagined. Somehow even more you than earlier—like it belonged. The way the gold chain blended with your skin, how the pearlescent shimmer complimented the colors in her eyes—he couldn’t look away.

‘’You were right… It does feel like me…’’ You spoke quietly after a moment and look back at him. Realizing yet again that Obi-Wan was one of the few people in your life who actually saw you. ‘’Thank you.’’

Obi-Wan noticed the way it affected you, and the way you let it show. And he slowly nodded.

‘’I’m glad.’’

Then quieter he added something else which made your heart skip a beat. ‘’It brings out your eyes..’’

The words slipped out before Obi-Wan could stop himself. They weren’t improper. But closer to an edge than he usually let himself go.

Your lips turn into a hesitant smile as your cheeks flush slightly.

He noticed.

You didn’t say anything more. You didn’t need to, not with him. Just let your shoulder gently lean against his for a long moment. Neither of you spoke. For a long time.

As if that one heart-shaped pearl hold every truth they could never speak aloud. But it was louder than any words they’ve kept hidden like the pearlescent shimmer of the insides of the toughest shell. They’ve both managed to crack the other open over the years. And the longer the gaze at eachother, the more beauty they find. Leaving them in awe. But still some parts were hidden, beneath that glimmering surface of a distraction. Because if that one truth came out, the porselain would crack, and ruin the rainbows of colors that were once reflecting so radiantly. But if it did manage to crack one day… Would everything fall apart? Would the other look at them any differently when the walls crumble down? Or would they be astonished? Because all of the cracked tapestries of carefully woven walls reflect more light than one could possible fathom?

Maybe one day these two shells wil be brave enough to find out. The particular gleam of the pendant only being reflected in the other’s eyes. But for now, a small heart-shaped piece of fate had passed between the two. Which has carefully woven them together and are now possibly closer to the awnser.