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quinnylouhughesx43 · 1 month

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curious hands

summary: Luke’s first time pleasuring Rosey.

word count: 3.13k

warnings: MDNI, 18+, fem!rec fingering, alludes to oral, mentions of hand jobs, pet names, foul language, smut

notes: this was supposed to be released as apart of a collection where every “first” was posted together… someone forgot their password to Dropbox so everything is being rewritten!! I guess you could say “the rest is still unwritten”

The scent of freshly popped popcorn filled the cozy basement, a warm embrace that seemed to echo the comfort of the plush couch against the wall. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the string lights that had been meticulously draped over the ceiling beams a few years back, creating a cozy ambiance that was nice contrast to the stark off white walls. The TV, already on from Luke’s gaming marathon that ended not too long ago, stood tall in the corner. The television served as the only source of light in the room that didn't flicker or cast many shadows. The floor was littered with a rainbow of throw pillows and a plush rug that felt like a cloud underfoot. The setup was perfect for their weekly tradition of a romantic movie night in.

Rosey descended the stairs, her hands carefully balancing a tray of goodies. In one hand, she had a bottle of chilled water that dripped condensation onto her fingers, leaving a trail of wetness. The other hand held a bowl brimming with popcorn, the buttery scent wafting up to tickle her nose. She had also brought a brand new bag of chips hanging from her mouth, the sound of the crinkling plastic a gentle reminder of the salty delight waiting to be shared. She was wearing a simple navy Michigan tee of Luke’s, from when Quinn was there, that fell loosely around her figure, and a pair of Luke’s oversized boxers. His go to overnight tournament “pajamas” or when she stays at the Lake house pjs. The soft fabric brushed against her skin with every step, sending a shiver of anticipation through her body. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her face which was flushed by the way Luke was looking at her. She felt like a princess in his eyes even in pajamas.

Her bare feet padded quietly on the cold, hardwood floor, carrying her to the edge of the couch where Luke sat, his eyes adverted back to the TV, his thumbs playing a rhythm on his thighs in attempt to not think of her in his clothes. In the loose on him boxers. He looked up at her, his gaze traveling from her eyes to the snacks and then back at her once again, only allowing himself to take a perusal of her this time a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Nice look.” He smirked, leaning back and lifting his legs to rest his feet on the table.

Rosey playfully rolled her eyes, dropping the bag of chips next to him. “Thanks, I got it at this really unique place that only I can shop at Luke Hughes’s Closet.” She smiled at him before they both let out honest laughs.

“I hope no one else is shopping my closet, looks best on you.” Luke murmured against her cheek as he pressed multiple kisses against it.

The screen flickered to life as Luke hit play, the opening scene of the original Dirty Dancing unfurling before them. The music began to play, the vibrant beats of the opening credits syncing with the dance of the shadows thrown by the lights. He took the bowl of popcorn from her and placed it on the floor in between them, his eyes never leaving hers.

The first few scenes passed in a blur as they both settled into the plush couch cushions, the familiarity of the film's start bringing a sense of nostalgic comfort. But the air grew charged as the plot began to thicken, the chemistry between Baby and Johnny mirroring the unspoken tension between Luke and Rosey. He leaned back, his arm extending along the back of the couch, his fingers playing with a loose string of the throw pillow, his eyes flicking to her hand that was resting on the couch, so close to his leg.

Suddenly, Luke stood up with a stretch, the muscles in his arms flexing under the fabric of his t-shirt. "Gonna hit the bathroom real quick," he announced casually, his voice a little gruffer than usual. The sudden movement made Rosey's heart jump a beat. She tossed him a funny look, he’d never been so out there with his need to go, it’s usually a soft touch with a whisper acknowledgment. Not a loud announcement to one person.

With him out of the room, she took the opportunity to grab her phone from the table, they both tried not to be on them when together. The screen glowed a cool blue in the dimness, a blurring difference to the warm tones of the room. Her thumbs danced over the screen as she scrolled through their week's worth of texts, a blush creeping up her neck. The air thickened as she read through their playful banter, the way they had both danced around the topic of taking their relationship to the next level. The anticipation had been building like a crescendo, and she could feel the tension in the room pulsing like a heartbeat.

His words from their texts played over and over all day long in her mind like a secret melody wrote just for her, each message a teasing verse that grew bolder as the week progressed. She re-read his playful comparison of his hands to hers, the way he hinted at the size difference. Their size difference. Her breath caught as she read his words, "Just think about it, baby, how much of a difference there is between your hands and my hands it’s mostly all fingers. What do you think my fingers will feel like? Do you think I can make my pretty girl come?." Her pulse quickened, and her hand unconsciously strayed to the spot between her legs, the heat building there once again.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the line of their conversation, her heart racing as she remembered his texts from earlier that day. "I’ve been thinking about those hands of yours all week," he had written, "imagining what they'd feel like wrapped around me. Watching you use both, still struggling." She had replied with a blushing emoji, playing along with the game, but deep down, she was craving the reality of it. Was Luke really that thick or was he insinuating he was big in general?

The thought of his large, strong hands on her made her insides quiver with excitement.

The sound of Luke's footsteps returning grew louder, echoing down the hallway and into the basement. Rosey quickly slid her phone across the coffee table, her cheeks flushing a deep red, as she hoped he hadn’t noticed her distraction. The creak of the floorboards grew closer, and she swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the TV as if the plot of Dirty Dancing could somehow hold the answers to her questions.

“Ro? You feeling okay babe, you’re really flushed” Luke’s tone was laced with worry as he sat back down, grabbing her face softly.

“Yeah, yeah, yes. I’m good. I swear Lukey,” she assured him with a smile that was more of a grimace, doing her best to control her urge to make out with him right there and then. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort.

Luke studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deceit. He knew her well enough to see the desire smoldering beneath the surface, but he also knew her enough to realize she was holding back. He leaned in closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "You're sure?"

"Mhm hmm, swear," she replied, her voice breathy as she squirmed on the sofa, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. She shifted her weight, the fabric of the boxers rubbing against her sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure through her body. The urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, was overwhelming. His thumb brushed over her cheek before he placed a simple soft kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry baby, but I don’t believe you.” His voice was gruff, both hands now held her face. “So let’s try again, Ro? Are you feeling okay?”

Rosey felt the heat from his palms and the pressure of his thumb as it grazed her cheek, a silent question hanging in the air. She took a deep breath, the room spinning slightly with her desire for him. She whispered, her voice a bit shaky. “Tell me are you all talk or did you mean all you sent me?"

"Oh, I'm definitely not all talk, baby." Luke grinned. “I want to know what this is all about. Every damn thing with you”

With that, he shifted his weight, his movements as graceful as the dancers on the screen despite his size. He leaned in, his hands sliding around her waist, lifting her slightly as he repositioned himself over her. The couch cushions gave way under them, enveloping her in a cloud of comfort as she lay on her back, Luke hovering above her.

“God, how did I end up so lucky to be with you?” Luke whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes searched hers, a mix of awe and desire swirling in their depths. “You’re the prettiest person in the universe, Ro,” he managed to say, his words choking up.

Rosey's heart skipped a beat at his earnestness, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. She reached up, her hands cupping his face, her thumbs brushing against the barely there stubble that had formed over the week. "I'm the lucky one," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, “now kiss me Luke Warren”.

And with that, their mouths collided in a fiery kiss that seemed to ignite the very air around them. Luke's lips were soft yet firm, his tongue delving into her mouth with a hunger that had been building for weeks. He tasted like popcorn and something uniquely him, something that made her toes curl and her stomach flip. The heat from their bodies melded together, the fabric of the oversized shirt, boxers, and his sweatpants the only barrier to their skin.

As they kissed, Luke's hands began to roam, his touch like a gentle storm that started at her waist, tracing the curves of her hips before moving up to her breasts. “Uhh, uhm is this ok?” He breathed out. Rosey bit her lip and gave out a quiet yes to him. He cupped them softly, his thumbs flicking over her erect nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet torture that made her arch into his touch. She could feel his heart hammering against her chest, his breaths coming in shallow pants that matched her own.

Encouraged by her response, his hands grew bolder, exploring the soft mounds of her breasts, the shirt having been the only thing separating Luke and her skin, he pushed it up to reveal her bare upper body. Luke took a moment to admire her. “I can’t believe you’re fucking mine Rosey. God you’re a gift.” Luke whispers in her ear in between soft kisses to her neck.

She gasped as his thumbs resumed the teasing to the sensitive peaks, this time skin to skin, her own hands moving to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. “Luke, please” she exasperated. The world outside of their embrace faded away, the only sounds the low murmur of the TV and the muffled gasps that filled the room.

His hands traveled lower, his fingertips skimming over her stomach, sending a shiver of anticipation through her. The fabric of the boxers was the only remaining piece of clothing between his touch and the part of her that craved it most. The heat of his palms was a nice and welcome contrast to the coolness of the room, leaving a trail of fire as they ventured closer to the juncture of her thighs.

"Can I take these off?" Luke asked running his finger tips along the edge of the waistband of the boxers she was wearing.

Rosey didn’t hesitate, she trusted Luke with her life. She didn’t verbally respond, she started removing the boxers.

Luke pulled back slightly with a chuckle, his eyes smoldering as he spoke, "Spread your legs for me, baby," his voice a low growl that sent a thrill down her spine. The command was gentle but firm, a clear indication of his need to explore her further.

Rosey complied, her legs parting as if pulled by an invisible string. . Luke's gaze dipped down to her center, his eyes darkening with desire. He took his time, dragging his gaze back up to meet hers, his intent clear. He leaned in, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently, a teasing nip that sent a bolt of electricity straight to her core.

As he reached down to stroke her, his hand was met with an unexpected wetness. He paused, his eyes widening in shock. "Fuck, Ro, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Rosey felt her cheeks burn even hotter as she nodded, unable to form words. She had been so lost in the moment that she hadn't realized just how turned on she was. His touch was like a branding, searing into her very soul, making her wetter with every stroke.

Luke's hand hovered over her for a moment, his thumb circling her clit with a gentle pressure that had her hips lifting off the couch. He was careful, his movements tentative as he explored her folds. It was clear that this was as new to him as it was to her, his eyes flickering between hers and the apex of her thighs, seeking continuous approval and approval.

Maybe he had done more talking than he should’ve.

Maybe he was just nervous.

Slowly, Luke pushed his middle and index fingers into her, the sensation making her gasp into his mouth. He kept his thumb in constant motion on her clit, the friction sending waves of pleasure crashing over her. The feeling of being filled by him was foreign and exhilarating, and she could feel her body tightening around his fingers, desperate for more.

Rosey's eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the sensation, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants. She felt him push deeper, stretching her gently, and she couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth. The sound seemed to spur him on, his movements becoming more deliberate as he found a rhythm that had soft calls of his name dropping from her lips.

Rosey's eyes shot open, her pupils dilated with lust. "Yes Luke," she breathed, her voice a strangled whisper. "Just like that."

Luke curled his finger inside her, the motion sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. She felt herself tighten hard around him, her hips bucking involuntarily. Each stroke was a symphony of sensation, a dance that grew more intense with every beat. His eyes never left hers, watching her reactions with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

Her breath hitched as he asked, "Do you like that, baby?" His voice was a gruff whisper right next to her ear, his voice filled with a need that mirrored her own. She could only nod, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure built rapidly inside her. He swiped his thumb over her clit in a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers still working their magic within her. The room spun around her, the only anchor being the feel of Luke's body pressing into hers, his warmth enveloping her like a blanket.

The pressure grew, coiling in her belly like a spring ready to snap. It was a delicious ache, a promise of something so intense it made her toes curl and her back arch. Her hips began to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, for the release that was just out of reach.

And then it hit her. The orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, making her body shake and tremble as she cried out his name. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons in his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he watched her with a fierce pride, his eyes never leaving hers as he continued to stroke her through the aftershocks.

As the tremors subsided, Luke pulled his hand away, his fingers glistening with her arousal. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply, his expression a mix of amazement and pure, unfiltered desire. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, licking his fingers clean one by one, savoring the taste of her. It was a move so primal, so erotic, that it made her insides quiver anew.

Rosey lay there, panting, her body a limp mess of satisfaction. But as she watched Luke, she felt a renewed surge of heat between her legs. He was like a teenager discovering his first dirty magazine, the way he devoured her with his eyes and savored her scent. It was both endearing and incredibly hot.

"You know, that's the first time I've ever made a girl come…well, it’s the first time I’ve ever done any of that" he said, his voice a mix of pride and awe - and a touch of embarrassment.

"But regardless I've gotta say, watching you lose control was so fucking sexy. I sort of busted in sweatpants like a teenager…” Luke’s entire face turned red.

“Does that mean I can’t.. well you know?” Rosey bashfully evades the topic.

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind if you did. Maybe next week's movie night could be your turn to return the favor. Tonight though I am already spent. " Luke suggested, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through her body. While he spoke to her he was pulling his t-shirt off his body and covering her back up.

Rosey looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal," she whispered, her voice still shaky from the aftermath of her climax. The idea of getting to explore him next week was almost too much to handle, but she was eager to learn, eager to make him feel as amazing as he had made her feel.

They watched the rest of the movie in a daze, their bodies entwined on the couch. The chemistry between Baby and Johnny seemed to sizzle off the screen, but it was nothing compared to the heat that radiated from Luke and Rosey. They made out like teenagers in the back of a car, hands roaming, breaths hitching, the air thick with unspoken promises of what was to come.

#cay writes #-> timeless #luke hughes #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes smut #18+ mdni #mdni #umich au #luke hughes au #nj devils smut #nj devils au #dad!luke hughes #hockey au

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lesservillain · 3 months

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eddie munson x reader cw: smut, established relationship, mental deterioration, death, the afterlife, advanced technology a/n: based off of the black mirror episode titled san junipero. thank you @ali-r3n for reminding me to reupload this. 3.8k words

You’d been watching him all night. Dark curls bouncing every time he laughs, hands squeezing around the neck of his beer bottle. He was making friends with a group of similarly dressed individuals, other metal heads of the 80s clad in leather and worn band tees. They weren’t hard to find in a place like this. Some of them may have even made a name for themselves once. But, in this town, things like fame didn’t matter much.

Eyes like melted chocolate meet yours, a devious smirk forming on his lips. A wink. Acknowledgement of the game the two of you were playing tonight. You watched as he called the bartender over, yelling something that you couldn’t hear over the loud bump of 80s pop music. The bartender nodded, and after a few moments of mixing was walking your way.

“From the guy at the end of the bar,” he said, sliding the drink to you. But you already knew, smiling to yourself as you sip your signature drink. It went down quickly after years of drinking it. The bitter alcohol taste didn’t bother you like in the past. You popped an ice cube in your mouth before jumping off the bar stool, looking back for just a moment to see him quickly down his drink, getting up to chase after you.

The end of your dress billowed lightly in the breeze, chilling your skin as you stepped out into the busy nightlife. The sun had set, and the sky once filled with blues and pinks was now a deep purple with stars mixed in. You could see the moon reflecting over the glassy waves of the ocean from the deck of the bar.

“Beautiful, isn't it,” you ask as he leans next to you, his back against the rails. The tendrils of his hair flutter with the salty air, reaching out to you where you stand. It’s tempting to take one and wrap it around your finger but you decide against it, just in case it may be too intimate for the facade you’re trying to keep up.

“Sure is,” he says, his eyes fixed on you, looking you up and down. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks under his gaze.

“You’re not even looking,” you shake your head. His teeth show this time when he smiles at you, leaning into your personal space to whisper in your ear.

“Wasn’t talking about the beach, sweetheart.”

If he was any other guy you wold have told him to fuck off by now. He knows that, too. Which is why he does all that he can to push your buttons as the two of you talk. Teasing and joking around, being his authentic self, putting you in laughing fits that bring you to tears.

And when he gets you in his bed, he’s making you moan his name. He tells you that the way you say his name is better than any chorus of devils that would have been waiting for him if the two of you hadn’t been here. Your bodies meld together like they belonged to the other in this weird fucked up place you’ve found yourselves in. His hips roll into yours, wet slapping of skin on skin filled the room, loud enough to rival the waves hitting the shore just outside your window.

“Eddie, please I’m so close,” you huff, on the precipice of another orgasm, your senses heightened by the air of this place. His hand slides from your hip to your bud, moving in calculated circles from the years of working your body how you liked it. Your hand in his hair tugs at the base of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls as your body goes stiff. White hot heat washes over you and the stars in your eyes are so bright they blind you for a moment. For a second you panic, having to remind yourself where you are as his face becomes clear again.

His features are contorted as he finishes inside you. Brows pinched and nostrils flaring as he breaths through it. You’re suddenly reminded of the first time you two had spent together like this. In the back of his old beater van at Lover’s Lake. His face looked just like this, it was crazy to see it again. You wondered if this place gave him the same nostalgia.

The two of you settle in post orgasmic bliss, bodies tangled in each other despite the sticky sweat on each other's skin. You wished it didn’t have to end. For him it didn’t, not anymore anyway. He could stay like this all the time, but you…

The sound of the clock beeping brought tears to your eyes. It was the worst sound in the world. His grip on you tightened as he shushed in your ear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

“You promise?" You choke out, feeling less and less of his touch as you start to fade.

“I always am, aren't I?”

This was your favorite look of his. Sure, you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel back when you first met, but this decade was some of the best years of your life with him.

“I don’t get it,” he says as he swings your hands together. The two of you walk along the city streets. Music you haven’t heard in nearly 4 decades can be heard playing in every building you pass. “This is when I started getting grey hairs. You sure you don’t want to-”

“No, Eddie,” you laugh, “I told you that I like the seasoned rock star version of you. Sure, you were plenty cute back when we were young-young, but this you?” You tuck a curl behind his ear, kissing his cheek where it sat. “This is the sexy dad version of you that I love. Good thing you got that vasectomy because we probably would have had way more kids back then.”

His laugh is like an old song to your ears that gets harder and harder to remember. You wish you could capture the sound in a bottle to keep with you when the two of you aren’t together. His ring clad hand squeezes yours, bringing it his lips to skin there.

“How are they? Any updates you can think of?” The way he phrases it doesn’t get past you, but for the sake of argument you let it go.

“Leah and David are going to be grandparents again. A…little girl this time, I think,” you try and wrack your brain for the information. “Bella is due in, um, December. Right, yeah, because it’s close to Christmas.”

“That’s awesome! Bella was a peach when she was little, so I’m sure Leah and Connor were excited when they found out Bella was having a girl after three boys.”

“Three boys?” You look at him confused.

“Yeah, remember? Liam, Markus, and Jay. And this baby will be their first girl.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that” you say quickly.

“Sweetheart,” he sing-songs to you. You wipe your eyes on the strap of your dress before looking at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I only know these things because you tell me. I wish I could be there to see them.” His voice trails off, a somber look in his eyes that he tries to disguise with a weak smile. “Have they, um, changed their minds about…”

You shake your head. You didn’t blame them for not wanting to come here. The only reason you were even here is because of him. As real as they try to make this place, it still feels like living in a film or a music video. Eddie says it feels more authentic for him now. Maybe you’ll feel that way one day.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

Your thighs shake as Eddie’s tongue does wonders between them. He’d been edging you since you woke up, pushing you almost past your limit just to pull away.

“I don’t know baby,” he says mere inches from your mound, “Do you still have doubts about me? Wouldn’t want to do all of this just for you to think I’m trying to fool you.”

“No, no, you’re real, fuck, you’re so real,” you say as you grip his hair, desperately trying to ride against his face as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Damn right I am,” his fingers pick up their pace as they curl into that sweet spot in your walls. “They can’t fake the way I know you inside out. Know exactly how much you can take, how you like the way I…”

His tongue moves meticulously on your clit, the combination with his fingers finally pushing you over the edge as your eyes squeeze shut, moaning his name. He slows his movements, letting you come down from your high before pulling away.

Your eyes blink open, shifting down from the ceiling to where Eddie was between your legs. Except it wasn’t Eddie whose eyes were looking back at you. You shift up in the bed, pulling the covers over yourself as you scream, “Eddie? Eddie!”

The man jumps up, confused. “Baby, what's wrong? I’m right here.” Your eyes don’t leave him, terrified of what will happen if you look away.

“W-what? Where’s Eddie? Who the hell are you?”

He moves towards you, causing you to flinch. But when you open your eyes again Eddie’s the one standing in front of you. His hands cup your face, shushing you to calm you down. He climbs in the bed with you, holding you close as you cry and whispering reassurances in your ear.

“He looks so real,” you shout to Eddie, eyeing the very real looking Kurt Cobain playing on the stage in front of you.

“Maybe it’s just because we’re so far back. He died way before they could have uploaded him here, so he’s gotta be a hologram or something,” Eddie shakes his head as he shouts back to you.

“Maybe they used people’s memories to make him?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer, offering it to you when he catches you looking at him. You wave him off, resting your head against his arm. A memory jumps to the front of your mind, like deja vu.

“Eddie,” he looks down at you, “We’ve seen them before, haven’t we?”

His face lights up, nodding excitedly. “Yeah, back in ‘93! You remember that?”

“Kind of. It feels like we’ve done this before,” you bite at your lower lip, a nervous habit you’d picked up in your life.

“Well, we’ve been to a lot of concerts. Do you remember standing on the side stage to watch them in Portland?”

“Side stage? Why would we have been on the side stage?”

He blinks at you wordlessly, dark eyes becoming misty as he looks into yours. You feel a guilt creep in. You should know the answer, but you don’t, and the feeling eats you up inside. What else have you forgotten? How many times has he asked you if you remember something, only to break his heart over and over again?

How much longer before you forgot his face?

“Grandma, please.”

“No, I don’t want to take those damn pills!”

You smack the man’s hand away, sending pills flying across the floor. A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder, causing you to cry out in pain.

“Grandma, those pills are to help with the pain. I promise I’m not giving you anything else.” The man before you looks familiar, his dark loose curls and deep brown eyes that feel safe are the only reason you even let him in your house, even if he insists that he lives there.

“Well, damnit, if you had said they were for pain I would have taken them,” you say through gritted teeth. Eddie sighs, placing his ring clad hand on top of yours. It doesn’t look like your hand. The skin looks too withered and bruised to be yours, but the feeling was there. “Eddie, can you bring me something to drink?”

“My name is-” Eddie looks at you for a moment. Defeated, he sighs, “Yes, grandma, I’ll be right back.”

The man comes back a few minutes later with a drink and helps you take a sip from the straw. “Do you want anything to eat?” He asks, hope in his eyes as you ponder for a moment, only to be dashed away when you refuse.

The man gets you cleaned up and ready for bed, and you only give him a little bit of shit as he does, your body too tired to fight tonight.

You watch as he fiddles with a little round device on your bedside table. You’re not sure what it does but you know in the back of your mind that it makes you happy when it’s working.

“Uncle Dustin called to check in on you today,” the man says as he presses a button, bouncing his head happily as it turns green. “I told him you said hi.”

“Why the hell would you tell your friend I said hi?” You grumble, feeling the sleep start to take over your body. You eyelids are heavy, the room going dark as you drift off.

“Goodnight, grandma.”

You wake a moment later to the feeling of Eddie’s hair tickling your nose. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, brown eyes staring down at you from where you lay on his chest. The soft up and down of his chest is missing, not that he needs to do that anymore, a sad reminder of what this place is for him..

“Awake so soon, sweetheart,” he asks, his hand rubbing up and down your arm. You nod, shifting your body so you can stretch out next to him. “You know I’m not going anywhere,” he sighs, eyes flicking between yours. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”

“I’m not,” you say with a smile hoping that it would be enough to put his mind at ease. He pulls you in for a kiss and holds you close to him. Even if this place isn’t your home, Eddie always makes you feel like you belong.

“Hey, Eddie,” you whisper into his neck, and you can feel him hum on the top of your head where his chin rests. “Who’s Dustin?”

It's still for a long moment. His lack of response has you worried. The heave of his chest has you pulling away, sitting up next to him in the bed. Tears roll down his cheeks and you quickly wipe them away with your thumbs.

“E-Eddie I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I even asked.” It’s true. The name sits in your head but you don’t know why. It's a hollow thought, with no meaning.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice is strained. For some reason his question made you angry. Like he was calling you stupid for not remembering. Why does everyone get so upset when you can’t remember something?

“No,” you say sternly. “And I don’t want to remember!”

You throw the blankets off of you, getting out of the bed and storming out. The hem of your dress tickles your ankles as the breeze blows down the beach. The further you go the more you start to forget where you’re at.

Now you’re running, panicking with no one else around to help you. You trip, hands hitting the sand as you fall to your knees. You feel helpless, confused, wailing into the empty beach that you don’t remember coming to. You hear your name being called. A man with long, dark hair approaches you, attempting to put his arms around you.

“Don’t touch me!” You push him away, trying to get up on your own. “I don’t need your help, young man!”

The look on his face is nothing short of mortified. “No, no, this isn’t right,” he says, shaking his head, hands grabbing at his hair. “Please don’t forget me, please! Something isn't right!”

Suddenly your ears start ringing. The ringing gets louder and louder until bells and alarms swirl around you, and vision starts to spin. You try covering your ears but the sounds are coming from inside your own head. It feels like you’re screaming but you can’t hear. The man's hands are on you a moment later shaking you, and his mouth is moving but you can’t hear him either.

Your vision starts to go white and you feel your body becoming heavy. Everything feels cold, then nothing. The last thing you feel is the man’s lips on your forehead.

“I think this is the best chicken you’ve ever made. Swear on my life, sweetheart.”

“That’s not much to swear on, Eds.”

He gives you a knowing look from across the table, continuing to dig into the dinner you made for the two of you. He was right, it did taste almost as good as your own grandmother had made it when you were young, but that seemed to be how things are in San Junipero. Something you’re sure they built into the software when they made this place.

“Do you want to walk to that new ice cream place on the pier? I heard it’s amazing,” you ask as you grab your plate to place in the sink. “I bet they have that gross pistachio ice cream you like.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” Eddie says with a mouth full of food, handing you his dirty dishes as you start to clean up.

“I did try it. Fifty years ago, remember?” You laugh as you clean the dishes, handing them back to him to dry. His smile reaches his eyes as he looks at you.

“Yeah, it was our second date. How could I forget? I got ketchup all over your new dress, too. I don’t know why you agreed to another date with me after that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know either. Maybe it's because you’re, oh, I don’t know, really cute or something?” He shoves you playfully and you shove him back. Shoving turns to grabbing, and grabbing turns to groping. His hands all over your body as you pull him by the belt loops into your bedroom.

It was amazing to feel this again. For it to feel real. To be intimate with Eddie after he had been gone for those seven long, lonely years.

You thought your time was limited when he got the diagnosis. That the cancer would take him and you would have an empty hole inside you that you would never recover from. Rock star money could buy a new car for all your family and friends or a last family trip to Rome, but you couldn’t pay enough for cancer not to spread so rapidly in the body.

Money could, however, get you early access to a new experimental technology that may be able to save your person hood to a cloud.

“Fuck, Eddie, I miss this,” you moan as you bounce up and down on his cock, “Missed you.”

Eddie's eyes were glued between you, watching as he disappeared inside you over and over. He pulled you down to press your bodies together, letting his hips roll into your as your lips locked in hot passion. You weren’t sure if it was because the two of you hadn’t had bodies like these in so long or if it was just the effect San Junipero has on you after death, but as the two of you lay breathless you can’t help but think that it’s the best sex the two of you have had in a long time.

“He really does look like me, doesn’t he,” Eddie says. You follow his gaze to a picture of your great-grandson, Micha. He was almost a clone of Eddie with the same long curls and dark eyes. And thanks to a recent 80s revival, they even had the same sense of fashion. You’d let him go through yours and Eddie’s shared dresser after he passed, letting him take whatever “vintage” pieces of Eddie’s wardrobe he wanted. “I hope he washed that vest though, I’m sure that thing stinks.”

“You think I was going to give him your vest without washing it first? God you should have seen how brown the water was when I first let it soak,” you cringe thinking about how many times you had to clean the tub after that.

“Damn, he really must have been your favorite if you did that. You wouldn’t even wash that thing for me.”

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, “I think you’re forgetting that you wouldn’t let me clean it. “Too many memories” or something like that.”

He looked at you in faux offense, but broke character when you didn’t back down. You use the last bit of sunlight to talk about the other pictures that now adorned your shared bedroom. Pictures of young family members he never got to meet, seven years worth of memories with friends and family he didn’t get to share after he had passed.

There was a picture that someone had taken of you and some of your friends that had been able to come out for Eddie’s funeral. You didn’t want to put that one up, but Eddie said it made him happy that all of his friends still cared so much even after he was gone.

It was bittersweet for both of you as your memory had started to rapidly fade in the last year of your life. You barely remember the time you spent here with him. Thankfully you had the memories from when you were awake regularly uploaded into the cloud just as they started letting the living enter San Junipero.

“I wish they could be here, too,” you sighed.

“Me too,” his hand squeezed yours, “But, I get it. Maybe by the time they get to our age it will be safer for them.” You nod and break away from him, standing up from the bed. “Where are you going, miss ma’am?”

You pick up your dress from the floor, slipping it over your body. You look over to him, the man who gave you one of the most amazing lives that any person could have ever lived. The freak of Hawkins High turned rock star, never forgetting those who were most important to him in his life. The man who you made two beautiful children with, who never felt like their dad put the rock star life before them. He was the love of your living life and now you got a second chance to love him for as long as this place would allow it.

“I think someone promised to get me some nasty pistachio ice cream.”

thank you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #black mirror #black mirror au #san junipero au

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hardly-an-escape · 1 month

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WIP tag game! @tryan-a-bex tagged me... hrrmmmm.... two days ago? three? thank you!

you didn't specify but I'm assuming this is the last line version, so here's the latest bit I've added to a Dreamling Bingo thing I'm working on!

The laundromat is quiet and warm. They’re entirely alone. There’s a desk in the back where an attendant is supposed to sit, but there’s no attendant in sight. Outside, the sun has just slipped below the horizon and the streetlights are starting to come on; the temperature has dropped enough that the warm, wet air inside is condensing just a bit on the big plate glass windows. “Snacks?” Hob waves toward an ancient Pepsi machine and Dream inclines his head. They buy a couple of packets of crisps and pretzels and an orange soda, which they pass back and forth, leaning against their machine as it hums and swishes. When all that’s left of the pretzels is salty dust, Dream hops up to sit on top of the washing machine and pulls Hob gently toward him by the collar of his shirt. The kiss they share is gentle and languorous. Hob spends a nice long time just nibbling very softly at Dream’s bottom lip until it’s plump and pink, before slowly and carefully getting his tongue inside Dream’s mouth.Dream tastes like orange soda and smells like cheap laundry soap. Hob runs one hand up the long, slim line of his thigh and slips his fingers under Dream’s sweater to get at the smooth skin of his waist and thinks, rather helplessly, Yes. Yes, yes.

tee hee that was a lot more than one line but whatcha gonna do? not cut things down, that's for sure!

not sure who's done this round already but I'll no-pressure tag @valeriianz @beatnikfreakiswriting and @cliophilyra

#my writing #dreamling #dreamling bingo 2024 #tag game #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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obaex · 1 year

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a little dirty - jj maybank

summary: you find that watching jj work can be very... distracting

words: 800

warnings: fluff, a lil' (very?) suggestive

a/n: just a little something short and sweet! inspired by tuxedo by clare dunne, which is so jj coded i needed to write something for it.

Oh, my man He got them real strong hands And after workin’ all day out in that hot sunshine He comes walkin’ in always lookin' so fine Oh, my heart Lights up like shooting stars He’s like a knight in shining armor with them blue jeans on Dirty white tee and my baby don't need no tuxedo

It was hot.

You were no stranger to the heat of the late summer that rolled off the marsh in waves, but the storm that had blown through the night before left Kildare feeling even more humid than usual, the air heavy like wet blanket. Plus, it had knocked the power out, leaving you without electricity and without air conditioning.

You felt the heat cling to your skin as sweat gathered at the base of your neck and you padded through the house, trying to tidy up and get chores done, reveling in the infrequent breeze that snuck through the open windows.

You could hear JJ in the backyard trying to clear the debris from the storm, including a large tree that had come down and just missed the back porch. You wandered over to check on him, leaning against the doorframe of the open screen door. He was carrying limbs and branches two times his size over his shoulder, hoisting them up and dragging them to the back corner of your property. Even from your vantage point you could see the way the muscles in his arms rippled with the effort.

He was breathing heavily as he made his way back, his chest straining against the fitted white t-shirt he had on that was now doppled with sweat, and streaked with dirt. He lifted the bottom corner of his tee to wipe the sweat off of his face, giving you a tantalizing peek at his toned stomach that lay beneath, his abs glistening with sweat, glinting in the strong sun. Your eyes trailed lower to the clear v-line that trailed into the jeans and boxers that hung low on his hips and you swallowed, a blush finding your cheeks at just how good he looked, even when he was dripping with sweat and covered in dirt.

He dropped his shirt and lifted his head to see you gazing at him. He held a hand over his eyes to see you better, his signature smirk breaking clear across his face as he started to make his way over to you. “Like what you see, pretty girl?” he asked.

Your cheeks blushed a deeper shade of crimson and you bit your bottom lip, breaking his intense gaze to glance at your feet, self-conscious that he had caught you staring.

“Mm’maybe I do” you replied coyly as his wide gait closed the distance between you and he hopped up the porch steps, stopping on the step just below you, leaving you eye level.

Your eyes traced his face, the way his tan skin glistened with sweat and his ocean blue eyes twinkled at you as you reached out to wipe a smudge of dirt off his cheek. At this close distance you could smell his sweat, a salty scent that was distinctly him mixed with the sweet smell of the wood he had been hauling. Maybe it shouldn't be, but to you, it was intoxicating. He was close enough that you could feel the heat coming off of his body and all of yours tingled in response as your heart hammered in your chest and your eyes fell to his lips.

“Do you maybe wanna come inside and not cool off with me?” you hinted, inching even closer to him and his perfect pink lips.

He ducked his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair.

“I would love nothing more, princess, but I’m soaked and I smell, you don’t want—”

“—You have no idea what I want, JJ Maybank” you said, interrupting him as you looped two of your fingers into his beltloops and pulled him flush to you, silencing him by pressing your lips to his.

Your sweaty skin against his suctioned you to each other and the second your lips met, his hands came to cup either side of your face. You could feel his calloused palms on your soft cheeks, could feel the dirt coming off of them and you couldn’t care less as his tongue glided over yours and you hummed in response. His lips were salty with sweat and he was already pressing you backwards into the house, guiding your body with his own towards your bedroom.

His hands left your face and he grabbed the back of your thighs without ever breaking his kiss; your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing you even closer to him as he continued to walk you through your house.

“Not afraid to get a little dirty?” he mumbled in a smile against your lips.

“Not even a little” you replied as he tossed you on the bed.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @voidcameron, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #obx jj #obx jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj obx #obx jj x reader #jj outer banks #outerbanks jj #jj x reader #outer banks jj #obx fanfiction

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lurkingshan · 10 months

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I Feel You Linger in the Air: Novel vs Drama

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Happy IFYL special day! While I wait (not so) patiently for the special episode to become available for international viewers, I thought I would stop being lazy and get around to writing up my thoughts on the adaptation choices of the drama now that I’ve finally had a chance to read the original novel.

First, let me just say: the novel is so fun. I’m so glad folks like @clairedaring and @pharawee talked about it on here and @waitmyturtles read it first and told me to jump on it, because I’ve had a really hard time with poorly translated y novels before and was definitely skeptical. But the story was excellent and the English translation was really solid, so a great time was had by all and I wasn’t even salty about spending eighteen American dollars on it. I didn’t think the novel was perfect (turtles can attest I had a few LOUD complaints) but it was a very enjoyable read. Shoutout to @bengiyo, @neuroticbookworm, and @wen-kexing-apologist as well for listening to me rant about Tee’s choices as I made my way through the novel. Bonus: if you have the chance to read this novel while vacationing in Thailand surrounded by plumeria trees and romantic scenery, I highly recommend.

So, with that established, let’s talk about the adaptation! Adapting novels to a visual medium always comes with a lot of choices, and it’s not easy to make everything translate effectively. On the other hand, a live action drama can make some of what’s on the page feel even more vivid and new elements can be introduced that add to the canon. I’m on the record as both loving this show and feeling like there were some significant missteps in the writing, so I really wanted to understand the source material and how some of those choices were made. So here’s your spoiler alert for IFYL’s adaptation: it’s a real mixed bag of choices from our dear frenemy Tee Bundit, and all in service of one clear goal.

I Feel You Linger in the Air, but Make It Sadder!

I’m going to break down the details below, but this is the TL; DR right here. Every choice Tee made in this adaptation was in service of transforming a relatively light and often comedic time travel romp into a story of deep melancholy and a thorough examination of queer pain. This is Tee’s whole schtick, so we can hardly be surprised; and yet I was kind of taken aback by how stark the difference in these stories felt even as a lot of the plot stayed the same. During the drama’s airing @respectthepetty talked about how this show was just too damn sad for her, and I gotta say, she was definitely picking up what Tee was putting down. YMMV on how sad you like your romance, but Tee Bundit is a very sad boy indeed.

Jom

gif by @junghaesin

Let’s start here, because this is definitely my biggest grievance with Tee: he removed most of Jom’s personality from the book in order to give us a flatter, sadder version of him that fit better with a much more melancholy vision for this story. As it turns out, Jom was originally written to be smart, sassy, and very funny (h/t to @stuffnonsenseandotherthings whose post on this really got me interested in reading to see the difference). Novel Jom is a smartass who never misses the opportunity to work in a salty comment or express his frustration when things aren’t going his way, and he’s such an active character. He does not just sit back and let things happen to him; he thinks and he struggles and he tries. By comparison, show Jom just feels… vaguely confused, mildly depressed, and wildly passive most of the time. This is by no means a knock on Nonkul, who is a fantastic performer—these are clearly writing and directing choices and he is interpreting the character as instructed.

And it’s not just the removal of his core personality, either. Jom in the book has emotional intelligence and a stronger sense of connection to others. For one, he actually cares that Eung Phueng is his sister! Throughout the book, we see him dedicate time and energy to finding ways to care for his sister despite their different social stations; this dynamic is completely absent from the show, where Jom doesn’t even seem to remember Eung Phueng has his sister’s face most of the time. This was a major hole in the show and I still don’t really understand why Tee dropped the ball on it when there was so much material to drawn from in the book.

Winner: The novel, hands down. If you take nothing else away from this post, please take it as a recommendation to read the novel so you can experience Real Jom in all his sassy glory.

The Mythology

gif by @chickenstrangers

Now, I can’t really claim that either the novel or the show does a fantastic job with the mythology, because there’s a lot of hand waving in either case and some definite plot holes. But I will give the book credit for being upfront from the start: it didn’t really intend to explain it beyond giving us a little preamble about wormholes (yes, wormholes!) and for having Jom actually notice and care (and get very amusingly frustrated) that he didn’t understand what the wormhole wanted him to do or how to control it. He actually tried quite a lot in the book to figure it out, rather than just sitting around gazing morosely into the distance. In the end, the book tells us that Yai vowed to love Jom at first sight in every lifetime, which is a vow he made after the wormhole brought Jom to him but somehow affects the times that had already happened from our perspective. It’s a paradox that doesn’t fully make sense, but it is at least an explanation.

The show, by contrast, intentionally added layers to this mystery that it had no intention of resolving. The drawings opening up connections to the present, the ghostly visages haunting the characters, the glimpses of Jom in the future doing things we never saw in the original timeline, Mustache Yai kissing Jom in the water—all show inventions, and all setting up an expectation that some sense would be made of these clues. Which of course, never happened. Instead, these things were used to contribute to the spooky scary vibe and make everything feel sadder, and the show offered no explanation at all for why any of this happened.

Winner: It’s a draw since neither really did it well, but I’m staying salty with Tee for fucking with me.

Family Drama

gif by @thii-nii

Here is where we get into some of the stuff Tee added to the story that actually worked pretty well. One very smart adaptation choice: he made Yai and Eung Phueng siblings so that Yai would have a reason to be more involved in their household and able to interact much more with Jom in the early parts of the story; in the novel there is no connection between the households and Yai and Jom barely interact for the first several months after Jom arrives in the past. He also added a lot of family drama in the back half of the show: the struggles with Yai’s father, the shady uncle, the plot to force Yai to marry, and the big confrontation over Robert’s misdeeds are all show inventions, likely added both to pad out the story and make the relationship harder and sadder, and because he was looking for an alternate source of conflict since he was not doing Part 2 of the book (which takes place once Jom is yanked away again and shot back to the Commander Yai time period).

Another major change from the novel to the show: in the novel, Yai’s plans to go study abroad were already set before Jom even got there, not something he won as a consolation in a negotiation over marriage. Which has some implications I’ll get into in the next section.

Winner: The drama, where the family dynamics were much more thoroughly explored.

The Romance

gif by @loveisactivated

As I mentioned above, Tee made a smart choice in bringing Yai more firmly into Jom’s orbit early in the story, but unfortunately, he didn’t do much with that advantage and actually failed to use some of what the novel gave him to work with. In the novel, Jom is much more aware of the attraction between him and Yai, very attuned to Yai’s flirting and their age gap, very aware of his own growing attachment to Yai, and thinking through the implications of all of it as it grows, which is a more natural and believable build up to their romance than in the show, where Jom seems distracted and unaware of Yai’s affections until they suddenly start jumping each other. That lack of romantic development in the show (which we discussed even as it was airing) was not because the material was not there for Tee to use in the book; he simply had other priorities and neglected to build it properly in show time.

That said, I have to give major credit to Tee for how he handled the romance once our leads were together and intimately involved. First, he really brought some of the scenes that were in the book to life in a way that still has me shook, like Yai’s drunken poetry recitation (credit must also be given to Bright for his eye work in that and many other scenes, what a stunner). And on top of that, the drama has some of the best physical intimacy scenes I have ever seen in any drama, full stop, and that is nearly all Tee and his creative team. He used elements from a few scenes in the book, but he remixed and amplified them to be a lot more powerful, and certainly much more artful and sensual than the sex scenes in the book. That olive oil masturbation scene? The show gets full credit, and the way the direction, editing, and performances so vividly painted their attraction to each other still gives me shivers when I think about it.

But anyway, back to bitching about Tee: one of the scenes that really stuck out for me like a sore thumb in the romance arc in the show was when Yai learns he will be going abroad and he and Jom discuss it in a curiously flat and emotionless way, with Yai acting like it’s no big deal for them to be separated for three years. I mentioned above that this was a change from the book: in the novel Yai was already set to go abroad before he ever met Jom, it was not a new surprise that came about after they were together. They discuss Yai’s impending departure twice in the book; once when Jom is still only Yai’s majordomo, and then once again when they are lovers. As you can imagine, the emotional tenor of these two scenes are quite different. And Tee used the wrong one for the show! I almost threw the book at the wall when I realized I was reading the verbatim dialogue from that scene in the show in the context of Yai and Jom hardly knowing each other yet, and then again when I got to the second conversation that was actually appropriate for two lovers who do not want to be parted. That has to be one of the most senseless adaptation mistakes I have ever seen. Tee Bundit, what is wrong with you!!

Lastly for this section, I will just note that the very long, drawn out goodbyes between Yai and Jom are also a show invention. In the book, Jom gets yanked to the next time period with no warning shortly after they get together and begins his next adventure with another Yai. Since Tee was ending the show here in this time period, he went in a different direction, having Jom and Yai much more aware of Jom fading and anticipating a separation so that he could (say it with me) make everything sadder. His choice to wallow for two entire episodes in sorrow and melancholy and to put much heavier focus on Yai’s despair was entirely his own, and so very on brand.

Winner: It’s a draw. The book definitely writes the romantic arc more holistically and doesn’t have any of the missteps the drama does, but the show is so artful and the parts it gets right are so good I will remember them for the rest of my life. And I can’t pretend I’m not an angst monster at heart, so Tee’s sad af vision totally worked on me.

Sides and Queer Community

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Here is where Tee’s adaptation really shines, and I know others have discussed these changes before so I won’t go too deep on the details. But I absolutely have to give Tee props for taking tiny threads for these side characters in the books and building them into whole people that we actually care about. Especially in the case of Ming and Fong Kaew, Tee really made something of their extremely thin book stories to turn them into fan favorite characters with real growth arcs. I do think the book was better in the way it handled the fated connection between Fong Kaew and Khamsaen, but everything else about Fong Kaew’s story was deepened by the show. And Tee gets credit for adding so many meaningful stories for women characters in the first place, let alone developing a lesbian romance for Eung Pueng and Maey. He picked up on a tiny bit of subtext for underdeveloped characters in the book and ran with it, and it really enhanced the story.

He also used side characters as a means to make this story feel all around more queer, not only by including additional queer romances but by building out a real sense of community and solidarity among the queer characters. Not only the addition of nods to real queer history, but the speakeasy, James’s explicit queerness, and Nuey the Green Queen are all Tee additions to the canon that really enhanced the story.

Winner: The drama and it’s not close. Well done, Tee!

That Ending

gif by @dragonsareawesome123

One of my biggest interests in reading the novel was seeing how the ending with modern Yai is explained in the original source material, because I found the drama version of that scene so lacking. Well, it turns out, the novel did pretty much the same thing! The ending sequence of the book is even shorter than the scene in the show and similarly offers zero explanation for this new version of Yai or how he knows Jom before they jump each other and the story concludes. The main narrative ends there and the book then tacks on an epilogue explaining who this new Yai is, and it reads like an afterthought. Honestly, it felt to me like the writer ran out of steam and just didn’t bother to finish the story, and Tee did exactly the same thing. Which is kind of infuriating, because being able to fix stuff like that is one of the best things about a good adaptation.

Winner: Absolutely no one, my kingdom for a proper ending to this story.

gif by @pharawee

So, my conclusions? 1) Tee Bundit is the saddest creator in Thai bl, hands down; 2) It’s a draw between which version of this story is better. The novel and drama both have different strengths and significant flaws, but both versions are compelling and had me on the edge of my seat. I highly recommend the book to anyone who is missing the show and wants another chance to revisit these characters, plus the added bonus of seeing Jom wrangle Commander Yai, something we are unlikely to ever see on our screens (though hope springs eternal besties!). If you do decide to give it a read, come talk to me about it!

#i feel you linger in the air #ifylita #shoutout also to all the excellent giffers for this show #the tumblr gif search is hopelessly broken but i wanted y’all’s beautiful work in this post anyway #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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daisyrb-gvf · 7 months

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Cruising Into Love-Part 3

d.r.w. x f!reader

Okay, you guys...here it is. I always get nervous about the first smutty chapter. Hope you love it!

Words: 9k

Summary: After your passionate moment with Danny on the island, you both are eager to spend more time together.

Warnings: 18+ readers only

explicit sex, oral (f receiving), language, little sprinkle of life threatening situations, passing tf out, smoking hot Daniel Wagner.

You plop down on your tiny bed, a huge smile on your face. He’s coming tonight, and if you’re honest, hopefully in more ways than one. Danny said he needed to stop, but you didn’t want him to. You would have had sex with him right then and there under the waterfall. You imagine the loud crashing of the water drowning out your inevitable moans and cries. What is it about this man that makes you so electric? You feel out of control, but in the best way possible. You feel alive and young and sexy, feelings that you haven’t had in longer than you can remember.

Your mattress is getting damp from your rain-soaked clothes. You didn’t beat the storm, but racing Danny through the rain, seeing his white muscle tee sticking to his back and shoulders made it all worth it. A wave of warmth rushed over you, even in the unseasonably cold storm. You wondered what it would be like to kiss and suck and worship every single inch of his body, the thought making you falter and slow your pace, your breath hitching. Yeah, it was worth losing the race. Absolutely it was worth it.

You force yourself to get up and shower quickly. You have to rush to get ready for the show…the show that Danny will be at in all of his fine-ass glory. Oh God, you hope you can keep it together and make it through the performance. You’ll probably have to do a few more faster songs just so you don’t jump out of your skin from excitement.

– – –

Danny paces in his room, cold from the air conditioner that is still running while he is soaking wet. He opens the door to the balcony and steps out for a moment, breathing in the salty ocean air, grinning and closing his eyes, grabbing onto the railing and leaning back again, daydreaming about the hottest make-out session he’s ever had in his life. The ship horn blasts, indicating that it’s almost time to leave the port, snapping him out of his memory. Looking at the time, he runs to the shower, hoping he has time to wash and style his hair and consider what he’s going to wear tonight. He’s fighting his growing erection while the hot water washes over him, trailing down his body and reminding him of the waterfall. “Snap out of it,” he mutters to himself, trying to fight off the urge to relieve the ache building in his cock. There’s no way he’s doing that right now. He isn’t even sure if you would want to sleep with him tonight, but he’s taking no chances, keeping the electric energy building in his body. All he knows is if you do want to, he wants to try to make it the best you’ve ever had because he has a feeling it’s going to be for him.

– – –

“You coming, Danny?” Josie asks through the door leading into the hallway.

“Yeah just a minute!” He double-checks his hair, making sure there are no stray frizzy curls. Thank God for Sam’s girlfriend, Hannah. She taught him how to take care of his curls and gave advice on skincare, not that it was bad before, but Danny does love looking pretty, not just for the girls and guys, but for himself too. It gives him extra confidence. He used to struggle with that much more than he does now, although it’s still there and creeps out sometimes.

He grabs his room key and heads out to meet Josie. “Wow! You look nice, big brother!” Josie says with a smirk.

It is one of his favorite outfits. Short-sleeved, fitted, black mock-neck shirt and black skinny jeans with black boots. He’s rocking the Johnny Cash look tonight with his own spin. Deciding to ditch the shark-tooth necklace, he switched to a silver chain, matching the permanent dainty silver bracelet that he, Sam, and his sister got together.

“Thanks! You too, sis.”

Josie sports a beautiful blue maxi dress that has a cutout in the back, tied together with a matching string. She has a natural beauty, wearing light make-up and letting her loose curls fall down her back.

“I know,” she replies with a wink as they turn the corner for the elevators. “You nervous?”

“Yeah, a little,” Danny confesses, not even trying to deny it.

“I can tell. You’re practically jumping out of your skin. I take it today went well?” she asks, looking out at the chandelier through the glass elevator.

“Yeah, really well, actually,” Danny’s face is bright red as he turns away to look at anything that is in the opposite direction of his sister.

“I’m not going to ask for details,” Josie assures, kindly.

Thank God. Not that he would have answered, but he already felt awkward enough. Even if she is his best friend, she’s also his sister. He can’t talk to her about certain things the way he talks to Sam and the twins.

They meet their parents in front of the piano bar and make their way in, getting closer seats this time. Danny wants to see as much of you as possible.

When you walk out you see him immediately. Well, fuck me sideways-he looks like a dream in that outfit. Not that it would have made much of a difference, but it would have been nice if he could have looked a little more casual. That would make it at least a tiny bit easier to keep your composure. Josie looks beautiful, as well. If Danny wasn’t on this cruise, you have a feeling you may have been feral for her instead. She smiles at you encouragingly while Danny drinks you in-a hungry look in his eyes. God, please stop. You can’t look at him with that gaze on you.

You settle in at the grand piano and gently place your hands on the keys, grounding yourself.

“Did everyone have a good time exploring Nassau today?” you ask the audience, this time your cheery expression is completely genuine. You get a cheer and a few “yesses” from the crowd. “Glad to hear it! Well, take some time to relax and unwind from your day while I play a few songs for you.”

You start upbeat playing “I Feel The Earth Move” by Carole King. Unable to keep your eyes away, you look over at Danny who is beaming and singing along, drumming his fingers lightly on the table again.

I feel my heart start to trembling

Whenever you’re around

Ooh, baby, when I see your face

Mellow as the month of May

Oh darling, I can’t stand it

When you look at me that way

Josie giggles and grins, glancing over at her brother. She seems like such an amazing sister. A sibling who genuinely loves her brother and wants him to be happy. It makes your heart ache.

FInishing up the song, you get some cheers and a couple of “whoops” from Danny and Josie, causing you to blush.

“Let’s slow it down for just a minute, sound good?” you ask the audience. They clap in encouragement as you start the next number. “This one was a request,” you say, not looking over at Danny at that moment. Fraternizing with guests is definitely frowned upon here, and you don’t want to cause any suspicion.

Daniel is driving tonight on a plane

I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain

Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye

Oh it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes

Danny’s mom taps his shoulder, looking excited, but oblivious that this song is actually for him. Just a happy coincidence. As you close out the song the audience claps and starts calling out requests. Maybe you shouldn’t have added that little detail. You decide to just go ahead and play requests for the rest of the performance. More Elton John, John Legend, Norah Jones, and a few others.

“Okay, one more request for the night. What is it gonna be?”

“Light My Love!” someone calls out immediately.

“Hmm…who is that by?” you ask. You think you may have heard that title before, but you don’t remember the tune.

“Greta Van Fleet!” they call out.

“Okay, let me see if it’s in the book, and if so I’ll play it!”

You flip through the binder of approved songs and find it. Looking over it quickly, you hear the tune in your head. “Okay! We will close out with this one. I’m not entirely sure how the lyrics are sung, so could some of you help me out?” You get some more cheers and feel confident that the audience can cover for you. You start to play and realize how beautiful of a song it is. Why haven’t you heard this before? You’ll need to check out more of their music. You glance over at Danny and see a nervous expression. Why would he be nervous? Maybe because the show is almost over and he feels anxious about being near you again. You know you do. The audience sings along, sounding much better than the audience from your previous performance. Danny’s parents sing along excitedly, apparently loving this song. Danny and Josie seem to be unfamiliar with it, but clearly enjoy the tune. The crowd cheers loudly as you wrap up the song, and you make a mental note to put that one into the rotation. The audience seemed to love it, and you can see why. It’s one of the most beautiful songs you’ve heard. A few people approach you after the performance telling you they loved the show, and give more requests for next time. You graciously thank them and make sure not to let your eyes wander over to Danny until they approach you.

“Hey! Remember us?” Josie asks, extending her hand. Yeah, she’s a great sister. She knows the drill.

“Uh, yeah I do! Josie, right?” you reply warmly, shaking her hand. “And you’re..Danny?” you ask as you look over to him, shaking his hand.

“Yeah! Good to see you again. We had to bring our parents to your performance. We knew they would love it,” he says, gently placing his hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“We did love it!” she replies with a bright, warm smile. Now you see where Danny and Josie get it from.

“We really did,” their dad chimed in, shaking your hand. “I’m Dan, and this is my wife Lori.”

“Wonderful to meet you. I’m y/n,” you reply with a bright, genuine smile. Something you haven’t had to offer lately…until these last few days.

“Well, we should probably get going for dinner,” Lori says. “It truly was a wonderful performance. Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re so kind, thank you,” you say, shaking her hand again. She really is very warm and gives off a comforting vibe.

“Would you all mind if I skip dinner tonight,” Danny asks his parents. “That hike today really wore me out, and I want to make sure I’m not sluggish tomorrow when we go play golf, dad.”

“Oh yeah, of course honey,” his mother says, stroking his arm. “Go get some rest. We’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.” She leans over and kisses him on the cheek before heading out the door.

Making sure her parents aren’t looking, Josie turns around and winks before sauntering out of the double doors, joining them.

“So…you wanna hang out,” Danny asks, his voice impossibly soothing. Like a beautiful song you feel like you’ve been waiting to hear your whole life.

“I’d love to,” you reply, a little breathless as you beam up at him. Your face falls slightly. “I’m not really sure where we can, though. We can’t be too obvious with this, unfortunately.”

“Well…how about my room?” he asks, nervously, putting his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.

“Yeah, um..that sounds nice. What room are you in? I can meet you there in about twenty minutes or so?”

“720," he smiles, "Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually." You didn’t even realize until just now that you haven’t eaten since breakfast.

“Okay, I’ll order something for us,” he says with that boyish grin that makes you feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“Oh, no. I’ll eat just about anything. You pick.”

“Okay, sounds good. So…I’ll see you in a bit.” He walks backward for a moment, hands still in his pockets before pivoting around to head toward his room.

“Damn, that ass is adorable,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a puff of air.

Walking over to the bar you see Chris again, serving the last couple of guests before he walks over to you.

“Tequila?” he offers, already pouring.

“Yes, and make it a double.”

He chuckles and slides over your shot. “So, are you gonna hit that tonight, or can I shoot my shot?”

“Chris!” you whisper loudly. “Shut up!”

“Oh come on. There’s no one around who can hear us,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, leaning forward on the bar. “So, are you?”

“I don’t know. I want to, but…I’m not sure he does.” You fidget with your hands for a moment.

Chris pours another shot and holds it out for you. “Here’s some more liquid courage, and trust me, girl. That man was eye-fucking you all night. If you want to go for it, it’s happening. Report back and tell me if he’s as big as I think he is. ”

“Good lord, Christopher!” you whisper loudly again. You both chuckle and you take the shot, feeling the burn as you shudder. “but I absolutely will.”

– – –

You head back to your bunk to brush your teeth and run a brush through your hair. Shaking slightly, you throw a couple of condoms in your purse and head up to the 7th floor. Honestly, it’s been months since you’ve slept with someone, and that was a disappointing experience. You desperately hope this won’t be the same way, but you highly doubt that will be the case, especially after that hot as hell make out session earlier.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you say under your breath. “It may not even happen. Just relax.”

Once you make it to the seventh floor you take a deep breath and step off the elevator. What if he doesn’t want this? Can you even keep from attacking him and climbing his body like the perfectly carved statue he is?

“Easy, girl. Relax. Relax. Relax,” you repeat over and over before knocking on the door.

You go weak in the knees when you see him. He doesn’t look any different than he did at the piano bar. Maybe it’s seeing him in the confines of the bedroom, or just knowing you have total privacy.

“Hey y/n,” he says with that impossibly heart-melting smile. His kind voice is smoother than silk, and you can feel it wash over you like a warm rain on a summer’s day. He extends his arm and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in.

“Hi, Danny,” you say back, your voice barely above a whisper. That’s all you can muster up at the moment.

You walk through the door and see a ton of food spread out on the coffee table and counter space where the vanity is. Hozier is playing softly on his phone.

“Whoa. I know I said I was hungry, but I’m not sure I can eat all of this,” you giggle, walking over to the couch, the fabric feeling slightly scratchy on the back of your thighs.

Danny lets out that adorable, goofy laugh and your stomach does a flip. How, in God’s name, does this man manage to affect you this way? You’ve never felt anything even remotely like this before.

“I know, but I just had no idea what to get, and I wanted to make sure I had something that you were in the mood for. Sorry, I know this is a huge waste of food,” he smiles with a guilty look.

“Oh, it’s okay! Don’t apologize. Maybe we can throw it out to the sharks,” you laugh.

“My friend Sam would lose his mind if he saw how much we are about to waste.”

“Well, your friend Sam isn’t here, so don’t worry about it. It all looks amazing. Thank you, Danny.” You gaze into his eyes for just a moment before blushing and looking away. If you can’t even look at the man for this long, how is this evening going to go?

“So…” he begins, that same adorable nervous look that he had at the piano bar on his chiseled face, “what are you in the mood for? Chicken, steak, fish, macaroni and cheese, I think I have some lasagna over here somewhere…” He stands back up and walks over to the countertop. “Ah, yes here it is! What will it be, m’lady?” he offers, placing a cloth napkin over his arm, acting like a waiter at some fancy-pants restaurant. He's clearly trying to break the tension, and you appreciate that.

You giggle (so so giggly again), “I think I’ll take the steak, kind sir,” you reply with a horrible British accent.

“As you wish,” he replies, bowing and placing the plate in front of you. He really is a dork. Thank God. “It’s a beautiful night. Do you want to go eat out on the balcony?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you reply, reaching to pick up your plate.

“Oh, I’ve got it y/n,” Danny replies with a smile, picking up both of your plates as the two of you make your way through the sliding glass door.

The moon is full and bright, the water sparkling and glinting with the rise and fall of the little waves that the ship is creating. “Hmm,” you say with a contented little sigh, “he’s right, and I never really thought about it before now.”

“What’s that?” Danny asks, setting the plates down on the little table between two chairs.

“Oh, there’s this song by Incubus. Brandon says ‘the ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket.’”

“Wish You Were Here.” Danny gives you a soft smile before looking out at the water with you. “One of my favorites, actually. The lyrics are beautiful. I think the other verse applies too. ‘The sky resembles a back-lit canopy with holes punched in it.’” Quoting Incubus to you. Your stomach doesn’t have butterflies right now, it has pterodactyls.

You turn and admire him for a moment as he searches the sky, the bright moonlight shining on his face. He looks angelic right now, and you wonder if maybe he is. He holds onto the railing again and leans back, feeling the ocean breeze with a smile as he closes his sparkling hazel eyes. He likes doing that.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, standing straight and looking over at you. “You’re starving. Let’s eat!” He rubs his hands together and offers your chair before sitting in his. “Oh! Drinks. What sounds good? I got us champagne, white or red wine, and beer.”

You’re already a little tipsy from the shots, so you opt for a glass of champagne. He goes inside to pour two glasses, and you turn your head as little as possible to watch him. The cork pops off of the champagne bottle before he carefully pours it into the glass flutes. How, on God’s green earth (well, God’s blue ocean), does he make pouring drinks look this hot? You wonder if he actually is a waiter at some high-end restaurant, because he could probably bring in a ridiculous amount of money in tips.

You thank him as he walks back through the sliding door, handing you your drink. You both are silent for a moment as you eat, the sound of the waves and hum of the ship’s engine breaking the awkward tension.

“So, how long have you been performing?” Danny asks, taking a sip of his champagne.

“Since I was about four years old, but I've been professionally performing since I got out of college, so three years. I wanted to travel and I wanted to perform, so I figured cruises would be the way to go. What about you? What do you do?” You take a bite of your steak, awaiting his response.

He takes a bite and another sip before responding. “Oh, well, uh…I’m actually a musician too.” He looks nervous. You wonder why, though?

“Oh! Seems like we do have quite a bit in common. Are you a singer? Do you play any instruments?” you ask, excited that you can bond over your careers together.

“I play guitar, drums, bass, piano, mandolin, ukulele, a few others” he chuckles. “Just a little of everything. Nothing major,” he’s staring at his plate, seemingly searching for the best bite of lasagna.

“Wow! Have you recorded at all? Anything I may have heard before?”

“Oh, I doubt it. I just play random shows here and there and jump in to play guitar or drums for smaller bands every once in a while. I live in Nashville, so there’s always something to do there.”

“That’s so cool. I would love to live in Nashville one day. I’m debating on stepping away from the cruise life after my contract is over in a few months. I really want to record an album of my own. I’ve written a few songs, but I would be happy just being a recording artist for hire as well.”

“Oh, I bet you could get a lot of work there. You’re incredibly talented, and you have a beautiful voice too,” he says, genuinely as he smiles and looks into your eyes.

You feel a shudder move down your spine as you turn bright red and smile. “Thank you,” you reply, barely above a whisper. You feel confident in your skills as a musician, but hearing it from him makes your heart pound. “So, did you grow up in Nashville?” you ask, moving the conversation along so you can breathe normally.

“No, I grew up in a small town in Michigan called Frankenmuth,” he breaks eye contact, taking another bite. He could tell he made you nervous by your blush.

“Oh! I think I’ve heard of that place. It has that big Christmas store, right?”

“Yeah! I’ve gotten lost in there a few times. It is outlandishly huge,” he laughs that adorable goofy laugh.

“Ugh, that sounds like a dream. I LOVE Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year on the ship. All of the garland and lights and Christmas trees everywhere. It’s beautiful, and I get to play mostly Christmas carols for my performances.”

“That sounds wonderful. I love Christmas as well. It��s hard not to love it back at home in our little town. It's like a winter wonderland, plus I always go up to spend a couple of weeks with my family. That’s the best part.”

Your heart aches hearing him talk about his family and see how they interact. “That sounds perfect.”

He notices the sadness in your eyes, and decides to move on from the topic. “So, where are you from?”

“Also a little town, but in Colorado. Erie. It’s basically a suburb of Boulder, so ‘little town’ is relative,” you chuckle. “Was it a big adjustment? Going from a small town to a big city like Nashville?”

“Sort of. It was definitely different, but exciting. I moved with a few of my friends, so that made it easier to settle in. We did move right as Covid was spreading around, so having them there really helped a lot through that.”

“Yeah, Covid was tough. I had to move back home for a while with my family until the cruise lines started booking again. It was so boring, but I did get some writing done during that time, so I suppose something good came from it.” You start to feel more comfortable, your nerves settling down.

“I would love to hear some of your originals. Are you able to play any of them during your performances here?” he asks, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair.

“Sometimes. Nothing with lyrics, but I can play the melodies. I usually save those for when I play the lunch shift. Most people just come to relax and chat at the bar during the day. It’s a little more informal.” You set your fork down as well and lean back, matching his posture. “I don’t think I can eat another bite. That was delicious.”

“Same here,” he says as he glances out to the ocean again. After a moment he leans in, hands clasped with his elbows resting on his knees. “So, y/n, tell me more about yourself.”

You talk for hours, the conversation flowing organically, both of you sharing stories about your life. Family, friends, hopes and dreams, your favorite movies and musicians.

“No! You are absolutely wrong!” you argue, trying to look offended through your huge smile you’ve had plastered on your face for hours.

“I’m not!” he replies, smiling as well, his hand movements exaggerated as he argues his point. “Carole King wrote ‘You’ve Got A Friend’! No one performs it better than her!” He’s so adorable when he’s passionate like this.

“It’s a beautifully written song, absolutely, and Carole performs it wonderfully, but there’s something about James Taylor’s version that just…makes it better. I think it’s a song that just sounds better on guitar.”

“This coming from a pianist. I’m appalled!” he laughs.

“I know. I’m a traitor to my own kind,” you laugh with him.

“Well, we can agree to disagree on this one. Sound good?” he asks.

You pretend to ponder the question for a moment, crossing your arms and tapping your finger on your chin. “I suppose so,” you concede with a giggle.

You’re both silent for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s been nice getting to know him more. You feel at peace with him, but somehow also still feel the magnetic pull and electricity coursing through your veins.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks timidly.

“Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah that sounds nice,” you smile. “There’s not a lot of room here though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind getting close to you,” he winks, stepping inside to grab his phone. Your stomach flips again, the nervousness creeping back in, but it’s an exciting nervousness. One that you happily welcome. One that makes you feel alive. You feel so alive.

He steps back out and slides the door open all the way so he can pull in the chairs and small table, leaving the whole little balcony for you to move around on. You step in front of him, flashes of your dip in the swimming hole earlier racing across your mind. You have to glance away at the ocean for a moment to pull yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away from his body. Damn, he smells amazing too. Kind of musky and warm. Almost like the mahogany teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works. Your favorite. His scent mixed with the ocean air makes you a little dizzy, your eyes fluttering.

He turns on “Like Real People Do” and sets the phone on the table, just inside of the room past the balcony.

“Is this okay?” he asks, nervously putting his hands in his pockets again.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s perfect.” Your voice is breathy and you smile at him, no doubt looking like a smitten little school girl. He slowly approaches you, holding one hand up and placing the other on your hip. You gently place your hand in his and rest the other on his shoulder, swaying to the music.

“I’m actually not much of a dancer, but it just seems like a perfect night for it, don’t you think?”

The bright white smile he flashes makes it hard to respond, but you manage to breathe out a “yes.”

After a minute or so he moves his hand around your waist, and pulls the other to his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your fingers. You lean in and rest your head on his chest so you can hear the steady rhythm of it, closing your eyes. He’s so warm, so sturdy, so…safe.

“So, you’re a big Hozier fan, huh?” you ask.

“Oh yeah. He’s one of my musical idols. One of the greats,” he replies, his voice smooth and soft. Like a blanket of silk gently caressing your skin. You hear the deep rumble in his chest with each word, sending a vibration through your whole body and you falter, missing a step.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, pulling back again.

“No, it’s okay,” he urges, pulling you close to him again, this time one of his hands cups your cheek, the other wraps around your waist again. “You know…I…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you performing that first night.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath, placing both of your hands on his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing keeping you calm. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” You sigh out a little chuckle and gaze into his eyes. You feel so safe with him in this moment.

He leans in and moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck. His fingers are calloused, but soft, and you realize just how big they are as he cradles your head. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers again, just like he did under the waterfall.

“Absolutely,” you reply, your voice a little louder and more eager than you expected.

He smirks and leans in further, closing the gap. You whimper the moment his lips touch yours, and you feel him smile into the kiss. He’s so tender and gentle that it makes your heart ache, but you need so much more. His kiss unleashes something in you that you didn’t realize was aching to get out.

Pulling back, and somehow already out of breath, you ask, “Earlier today, when you said you didn’t know if you would be able to stop, is that…something you wanted to do?”

“What, stop? Or not stop?” he chuckles.

“I suppose you could answer either way, but to be clearer,” you bite your lip nervously, “at what point do you, uh…want to stop tonight? Because I…I’m okay, y’know with…not stopping.” God, you’re so nervous, but you need to know right now before you lose all control.

He leans in again, brushing his lips along your cheek until he reaches your ear. “I don’t want to stop, y/n. Not at all.” His voice in your ear is so much sexier than you imagined (dozens of times over the course of three days, if you’re honest), and you can’t help yourself. You whimper and run one hand up his back until you reach his hair, gripping it tightly. Your other hand practically claws at his shoulder, pulling on his shirt as you crash your lips into his. Your lips lock together perfectly, just like before, but with more desire behind it. He pulls your hips flush with his, digging his fingers in ever so slightly. You feel every bit of it though, and you start to unravel even more. He begins to match your intensity and groans as you softly bite and suck on his bottom lip.

“Please touch me Danny,” you beg in the most pathetic whimper. You would be embarrassed, but you are so desperate to feel more of him that you don’t care.

“Yes ma’am,” he groans into your mouth, barely able to pull himself away.

He runs his hands up your hips and back, memorizing every curve. Once he reaches the zipper at the top, he pulls it down at a frustratingly slow pace. You whimper again, begging him without words while you slide your hands underneath his skin tight black shirt. The ripples of his muscles on his back and shoulders, causing your panties to dampen even more.

“God, please Danny,” you whine, frantically reaching behind your back to yank the zipper down further.

“Shhh, pretty girl. Just let me savor you for a while. Please?” His voice is impossibly soft and sexy, instantly calming you down as you catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, pulling away again, shaking yourself out of this feral trance he has you under.

He gently grasps your arms and pulls you close again, cupping your cheek and kissing you slow and deep. You don’t understand…how is this kiss even hotter, but making you more calm?

“We’re going to get there, okay?” he assures, as he moves his lips down to your neck, barely brushing them over your flushed skin. “I promise,” he whispers, moving up to your ear.

You nod, unable to speak as you feel his teeth graze the soft skin of your earlobe before giving it a gentle kiss. You melt into him, your head lolling off to the side and your eyes fluttering. He kisses that sweet spot right behind your ear and works his way back down your neck, licking and sucking every inch. Finally, he pulls down your zipper the rest of the way, stopping at your tailbone. He pulls back and slides the straps off your shoulders, peeling the dress down and off your body as he drinks in the shape of you. He saw this much of you earlier, but now his eyes are dark and he looks fucking hungry. Kneeling down in front of you, he helps you step out of the dress, probably worried your knees would buckle and you’d fall over based on how badly you’re trembling right now.

“Are these heels bothering you?” he asks, glancing up at you with sweet, innocent eyes, the sight of him kneeling before you causing your mind to race with all sorts of unholy thoughts. The switch from his predatory stare to this almost submissive one is giving you whiplash, and you wonder…how easily could he switch in bed?

“Easy girl,” you whisper to yourself, quiet enough so the sound of the waves keeps him from hearing.

“Yeah, actually they are.” You didn’t even realize until he asked. His fingers are long and calloused, but nimble. Quickly undoing the clasp of your strappy, black heel, he holds your ankle steady and carefully pulls the shoe off, worried your feet may be sore. Such a gentleman, and it feels incredibly intimate. He repeats his actions with the other foot and stands back up, towering over you more than before with the loss of three inches of height you had. He reaches out to caress down your shoulders and arms with the backs of his fingers, goosebumps creeping up the path he’s taken.

“You are…” he starts, as he takes his time looking at every inch of you, “absolutely breathtaking.”

Your heart catches in your chest at the tenderness and sincerity of his words. You know what it sounds like when a man is just trying to get you in bed. This was not that. He meant it. He was almost worshiping you.

He steps forward and places his hands on your collar bones, covering your entire chest as he gives you the sweetest, slow kiss you’ve ever felt. You whimper as you feel his hands move down to your bra, cupping your breasts and running his thumbs over your nipples that are peeking out of the sheer, black fabric. You shiver and arch your back, aching to feel more.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“Definitely not." Your entire body is on fire right now.

He smirks and bites his lip as he pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, tossing it on the ground. You drink him in, aching to feel his skin against yours. Reaching around, you unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor. The fabric wasn’t hiding much, but you feel very exposed just standing in front of him like this. You step forward and place your hands on his lower abdomen, running the backs of your fingers along the soft trail of dark hair leading down into his pants. He sighs when you run your hands along the muscles of his back, torso, and shoulders, exploring him.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling you in at your waist, cupping the back of your neck. His hands are large enough to reach around and place his thumb under your jaw, gently pressing upward to meet his lips. This kiss is deep, hungry, passionate. Whimpers escape from the two of you as you reach around to grab his ass, pressing him into you, and he slides his hand down your chest settling between your breasts. He walks you backward, until your back is up against the railing, the top bar hitting your shoulder blades. Breaking your kiss, he moves his mouth down your chest, over your breasts again, licking and sucking as you bury your hands in his hair, arching into his mouth. He groans in appreciation and continues his journey down your stomach, alternating between kisses and licks until he gets to your belly button. He runs his lips over to your hip bone and softly bites, causing you to gasp and jump in surprise. Glancing up at you with mischievous eyes, he kitten licks the spot. Keeping eye contact, he glides his tongue along the waistband of your panties, teasing you. You reach to pull them down, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them to your sides. “Not yet, pretty girl.”

You whimper and fight against his strong grasp, knowing it’s futile, but unable to stop yourself. His eyes darken and he bites the same spot on your hip, but harder this time, causing you to yelp. “I said not yet, y/n.”

Oh. Oh. You debate on fighting back again just to see what he would do next, but he stops your train of thought when he starts to run his perfectly angled nose up the inside of your thigh. You relax your arms and your head falls back, eyes fluttering as you look up at the sky. The moon and stars witness to the pure ecstasy you’re already feeling. Danny reaches your core and runs his nose up your embarrassingly wet panties, his tongue following suit. You struggle against his grip on your wrists again, but he doesn’t punish you this time. He just brings both hands to rest on your stomach, and holds them in place with one of his, while he moves the other to pull your panties to the side. He taunts you agonizingly by kissing the creases between your thighs and your lips, your clit already aching and swollen. He chuckles darkly when you move your pelvis forward trying to meet his mouth.

“God, Danny please,” you beg, pathetically.

“So eager, aren’t we?” He kisses the inside of your thigh again, but lower this time, making you whine. Your mind is reeling over the difference between the Danny you made out with under the waterfall and this Danny, somehow dominating you while you are towering over him. You relax again, brow furrowed and whimpering.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He offers sweet relief finally as he presses his tongue through your folds, gliding it upward and flicking it over your clit.

“Fuucckkk yes,” you moan. You’re dying to break free from his grasp so you can touch him, or even just touch yourself. Touch something, but you don’t want him to stop, so you endure it. He dips his tongue deeper inside of you, dragging out the juices and spreading them over your clit, flicking his tongue faster before flattening it and shaking his head back and forth furiously. Your legs start to shake and you can already feel your orgasm building ridiculously fast.

“Please, Danny,” you whimper. “Please, not yet.”

“Why not?” he sounds genuinely curious, but still looks so fucking dark and mischevious-slmost devilish.

“Be-becuase I can’t…I can’t cum more than once,” you reply, nervously. All of the other women you know can have multiples, but you’ve just never been able to.

“Yes you can,” he says matter-of-factly before diving back in, devouring you.

“OH God! N-no no I can’t. R-really…please please stop. I’m begging you, Danny!”

Oh he fucking loved that, but he stops, being the gentleman that he is. Standing up to meet your face, he gazes into your eyes, his lips glistening with your juices, looking so fucking enticing. “Y/n, I promise I can make it happen. Will you please let me?” His expression softened and you feel so safe again.

“Y-yeah…can’t hurt to try I guess,” you reply with a weak chuckle.

“Do you trust me?” His dark eyes sparkle in the moonlight and your heart melts. You would let him do just about anything right now, so I suppose that means yeah. You trust him.

“I do,” you whisper. He kisses you so lightly you wouldn’t even be sure it actually happened if it weren’t for the tiny string of your wetness connecting your bottom lip to his as he pulls away. Kneeling back down, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and releases your hands. They immediately dive into his hair as he sinks his middle finger into you and grazes his lips over your clit. You’re panting and whimpering at this point, gazing down at his work, his soft curls tickling the insides of your thighs. You moan as he slips in another finger, curling them upward, stroking your g-spot infuriatingly slow, barely flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit. You’re trying to savor the moment and remember every detail, but your body is screaming for more. A sob releases from deep in your chest, launching him into action.

“You’re doing so well, pretty girl, letting me take you there. Thank you,” he praises.

Wow. You’ve never had a man, or a woman, thank you for letting them give you brutal ecstasy, but then again, you’ve never had anyone come close to how he makes you feel. Maybe you actually are the one in control here.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again, sincerity and concern in his eyes. He’s double-checking to make sure you feel safe, and it is possibly the sexiest thing he’s done all night.

“Absolutely.”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, causing a whimper to escape from your throat, but he stays in place, keeping your knee over his shoulder. He places your other leg over his opposite shoulder, causing your body to raise a few inches, the center of your back now at the top of the railing. Your eyes go wide and you grip onto his arms for dear life. He has a vice grip on your thighs, though, and you know those muscles that are flexing in the moonlight aren’t going to let you go anywhere. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, gauging your reaction to this position, and stays still until you nod your head softly. This time, he dives in hard and fast, mercilessly sucking and licking your clit. You cry out and throw your head back, your whole upper back falling over the railing. You can see the ocean with your head tipped all the way back, your chest heaving and glowing in the moonlight. The power and intensity of the ocean matches the way Danny is making you feel deep in your core. You can feel that coil tightening inside you as your orgasm builds. God, you feel fucking alive. Throwing all caution to the wind, you let your arms fall back, feeling the wind between your fingers before clenching your fists, your orgasm so close.

“I’m gonna cum, Danny! Oh-oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry out as your entire body shakes around him. His tongue continues to lash mercilessly inside of you and you bury your hands in his curls, holding him as tightly to you as possible. You can hear how wet you are over the ocean's waves until suddenly you can’t hear anything at all. Everything goes silent as you gaze at the moon until it goes dark.

– – –

Danny is holding you in his arms, stepping through the doorway as you come to. You hear Hozier playing in the background, and it takes you a moment to realize where you are, but once you do you feel immediately embarrassed. “Oh my God. I am so so sorry,” you say, turning bright red as you try to escape his embrace.

“Will you stop that?” he asks with a chuckle. “Why do you keep apologizing? Do you know how fucking amazing that was for me?!”

“For you?!” you ask, incredulously, unable to stifle the laugh bubbling up from your chest.

“Hell yes! I thought I was going to cum just watching you. That was the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

His boyish look of shock and bright smile on his face has you reeling. There’s no way this adorable 25 year old boy is the same angel (or possibly) devil that sent you over the edge just a moment ago, in more ways than one.

He lays you down on his bed and hovers over you, his elbows just above your shoulders as he cradles the crown of your head. His face is so angelic right now as he admires you. You lean up and kiss that little freckle just beneath his eye like you wanted to earlier that day. He chuckles and sweeps a piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to kiss your cheeks and nose.

“So…how are you feeling?” he asks knowingly with a smirk, causing you to giggle.

“Pretty fucking good,” you reply, running your hands down his back, stopping at his rock hard ass and pressing down so you can feel his throbbing cock between your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel how thick he is causing him to blush and turn red. “Okay, your turn now,” you say eagerly, pressing him up and off of you.

“Wait! Just…hold on,” he says softly, laying you back down as he settles in next to you. “There’s no rush.”

“You sure about that,” you giggle nervously as you glance down at his rock-hard cock aching to get out of his tight jeans.

“I meant what I said earlier, and I won’t break a promise.” He leans in to softly place his hand on your throat, his thumb barely pressing on your pulse point. “I’m going to make you cum again, and I would like it if we could do it together, so just be here with me, okay?”

You’re melting under his touch and his gaze right now. You’ve actually never felt so desperate to get someone off in your life, you're practically salivating for him, but he kisses you deeply again, and you relax and sigh into his mouth, so content to just stay there for hours. He pulls you on top of him, but with no urgency. Just to reposition and savor you some more. His hands lazily run up and down your back and hips, every so often moving to your shoulders and collar bones. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed that way. Just contentedly tasting and feeling one another. You move off of him to lay by his side and slowly slide your hand down his stomach. Once you reach the waistband of his jeans you glance at him to make sure he is okay if you keep going. He nods and bites his lip as you sit up and undo the button of his jeans, shoving them down with his boxer briefs just enough for his cock to spring free. You can see how painfully hard he is right now, the soft tip of his cock purple and dripping with pre-cum. The sight of it turns you on and you feel a rush of heat in your core. Leaning over, you kiss him hard and fast as you slide your hand down to grasp his length, rubbing your thumb over the tip. He groans and holds your hand still, his brow furrowing. “No, not yet.”

“Yes, Danny. Now. I need to feel you inside of me right now. Please make me cum again. Please.” you beg, in between kisses that you can barely tear yourself away from.

He lets out an animalistic sort of grunt and flips you over on your back, hovering over you again. “You sure you’re ready?” he checks, his eyes going back and forth between yours, searching for the answer.

“Yes, I’m fucking ready. Please I have to feel you,” you whine, gripping at his back and shoulders, trying to pull him down on top of you.

“How do you want me?”

“What?” you ask, confused. You just want him to feel good right now. You don’t care.

“I said, how do you want me? What makes you feel the best? Tell me and I’ll do it. Trust me, I’m going to get off either way, but I’m not sure exactly how long I can last, so tell me. How do you want me?”

His voice is so steady and sure. You’d never know how badly he is aching for release. You gently press him up and off of you again and silently move to the end of the bed, bending over and resting your elbows on the mattress. “Like this,” you say, as steadily as possible, gazing into his eyes. He jumps up and quickly pulls off his pants and underwear the rest of the way before walking over to his toiletry bag, pulling out a condom. You can hear him tear the wrapper and slide it on as he moves to stand behind you. You brace yourself, preparing for the stretch, but all you feel is a soft kiss on your shoulder and a gentle hand resting on the small of your back.

“Are you ready?” he whispers in your ear. You grind your ass against him in response. He lines himself up and slowly sinks into you, both of you moaning in response. Fuck. Yeah, it is definitely a stretch, but you are craving his release even more than yours, so you immediately start moving back against him, but he grips your hips tightly, holding you steady. His breathing is uneven and you realize he’s trying to keep it together and last long enough for you to cum.

“Fuck, you feel so much better than I even imagined,” he mutters under his breath and you smile to yourself, loving the way you’re making him feel. He slowly thrusts into you at a steady pace. You let him take the reins for a bit, until he starts to move faster. You match his pace and bounce back onto him, your bodies slapping together, the obscene sounds of his dick fucking into you filling the room. His whimpers and moans are the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Better than any song ever written. You can tell he’s getting close when his rhythm falters slightly and he reaches around to circle your clit, trying to coax another orgasm out of you. Your eyes widen in shock as you feel that coil again, tightening with each thrust, each circle of his finger. Your legs start to shake and you whimper and moan, matching his beautiful song.

“Danny, I-I think..I think I’m…” you try to speak between labored breaths, but you’re almost in shock at how quickly you’re about to get there.

“I know,” he says, his voice deep and raspy. “I can feel it.” He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he digs his fingers into your hip. His hand on your clit is starting to falter, so you replace his with yours. He grips your shoulder, pushing you back onto him hard and fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He repeats over and over, his voice getting higher with each word before his whimpers take over.

That does it. His pitiful whimpers and moans send you over the edge, and you cry out his name with choked out moans as you bury your face in the sheets, gripping them until your knuckles turn white. He falls down on top of you, breathing heavily on your back, drops of sweat dripping from his brow onto your shoulder. You don’t know how long you two stayed that way, slowly steading your breathing together, unable to move as he softens inside of you. After a while he pulls out of you gently, walking to the bathroom. He comes back out a moment later with a wet washcloth, offering it to you before stepping away again. You clean yourself up, shocked at how much of a mess there is even with him wearing a condom. Standing up, you head over to the balcony to gather your clothes before heading out.

“Are you leaving?” he asks, walking up to you and handing you a glass of water.

“Oh, well…I just thought-” you start.

“Stay. Please?” You get lost in his eyes for a moment, so enamored with him your heart aches as he grazes his knuckles along your cheek.

“Okay, yeah. I’d love to stay,” you smile sweetly.

You both lay back down in bed, the door to the balcony still open and the moonlight shining in after Danny turns the lamp off. You turn onto your side and he spoons you, reaching around to hold your hands against your chest.

“Thank you, Danny,” you whisper, feeling a little silly, but vulnerable at the moment. He thanked you, right?

“Oh, sweet girl. Trust me, the pleasure was all mine.”

He kisses your ear and within seconds the waves and rocking of the ship lull you off to sleep.

I hope you guys liked it! Chapter 4 may take a bit longer, but I'm so eager to continue with this story!

@dazeebean @spark-my-nature @smoking-jakelane @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @geekgirlinthegreen

#danny gvf #danny wagner #greta van fleet #danny wagner fic #danny wagner gvf #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic #daniel wagner #daniel wagner gvf #Spotify

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imtotallynormalmhmyes · 10 months

Text

Simon in a Speedo??

Ghost x Transmale!reader

Chapter 1:

The beach. Awesome. Sand everywhere, lobster-red skin, and stares. It's always the stares, but who couldn't stare when you have two jagged scars framing the bottom of your pecs. Every time your shirt comes off, you seem to become a spectacle to grandmothers and toddlers alike.

Your older brother, Johnny, had lured you in with promises of margaritas and shirtless men, but as he rolls into the driveway of his captain's beach house, you begin to feel nerves fluttering in your stomach. You're meeting Johnny's team. Big, tough, military men and totally not intimidating at all. Especially when you feel like you're hiding a secret under your shirt.

Deep breaths. You're determined not to let what others think dictate your life.... or at least your beach trip.

Johnny interrupts your train of thought when he thumps your chest with his hand, "Just gonna sit here?"

"I might," you deadpan.

"Get your arse out of the car."

You huff and open the passenger door, and your nose is met with the mingling of the salty Yorkshire air and a distant barbecue down the road. Each step towards the house made that nervous fluttering grow, and it reached its peak when Johnny swung the door open and presented you to his team. Your eyes take in the imposing group, first seeing the older, warm-faced man who introduces himself as "Price." You then shake hands with a dreamy, brown-skinned man nicknamed "Gaz" and almost melt into a puddle at the touch. Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

"And, this is ol' Ghost," Johnny redirects your attention, having to hold back laughter at how you so easily swoon. As you turn, you're met with the tall, stoic figure of Simon "Ghost" Riley. Johnny had talked about him before, how skilled he was, how cold he could be, and how much liquor he could handle, but none of that could prepare you for this. His impressive physique was intimidating enough, but the way he seemed to pick you apart with just a glance made your stomach lurch. The man observed you in a way that made you feel like an exhibit rather than a new acquaintance. His appraisal is abruptly ended with a curt nod. A nod of approval? Hopefully.

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

After a few hours of lounging around the beach house, Johnny knocks on your door, pulling you out of the light nap you were taking, "We're goin' arsehole, get up." He leaves before you can give him a snarky reply, leaving you to ponder what you would wear. Summer clothing was never your thing because of the dysphoria that made any slightly revealing tee shirt feel like a torture device.

Staring down at your open suitcase, you cringe at your clothing choices. Floral button-up shirts? Pink board shorts? Polka-dotted pajamas? Truthfully, you loved those clothes, but the prospect of dressing like a toddler on his first vacation in front of fucking soldiers? Not the best idea. However, you have to make a choice, so you don a blue Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts: the least obtrusive pairing you could come up with.

Everyone meets outside before piling into the rental car. The fit was tight, and you find yourself squeezed between Ghost and the absolute dream boat, Gaz. And here comes the butterflies. Everything from the way his shirt contours his massive biceps, his amber skin that glows in the sunlight, his-

"Oi, Y/N, stop ogling," once again, Johnny snaps you out of your daze, "You're cool with the local pub, right?"

"I- um, yeah, sure. Yeah," you sigh before cursing at the burning heat in your cheeks as the fire is fueled by the chuckles of the other men. The little shit just had to say "ogling" didn't he? You soon realize that the embarrassment wasn't the only thing prickling your skin. You felt it again. That gaze slices you open like a scalpel, and you can't help but feel that he knows precisely what's running through your mind.

#fanfiction #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost fanfiction #trans!male reader #trans reader #ftm reader #there won't be an actual speedo im sorry

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sleepie-birdie · 6 months

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A Lesson In Intimidation

Summary: "Do I make you nervous?" Rating: Gen AO3 Link: [Here]

Read Here~

"Do I make you nervous?"

Neuvillette's eyes narrowed as he regarded the usurper before him. Furina's eyes blazed bright as she knocked the end of her blade against his throat. If he so much as breathed harshly, it would be all too easy to have it dig into the thin skin of his neck. Not even the smattering of scales could protect him from this. His eyes narrowed as he held his tongue. This woman before him, the sovereign knew what she wanted, knew what this battle and clash of wills entailed, yet he could not give it to her, would not. He was the last of his kind, a sovereign, a dragon, and he would not cave.

For why would lies ever be uttered from his mouth?

He gritted his teeth as his fingers, tied behind his back, flexed. The ropes creaked.

"Do." Each word was enunciated.

"I."

"Terrify."

"You."

His chin was forced to tilt upwards. His exhale was shaky as the corner of his lips thinned. Amethyst-colored eyes clashed with mismatched blue ones. His teeth clicked as he watched impatience flit across the other's face. Her lips twitched at his stubbornness. Neuvillette stilled as a shadow fell across him. The light bioluminescent light of the room was lost behind her shoulder. He was unrepentant in his glare as he watched Furina stab her sword into the floor. The hiss that left him was sharp alongside the tug at his chin. He could feel her heartbeat pulse from where her gloved hand met his chin. The dragon frowned this time.

He knew the answer to this question. Knew just why Furina was doing this but he would never betray himself like this. Even if it was for her. Especially because it was for her. He had promised her happiness, promised to give her everything but falsehood. And Neuvillette would always be a man of his word.

"Neuvillette. Answer me." For a moment he was distracted by the sweetness of vanilla, and tide pools, of the heady scent that was her. But there was something more, salty, bitter...the taste of— The grip on the dragon's face strengthened, just enough that his eyes focused once more.

"Neuvillette..."

The dragon ripped his head out of her grasp as he turned his gaze resolutely at the wall on the left.

"No, you are not terrifying at all, Furina."

He winced at the whine that parted her lips and the frustrated wet sniffle that followed. The rope that had been weakly wrapped around his wrist snapped as he surged to his knees. Hands took the quivering one before him as another wet sniffle ripped through the air.

"I- I...why can't I get this role right? How am I going to capture the essence of a villainess?!"

Neuvillette had a distinct feeling that the issue was not her but him. Nothing about Furina was terrifying to him, even though formulaically, she had followed every action to a tee. It was simply an issue with his perspective; there had only been one moment in his two lives when he had truly felt fear. He had died already and knew what would come after...terror to him, felt foreign. The horror of losing her—he slammed the door closed to that line of thought.

"Furina, I have known you far too long to be terrified of you. As—" his thumb ran soothing circles against the back of her hand. "Perhaps finding someone else to practice with would have been a better notion. As I told you earlier, I do not experience emotions as humans typically do." Loathed as he was to let go of the scant time they got to spend together already. And now that he knew exactly how she would enact the scene from her latest play, he was less inclined to have someone else practice with her. Not when...she was so physical. The humanity within him quickly shoved away the draconic line of thinking. His eyes sharpened as Furina exhaled.

"B-but..." He cocked his head to the side as the petite woman's face flushed. Her eyes darted left then right as she shuffled in his grasp.

"Yes?"

Was there another reason for her to ask him to practice with her? With what he knew about her current schedule, he had not expected to see her this evening, much less get roped into a quick session. He knew she had many who were willing to help her. Her current troupe, Clorinde, or Sigwinne were not opposed to helping her practice. Many of the Melusines were also more than eager to help if she asked. He knew this, as he had seen them on multiple occasions. His brows furrowed in the middle.

"Furina, is everything alright?" He pulled her close to him, not caring that they were still in his office as he curled his arms around her. There had already been too much time wasted with propriety and hesitation. His chin rested against her waist as her hands fell to his shoulders.

"Y-yes!" He watched with unconcealed adoration as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of red that matched apples. "Ijustmissedyou."

His eyes glinted in the low light. Oh, how he felt utterly blessed by his enhanced senses at times like this.

"I missed you too," Neuvillette crooned. He watched as he looked at him with wide eyes and a steadily growing embarrassment. "Quite a bit." He truly did. Even a day away from her felt unbearably droll. A part of him was viciously delighted that she seemed to miss him as much as he missed her.

"Really?" Furina's voice quivered, a mix of hope and vulnerability that made Neuvillette's heart clench. "You're not just saying that because I'm upset, right?" He shook his head, his gaze never wavering from hers though another part of himself wanted to purr. It was a testament to how much things have gotten easier between them that she had even deigned it safe to ask. "I would never lie to you, Furina. Not about this, not about anything."

Neuvillette watched as the corners of her eyes softened. He always meant every word to her. "T-then..." he watched as she sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze met his once more. "Tell me why, I'm not scary." Mirth bubbled, a soft huff that she knew was laughter. Of course, she would not let her goals go despite their little moment.

The dragon's shadow fell across his love's as he stood. He watched as her eyes widened and she took a step back to accommodate his stature. He did not let her go too far. "From a personal standpoint, I can never find you terrifying Furina," he started, fingers tracing her palm in a slow circle. "You're simply too kind for that and even if you are acting...well, I can not quite disconnect that." There was a soft chuckle, and the corner of his mouth rose at the feeling of her pulse jumping beneath his touch.

"However..." the whisper was met with eagerness. "If you want a practical demonstration of intimidation, I am confident enough in my abilities in that department." He is the Iudex after all. It was part of his role. No one would respect an Iudex that was soft, now would they?

"Oh? Then please do," she said. He watched as a shudder ran through her. He knew his fangs were a tad sharper as he loomed over her. Furina's heart was racing like a fleeing rabbit under his grip. His hair formed a curtain around them when he drew her close. Her hands pressed against his chest as she instinctively stiffened up at his abruptness. The sovereign bent down towards her, voice low and husky.

"Oh, do I make you nervous?"

#neuvifuri #furina #neuvillette #neuvirina #focallette #furina genshin #genshin neuvillette

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violetsiren90 · 1 year

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Stolen Tides

(A What the Moon Saw Drabble)

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: Drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends; old flames rekindled, angst and fluff

Summary: Time is the great force - it changes everything. The ebb and flow of the tide. The fullness of the moon. It carves mountains, and quiets storms...but it stands powerless in the face of love.

Content Warnings: PG-13, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; nudity, implied sex, cooking and eating food, mention of minor character death, kissing, cuddling, working through feelings, tears are shed (it's them, so, of course, lol)

Author's note: I literally just posted a poll asking which drabble I should write first, and their first meeting won (which I was stoked about), but then this popped into my head and I just wrote it. I wrote it while I was supposed to be submitting a project with a deadline, because, in the words of MYG, I'm bad boi. But...I had to. I gave them their ending because they deserved it. 💕 (If you've never read the one-shot this universe takes place in, I recommend starting there!)

And as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

*Stolen tide: Occurs when weather and wind conditions suppress the ebb of a flood tide and then the next high tide washes in bringing even higher levels.

Your lids raised and dipped and raised again, like linens in a summer breeze, as your eyes came into focus. Soft late-morning light spilled through the window onto the golden-brown planks of the oaken floor. The western-facing window was open, and the thin curtains billowed inward with each puff of salty air cresting over the hill off the distant waves. Your eyes tracked a spider plant swaying from where its macrame harness was secured to a hook in the spackled ceiling. You shifted in the white sheets of the queen-size bed to glance around you. The room was small and minimally furnished, but everything within it seemed significant to its tenant. There was a little bookshelf propping up a guitar, and a roll-top desk bearing an open journal and coffee mug. On the other side was a nightstand with an antique lamp perched beside a book splayed open on its face and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. On the far end was a dresser with pretty little mother-of-pearl knobs topped with two potted succulents and an abstract of an albatross in flight, and the accordion door of a closet cracked open to reveal neatly stored clothes and shoes.

You tossed yourself back against the pillows with a sigh, a smile spreading slowly across your face as images from the previous night developed in the morning light like Polaroid pictures. You reached out to brush a hand over the sheets where he had slept beside you, as naked as you were now. You'd awakened in the middle of the night to find that you'd taken all the covers and to see him, laying there on his stomach - his sweet little ass pale and perfectly bare in the moonlight. You chuckled and bit your lip, slipping out of bed to pull on panties and snatch a flannel from the closet and drape it over your body, pushing up the sleeves to bunch around your elbows. He had always worn his shirts too big, and it dipped down to your mid thighs as your legs carried you toward the scents of garlic and gochujang wafting down the hall.

The kitchen was as simple in its loveliness as the rest of the little house, pale yellow light pouring through the large windows over a vase of poppies on a table flanked by two chairs. And a man who used to be a boy was standing at the other end of the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes in a way that made you question if a single day had passed. Yoongi stood at the little stove in a white tee and grey sweats, his dark hair sticking up every which way and his face puffy from sleep. You had to press a hand to your lips to keep from giggling at his appearance, and when he glanced up you found yourself unable to conceal an amused and extremely endeared grin.

“What?” he asked in sleepy suspicion, his brows up and knitted together as his lips dropped into a pout.

Thirty-two and as cute as he had ever been. You chuckled as you circled around his left, where you turned towards him and slipped your body between his and the stove. Wrapping your arms around his back as he looked down, you regarded him. The same. He looked just the same. His features were a bit more defined, the soft cheeks having sharpened at his cheekbones and jawline, and he was broader and thicker with longer hair that curled at the base of his neck. But his eyes with the dark lashes, his petal pink lips...the way they felt on you...he was the same. You lifted your face to place the gentlest kisses on every feature - the ones that had changed and the ones that hadn't.

He let out a soft hum, his left arm slipping around your waist as he shifted you slightly to the side, prodding at the contents of the pan with the wooden spoon in his right hand.

“The food will burn,” he chided lightly.

But his eyes creased at the corners and his mouth seemed to hover on the verge of a smile. You twisted to glance at the pork belly fried rice before nestling yourself back into him, your head on his chest.

“Smells good,” you murmured into his shirt.

“Mm. It’s just leftovers,” he replied, in the warm, even tone that pierced your heart like a forgotten melody.

You pressed back the tears that threatened to come. The moon had seen enough of those last night.

"You were always good at cooking, like your mom,” you sighed into his tee.

He didn't reply, but he tucked his cheek against your head, his thumb dragging his shirt up and down your back in tiny tender motions. You held him and he held you, and the pork fat sizzled on the stove, and a wind chime tinkled outside the kitchen window, and far off and down the ocean broke against the rocks.

And then he slowly drew you away from his chest so that he could see your face, his eyes meeting yours with the soft wet glimmer of joy and sadness at once, like the soil after a rainfall - that damp warmth from which beautiful things grow - and you buried yourself there, like a seed dropped from the sky by a bird. Dropped on the side of a cliff by the sea.

Between mouthfuls of fried rice and kimchi eggs, you told him about college. About your passion for your chosen career. About meeting a boy who wasn't him, who had asked you to be his wife. About how you had chosen a dress and sent out invitations and then said no. Yoongi nodded quietly, but didn't ask why. Then he told you about how his father had succumbed to pneumonia a few years ago, and his mother had moved back to Korea and remarried. You nodded and asked him why he stayed. He shrugged as he pushed his rice around his plate.

"Want to see something?" he asked with a shy smile, as he dried his hands from washing a final dish.

You nodded, smiling when he took your hand to lead you out of the kitchen door and into the yard at the side of the little house. Ice plant and poppies sprang up among the rocks and sandy dirt, disrupted by a cobbled path leading to a periwinkle blue shed only half as large as the house behind you. Yoongi opened the door.

Inside was warm and the air aglow with little floating specks that caught the light, which you quickly realized, as you glanced around, were flecks of saw dust. It was a workshop. In reverent awe you took in the beautiful pieces crafted from oak, walnut, pine, and redwood. There was a bench, a coffee table, a mirror frame, cutting boards, a spice rack. In and amongst the tools and work surfaces, there were handmade treasures against the walls and stacked on shelves. You took a seat in a sanded-down rocking chair.

"You made all this?" You asked in disbelief.

Yoongi shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats, casting proud but bashful eyes over the room.

"I make them to order. Although, you did find the one thing in here that I started for myself."

You felt warmth fill your chest because you thought he looked a little proud. You swayed in the chair, tucking your legs up under you.

"It's beautiful, Yoongi. All of it. You're incredibly talented."

"You started it, you know," he said with a smile, still not meeting your eyes. You cocked your head to the side in question. "You gave me that whittling kit for my birthday."

He shuffled over to a workbench and took a small object in his hand. He approached you, holding it out, and you took it. You turned the little curved knife over in your hands, brushing your thumb over the faded little heart inscribed in pink paint.

"You wanted me to have something to do with my hands, so I would stop biting my nails," he replied, taking the knife back from you and regarding it with warm eyes as he set it aside.

"You remember that?" You let out a laugh.

"I remember everything," he said.

He said it like an oath...one you had once sworn. He was looking down at you, and suddenly you were on a little ledge under the stars, and he was pulling you into a kiss, and making love to you, and telling you to run and not look back. Yoongi, your Yoongi. You breathed his name, and he reached for your hands, pulling you up and against him as his lips found yours. He kissed you tenderly and fiercely. He kissed you all the way back to his bedroom where he laid you down in the soft white cotton and made up for lost time.

The sun made its way over hill and down into the western waters, and all the while you stayed wrapped in the sanctuary of each others' bodies, only leaving his bed twice - once to shower together and another time to share a bowl of bibim guksu and some tangerines from the tree in the yard. Now the moon's waning crescent peeped through the curtains to see you laying tangled in Yoongi's arms, his forehead pressed to yours, as he asked a question to which he didn't want the answer.

"When are you leaving?" His voice was low and soft and deep, so resonant...but you could hear what it lacked, what he was holding back.

"Why do I have to leave?" You murmured, tracing a place over his chest where your lips had once left a bruise.

The skin had healed long since, but not what laid beneath. Yoongi sighed through his nose, his breath tickling your chin and chest.

"What does this place hold for you?" he asked, his voice strained, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw as his thumb brushed over your chin. "Just pain and sadness. You got out of here, you're free."

A tear slipped over the bridge of your nose and onto the pillow.

"I might have left, but my heart never did," you whispered, your voice shaking as years of never forgetting filled the expanse of your chest. "And it never will," you murmured through a little sob.

You pushed yourself back so that you could see his beautiful watery brown eyes and wet cheeks as you asked him a question to which you already knew the answer.

"Why didn't you leave?" Another tear slipped down his face as he looked at you. "Why, Yoongi? Why didn't you leave? Tell me, Yoongi. Say it. Why didn't you l-"

His mouth was on yours, and he kissed you back into the sheets as your tears mingled. He kissed you and he kissed you and when his lips finally left yours by a centimeter he whispered his answer against them.

The moon had seen him find you, and lose you. Now it saw you tell him you would never leave his side.

Some weeks later it sent you both off in a packed-up car (with a rocking chair strapped to the top), as it faded in the light of the rising sun, to start a new part - the best part - of the story of the boy and the girl on the cliffside...

...The part where they lived together, and in happiness, until the end of their days.

-Fin-

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hwaightme · 2 years

Text

Your fan, San (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

💬 pairing: san x interpreter!reader 💬 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining, drama 💬 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if san was stanning you 💬 wordcount: 4.5k 💬 warnings/tags: language, conflict, two shy dorks, homie sabotage?, misunderstandings, love above all, touring, busy life, reader is a pro linguist, we stan simpteez, unedited oop- 💬 taglist: @acciocriativity, @doom-fics, @layzfeelit @jcngh0-hq @black--awsum @honey-lemon-goose @i-luvsang @jackinmyarea , @izuijin @justhere4kpop 💬 a/n: Hello there <3 here is PART 2 of YOUR FAN SAN!! Hopeless romantic? Check. Chaotic? Check... and the FINALE is coming soon??? ;~; P.S. that uni life do be getting wild so apologies if I'll be haphazardly uploading or if trains of thought are derailed~

'The Beauty of Falling in Love - a collection of short stories, poems and musings'

That was the title of the book you had to translate. And if you were not a (fully) sappy and sentimental mess before, you sure as hell were now. Because each little chapter, be it an anonymous recollection of favourite moments with a loved one, or a vignette dedicated to someone special, was some of the most heartwarming work you have ever read.

Each piece sounded so personal, so real, that you found yourself spending more time than usual on this commission. You had made an agreement with the client that they would be sending chapters out one by one, and prior to receiving one, you would send back a completed translation.

It was an easy enough arrangement, and was not too taxing when it came to your personal time. You could ruin your sleep schedule to your heart's content by watching dramas that you had missed whilst on tour, could make late night trips to the convenience store because you did not want to be caught in the businessperson rush, could catch up with people who you had inadvertently ghosted because of work and inability to find words when you wanted to.

Outside of your preferred mode of relaxation, you kept in touch with some of the members of ATEEZ, thanks to a group chat that San had created and 'simply had to add you' - at least that was how he had advertised it. The group chat consisted of him, you, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang, who to you seemed like a random pick, since you did not interact with neither Yunho nor Yeosang as much.

But over a very short period of time this had changed for the better, and you had grown very comfortable, attached even, to the chaotic quartet. If anything this it was a top up vaccine for being able to keep up with the ATEEZ chaos - otherwise you would be familiarising yourself with it again for tour, as if it was the first day of work.

Little did you know, you were talking with the Operation ring leaders + Yeosang who was in it for the gossip, and to control the fire... in the way he wished. It was more or less a regular conversation, aside from San occasionally panicking and running up to one of the guys for advice.

"Yeo why did you write 'AMOGUS'?"

"Don't question me. This is art- ah see, Y/N sent the prayer hands emoji, she agrees." Yeosang responded, pointing at his phone screen.

"I feel like you guys are six parallel universes ahead of me and I don't like it."

"Make that ten, you boomer."

"This is an ancient meme you are quoting Yeo~" Wooyoung joined in, trying to poke fun at his friend.

"Say that again, the king of social boomers? Are you salty that I did not put hyung after AMOGUS because it's old?"

"What even is this chat-" Mingi, who was observing from his position lying across three dining chairs, threw the question out into the air.

"It is us trying to force San to dm Y/N by pushing them together like two dolls." Wooyoung, slightly irritated, explained.

"Man, you really are done." Mingi responded, chuckling

"I don't know, am I? San is breaking up with me so I am going through all stages of grief."

"Double u tee eff?" San raised an eyebrow and stared at Wooyoung, phone loose in his hands.

"How far along is she?"

"She isn't pregnant dude."

"Ugh you know what I mean."

"Like... a third of the way?"

"Damn you guys are slow as shit. We planned for this to take how long? You even have the confession already written up for the last chapter, this is kind of ridiculous. You know what, hold up."

Wooyoung tackled San, and thanks to the surprise nature of the attack, got the perfect opportunity to grab his friend's phone. After securing 'the bag', Wooyoung strode off to the other side of the room, clicking away, while San attempted to stand up, shouting.

Yunho seemed to have caught onto what the other was about to do, as he launched himself at the shorter man sat on the sofa and splayed himself right over like a blanket.

"No hard feelings bro this is necessary."

As San way trying to battle his way out, but was further restrained by Yeosang who had finally stopped taking photos, Wooyoung giggled deviously and locked the phone again, sauntering back with a devilish grin and handing it to San.

"It is done. You can thank me later."

"What did you do?"

"Something that you should have done like... a year ago."

"DID YOU TEXT HER?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, nothing Woo-style, you grilled me enough times for me to remember her preferences. Plus, I know how to text like you."

"And when did that come in handy?"

"Uh... I have to go water my fish BYEEE~" Wooyoung quickly departed from the living room sprinting back to the dorm, while San remained in shock, swiping at the screen to reveal the message that his friend had sent on his behalf.

Damn. It really was just like him.

The text came to you as a surprise. Though you have had some conversations over private message before, most of them had been in some way work related. Not San messaging you out of the blue to ask how you were and that you should catch up.

With the group chat all but abandoned, you happily launched into texting San. There was never any pressure for a phone call, which you greatly appreciated, and there was no specific guidelines that either of you enforced - without a care you double, triple, quadruple texted, abruptly disappeared only to reappear with a link or a photo... main things was that together, you kept your conversation alive and thriving.

You would have never, not in a million years, imagined yourself getting this close to San, or anyone with a celebrity status for that matter. Simply because you felt like they would need and deserve more than you could offer socially. You were all about human connection and uniting minds, but when it came to your own personal preferences, you would much rather write out your thoughts in astonishing detail and hit send, than say the same things out loud and to somebody in person.

And yet, contrary to your assumptions and what you could only say had been prejudice on your part, San was supportive of you and of your choices, saying he could 'imagine your voice well enough anyways'. He steered clear of pushing you to communicate in a style that was not yours; though you did enjoy hearing his voice, and would be lying if you said he was not a charmer, you could not bring yourself to reciprocate that approach. It was too overwhelming to do during the time that you had allocated for yourself as your regenerative state. And San made your heart melt by showing that he got that, without you having to tear yourself apart and explain.

To him it had been fairly easy to figure out that you were a text over call kind of person, and was something that he had advertised to the Operation Love Language squad. Given your notes app being packed, post it notes sometimes threatening to pour out of your bag, and him spotting you willingly sitting far away from any groups so you could watch something, earphones in, all pointed to that conclusion. And San found that he liked it more than he would have guessed.

Each text was like a memory, and an expression not only of something that they wanted to blurt out, but more often than not of a considered, weighed out opinion, even if it was onomatopoeia or a string of emojis. He would have never been able to get to know you like he did over text, and get so close to you that you were now happily discussing with him your own worries, and passions, and dreams, not just responding to his stream of musings and questions.

It was through one of these extensive texting sessions that you had revealed to San your endeavors as a freelance translator, and gushed about the commission you were working on.

This made San's thumbs freeze midway through typing. Carried away and impatient, he had tried to strike on all fronts, and now that he was in continuous communication with you, he regretted it. Deeply. Except he did not yet know just how risky the decision to parade as someone he was not could be.

After the first time you had mentioned your side work, he had begun to get progressively more quiet. Bit by bit. Until his responses to you turned almost into a conversation with a wall. You were unable to figure out just what had gotten into San, what had changed?

You turned to the work you were meant to translate as a distraction, expecting that the client would have shared the new chapter with you already... but no such thing.

Instead, there was an order cancellation, and a short apology.

What did you do wrong?

What happened?

Was there something that had not been quite right?

You looked over your already completed translations - you were searching for anything to suggest a reason for cancellation. The words appeared blurry, fading into one big mush. It was all terrible... wasn't it?

Who were you kidding you were probably rusty after not working with fiction for so long, and for not focusing hard enough. You had stopped paying attention to the craft. Who even were you? And interpreter, a translator, or a fraud?

You looked at the cancellation email again, knowing full well that it was pointless to try and reach the customer - they might have blocked you for all you knew. This hurt. This really hurt.

You saw that San had responded to your messages, again in a weirdly cheery tone, asking you how you are and what you have been up to? San would understand... right? San would listen to you...?

So you did something that you yourself did not expect, and pressed on the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

He sounded nervous, and almost tearful as you bared all and talked him through what had just happened. You needed him. He was the only one who had understood your language.

When you told him that you were probably over reacting and just humiliating yourself by being 'so deep in sad mode' over a whole lot of nothing, he instantly was there to catch you and call you out. He emphasised the importance of your work, of the beautiful job you had done so far... but then halted, unsure of how to proceed.

This left you confused. He then picked his words in a strangely careful manner, and almost beginning to side with the customer, saying how maybe it was for the better, and that now at least you could relax and find another project...

"San. This is really unlike you. What is up with that personality switch?"

"What do you mean Y/N? It's nothing-"

"I have an ear for speech, San, if there is anyone who could be a bullshit filter, it is me."

Silence.

More silence.

You were about to call out to him again, when you hear a muffled, barely there whisper:

"I'm sorry..."

You were sent reeling. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?

"I... it was me. Y/N. I am sorry. I really did not mean it to turn out that way I-"

"Okay first of all, why?"

"I..."

"Second of all, whilst I am grateful for your support and stuff, it does make me uncomfortable."

"I'm-"

"Thirdly, actually you know what focus on point number one."

When you did not hear an answer, you tried again: "Hello? I am waiting."

"I like you."

"...What?" you were left in shock.

You had suppressed your feelings for San in the deepest caverns of your soul out of the terror that it was bound to be unrequited, but here you were. Listening to that same man who had supported you from the beginning of your career to now (and exposing yet another ridiculous attempt at that), who had read your quirks and style and knew you better than most. Listening to him confess.

"I... how do I say this... it has been a while. A long while. I have been trying to approach you but... I was either too shy for it, or the attempts were just ridiculous. So we- so I came up with this idea, to try and tell you... this book right. The Beauty of Falling in Love. It is... it spoke to me. And I had planned to give it to you piece by piece until I could then reveal myself to you... but then we started talking outside of that and then I panicked and- yeah, I am... I am just so sorry, this is confusing as hell."

"Wait... wait wait... this is... so were you paying me to get me to like you? Was that what you were doing?"

"GOSH! NO! NO, DON'T MISUNDERSTAND!"

"Look. As much as I do like bringing joy to people through my work, this crosses a line. And it's not the fact that you ordered something from me - hell, support the artist right? It's the fact that you decided to be somebody else. You decided to conceal yourself to talk to me. Like you did not trust me. Even though you want me to like you.

I'll be returning the money to you shortly. M-kay? And... talk on stage, I guess."

Before San could respond, you ended the call sharply. No more phone calls. They were cursed, apparently.

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

---

"Maybe... just maybe if you had seen it through and not abandoned ship... your ship could have sailed?"

"Yunho just because it's your idea does not mean is good!" San retorted, having recounted the story to the members, gone into full crisis mode.

"Hello!? You agreed? I am just generating ideas here."

"I think we all blew this out of proportion and did not consider risks... at all." Mingi interjected, massaging his temples.

"You guys, I have an idea-" Wooyoung began, but was quickly cut off by San, who was already half way out of the door.

"You know what? I am done with the ideas. I will just do what I think is right."

---

You were conflicted. In a way, you had gotten what you wanted. A confession from your crush that you had been quietly keeping in the shadows. But at the same time, your anxiety spiked. Were you that unapproachable that San had to have twisted everything to get to you? Was your work more entertaining than you could ever be?

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

If your presence was not explicitly required at the venue, you would not go. Once an event ended, you would leave. If anything, you were acting just like any employee would.

You were trying to bury the conflicting feelings that you were experiencing. To an extent, you felt disrespected. Like you had been mistreated via the means of 'i am using your translation services so you should love me'. And it was one unpleasant thought.

So, you stuck to what you knew and were more or less confident in. Words that were not yours. ideas that were not yours. Feelings that were not yours.

In a matter of an hour after the first small event, however, you could not sulk in your room how you wanted, thanks to a random slip of paper being shoved under your door. You ran across the room and slammed it open in an attempt to catch the culprit, but there was no one in sight.

You gingerly picked up the papers, and read. It was unmistakable. It was the next chapter of the book, with an interesting translation on another sheet of paper, and an additional note.

"I am sorry, and I can only hope that you will read this and let me fight. <3 San"

As much as you were ready to forgive him then and there, you decided that you wanted to see just how far he was going to go.

The next morning - another letter had arrived. The next chapter, a translation, and another note.

During filming for a morning show, San had shot you numerous glances in an attempt to see whether you were even reading what he had been Amazon Priming to your room, but with a cheeky smile dancing on your lips, you let your fun continue.

Another package.

And another.

And another. Until, finally, the last chapter had arrived. At least that was what you thought right up until the evening of the same day. You had assumed that it was going to now be your turn to act, or at least to start talking again, but a loud knock jolted you out of your thoughts.

And another.

And another knock on the door. This man was an unstoppable force.

"I... I translated the last one. Well, tried to."

"But there were only eleven stories-"

"Nope, twelve. Here."

You saw a two pieces of paper appear from under the door, just like before. Except instead of the Korean page being a scan from the book, it was evidently a document that either San... or somebody else, had typed up, and then managed to print.

To be respectful, you attempted to read the Japanese, but soon enough gave up since the kanji somehow managed to look cursive, and instead took the Korean text in your hands.

You took a seat with your back against the door and knees almost flush against your chest, and began to read, your heart rate picking up pace as soon as you saw "Dear Y/N,".

It began as a little story. A re-telling of how both of you had met, and how you had come to own a little space in his heart, eventually leading to him simply giving it to you.

"Did you know that you look so beautiful in those moments when you don't think anyone is watching? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it has been what had drawn me in. How you typed and typed on your phone. If time allowed, I liked to try guessing whether you were going to switch the keyboard at some point or not. How you were and are in your element. And of course, how you are, simply, you."

He recalled the moments that you two had shared. The levels of pride and admiration he felt when he saw you being approached and congratulated by the fans, and when he could take a moment to just enjoy what you did.

San moved to explaining 'the plan' to you, and though you were ready to scold him then and there (especially since there was the door between you that made confrontation easier), you could not help but admit that the general notion (aside from making affection and crushing on someone a monetary exchange - better not put feels on Etsy) was heartwarming.

As it turned out, both of you were shy dorks who could not act on feelings. Admittedly, one of you was a LOUD shy dork and the other a 'language is life but still can't read between the lines' shy dork, but at least you made it here.

San was a nervous wreck, barely stopping himself from either pacing up and down the corridor or going into a meltdown and lying face down on the carpet. He already looked suspicious enough as is, just standing by a random hotel number like a vampire who had been refused entry.

Or perhaps more accurately, like a cat who had been shut out of the house and was now desperately trying to claw its way back in.

But that stress was quickly washed away when your form suddenly appeared before him, peeking out, drowning in an oversized hoodie. The papers were still clenched in your hand as you motioned for San to come in.

You waited until he was right in the middle of the room before closing the door. Part of you was afraid that he was going to nope out at any moment. You needed the reassurance. The confidence that was normally there when you were working. But every fiber of your being was screaming in protest, wanting simply to hide.

You observed him. He looked like he was barely breathing.

"I... really I am... so sorry... again... I know that it was so fooli-"

"私でもあなたのことが好きだ..." (I like you too)

"eXCUSEME?!"

"All this translating and you still can't process?" you joked, but began to pull on the drawstrings of your hoodie in an attempt to make your face disappear.

"ohHH NoONOOO I just want to hear you say it in every language that you know!!!" San exclaimed and in a matter of seconds was inches away, peeking at what was not yet concealed by the fluffy cotton.

As he leaned closer and closer, flustering you (and himself) in the process and took both of your hands in his, in the last leap of bravery you whispered:

"Well that, you'll have to earn, San. And I don't take traditional currency."

"You will never let that go."

"Never ever, Choi San, it's a core memory now."

"Well hey at least it means you are not letting go of me~"

"Oh the way you twist words..."

"Like you twist me around your finger, not to give you an ego trip or anything..."

"It's 'wrap'. The correct word is 'wrap' around a finger."

"Okay you know what how about I translate it to body language?" he puckered his lips, making you giggle.

"As long as I don't need to correct grammatical errors."

"Now now I'd say I'm fluent."

The habit of sliding notes under your door or passing them to you did not stop - it only got stronger and became an 'any location', Mission Impossible note transfer agreement.

It had become something of a game, muddling languages together and writing near-nonsense just to sit there almost crying, trying not to laugh.

Soon enough, the game spread to Wooyoung, who would on occasion intercept the messages and add in his own flair, and soon enough to a curious Yunho and Mingi, who then turned it into impromptu paper plane throwing tournaments.

Really, the only reason why Hongjoong did not intercept was because you managed to at least keep the messages under strict PG rating and had good aim - with a saving swoop you had managed to return one such airmail right into San's lap during a fan sign, leading ATINY to give you an additional "aimbot" title.

It did not matter what the schedule was, you left each other encouraging notes (and without the other knowing, stored them away in your luggage).

"Good luck being the first one to get hair and makeup done..."

"Good luck with the translation deal on the book <3" (after an entire evening of a pouting and pleading San, you had reached out to the editors of the romance book you had translated for him, and now were in very promising negotiations)

You raced ahead, in time with each other, creating your own language.

The extended time ATEEZ had spent in Japan was coming to an end, and in the blink of an eye, it was the final concert. The "closing remarks", the epilogue.

You were prepared to interpret in full, as always. One member down. Another... finally, it was only San left. The other members were looking at him expectantly, while some sent glances in your approximate direction.

You took Hongjoong's tranquility and him nudging San in the shoulder as a sign that no, you will not have to pretend he said something different and double speak it - whatever he was about to do was, apparently, captain certified.

At that moment, San pulled out a note from a pocket that you had no idea even existed. The action seemed to have the same effect on ATINY as they "oooohed" - Yunho fake whispered into the microphone that San was now a part-time magician, so these things were the norm.

You had your microphone at the ready. With bated breath, you waited for San to begin. And that, he did.

In Japanese.

Grammatically correct, coherent and well-delivered Japanese.

Even though some of the phrases were obviously not his style and word selection, leading you to imagine him poring over this text like he was writing the declaration of independence with the boys, it was him. It was his feeling. It was his message.

Your arm fell to your side with a thud, and you were grateful that your microphone had been turned off for the time being. You caught yourself gaping, and had to forcibly compose yourself to reveal only a soft smile, as you took the scene in.

San was not exactly trying to hide that he was paying special attention to a specific part of the arena, with his body turned almost completely in your direction and only a few glances off to the sides and at the note.

"...and I hope that we will always be together, as one, and share this world. sometimes there may be struggle, there may be darkness, but WE," he makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if highlighting the area in front of him, but really it was just to, again, symbolise that certain someone at the forefront of his mind, "will last, and be the light."

The crowd roared, and you could allow yourself to internally combust as you watched ATEEZ wave, bow and bid their farewells.

Some things did not need a translation to be understood, and some things were not up for interpretation.

Like how San sprinted to you as soon as he was out of public sight. How he swept you off your feet both literally and metaphorically.

How Jongho muttered 'get a room', but still smiled at both of you when he passed by.

How, upon your return to South Korea, he had practically made it his mission to dote on you, and any moment he got, show that you were together.

Matching plushies? Check.

Basically exposing you both on Late Night Dive (though there was not really anything to expose because the entire ordeal was almost a live streamed ATEEZ drama)? Check.

Happily chatting away with ATINY about love and about finding it, sending loving stares your way? Check.

This was the love language you shared. No hiding, no scheming. Two native speakers, who found each other in translation.

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bakedbakermom · 1 year

Text

Thigh Highs

Rated X // 2600 words // Read on A03

Summary:

If the walls of their basement office could talk, they would be the darling of the Hoover Building gossip pool.

Notes:

Just another office smut biscuit, my first entry for Kinktober 2023. Prompts: thigh highs, spanking, dom/sub (light). You can consider this a companion piece to Heatwave but you don't need to read one to enjoy the other.

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

The rule about “no sex in the office” had been Scully’s idea.

The fact that she’d pronounced it around Mulder’s tongue in her mouth while he pushed her against the file cabinet, one high-heeled foot propped up on the Rs to spread her open as his cock pounded into her from behind, might have had something to do with the frequency and intensity with which said rule was broken. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, they have been building a superhighway for months—and pulling over frequently to fuck in the metaphorical backseat.

The whole thing would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so goddamn erotic.

She’s teasing him hard today, and that’s not just a metaphor. An oppressive, wet heat has settled over the capitol, thunder rumbling on the horizon with the muggy promise of a storm that never arrives. The air conditioner in the basement has been broken for years, if it ever worked at all; she has plausible deniability for the outfit she’s wearing, if not for the things she’s doing in it. A thin cotton skirt that barely passes the minimum dress code length, tight and clingy and riding up her sweat-dampened thighs whenever she crosses her legs—and she just can’t seem to sit still. A sheer blouse cut low enough to grant him tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage every time she bends over, untucked to reveal an enticing slice of her firm, pale stomach as she reaches up for the high shelves—and she just can’t seem to find the right files today.

She’s caught him staring a dozen times already, lips parted and his glassy eyes at half-mast like he’s only partly seeing her, the rest of him lost in fantasy. Each time she looks at him with a coy innocence, a “who me?” tilt to her brows, her mouth just barely pursed into a pout.

He hasn’t moved from behind the desk for over an hour.

She wants to make a quip about how he really should see a doctor about that, but that would give away the game, would let him know that she knows just how much of an effect she’s having on him and how much she enjoys watching him squirm, how much she’s squirming herself. She loves the moment when he can’t take it anymore, when he crushes her body against his and rips off her clothes, when he moans into her mouth that he has to have her then and there. Bent over the bookcase with her panties around her ankles, straddling him in the chair with her shirt open and her nipple in his mouth, on her knees under the desk as he spurts salty-sweet and whimpering into her mouth—if the walls of their basement office could talk, they would be the darling of the Hoover Building gossip pool.

He’s close to breaking, now, his tongue tucked into the corner of his open mouth, rolling a pencil between his fingers like he’s imagining it’s something else. Something small and pink and firm, judging by the way his eyes follow her tits every time she moves. His tie is undone and looped loosely around his neck, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned over a damp cotton tee, a fine sheen of sweat beading at his hairline and along his upper lip. She can almost taste the salt of it on her tongue, can almost feel the sweet heat of his breath in her mouth, her ear, trailing between her breasts as his fingers trace a line of fire up her thighs until he reaches the slick, wet heat of her throbbing cunt…

The clearing of his throat snaps her back to the basement, muggy and close, and the pulse pounding through her body. She forces her clenched thighs to relax, pulls her hand back from where it has drifted to brush against the sensitive skin of her throat, tries to summon her professional posture despite her burning cheeks and the trickle of sweat teasing its way down her spine. He’s caught her out, now, and his smirk is so smug she wants to leap across the desk and ram her tongue into his mouth just to wipe it off his face.

Instead she stands, smoothing her skirt—slowly, her hands lingering pointedly on the curve of her own ass—and turns to grab a file off the top of the nearest cabinet. She doesn’t know what it is, and she doesn’t care. “I’m going to run upstairs and make some copies,” she tells him, ignoring the husk in her voice and the way her knees are trembling.

Her hand has nearly closed around the doorknob when his growl behind her makes her freeze. “I can smell you, you know.”

She sucks in a breath and closes her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but it comes out low and breathless.

She doesn’t turn to look at him, but she hears him moving: the squeaking wheels as he pushes the chair back, the gentle tap of his feet as he crosses the floor; and then the sound that makes her core clench and her heart race, the sound of her victory—the jingle of his belt as he slips the buckle loose. She feels his heat behind her, and a moment later his weight, trapping her against the door. His erection pushes insistently into her lower back and he moans. “I said, I can smell you. I can smell your tight, wet pussy from across the room.” His breath is humid on her neck, his lips skimming her skin. “I know exactly what you want, Scully.”

“I don't want anything,” she pants, aiming for innocence even as she tilts her head so his mouth can reach her throat. She’s trembling with the need to press back against him, to rub shamelessly on that thick, impressive bulge, but she resists. Barely.

“I’ve been watching you all day.” His words slither hot into her ear, followed by the wet rasp of his tongue, and she can’t hold back a whimper. His hands trace slowly up her outer thighs, nails scratching across the sheer nylon, pushing the hem of her skirt higher and higher; when he sucks her earlobe into his mouth and teases it with his teeth, it is only the weight of his body holding her against the door that keeps her knees from buckling.

“H-have you?” she stammers. She reaches back to run her hands through his hair, but he grabs her wrist with a startling force and puts her hand back on the door; he takes her other wrist and does the same, pinning her in place as he kicks her feet apart like he’s about to frisk her.

“Mmm-hmm, and I have a theory. Be a good girl for me and maybe I’ll share it with you.” He raises his knee, letting her grind against it for a moment, and she whines when he pulls it away. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, Scully?”

She shudders and has to swallow several times before she can speak. She’s only recently confessed to him that she likes things a little dirty, a little rough—or, if she’s being honest with herself, a lot—and he’s taken to the role with an excitement and dedication that borders on fanaticism. A quick study in this as in all things, he’s learned the ways of her body and mind, knows exactly the buttons to push that will leave her breathless and gasping and begging for more. “Yes, Mulder.” She drops her forehead to the door, but the cool wood only makes her skin feel hotter. “Fuck, yes, I’ll be good for you.”

He noses along the nape of her neck, smiling against her skin. “Good answer.”

He releases her wrists, waits a moment to make sure she’s not going to move. Scully holds as still as she can despite her quivering muscles, her pounding heart, the unbearable ache growing between her legs, and he hums his approval. His hands grip her thighs, pulling her back to grind her ass against his erection, and they gasp in unison.

“So, my theory,” he continues when he’s caught his breath again. His fingers resume their slow, teasing climb, trailing up and up, until they brush against soft lace—and then bare skin. He makes that noise he makes whenever he’s proven right, that little happy hum and puff of air through his nose that stirs the fine hairs behind her ear. “My, my, Agent Scully. Thigh highs? Maybe you’re not such a good girl after all.”

“Keep going, G-man,” she pants. “Maybe you just haven’t found my virtues yet.”

“Oh really?” His hands slip under the hem of her skirt, skating higher and higher, finding nothing but more soft, creamy skin. Suddenly he hanks on her skirt hard enough that her heels come off the floor, bunching the fabric around her waist, to take in the delicious sight of her bare ass, the pink hint of her pussy, not a scrap of panties to be found. He grabs a handful of her pale flesh, kneading and squeezing until her eyes roll back in her head. “Fuck, Scully,” he growls into her ear, then sinks his teeth into her shoulder hard enough to bruise.

He soothes the sting with the flat of his tongue, and his hands start to roam. One slides around her front, slipping beneath her shirt and shoving her bra out of the way so he can cup her breast and roll her nipple hard between his fingers. The other travels down, following the ripe curve of her cheek until he meets her slippery sex, finding her not just wet but slick halfway down her thighs. She’s panting so hard that little white spots fleck her vision, and when he parts her damp folds she nearly weeps with relief.

But rather than sink his fingers into her wet heat, he only skims over her entrance; rather than press his thumb against her aching clit, he draws soft circles around it. He works her up slowly, pulling away each time she shifts her hips to get a better angle, teasing and stroking until she is dripping and desperate. “Is this what you wanted, Scully?”

When she doesn’t answer, he removes his hand from her body; she chases it with a whine, only to feel it return with a sharp, stinging slap to her ass. He threads his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck and tugs until she arches back against him, writhing, rutting her bare cunt over the generous bulge in his pants until she leaves a wet spot on the fabric. “I said,” he growls close to her ear, “Is this what you wanted, Scully? Walking around with your pussy naked and wet, just waiting for me to touch you? Taunting me all day until I snap?”

He spanks her again, harder, and her gasp turns into a long, low moan. His hand dips back between her thighs and just barely slips a finger inside, rubbing slow circles around her entrance as she drips and shakes around him. “I want to hear you say it, Scully. I want to hear you say you want me just as much as I want you. I want you to beg for it.” He thrusts his finger deep, then pulls out, winding his arm back for another smack.

“Fuck,” she cries, flinching involuntarily even as his hand drops harmlessly back to her hip. “God, yes. Yes, I want you, Mulder.”

“What do you want?” he purrs, tracing her entrance again, brushing feather-light over her clit. “Tell me, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Her voice is a desperate whine, throaty and high, and she can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. Not when she’s wetter than she’s ever been in her life, not when those hot, skillful hands of his are teasing her breathless and she can’t think past the thundering of her own heart in her ears. “Fuck, Mulder, please fuck me. Please, please, please…”

“See, Scully? I knew you could be a good girl.”

He steps back for a moment, leaving her trembling with her hands braced against the door, her bare ass in the air, her throbbing, swollen slit on full display. She’s waiting for the press of his cock against her entrance, for the sweet slide of him inside her. Instead he drops to his knees, palms coming around the front of her thighs to hold her still, and when his mouth makes contact with her cunt she keens loudly with pleasure. He’s everywhere, hands and tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth over her clit. He licks from front to back, flicks across the tight bud of her asshole and back down to plunge inside her and she would warn him about cross-contamination if she could just remember how to care. But his thumb is on her clit and he’s practically fucking her with his tongue and there’s nothing, nothing better than this.

She wants it to last forever, but he’s taking her too fast and too hard to hold out any longer. “Christ, Mulder, yes,” she gasps, and then a string of blasphemies that melts into a long, high cry of release as she comes and comes and comes.

She’s still shuddering when he rises and slams into her, wet and sloppy and so deep she feels it in her teeth. He grabs her behind one knee, folds it against her body and spreads her impossibly wide, driving his cock into her cervix with each snap of his hips. Clippings and photos knock loose from the wall and flutter to the floor like confetti. She grabs for the door frame, for his hair, for anything she can reach as he pants into her ear, “Yes, so good, so good for me, Scully.” Even with his teeth scraping against her skin, she can barely hear him over the wet slap of his body against hers. She clenches around him, heat coiling again in her belly; he snakes a hand around her front to press his fingers into her clit, rubbing in small, tight circles. “Gonna come for me again, baby? Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”

She squeaks out something that might be an “oh my God,” and the world goes white as she shatters around him. He growls his praise, “good girl” and “you feel so good when you come” tumbling from his lips over and over as he chases her toward oblivion, finally erupting inside her with a groan she feels in her sternum.

His knees give out and he wraps his arms around her so they sink to the floor together. Chests heaving, sweat cooling, their mingled fluids spilling out of her when he softens enough to slip from her body. She leans back against his chest, cheeks flushed and eyes the most luminous blue as they slowly focus on his face. She stretches up and back to kiss him, because she can, because somehow they hadn’t. His mouth is sweet and slack, and she licks the sweat from his upper lip.

“Tease,” he chides her, but he smiles from ear-to-ear.

“You know Mulder, if you think a spanking is going to disincentivize me from wearing this again, you better think again.”

He slips a finger under the stretchy lace band of her stockings, lifting and letting it snap back against her skin as she yelps. “I would never tell a lady what to wear.”

#my writing #my fanfic #msr #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #txf #xf fanfic #kinktober 2023

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