#sorry I’m a sucker for some TENSION

[monichailatte]

all i can think and talk abt is veep it’s my regina george

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[puffleyia]

After Hours || Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott x fem!reader || 2.3k words

Warnings: Unprotected & clothed sex, p-in-v, Theo speaking some Italian (hope the translations are accurate..) yeah, i'm a sucker for that.

Summary: Exams are two weeks time from now. You've made a deliberate effort to steer clear of your boyfriend, Theo. One unfortunate night, he ends up dragging you into an empty classroom and teaches you a lesson worth remembering.

Author's notes: Hellooo, requests are open ! It's a blast writing ab Theo !! I've only gotten back into writing recently after not writing fics for a good while. sorry if i'm slow at churning out fics. I'm busy!

It was roughly two weeks before examinations, and professors have even stopped giving out homework as to focus students’ time on reviewing for their respective subjects. You’ve been studying your ass off in the library day and night, sometimes offering your friends to join in as well. Though, they quickly get bored as they soon offer to do much more interesting things  than studying such as having a go at wizard chess, or exploding snap.

It took a lot of self control not to join them, and it took even more not to just put down your book and see Theo. You had been purposely avoiding him because he would always end up distracting you, one way or another. You always catch him stealing a glance at you, and you would almost squirm at the way he looked at you; severely in discomfort as the tension between you two only continued to rise due to the lack of interaction.

It felt suffocating to say the least, so you even began trying not to even breathe in his direction. Needless to say, the bastard still had his ways. He would sometimes sneak up behind you in the library, as you pore over the shelves, inviting himself in as he grabbed your waist and buried his face in your neck. Another is when he would attempt to ensnare you right after your classes. 

In the end, you always found yourself ending up hiding away in your common room. You would get past him just by the skin of your teeth each time, as he used his cunning words and a dangerous tone that was like poisoned honey.

You thought, or, more like hoped it would be a quiet night tonight, staying up past curfew hours at the library and praying none of the professors nor prefects would catch you. Though perhaps you were too engrossed in Advanced Potion Making to notice the echo of footsteps that slowly grew louder as it drew nearer to you. Your ears simply blanked it out as mere white noise.

It had not even registered yet in your head until you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, as someone sat beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, as you could see him faintly through your peripherals. “You’ve been so distant lately, amore,” he says, his tone unhappy and laced with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite make out underneath it. 

“Sorry, Theo, I-I’m only trying to focus on the exams at the moment. I mean, not in a bad way but, if I spend time with you, I’ll only end up distracted,” you say, trying to clarify yourself to him. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to tell him sooner. He sighs, “I guess I’ll just have to–” he gets cut off as you both stiffen at the sound of someone approaching.

He hastily places a firm hand over your mouth, silencing your protests, and shoves your book, notes, and quill into your arms. Before you could object, he then relocates you two into an empty classroom, hastily and skillfully sneaking around the halls to get there. It looked unkempt, and it seemed as if it were not used regularly either. He finally released you from his grasp as you gasped for air. “Theo! What the he–” you say, as he quickly covers your mouth again. “Shh, you’re gonna get us caught, principessa.” He says in a low voice, in a near-whisper before he lets go again. “Ahem,” you clear up your throat before you speak, “I-I believe I should get going, Theo.” He furrows his brows at that, frowning slightly. You head towards the classroom’s door, before he grabs you by the waist from behind and pulls you in.

“Who said you were leaving, hm? Are you trying to avoid me again?” He says, as he moved the both of you to sit on one of the chairs. You remain in his arms, unable to get out despite your attempts to wiggle out and you end up on his lap. “Theo.” You say firmly, trying to assert yourself to let him know you really are serious about studying. “Mm, fine, since you’re so stubborn. Tell you what, how about I study with you?” He says suggestively, his voice making you feel things you were not supposed to. Not right now at least.

“Really?” You say skeptically, raising an eyebrow. You place your stuff down, with a dull thud as it is placed on the table. Sounding slightly annoyed, he says, “What's with the attitude, hm? Are you doubting me?” “F-fine, then,” you hesitantly agree, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants to be. Alone with him.

“Brava ragazza,” he says, as he rests his head on your shoulder whilst flipping open your book. You can not help but faintly squeeze your thighs together, you didn’t know most of the time what he was saying when he spoke to you in Italian, but you found it incredibly hot when he did. Your actions do not go unnoticed by him, though he was not going to do anything yet. You pick up your quill, your eyebrows knitting together as you attempt to focus on taking your notes. 

“Tell you what, I’ll ask you a few questions to help you. If you get it right, I won’t do anything. If you don't…” He says, his voice trailing off as he does not continue what he was going to say, though the timbre in his voice gave enough implication. You gulp and nod, your throat bobbing as you swallow. You knew you did not really have much of a say, Theo’s done a good job of cornering you. Not to mention the fact he knew you were slightly struggling with potions, too.

“Right then, amore, can you tell me how Golpalott’s Third Law influences the effectiveness and stability of potions?” He asked amusedly, his foot tapping the floor rhythmically. “Uhm,” you say, muttering in an attempt to answer, “Uh, well, it’s... um, when you have a potion with, uh, lots of different poisons, right? So, um, the antidote... it's not just, um, the sum of... wait, no, it's more than that! Yeah, um…” You begin feeling your mouth go dry as the tension in the room fills the air. You feel your heart thump loudly against your ribcage.

“It’s when you have multiple poisons mixed together in a potion, the antidote needs to be more potent or comprehensive to counteract their combined effects.” He says, cockily smirking as he corrects you. Your breath hitches as he takes off your robes and his, tossing it aside as he hikes up your skirt and gropes you. “Theo!” You gasp at his actions. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, as he breathed in your scent before he began kissing it.

“Cazzo,” he mumbles before he spat out another question, “What are the common ingredients and methods used to counteract the effects of different poisons?” You feel the tent in his pants growing, his cock pressing against your clothed cunt. “I–” You manage to get out before biting your lip, stifling a moan. You had reviewed this, but lust simply clouded your mind for you to formulate a cohesive answer.

“Um, er.. D-dittany, for uhm, venom,” you say, as Theo continued teasing you, grinding his hips upwards so that you could feel his dick. You moan at the friction on your pussy, feeling your panties get wet. “I..” You slur, unable to say anything further. “Cockdrunk already, cara mia?” He lets out a guttural laugh, bending you over the table and grabbing your hips roughly as he continues grinding his cock on your pussy. 

“Don’t forget, Bezoar, for example–” he grunts, “–is a stone found in the stomach of certain magical creatures like goats. It's known for its ability to neutralise many poisons when ingested. Then there's the Antidote to Common Poisons…” He corrects you, adding more strings of information you probably needed. Though, it was not as if you were paying attention, as you were moving your hips hungrily back onto his dick, only being separated by thin fabric. 

“Merda, might as well just fuck you if you keep getting my questions wrong, principessa.” He says, his voice dangerously low as you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling and the distinct sound of his fly unzipping. You look over your shoulder, watching him intently as he pulls down his dark grey boxers and frees his cock. “Theo, please,” you whine, as he smacks your ass and pushes your panties aside. “I thought you were too busy studying? Maybe I should just leave you to that,” he teases you, tapping his dick on your cunt and rubbing it in between your folds.

“No, please,” you plead, and desperately you pressed yourself onto his cock. “Beg, cara mia,” he husked condescendingly, enjoying humiliating you as he continued teasing your wet pussy. “Please, mmhn–” you moan, “I’m sorry, Theo. I-I need it, please, need your cock,” you whimper, flushed from embarrassment as he finally slipped the tip inside you. He pressed inside, at a gruellingly slow pace. 

“Cazzo, una puttana così sporca, aren’t you huh?” You could not place your finger on a single word he said in Italian, but your pussy definitely could. He groaned loudly as he grew impatient, shoving the rest of his dick into you. His groin pressed flush against your ass. You moaned loudly at that, and with a swift motion, he reached out and clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh, cara mia,” he whispers sultrily in your ear as he quickly silences you, unwilling for the both of you to get caught.

You let out a few muffled sounds against his hand as he began thrusting into you, slowly drawing out his cock as he slammed it back into you with such force that the table beneath you shook. “Such a slut aren’t you? Merda,” He rasped as he uncovers your mouth, “yes!” you say, as he’s eliciting vulgar moans from you each time he fucked his dick back in.

He slithered his hand down onto your pussy, rubbing your clit. He leans in, grunting, as he kisses your nape. He sucks on your neck, trailing down to your back, leaving red marks as he sealed each one afterwards with a kiss. “Ti senti così maledettamente bene, amore,” he groaned, only setting his pace rougher as he hit a particularly deep spot inside you, hitting your cervix. 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you whine, as you tried to remain as quiet as you could. Your hands firmly grip onto the edges of the table, your nails digging into it, as he fucks you into oblivion. Tears brim at your eyes, as close them shut. Some teardrops cling onto your pretty lashes, and some flow down your cheek, falling down, staining the pages of your book. He loved watching you cry in pleasure, observing your expressions as he drove himself into you.

He loomed over you, using a hand to cup your jaw to force your head to look up at his face. “Open your mouth, cara mia.” He said, an authoritative tone that rolled off his tongue like butter. You oblige, parting your lips, your tongue lolling out as you do. He spits in your mouth, the hand holding your chin clamping your jaw shut afterwards . “Swallow.”

You do as he says, swallowing his spit as he lets go of your jaw and your head hangs down soon after. With that, he fucks you rougher, his pace frantic. You become nothing short of a moaning mess, he returns his hand to your clit and strokes it rhythmically in time with his thrusts. You let out small whimpers and whines as you feel hazy and drunk on his cock. 

Theo, in an intoxicated trance, mutters a string of curses and praises in Italian. You cry out his name in ecstasy with every jab at your sweet spot as he ploughs into you. You feel a familiar warmth pooling at your stomach, only feeling more pleasurable by the second. “Theo, m’gonna cum, T-Theo,” you babble almost incoherently. He leans in briefly, and in a gravelly tone, “Cum on my cock, cara mia.” He says, letting his breath trickle down your neck.

Spasming around him, you dissolve into pleasure as you see stars. You selfishly clench around his dick, as if you wanted to milk him dry. Cumming all over his cock, you quite literally bury your face into your book, in an attempt to muffle the loud moan you let out as you do. 

His thrusts grow languid and sloppy, hips stuttering unrhythmically as his climax nears. “Want me to cum inside you, principessa?” He husked, now digging his fingers into your hips as he chased his high. “Yes, yes, mhn–” you chant, unable to think straight. “Theo, please,” you pleaded. 

With one final thrust, he groans loudly and buries himself fully inside you and stuffs your pussy with his cum. You felt his cock pulsing inside you, both of you panting as he rode out his orgasm. “Fuck, atta girl,” he says breathily, praising you as he pulls out of your cunt. He watches as you softly moan as you feel white globs of cum trickle out of your folds, dripping down your thighs.

He hastily tucks his cock back into his pants, pulling your skirt back in place as he walks (more like carries) you back to your common room that night before he headed back to his. Well, it was safe to say you definitely got nothing done that night, though he makes it up to you the following afternoon by actually helping you study with potions.

[lexcys]

★ crimson tension rafe cameron x reader

summary: who knew rafe getting beat up and being vulnerable would end up giving him what he needed most - comfort

warnings: blood, wound description

a/n: ughh this took so long to write but it was worth it cuz I made myself giggle and kick my feet a few times. maybe this is a little cliche but I’m a sucker for these so sorry not sorry

loud music blasted over the speakers, laughter and unfamiliar voices rang around the manor, people spilled out from every room, clutching red plastic cups. the air was thick with the smell of beer and something sweet mixed with a faint undertone of sweat, the wide open doors leading to the cameron garden offered little relief, serving more as a passage to the outdoors than a true escape from the stifling atmosphere of tannyhill

the kitchen was a maze of half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and a few glasses perched on the edge of every counter. it was hard to believe none had shattered, considering the steady flow of people jostling past each other

right as you are about to take yet another shot you hear some barely audible shouting

curiosity overtaking your body faster than your mind and your legs start moving on their own accord, shot getting lost on the counter. making your way through the crowd but merely getting to the hallway as a mass of people block off the way and view to the living room, you hear a loud voice that undoubtedly belongs to rafe

whispers and 'oohs' pass through the crowd, before you notice rafe pushing past people with practiced ease, not bothering to acknowledge anyone as he moves forward. his focus unwavering, his movements deliberate as he makes his way toward you, a destination in mind

you catch a glimpse of the huge gash right above his eybrow - your eyes widen and you move towards him

after seeing his look and eyes you realize why he doesn’t react to you calling out his name - whatever substance he had taken prior was showing on his face, the haze clouding his expression, a disheveled look, glassy eyes with dilated pupils, fluoride stare as well as furrowed brows were noticeable as he brushes right past you

you glance around the room and the absence of attention on rafe doesn’t go unnoticed. you realise whoever had been on the other end of his rage must look worse - a chill runs down your spine imagining the ugly sight

being sarahs friends, tannyhill was not a foreign place for you so you knew where he was headed as he moved up the stairs

you hesitate but decide to follow him, once you’ve reached his room you rethink whether or not to knock, uncertainty creeping in but the worry gnaws at you too strongly - after calling out to him and getting no answer you enter the dimly lit room

the music dampens as you close his door. you pay no attention to his room, a already familiar space, your eyes immediately noticing him right ahead

the weight of the silence between you both grows heavier as you step closer, torn between reaching out and giving him space

he’s standing on his balcony, slumped onto the railing all though theres so much tension present in his shoulders that you can see it from a few meters away. his eyes are fixed on the ocean, the smoke lingering in the air making it evident that there was a cigarette resting between his fingers

he merely spares you a glance when you say his name again, turning around without muttering a single word

carefully you make your way toward him, situating yourself onto his right in complete silence, taking in the scene before you - the music has gotten louder and you look down at the people dancing below you, they payed absolutely no mind to rafe above them and in comparison to the loud laughs and voices the ocean before you was calm - the steady motion of the water, the endless horizon, seeming to soothe him

analysing his face you conclude that whatever fight had just occured - it was a heavy one - rafe had a busted lip, bruised knuckles, a bruise was already forming on his nose and the eybrow gash that was bleeding rather harshly. your face twists imagining how much his head must be throbbing

right now was not the time - but you also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he has never looked hotter

the moonlight hit his face just right, highlighting his tired eyes, making the blood adorning his face less unsettling, cigarette held between blood covered fingers, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, yet there’s something almost striking about the way his hands look, the way they’re still so perfectly shaped, even in their damaged state - his pain and his beauty so closely intertwined. even in this state, even with blood streaked across his face, there’s something undeniably captivating about him.

quickly pushing those thoughts aside you catch rafe looking at you for a second with a seemingly emotionless look, tension still present in his eybrows

you know he probably wanted to be left alone, his body language said it all. the desire to comfort him tugs at you, wanting to step forward and reach out, to brush your fingers along his jaw, to caress the sharpness of his stern yet tender face

''why are you here?'', he bites in a monotone tone, ripping you out of your thoughts

you clear your throat, ''I just wanted to see if you’re alright... maybe help you,” you say, the words feel awkward, out of place, like you’re intruding

his eyes snap to you, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something sharp, almost like a reflex. then, it morphs into a cold, bitter look of disgust. “I don’t need any help,” he mutters

''rafe you’re bleeding - badly'', you utter throwing a glance toward the gash which, even in bad lightning, was clearly deeper than he realized as it had oozed so much blood that it had almost covered the right side of his face. ''I just-'' you falter before sighing, ''I didn’t know what happened and I was concerned''

you weren’t entirely sure why you were confessing your concern - it wasn’t exactly something that came naturally with rafe cameron. the alcohol in your system seemed to loosen the edge

seemingly bother by you answer, not even sparing you a look he replies, ''I don’t need your pity, run back to sarah or something'' he motions you away with his hand

you bite your lip, clearly fighting a mental battle whether or not to leave him alone. you notice his hands shaking, not sure whether it was from anger pain or something else

slightly tipsy you gather the courage to ask once again, pushing his annoyance aside because you so desperately want to help him, feeling your heart hurt seeing him like this

you try one last time, ''your hands are shaking, you sure you can patch yourslef up? I really just wanna help you rafe. but if you really want me to go say it - then Ill leave'', finishing you realize how pathetic you sounded, internally cringing but hoping it would convince him and make him see that you really did care about him

silence

rafe looks at you quickly noticing your concerned face filled with worry, even though his look was quick you notice that it changed, something changed, but before you can even get close to figuring out what he turns back around and takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up in the cool air, his gaze fixed straight ahead, not meeting yours again

he exhales slowly, the smoke drifting up in a haze, but the tension in the air thickens instead of easing

defeated, you turn away, the weight of the silence too much to bear. you don’t say anything, no last attempt to reach him

suddenly you hear a quiet ''wait'' from rafe, so faint it wouldn’t have been audible if you had taken two more steps

you turn your head around quickly, trying to figure out if he really just said that but when you catch him putting out his cigarette into the ashtray you realise that he did

he turns around as you take a few steps towards him. his face barely visible from his dark room - only illuminated lightly by the moonlight and the soft glow from the party below - holds a stern and tense look, his jaw clenched with tension, vulnerability present in his eyes

rafe still hasn’t said another word but you’re easily able to read his expression and figure out what he wants you to do

relief washing over you you exhale a big breath, ''okay where’s the med kit?''

''bathroom'', is the only thing he says, voice low, eyes still focused on you - unwavering

you turn around and step into the bathroom, the small space a contrast to the size of his bedroom. quickly you begin searching the cabinets, your mind already running through the steps you’d need to take. already thinking about where would be the best place to clean and dress his wound, somewhere where he can sit down, somewhere you can work without too much trouble - before finding the med kit under his sink

a subtle warmth creeps up your neck, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. you turn around noticing him standing in the doorway, leaning against the door - watching you with those empty yet pleading eyes before his gaze flickers over to the mirror - he’s lost in his reflection for a moment, studying himself

rafe stands there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. then, with a quiet click, he closes the door behind him, fully stepping into the bathroom. the music muffles and the air between you tightens. you swallow, heart racing - you try to focus on the medkit in your hands. he moves past you slowly, sitting down on the toilet lid

right now, in the bright light of the bathroom, you’re finally able to see the full extent of his wounds as he holds his head up, avoiding your gaze. examining his wounds you settle on tending to his eyebrow first

you can tell that he’s not ready to talk about the fight or whatever happened. the air is heavy and something in his silence tells you not to push. so, you don’t, you stay quiet. setting the med kit down on the counter searching for the right tools, you feel suffocated by the silence, so awfully aware of every, rigid and nervous, breath you took

ready you turn back to rafe whose gaze is set onto the ground, still lost in thought - you try to clear your throat to catch his attention, to notify him that you’re ready and willing to tend to his wounds

he looks at you with a look, a look so vulnerable and hurt that it pulled at your heart. whatever he was just thinking must’ve hit him hard - the weight of it is there, written across his face, and you feel it in your chest. rafe’s eyes still carry that glassy, fluorid stare, as if he's still not fully aware of everything around him, making you wonder if he even realizes how much he’s letting slip

you figure that however you were to approach this - it would be awkward either way

you looked at him with a nervous look, alcohol-soaked cotton pad in hand - standing right in front of him, you hesitated as your eyes met his. he lifts his head a little farther up for you to get better access to his wounds. rafe is leaning forward, legs spread with his forearms resting on his knees, crossing his hands slightly in front of him infront - still at an awkward length until he fully uncrosses his hands, resting them on his knees. you waited, unsure if you’re allowed to enter the space, looking for a look of approval in his distant eyes. he nods - the faintest movement of his head, barely visible

his eyes carry a look that’s hard to read, an expression that makes you wonder if there’s a storm raging inside his mind or if he’s drifting into an unsettling emptiness

settling in between his knees - still trying to keep some sort of distance, unsure what was or wasn’t crossing the line, you bring the cotton pad up to his face. you gently start cleaning off the, mostly already, dried blood before moving on to his gash. the second it hits his skin again his eyes - which have been avoiding yours from the second he nodded - close, his jaw clenching pain evident although he tried not to show it, putting up some sort of barrier to, even in this vulnerable state, seem unbothered - strong

while cleaning you notice his hands, resting on his knees, and fingers lightly grazing against the fabric of your shorts, the lightest of touches—almost like a subconscious gesture. it’s a small movement, barely noticeable, but the tension it creates fills the space between you

you focus on your task, but it’s harder now, your hand faltering slightly with each light graze of his fingers

the delicate movement of his fingers almost like a distraction from the physical discomfort he’s trying to hide so well. it makes you wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or if he’s just too lost in the moment to notice what he’s doing

after cleaning everything off in the best way you could you apply some zip stitches to at least momentarily close the wound. his breath hitches as you press the last stitch into place, but he doesn’t move or make a sound, the mask of stoic restraint still firmly in place

you couldn’t figure out if rafe was actually aware that he was pulling you closer to himself

by the time you were ready to clean his lip the distance between you was so minimal that you could barely clean it properly. the closeness making every slight movement feel amplified now, the soft brush of his breath, the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker between avoiding yours and briefly meeting your gaze

you gently press the cotton to his lip, your fingers grazing his skin in the process. the way his gaze flicks up to meet yours for a split second makes your heart skip, throwing off your rhythm.

you hesitate for a moment, your heart racing in the silence between you. the closeness is overwhelming, and you know you need to steady yourself, to find a way to regain control. your fingers tremble slightly as you lift your hand, almost instinctively, and you gently place it on the side of his face. the warmth of his skin is a shock, he lets out a soft exhale which you wouldn’t have noticed if you werent holding his face with your hand - but he doesn’t pull away.

you angle his face just enough to get a better view, but the movement feels more like an anchor for yourself, the subtle pressure of your hand on his skin keeps you tethered, even as the air between you thickens with something unsaid

you press the pad to his lip slowly, careful and deliberate, but your fingers linger on his skin longer than necessary, your thumb lightly brushing the edge of his jaw. his breath brushes against you, warm and shallow

it’s hard to focus with the way his gaze lingers on you, the way your hand feels on his face

his lips part quickly as you tend his wound - the area lightly swollen, thankfully not comparable to his eyebrow gash

you finish tending to his face, placing a last small plaster, hurting at the loss of contact. you take a look back and admire your work and him. the quiet stillness between you both feels oddly heavy, but the comfort of knowing he’s patched up - protected for now - settles in

you dread saying the words a loud, not wanting to lose this moment, not wanting to end it - not sure what it even was

''done''

the hands behind you tighten their grip, slowly pulling you even closer, eliminating the space between you. your body freezes for a second - caught off guard. his head reasts on your upper body, sending a wave of warmth through you, and for a moment, you're aware of every breath, every beat of your heart

his breath is steady, slow, but there’s an unmistakable force in the way he holds you, a quiet urgency that makes your mind go blank

his grip, though firm, isn't forceful - more like an unspoken invitation, urging you, pleading you, to stay within the space he's created. he held on with such a purpose - it made it seem like you would evaporate the second he let go

you place one hand gently in his hair, testing the waters, seeing if he'd be comfortable with you running your fingers through it. the other one rests on his back

rafe flinches when you tryto pull him closer, putting pressure on his back

you let the moment linger for a few seconds more before speaking up, breaking the comforting silence which rested between you, ''rafe let me see your back''

he pulls back and looks at you for a second, his look completely unreadable. this time he complied. he stands up with a slow, deliberate motion and turns around. he lifts his shirt as far up as he could, pain clearly holding him back. gently taking hold of the shirt from his hand, you ease the fabric upward, careful to avoid causing him any more pain as you lift it higher

his back is painted with all sorts of colours - some bruises worse than others. you flinch at the sight, although you’re a little relieved to see no cuts

seeing there is nothing you can do you let his shirt fall back down, very carefully smoothing it on his back - hoping to provide some comfort with the soft touch

as you move next to him to rest a hand on his bicep, you ask him with a hushed voice, ''can I get you a new shirt'', meeting his gaze, ''yours is full of blood''

fully aware that the line that was not to be crossed has now become blurred

rafe nodded

you leave his side, moving to his drawer - your fingers fumble slightly as you sift through the clothes, searching for a shirt. you pick out a loose one, one that would not press against his back too much or that would be a struggle to put on

he now sat on his bed, patiently waiting for you, watching you

you turn back to him, seeing his eyes, his expression. a storm of thoughts no longer visible, only exhaustion

''is this one okay?'' you questioned. he nodded before clearing his throat and lowering his gaze, ''can you help me put it on'', clearly exhausted

you pull hisshirt up slowly, carefully and for a moment you’re stunned, staring in silence. the sight that greets you is just as shocking as it is heartbreaking - his chest is as bruised as his back

rafe is clearly avoiding your eyes, looking to his left with a tense jaw

without saying another word you pull the other shirt over his head, standing before him, ''are you gonna go back down?''

he replies with a shake of his head, ''no''

you quietly stars at him for a few seconds more, debating how to continue then letting your legs carry you towards the bathroom to clean up. but just as you turn to leave, you feel his hand snap out, gripping your wrist with a force that sent a jolt through your body. the touch was immediate, urgent, as though he couldn’t let you go. but then, as quickly as it had come, his grip softened, the tension draining away as he loosened his hold

your eyes flicker back to him

“stay”

[spiinvisble]

Please write a fic about Hamzah fucking “you” while you wear his shirt omg I feel like his tags are so dry lately.

Please and thank you ♥️

t shirt | hamzah the fantastic

.7k words

notes/warnings: nsfw! unprotected sex, praising

(first imagine… its kinda short sorry so go nice on me please also the way i struggled with this so hard.. haha hard!)

fridays were your favourite because that was the day you would get to sleep over at hamzah's apartment for the weekend. as soon as you stepped through the door, you noticed hamzah sat with focused eyes on his computer, headphones on, editing his youtube video.

“hi baby i’m gonna shower” you said, kissing his cheek and trying to get his attention away from the screen.

“mhmm” he replied, nodding as he is editing the finishing touches of his video.

you headed to the bathroom, eager to feel the relaxing feeling of cold water on your skin. after, you come out of the bathroom with dampened hair in hamzah's t shirt. the fabric hits an inch below your hip, effectively hiding your panties.

“finally” hamzah muttered to himself as he stretched his arms. he turned around to face you and formed a smirk “you’re wearing my shirt?”.

“yeah i hope you don’t mind” you replied, walking towards him.

“not at all” he said pulling you close “there is just one thing though” he added, putting his hands on your hips.

“what is it?” you asked. you can sense the tension because you knew hamzah was a sucker for you wearing his shirt. you realized this a few weeks ago when you "forgot" your pyjamas at your place and asked for some clothes. you didn’t actually forget; wearing his clothes was way more comfortable anyway. but, the minute you walked out that night with his shirt, ready for bed, you guys didn’t do much sleeping.

“i want these off” he murmured, sliding your panties down. he then stood up from his chair maintaining strong eye contact “you look really good” he whispered leaving cold shivers down your neck. he began giving soft kisses on your neck and the only sound that escaped your lips were quiet moans and “mhmm”. 

hamzah took the hint and gently laid you on his bed. “fuck you know what you do to me?” he said gesturing you to look down. he never had a problem with randomly getting bricked up but whenever he saw you or even had a thought about you, he felt the rush.

he quickly removed his shirt, and you eagerly unbuckled his belt, helping him take off his boxers where his member sprung out. you widen your eyes because no matter how many times you seen it, you will always feel so needy for him.

hamzah grabbed your face and kissed you. he began to climb over you, his kisses getting more passionate and slower. you feel your neediness get stronger and start moving your right hand up and down his member. he stops and looks down at you. 

“fuck why did you stop?” you whispered moving his hands from your hips to your wet slit so he can feel how badly you also wanted this.

“already so wet for me” he groaned putting his finger in. you initiated another kiss and continued stroking him with your right hand while the left was deep in his curls. hamzah sees you getting so flustered and added a second finger. the motion and especially the curling of his fingers felt so heavenly.

you can’t handle this heat and remove his hand to begin rubbing his member on your wet clit.

“fuckkk” he moaned, starting to adjust himself. hamzah grabs your waist and he begins to slowly move back and forth. you took him all in and start wrapping your legs behind him pushing him in deeper. he then lifts your shirt to see your tits, loving the way they bounce because he was the reason for seeing you in this position. 

the sounds of your wetness and the smacking of his thrusts grew louder. his hair began to curl more from the sweat on his forehead, and his biceps flexed as he gripped your waist, trying to get even deeper.

“just like that” you moaned, gripping his back and leaving some scratches from the digging of your nails. he continued his pace and you can feel your insides twisting into knots, feeling a release.

“good girl, i’m so close” he says breathing heavily and giving a few more strokes before he pulls out and aiming for your chest as he hits his high.

he kisses your forehead and quickly grabs a towel to clean up the mess. 

“so what is it with this shirt?” you asked, your breathing still heavy.

“i mean it’s my lucky shirt. i mean whenever you wear it i just guess so lucky” he says forming a smirk and winking at you while he finishes wiping you up.

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi, I was wondering if I could get a Joel x reader pre - outbreak maybe they get in a fight and are giving each other the silent treatment .. I know it’s stupid sorry

Cold Brownies

pairing - pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x female!reader

word count - 6.9k (I got a bit carried away😅)

warnings - a bit of jealousy, fighting, mention of an age gap if you squint, and just a quick mention of smut but nothing explicit, but still very domestic and cute and fluffy ˙ᵕ˙

a/n: aaaaaah, my very first piece about Joel Miller hihi 🤗🫣 and your request was anything BUT stupid!!!! thank you so much for the request! 🤍🤍 I hope you enjoy it ˙ᵕ˙ I loved writing this soooo much, I'm such a sucker for domestic pre-outbreak!Joel😭

series masterlist

2003

“All I’m asking is that you could maybe tone it down a bit, alright?"

You were making your way to the front of the house, Sarah ahead of the two of you with the keys in her hands, ready to open the door, while you were hot on Joel's tracks.

“What- you want me to be rude to them?” He stopped to turn around and glare at you with confusion written across his face. In his right hand, he carried his daughter's bag from the football match you had just come home from, along with the football in his left hold.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!" You threw your hands up in the air in desperation, hoping to bring some sense into his head after noticing this discussion was not going where you had wanted it to go. "No, not rude! I just don’t need to see you all flirty and cute around the single mothers there!”

“They’re not single, Y/N!”

“That makes it even worse!”

With a huff, he turned back around to continue his way into the house. He threw the bag into the corner of the hallway before walking straight ahead past the living room to enter the kitchen. You followed him, closing the front door behind you with a sigh, shaking your head along with it. 

It had been evident to you that he wouldn't react to your complaint amazingly, but it was still something you had wanted to bring up after noticing the hungry looks of the women standing by the field. It hadn't been the first time today, and you knew it wouldn't be the last time. And you were tired of just being the side-chick of Joel Miller that would come along on Sundays to cheer on your daughter's football team during their match. Because that's what you felt like. His side-chick. Not his wife. At least not in the eyes of the other mothers.

The two of you were usually known for having little to no fights. You had always been good at communicating, but this time it just seemed to hit you a little deeper and a lot harder.

Once you had caught up with him, your eyes found Tommy sitting at the dining table, munching on what was left of your lunch. Sarah had stopped to stand by one of the chairs right next to him to start a conversation, but they were quickly interrupted by Joel and you.

While you stood in the dining room, your arms crossed, staring at his moving form, he poured himself a cup of probably already cold coffee. “Do you seriously have such little faith in me whenever you see me talking to another woman?” He squinted at you.

Your hands found their way to your hair, brushing it out of your face hastily as you tried to clear your head. “No, God… please, it’s not you that I don’t trust-“

“But those women?! Why?! They just want to talk!” At this point, Tommy and Sarah shared a quick glance, immediately recognizing they shouldn't be in the room with you anymore. They quickly stood up and rushed out, leaving you two in the heated argument that filled the room with anger and tension, as well as frustration and pleads.

You could feel your throat starting to close up, but you swallowed it down, hoping it would buy you some time before you would have to let loose of your emotions. “Because I used to be one of those women that ‘just wants to talk to you’!" You mocked his comment, "And look at where I am now!”

“You gotta be kidding me. You can’t have that little trust in others. OR in me.” Why he wasn't hearing you was still a mystery to you. He used to be so good at communicating.

“It's not that!" You argued, "I just know exactly what these women think of when they come up to you a-and don’t even acknowledge me standing next to you." The emotions started showing earlier than you would've liked to. You had to sniffle, catching Joel's attention as his head shot towards you. He sighed.

“They realise you’re right there, they talk to you just as much.” The man had lowered his voice, hoping a softer tone would make the situation easier. But it wasn't the volume of the discussion that was the problem.

You scuffed, “Yeah, to ask me how you’re doing and if you’ve gotten even more handsome over the last week.”

In any other situation, Joel would've smirked at your statement. Hell, you probably would've delivered it with a proud smirk, knowing exactly that yes, he would in fact get more good-looking with each week passing. You had been trying to convince him of his looks ever since you could remember, for a good four years that you had been together, but there was still a wall in front of him that wouldn't accept any compliment that easily. And that made you all that madder because it seemed like receiving complimenting words from the mothers back at the football field affected him more than yours ever did.

Joel clearly had enough of the scene you were playing out,

"This is getting ridiculous." He raised his hands in defence. “It’s alright, we can talk about this later," walking past you once again to walk into the living room, not finding his daughter nor his brother there, making him wonder where they had gone to.

“No, we can’t.” You fought back, following him with your eyes, only taking a few steps into the other room.

After throwing himself onto the cushioned sofa, he put the mug on the coffee table in front of him. With his hands now free, he was able to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees he rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Y/N, I really can’t do this right now-“

“You don’t wanna talk about it?" You scoffed, "Fine. Then- Then let’s just not. You’re right. Let’s just pretend this never happened, and I’m overreacting because everything’s fucking fine.” Not wasting another second, you moved your body to the stairs leading to the upper floor.

“Darlin'-“

But you stopped him by shouting down.

“Everything’s fine!”

-

Everything was in fact not fine. And every single person in the Miller household could tell. 

The night before, you were able to avoid your partner most of the time. When Sarah had asked if you'd come to the dining table for dinner, you used work as an excuse to stay in the office corner your husband had built in the garage, sitting at the desk, deep in some documents that you could not concentrate on. Not even for a second.

Before Joel had made his way up to bed, you had already taken a shower and cuddled yourself up into the bed, hiding most of your body under the covers. You weren't asleep when he joined you. But you pretended to be. And it worked. For the entire night, the two of you didn't touch each other, not even with your feet by accident - maybe in your sleep, but how would you have been able to tell.

But still in the morning, while both of you were rushing through the kitchen, getting breakfast, coffee and orange juice ready, while also tugging on your clothing and fixing your hair, moving around the room frantically, you didn't share a word with each other. Not a single one. 

Sarah and Tommy eyed you suspiciously from their spots at the dining table. The uncle was slurping on his coffee while the girl had a piece of bacon in her mouth.

"Damn..." the man whispered, receiving a nod from his niece right next to him. "How long has this been going on for?" The silence was something highly unusual for this household. Joel and you were known to be a quite melodic couple. Filling early mornings with chatter and laughter while you tried to brighten up the older man's face, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of that time of the day. But there you were. Silently moving around each other.

Sarah picked up some eggs with her fork, "Since yesterday. I don't think they've talked through their argument yet," before stuffing her mouth with it.

"You don't say," the man sent her a side-eye, going back to the hot liquid in his mug. "What do you call?" He leaned back.

The girl shrugged, "He did something wrong."

"Well, obviously," Tommy rolled his eyes, "but what?"

"I think it was something about him not realising he's being flirted with and just going along with it because he wants to be nice."

He scoffed, "Idiot..."

"Blind idiot," his niece corrected him, only to get told off by her father.

"Hey," he pointed at her, "Watch your mouth." He didn't have the energy to comment on the other words he had heard coming from them.

Before she was able to say something smart back at him, he continued, "Hurry up eating, I'll be outside in the car." And left the room through the backdoor leading to the garage without another word.

The moment he closed the door, you let out a deep sigh you had held in the entire time the two of you shared a kitchen.

"He'll come back to his senses," the voice of your step-daughter made you walk over to the table, taking a seat in front of your two family members.

The cup of tea in your hands warmed your palm. "I don't know..." you mumbled before bringing the mug up to your lips.

"He's just acting stubborn as fuck," Tommy shook his head.

Sarah gasped, "Don't curse, there are children here." Receiving a subtle chuckle from you.

For a second, you shared a quick moment of silence before you put the mug down, "But am I over-reacting?" You asked them, "Like... am I looking too much into this?" But the shake of their head assured you, making you lean back into the chair with a huff.

"You think I enjoy watching these women gawking over him? It's disgusting. You should be the only one allowed to do that," Sarah explained, tickling a smile out of you.

"Shouldn't you be disgusted by me doing that?"

But she just shrugged, "It's kinda cute," before looking you dead in the eyes, "But don't tell him that."

You chuckled, "I won't. It's not like we're talking to each other these days anyways."

"Look," Tommy had had enough, "Like Sarah said, once Joel gets that stick out of his ass-"

"I never said that."

"Whatever," he jokingly brushed her off, "Once that happens. He'll start apologising. Joel's always been a little oblivious about that stuff. You don’t remember how it was with you?"

"But how?" You wondered, "They're literally undressing him with their eyes!"

"EW, gross!" The young girl exclaimed, making you send her an apologetic smile,

"Sorry..."

"We were taught to be nice and respectful to all kinds of women, Y/N. I don't know what else to tell you," Tommy got up at the sound of his brother's car honking, tapping Sarah on the arm to copy his actions. You watched her disappear back upstairs to grab her backpack while you stood back up to start cleaning the mess that had been left behind from making breakfast.

When you were about to walk past Tommy, his soft grasp on her lower arm stopped you. You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think that Joel would ever leave you for one of those chicks," he told you quietly, but sternly, "He knows you're way out of his league." His first statement made you smile fondly while the second one made you chuckle and slap his chest.

"Tommy!"

"I'm being serious, Y/N," his hand brushed over the back of your head. He took a few steps back, a smirk still plastered on his lips, "But hey, you know, I still have quite a good amount of friends that would DIE to get to know you."

"Stop it!" You looked around for a cloth to throw at him, doing so once you found a wet one right by the sink. He jumped back, letting it hit the floor, continuing his laughing as he walked towards the back door. "Just saying," he raised his hands, "My brother's an old fuck, you might want to relocate."

You could only shake your head in disbelief, "You're unbelievable, you know that?" Earning yourself a mischievous grin from the younger Miller brother.

You had known Tommy for longer than you had known Joel. You met him at a night out, hitting on one of your friends after you realised that that dude used to be the same guy that had given your parents multiple headaches with that friend group of his in their old restaurant. You remembered them tumbling in some late evenings when you helped out after school, or even just wanted to do your homework in a corner. They pretended to not be drunk, when they definitely were, as best as they could. As much as it annoyed you and your family back then, they did bring a lot of other young people in and within only a few months, you had more visitors than ever. The memory made both of you laugh out loud in the bar and your friendship developed from then on. He even tried setting you up with multiple of his so-called other friends 'that would DIE to get to know you'. But he had failed. HARD. Every single time. His friends were… just not it... 

That‘s because you had met his brother, and well... everything fell into place afterwards, leading to you now standing in the kitchen.

"What did you do now?" Sarah wondered, finding the piece of fabric on the floor, glancing at her uncle with her arms crossed.

You shook your head, "Nothing, don't worry about it. He's just trying to be funny."

She rolled her eyes overdramatically, "Ugh... again?" Getting a soft tap on the head from the man in question.

You sent them off with a smile and a goodbye wave, wishing both a good day as they left you alone in the house. All by yourself, along with your thoughts and worries and a good amount of chores to get done.

-

After Sarah had come back from school, you offered her a serving of the lunch you had prepared on your day off, giving yourself one as well. You sat together by the dining table, chatting about your day while listening to her ranting about her school and her teachers - her English teacher in particular. There was just something she didn't like about that guy.

Before you knew it, the evening had arrived as you got done hoovering the living room, letting yourself fall back into the couch with a heavy breath tumbling from your lips.

The argument from the day before had been haunting you the entire day, draining you of every last bit of energy you had left. You went over everything you had said and all the things you'd want to tell Joel once you were back on speaking terms. And yeah... about that too. How long could the two of you go without talking to each other? You never went longer than a day, so you already broke that record. In all honesty, you didn't want to drag it out for much longer. You hated it. As much as you were still annoyed at your husband and the oblivion he was in, the love and care you felt for him were much stronger than that.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the young girl coming down the stairs slowly. You only looked up at the sound of the stairs creaking underneath her feet.

"Mom?" She softly called out for you, staying behind the wall while searching for your eyes in the softly dimmed room. It had already gotten dark outside and the only light in the room came from the small lamp on the side table to your right.

"Hm?"

Sarah looked down at her feet, her fingers drawing circles on the wallpaper, "I-ehm... so..." you patiently waited for her to continue, "You know how we have bake sales every now and then at school?"

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, "Of course... why?"

Then a sheepish smile made its way to her face, "Weeelll..."

"Well?"

"I may or may not have a bake sale tomorrow morning and need something for it," she quickly spilt out, only daring to look up at the end of her statement.

Your hands immediately came up to hide your face, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, "Sarah... please tell me you're kidding."

"No...," she hugged herself shyly, "Sorry..." Coming a few steps closer, she stopped next to you, joining you on the sofa, the sly grin still on her face.

You sighed, looking at her, "You know, you're gonna be the death of me, right?" But she just showed you her teeth with a wide smile.

"Well..." you collected your thoughts, "Your dad has the car... and if I go to the store now, it'll be closed when I arrive. So... let's see if Tommy can go get some stuff because we have absolutely nothing in this house." You leaned over to reach for your phone that was laying on top of the coffee table.

"No!" The girl beat you and got a hold of your phone first, holding it tightly to her chest.

You looked at her in confusion, "What?"

"Eh... I- Why uncle Tommy? Dad should be on his way back from work now. It'll be way more practical if he buys it."

With a sigh and a nod, you gave in, "Well then, go on. Call him." But she shook her head. Her hand reached out to hand you back the device.

"Why not?" You wondered, slightly worried about the way she was acting.

"...I don't want him to be mad at me." You wanted to say something, but she continued, "If you call him, he won't get mad."

"Sarah..." another sigh of yours rang through your ears as you blinked at her. But she defeated you. With those goddamn puppy eyes, she inherited from her father, that neither you nor Joel could say no to - you more than him usually, but you were in a vulnerable place, so giving in came easily.

"Pleeaase, mom." The small word still brought a smile to your face - she knew exactly how to get you. You may not have been there her entire life, but for a good important chunk of it, and she appreciated that very much. It was on your wedding day when she asked you if she could call you 'mom' from now on. And it made you cry right at that exact moment.

You snatched the phone out of her hands and shook your head with a soft smile on your lips. She knew just how cute she was. After all, she was a very smart little girl.

You got up from the sofa and made your way over to the kitchen, already clicking on the number you had gotten so familiar with. Only two rings later, the deep voice of your partner erupted,

"Hey, everything okay?" You almost smiled at the concern in his voice. He knew you rarely ever called but prefered to send quick texts.

You scratched the back of your neck, "Hi, yeah... ehm... where are you?"

"Just got into the truck, why?"

"So... Sarah just remembered that she has a bake sale tomorrow," you explained, already hearing the deep sigh, along with a cruse word, coming from him, "But I can't make it to the store in-"

"What do you wanna bake, darlin'? What do you need?" You didn't ignore the way your body reacted to the nickname. You couldn't just let it pass like that. Even after all the years of being with him, his sweet tongue still made you feel like a little college girl. The heat rose up to your cheeks, painting them beautifully red as you ushered around the kitchen.

"Eh... wait a second," you opened the refrigerator, "We have eggs, we... don't have butter, so butter. We should have some flour and sugar. But we'd definitely need chocolate or-"

"What about a brownie mix?"

You perked up, "You really want to send your daughter to a baking sale with brownies from a pre-made mix?"

"Why not," he probably shrugged, "I can guarantee you, sweetheart, no one cares," the engine of the car roared in the background.

Unknowingly, your eyes drifted over the counter to the corner where a picture of the three of you was placed. Taken by Tommy, it showed you and Joel hugging the sweet girl in the middle while her face was covered in cake frosting. It was your, back then, boyfriend's idea to make her laugh, and boy, did he accomplish that. The echoes of her high-pitched giggles still roamed your brain as you were brought back to the day of her birthday party when she had turned 11 years old. Already then, the older Miller brother knew he was going to ask you to marry him one day. Never ever had either one of you been that happy when with another person.

That's when the memory of his proposal speech came back to you. Joel was a big romantic. Whether he wanted to admit it or not. But his plans of the original proposal were thrown out the window when a massive storm surprised the entire city, forcing you to stay inside the comfort of your own home.

Since Sarah was over at Tommy's place after the older man had begged him to do so, you had the house to yourself and you better bet, you made the best out of it. After multiple rounds in each other's embrace, exchanging passion and lust for each other, you found yourself in your bed, on his lap, still not tired of kissing the hell out of him. You were surprised when he stopped you for a second with,

"I have something to ask you," whispering it against your mouth before he leaned back to stretch his arm to get whatever he was looking for out of the drawer of his nightstand. You eyed him suspiciously, your fingers still intertwined behind his neck. You could feel your heart genuinely stop for a second or two when your gaze got stuck on the small red velvet box.

"Joel..." The topic of marriage had come up before, of course. But only because he wanted to make sure that the two of you were on the same page, and after doing that, he just had to find the right time to find a ring and actually propose.

He lifted a hand to stop you, "Just wait. Just for a minute," interlocking your eyes with his as he breathed out, "I had this whole thing planned," he shook his head, "I wanted it to be much more romantic than this. But God... I-I can't wait anymore."

Once his actual speech started, you couldn't help the tears in your eyes to well up. You had heard him say 'I love you' so many times before, but that love confession of his was something you had never ever received before. You felt safe with him. Loved, like no one else. How could you have said no? You knew he was the one for you. The one whose arms you wanted to fall asleep in for the rest of your life, only to wake up in a completely different position due to his restless sleeping habit. You wanted to forever hear Sarah remind him of his terrible eating habits, joining forces with her by making him drink more orange juice. You didn't even think you could live without Tommy barging into the house at the most inconvenient times, disturbing any romantic moment you'd get with your partner. That was the future you so desperately prayed for. And now you were finally going to get it.

You snapped back into the present.

"Have we really become those parents?" A soft chuckle dared to escape your lips, but Joel stole it.

"It had to happen someday."

-

Forty minutes later, the front door opened, making you look up to the left, only to direct your eyes back on the TV as soon his met yours.

"Hey," he talked quietly, finding Sarah asleep in your lap as he passed you.

"Hi," you greeted him back, the tension suddenly thick in the room. You followed him into the kitchen, careful about putting your daughter's head down gently.

You stopped by the fridge, leaning on it, your gaze travelling along with his moving figure while he put away the groceries he had just bought. Even though you were still not in the mood of talking to him, the words from yesterday still lingering with you, you decided to swallow at least a little bit of your pride.

"Thank you," you cleared your throat softly, "for... getting the stuff." He turned his entire body to look at you, eyes slightly wider than usual, sending you a somewhat subtle surprised facial expression.

"‘Course," he nodded.

"Well then... I'll..." Jesus, when did talking become so hard, "I'll let Sarah know we can start."

Just as you were about to walk back into the living room, the voice of your husband took you back, "No, let her sleep."

You moved towards him, "But she needs them for tomorrow, we-"

"I'll do it. I'll make the brownies," he sighed, finishing putting everything away, and leaving the few ingredients he'd need on the counter.

"Joel, no... that's her responsibility," you ignored his body coming towards you as you tried not to raise your voice, keeping it low since the girl was still asleep. 

He placed his hands on your shoulders, only to turn you with a gentle touch, making you face the living room, attention immediately on the little girl. A few seconds of silence passed.

"Look at her," the man whispered into your ear, too close for the current tension that was still between you, "You really want to wake her up?"

You shrugged out of his grasp, "Don't make me the bad guy now," brushing past him into the kitchen.

Joel huffed out a deep breath, slightly shaking his head, "I'll get her upstairs." He didn't wait for a response from you, knowing he wouldn't get one anyway and walked over to pick his daughter up into his arms, carrying her upstairs into her bedroom.

In the meantime, you decided to get to work, reading the instructions on the brownie-mix packaging. You preheated the oven and made sure the eggs weren't too cold before looking for the fitting bowl, which wasn't where it was supposed to be. A sigh fell from your lips. Joel had a habit of putting stuff into new places and not where you had insisted they should be.

"In the cupboard next to the dishwasher," his deep voice suddenly spoke up from behind you, "I forgot where you usually put it."

With a quiet, almost silent 'thanks' you went to grab it before putting it next to the rest of the stuff. Joel was next to you within the blink of an eye, taking the bowl from your grasp.

"I can-"

"Let me," he softly argued back, bringing the eggs closer to him before starting by opening up the brownie mix and pouring the powder into the bowl.

"Joel-" you wanted to talk back, but his hand on top of yours on the counter stopped you,

"I wanna help," he gazed down at you, while you had to look up to meet his eye. It only lasted for a second, before you moved again, on the look for the next thing you'd need: a brownie baking dish. Thankfully, it was where you remembered you had put it.

The two of you worked separately from each other. You, just as much as Joel, were still very aware of the weight on both of your shoulders. The argument was still undiscussed and it was weighing you down. Both of you. The only interaction you shared was putting the baking tin in front of him to pour the batter in.

After you shoved it into the oven, with a quiet "careful" from your partner as he opened the oven door for you, there was no longer any sound that accompanied the silence between you two. Now it was just true stillness. No clinker, no whisk hitting the bowl, or anything else.

Neither one of you wanted to be in this position as you stood opposite of each other, each leaning back on the counter. You wanted to scream to break the tension. Thankfully, Joel took the lead.

"Darlin'," still that soft tone lacing his voice, "I'm-"

"No, Joel-"

"Please," he looked up at you, hoping to meet your eyes, only for you to find the same ones that had begged for you to call him your husband. The same puppy-eyed look. "May I?" He was so gentle, just how you knew him. You nodded, followed by crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

"I'm sorry." He spoke honestly, standing up straighter, "I'm sorry for what I said and... I'm sorry for being a blind idiot."

Your eyes fell down to your feet, running your toes along the wood as a smile crept its way onto your face at the mention of Sarah's choice of words.

"You're not an idiot," the sudden sound of your voice reaching his ear made him take a deep breath. You looked back up at him. "Maybe blind, but not an idiot."

But he shook his head, "No, I am." He started playing with his hands, "But can you blame me?" The scrunch of your eyebrows in confusion made him continue, "For four years, my eyes have only been on you. All I care about is you. And Sarah, of course," he added quickly, making you grin. He smiled at the sight, daring to take a step closer to you, noticing you warming up at his words, "I could not give less of a fuck about those other women. You're the only one that has been occupying my mind. I promise you that." They were small steps, but soon enough, he stopped right in front of you, keeping one foot between you two, and meeting your glassy eyes with his soft ones. "I haven't had to flirt with anyone in forever. How am I supposed to notice it then, when someone else is doing it to me? Especially, when it's not my wife. I don't care. I might continue being nice because that's just the human thing to do, but God... I..." he took a deep breath, taking that last step to be all that much closer to you. He trapped you in between his arms, resting his palms against the counter on either side of you. His left hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently moving against your skin. "I only have eyes for the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I, the lucky bastard that I am, got to marry her." He caught the tear falling from your eye, leaning forward to kiss the wet stain before it could roll down your cheek. But his action just brought more tears into your eyes as your brain ran through the words you had just heard. You couldn't hold back a sniffle.

"Don't make me cry," you tried to free yourself from his grasp, bringing your hands to your face, trying to hide your weeping face from your husband, but he was having none of that, immediately getting a hold of your hands and pulling them down.

"I'm sorry, Gorgeous," Joel replaced your hands with his, wiping away every falling tear while gazing lovingly at you, catching your eyes never leaving his face.

You sniffled again, "I'm sorry, Joel." Both of his hands held onto your face. "I... I trust you with my life, I really do," you tried to speak through your tears, making the corners of his lips curl up, "B-But those women... at the match-"

"It's okay," he leaned forward once again, peppering your cheeks with gentle kisses over and over again, while a small smile appeared on your face at the feeling of his close touch again. "I get it," he kept on holding onto your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him, "I don't trust other men either. I know you're way too good for me. I'm a blind idiot that doesn't deserve you."

You started giggling as you hit his chest, "Stop, no," sniffling one last time when the tears had stopped falling from your eyes.

"No, I am. I realise that now," he assured you, shaking his head, "Jesus... I had to listen to Sarah calling me that like... a dozen times. And that was just on the way to school. Plus I got a big fat scolding from Tommy. He threatened to hook you up with his friends." Joel followed you with laughter after you erupted in giggles from his story, your forehead falling to his chest while your arms came up around his lower torso as his wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you to him as tightly as he possibly could, breathing in the beautiful scent of your hair.

You decided to enjoy a few moments of comfortable silence, staying engulfed in each other's arms before you leaned back a bit to lift your head, making him look down at you. The same smile on his face as it was present on yours.

"No one could ever replace you," you assured him. In the next moment, not giving your husband any time to react, you stood up on your tippy toes and puckered your lips, indicating for him to lean down, which he did without even thinking for a second. It was a natural reaction.

You only gifted him a quick peck before pulling back again.

"I love you, Joel." Followed by another quick kiss.

"I love you so much more, darlin'," he spoke against your lips, his finger tracing down the side of your face.

You squinted your eyes at him, "Mmmm... I don't think that's possible." Your comment made his eyebrows shoot up, "Oh?" He teased you, "You want me to show you that it is in fact possible?"

The not-so-subtle blush was evident on your cheeks as you pressed your lips together, "You know I'd never say no to getting dicked down."

Joel wanted to grin, SO BADLY. But he kept up his act, just staring down at you in confusion. "Getting dicked down? The hell you talkin' about, woman?" Unknowingly, the two of you started gently swaying side to side as he looked around the room, "I was thinkin' 'bout making you a nice dinner, a bit of cuddlin' maybe-"

You pinched his side, getting his attention back to you. He glanced at you with a wicked smile decorating his face. He leaned down closer to you, stopping just as your lips were about to touch, "But I can work with your idea as well.“

-

You were first down in the kitchen the following morning. Dressed and styled for work, with a pleased look never leaving your face. You felt good again. The invisible weight had clearly been lifted off you as you swiftly moved through the kitchen. The smell of pancakes filled the room when the cute familiar voice of your daughter made you turn around.

"Mornin'."

You smiled as she walked up to you, hugging your side, hiding her still sleepy face in your shoulder, "Good morning, sweetie," you patted her unruly, yet beautiful curly hair. 

She went to grab her beloved orange juice from the fridge before settling down at the dining table just like every other morning. Finally, a normal morning again. A comfortable small talk erupted between the two of you as you asked her about the school day she had ahead of herself.

In the middle of it, you brought a plate of pancakes to her, placing it right under her nose, along with a fork and the maple syrup she enjoyed so much. As soon as your back was turned towards her, eyes on the other pancakes sizzling in the pan, the third and final person in the house came down the stairs. You would be able to recognize those heavy footsteps from a mile away.

Joel greeted his daughter first, kissing the top of her head, "Mornin', baby girl." Before he joined you next to the stove, his arm immediately wrapping around you, to turn you towards him, "And a good mornin' to you too, gorgeous," smashing his lips onto yours. Your hand found its way to his cheek while his stopped at your ass.

"Children are present!" Making you lean back with a chuckle, slapping his hand to move from his position.

He turned around to jokingly glare at the girl, "Look away!" To which she just rolled her eyes.

Joel brought you back into his arms, giving you a few more kisses before getting interrupted another time, making him groan and you giggle.

"Oooooooh, well don't you two look adorable!" The younger Miller brother exclaimed, entering the house with a wide smile plastered on his face. He took his signature seat next to Sarah, stelling a piece of pancake from her, "Mom and dad getting along again?"

She nodded, "Looks like it."

Your husband wanted to get one more kiss from you, but a plate being shoved into his chest stopped him. He looked down before gazing into your eyes again, "Chocolate chip?"

"Blueberry." Your answer made him look at you with scrunched eyebrows. "Vitamin C," you grinned, giving his cheek one last peck before ushering him out of the kitchen.

You watched the three sitting at the table, smiling at the little family in front of you when you remembered something.

"Oh!" You moved back into the kitchen, snatching the Tupperware box from the counter, and bringing it into the dining room with you. "Here, sweetie, don't forget these."

"Ah, thanks, mom," she smiled at you, taking the box and placing it right next to her.

Tommy eyed the box, "What's that?"

"Brownies," you simply answered, taking a seat on the only other free chair, "We baked them for her last night."

"What are you celebrating?" His question was directed at his niece but you answered him.

"Nothing, her school's having a bake sale." Joel nudged your arm, his fork right in front of you, waiting for you to open your mouth, so he could feed you a piece of his pancakes. You knew better than to say no, remembering all the times you had tried to do that and he'd basically won and made you take the food in one way or another.

The younger brother glanced at you in question, "No, she doesn't?"

"Yes, she does, she forgot and told me yesterday."

But he just shook his head again, taking a quick look at his niece, "No, you don't. I know whenever those bake sales are." As soon as he saw the looks on your and Joel's faces, he quickly continued, "All the pretty teachers are outside during them, and I... you know... just happen to be there coincidentally. Buying them all that stuff from those kids."

You closed your eyes in disbelief, shaking your head, "Jesus..."

The older brother shrugged, "Can't say I'm surprised about that."

Tommy moved his attention towards Sarah again, "So what the heck were you talking about?"

All eyes were on the little girl, giggling in her seat as she leaned back in the chair, the curls on her head bouncing along with her laughs. "Yeah... so ehm... maybe that was a bit of a lie," sending you a sheepish smile.

"What?!" You exclaimed, switching between looking at her and your partner to your right.

She immediately raised her hands, "But you two are talking again!"

"What does that have to do-"

"OOOOOH," Tommy shot up from his seat, engulfing his niece in a tight hug, "You smart little girl, oh I love you," kissing the top of your head multiple times. All while Joel and you sat there, at least sharing the confusion between each other.

Your husband put his fork down, "Are we morons? What am I not getting here?"

His brother grinned at him, walking past him to slap the back of his head, "Your amazing daughter tricked the two of you into talking to each other again," he sang and stopped to stand in between the two of you, throwing his arms around you, pulling you in close, "She got all that smartness from me."

"Sarah!" You couldn't believe your ears. That little 13-year-old girl... you knew she was smart... but damn... Where did she learn how to read people that well?

She smiled, standing up to bring her plate into the kitchen, "It worked though!" 

Tommy released you to follow her, finally looking for his mug to get his morning cup of coffee.

The two of you stayed seated, still in disbelief at what you had just found out. You got tricked. Tricked you into putting your guard down and giving into the sweet mouth of your husband. She knows both of you too well.

"That's your kid," you pointed at the girl by the dishwasher while looking at Joel, who grinned at you, his hand now on your thigh.

His other hand wrapped around your finger, pushing it down and pulling you into him. "That's our kid. Our very smart kid," he smiled against your lips, making you do so as well before the soft touch of his mouth against yours sent a tingle through your body once again. You could never get tired of that, that was for sure.

There was the future you had always dreamed of.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

[breadbrobin]

hello, hello!! first of all, i just wanna tell you that your fics got me kickin' my feet and shi. with that said, can i request a luke castellan x gn! reader where reader is a minor god's kid and so they're staying at cabin 11 it was just this fluffy thing where luke and them are just being domestic and all that, like almost acting like parents to the younger kids? i'm such a sucker for domestic fluff it's INSANE

lego blocks

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[gn!child of eos reader]

summary: parental figures are hard to come by at camp half-blood, so you and luke (barely old enough to not need them yourselves) take up the mantle where you can. and, well, it’s the hermes cabin, so it’s a little more chaotic than anyone bargained for.

warnings: like two minor swear words, pure fluff, kissing, reader is called pretty (but reader is still gn)

word count: 1.4k

(hiiii omg thank you for this request it’s so cute and was so fun to write!! and thank you for your compliments ahhh you’re so sweet! AND DOMESTIC FLUFF IS WHERE ITS AT FR i can’t believe i haven’t written any before smhhhh)

——————————————

scarcely a day in the hermes cabin went by without an injury, an issue or an altercation.

just in the last week alone, you’d seen a fist fight, an argument, many stolen belongings, three bad nightmares and six threats of death or violence. it was your job (unofficially) to diffuse the tension. and it was luke’s job (officially) to have your back.

just like every morning, you woke up at dawn. as a child of eos, goddess of the dawn, you were always awake with the sun. the moment dawn struck, you, like the apollo cabin, snapped awake. it was something you’d complained with them about many times, but it eventually became something you found yourself at least trying to enjoy.

you slipped out of bed quietly and padded across the dim cabin to the door, stepping out onto the porch to watch as the sky turned from dark blues to soft pinks.

just as the sun was beginning to peek through the trees, you heard footsteps behind you.

“morning,” luke’s gravelly morning voice reached you as he rested his chin on your shoulder and hugged you from behind. “pretty today.”

“it is,” you sighed contently, leaning back into him.

he yawned. “meant you.”

you smiled and turned in his arms, pressing a kiss just beside his lips. he pouted.

“brush your teeth first, and then i’ll kiss you properly,” you teased.

he just sighed a little, a small gracing his face, before looking away to watch the sunrise.

you had only around ten minutes before you had to wake everyone else in the cabin up, and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to enjoy the peaceful quiet and sweet chirping of birds in the trees for as long as you could.

it would become hectic later, when you had to rouse everyone from their sleep and rush them to the dining pavilion for breakfast. you never enjoyed it, and you often wondered how luke had managed it on his own before you came along. so you soaked up the sun rays peeking through the leaves, watching as the world around you turned from blue to gold in a dazzling array of colours that made you ever grateful for your parentage, and relaxed in the warmth of luke’s embrace. the peace wouldn’t last for long. it never did.

“tom, put the knife down!” you called across the room as you moved a chess piece along the board. a groan came from a few bunks over and the sound of a knife hitting the floor echoed. “and, max, will you please stop trying to fight jennifer? she’s gonna kick your ass again, and i’m not even gonna tell her off or patch you up.”

a disappointed, “fine!” came back in return, followed by jennifer’s teasing.

“jennifer!”

“sorry!” she replied.

your chess opponent, a young girl you were almost sure was a daughter of athena, scowled at your move and studied the board, giving you a chance to look around at the hermes cabin.

it was your scheduled downtime between activities and dinner, and while some of the residents of cabin 11 were out around camp, many were inside playing games or hanging out. so, that was where you were—diffusing the tension every time you had to and pretending to enjoy chess because sandy really wanted to play, and who were you to deny her hobbies?

two hands landed on your shoulders and a kiss pressed to your cheek. you could smell the familiar scent of pine, sword polish and leather—luke.

“hey, babe,” he said softly. “any issues?”

sandy moved a piece on the board. “check.”

“again?” you leaned forward in shock. “okay, uh… yeah, the only issue is how i win this game, actually. oh, and tom’s got that knife back somehow and he won’t stop threatening khalid with it. i’m a little concerned about them. max and jen should be fine now, but maybe check on them? oh, and make sure callie hasn’t stolen any snacks again? last time, she got really sick and—“

“and we stayed up all night making sure she was okay, i remember. i’ll check on presley too. make sure he’s not drawing on the walls again.” luke patted your shoulders gently as he stepped away. “i got it. you focus on winning.”

“i’m trying,” you pouted. realistically, you weren’t too bad at chess. however, you felt like it was only fair to give sandy a chance to show off, since she’d been in the hermes cabin, unclaimed, for a month now. you knew how that felt. before your mother claimed you, you’d been unclaimed for just under two months. in all fairness, you’d always flown under the radar, until your sunshine and smiles reputation breached the walls you’d attempted to build up and you started dating the golden boy of camp half-blood. the second that had happened, just over seven months ago, everything changed. suddenly, you had respect, appreciation, love, family. so maybe you didn’t have your own cabin. and maybe you were stuck in one that was full to the brim of kids. and maybe you had to be somewhat of a parent for many of those kids—those who missed their families, who had never had families, who had never had a place to call their own. but did you mind? not at all. it would have been impossible without luke though. it was like he could read your mind sometimes. he knew, just as well as you did, all of the ins and outs of the kids in your cabin, how to appease the older kids, entertain the younger ones, and make sure the cabin was still standing by the end of the day. you’d never know what you did in a past life to deserve him, but it had to have been something goddamn saintly.

finally, you moved a piece. you knew it would easily put you in checkmate, but you didn’t mind.

sandy’s eyes lit up. she moved her knight into position and looked up at you, grinning widely. “checkmate!”

“no way!” you protested. “how did you even—?”

“i’m good at chess.” she blushed a little.

“uh, yeah, you are.” you extended a hand over the small table to her. “good game.”

“good game.” she shook your hand with a smile and skipped away to gloat to her friends.

luke’s arm slipped around your shoulders as he sat next to you. “you let her win?”

“no, of course not,” you lied with a smile. “and if i did i’d never compromise my dignity by telling you.”

you could see his smile out of the corner of your eye. “sure. my bad.”

you hummed and turned to kiss him, but just before your lips could meet, a resounding “ew!!” echoed through the cabin.

you pulled away to see what was going on. maybe another bug needed dealing with? or someone had thrown up or wet their pants? no. everyone was staring at you and luke. you frowned. “wait, what?”

“you guys were about to kiss,” tom cringed, somehow holding a new knife. “that’s gross.”

luke laughed while you shook your head in amusement.

“it’s not gross!” you protested. “and put that knife down.”

“it is!” one of the slightly older girls exclaimed as tom dropped the knife on his bunk with a groan.

murmurs of agreement followed.

you laughed along with luke as he cupped your cheek in his hand and kissed you, deliberately slow and sweet, much to the chagrin of the campers around you.

you pulled away first, laughing, as someone threw a lego block at you and luke, hitting you in the arm lightly.

“hey!” luke laughed and tossed it back in their general direction. “no one throws lego blocks at my partner.”

before either of you could do anything, lego blocks were flying.

through your laughs and trying to hide behind luke as a shield, you could only feel love for your boyfriend and the kids you both chose to spend your time looking after. despite the fact that they threw legos at you, and despite the fact that you weren’t related to any of them. this was your family. a messed up, too big, far too crowded unit of kids and teenagers, all crammed in one room, connected by two things alone: the fact that you were all thrust into this messed up magical world with no preparation, and love.

and lego blocks, apparently.

[hailsatanacab]

I'm a sucker for Twin Reveals, idk if you know that. So I have to ask about "you're joking, right? gala pranking turned twin reveal"

ngl this is the flavour of the month for me rn, I've really hopped straight back on the demon twins au with a passion! you get 500 words of the intro here because I have no restraint :)

———

Tonight is becoming, as often happens with a gala, a dismal affair.

Bruce has (finally) managed to extract himself from a torturous conversation with Mrs. Johnson, and is allowing himself a quiet breath with a glass of apple juice masquerading as whiskey when someone taps him on his shoulder.

“Mr. Wayne?”

It’s a voice he recognises, despite only meeting the man once. He doesn’t groan—he even resists the urge to throw his glass at him and make a break for it—but it’s a close affair. He’s not Superman, after all, and there’s a limit to his strength.

With a deep breath and the customary ditzy smile of Brucie Wayne plastered on his face, he turns towards Mr. Masters.

Only to immediately freeze.

“Ah, yes, I don’t believe you’ve met.” Mr. Masters turns and presents a young boy to him, gently pushing him forward slightly. His dark hair is ruffled and there’s a thunderous look on his face as he flashes Bruce a glare before stubbornly fixing his gaze back on the floor. “May I introduce to you my son, Daniel Masters?”

This is the fourth gala Vladimir Masters has been to since his reintroduction into high society, only the second one he and Bruce have attended together, and, as Bruce is silently lamenting, there is still so little known about the man. Yet, he doesn’t strike Bruce as someone that would pull a joke like this.

After 20 years locked away in his house suffering from an unnamed illness, his return had been completely unexpected and not entirely welcome, from what Bruce has heard. Too many years spent away shrouded in mystery has people weary about forging new connections, but his recent successes with his business might persuade a few brave—or foolhardy—individuals into making some investments.

Which must be why he’s now back on the gala scene.

Which must be why he’s chosen to become Mayor of a little unknown town in Illinois, as baffling as the choice may be.

Which must be why he’s pulling this stunt. This practical joke. Something to break the ice, to share a laugh with Bruce. To start a conversation.

The only real question is why Damian is going along with it.

“I’m sorry?” Bruce says, chuckling awkwardly.

Poor Damian looks just about ready to pull out a sword and start swinging, so perhaps he’s not as comfortable in going along with it as Bruce first thought. There's a tension in his shoulders, his whole body as taut as a bow string. Did Dick put him up to this? It’s definitely something his eldest would find funny.

“My son, Daniel. Daniel, say hello to Mr. Wayne.” There’s a flash of annoyance in Mr. Masters’ eyes as he gives Damian another nudge to introduce himself.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne.” Damian growls out, eyes still stubbornly lowered, his jaw tensing painfully. His voice sounds different, almost like he’s affecting Mr. Masters’ accent. Just what is he playing at? Bruce is struggling to find the funny side in all this.

Is this a case they’re working on? Not a prank, but rather some investigation that Bruce isn’t privy to? It wouldn’t be the first time his children have kept him out of the loop, but to do it in a gala, and a Wayne gala at that, where they’re sure to be recognised…

No, it has to be a joke. They’re planning to embarrass him, they have to be.

[ssajemilyprentiss]

In the air

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader 

Warnings: Smut, angsty-ish, reader is a bit cold/lacks emotion, Emily is a bit out of character lol (just this once), mentions of death (you know the regular cm stuff), sexual tension (or more like an attempt at it lol), curse words, eating out, vaginal fingering, nipple/breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation, praise. Let me know if i forgot something - Also MINORS DNI

Summary: When you get brought in for questioning at the FBI and they have Emily interrogate you - the tension between you is instant.

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Um hello I guess, I’m back lol. It has been a hot minute since I both wrote and posted on here, and tbh I am a lil scared doing this again. Even tho I love posting and writing I have been so uninspired and unmotivated for so so long for some reason. But I will try to post more, can’t make any promises tho lol. 

The beginning of this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long and I wanted to do something with it so here I am doing it lmao

Also a reminder if it has been forgotten, english is not my first language - and I would deeply appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this, thanks besties <3

This was requested by the lovely Jas @rafetopia​​​ (you requested this such a long time ago so you have probably forgotten it, and i can’t find your ask either, sorry about that lmao) who wrote the following: “so what if you wrote a blurb or one shot with emily (or jj tbh i don’t really care i love them both) and there are some murders and the reader is the suspect and there’s a hot interrogation session (i’m a sucker for it) but the ending is up to you like if she’s innocent or not (only if you want to lol) i didn’t want to make it too specific so you still have freedom 😅”

I decided to go with Emily for this one, hope that’s fine Jas (also hope it's fine i added the smut lmao) thank you for this request and i hope this turns out the way you wanted to <3

☽ My masterlist here

☽ Want to request something from me? Take a look here

You let out a deep sigh, crossing your legs for what felt like the hundredth time. The dark, pale interrogation room at the FBI headquarters was freezing cold and you feel yourself getting goosebumps from the chilly atmosphere. How long had you been sitting here? An hour? Two? Who knew? No one had told you anything yet, and none of the agents who showed up and arrested you had come in. Just as you’re about to uncross your legs the door opens and a grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent steps inside the room, her commanding presence immediately taking over the room. She takes a seat across from you, not saying anything. She stares deadpanned at you but all you can think about her eyes - dark brown, almost black, and you feel how you could get lost staring into them. The next thing you see is her nose, straight and pointy - one of her defining features for sure. Your eyes move on to her lips, they are full with a hint of red - red is definitely her color. You keep staring at her lips, biting your own lower lip as you do. You sit in silence for you don’t know how long, until she breaks the silence by clearing her throat. Your eyes shoot up from her lips into her eyes once again, and you see a sly smile forming on her mouth before she starts talking:

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I’m a profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit” she takes a breath before continuing “do you know why you’re here Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Actually I don’t” you reply, your lips forming a small smirk “but please agent, do enlighten me”

“You are here on suspicion of murder” 

“Murder?” you retort, raising an eyebrow

“Correct, murder” she replies, tossing pictures on the table - but you keep staring into her eyes. 

“Look at the pictures” she demands

You do, and see yourself in all of them - together with different women. You look up at the agent again with a blank expression. 

“Do you recognize the women in the pictures?” she asks

“Well yes I do” you reply

You point to one of them “That’s me right there” 

“‘I mean the other women” she retorts annoyed

“Oh, silly me” you chuckle “well yes I recognize them too”

“Go on” she says

“Well, as you can see I’ve met them all” 

“Doing what?”

“Do you really wanna know that, Agent Prentiss?” 

“Go on” she encourages you “What about her?” she asks, holding up one of the photos

You look at the photo for a while, it’s of you and one of the girls you had met - what was her name? Mia? Sophia?

“She was a pleasure”

“How come all the women you have met turned up dead just a few days after meeting you?” she asks, her tone accusatory 

“Don’t know” you reply, shrugging your shoulders

“This isn’t a game Y/N, people are dead” she says, venom lacing her tone

“Don’t you think I know that?” you scoff “well I didn’t kill them”

“Where were you on these dates and times?” she asks, sliding a piece of paper with them written down towards you

“Well I can tell you that on all these dates I was very busy” 

“With what?” she asks

You bite your lip again before answering “Well I was with my very good friend Izzie”

She sighs “And you were doing?”

You lean back in your chair, keeping your eyes fixed on hers as you do “You know the usual - shopping, drinking coffee, eating”

“Eating what?” she asks

You chuckle lightly “We were eating a lot of things, if you know what I mean” you say as you raise an eyebrow at her. You see how she takes a second, thinking about what you’re saying, but if your answer startles her - she doesn’t give it away. 

“To be fair Y/N” Emily sighs “I’m getting kinda tired of this” 

“Likewise” you reply, crossing your arms

Emily leans across the table, staring into your eyes. Her hands firmly gripping the table, and you imagine them gripping your body instead. You are woken from your fantasy by her hot breath right next to your ear. You feel the hairs on your arms raising and how wetness starts pooling between your legs.

“So why won’t you just tell me the truth, like a good girl” she whispers, nipping lightly at your ear

You take a sharp breath, exhaling shakily and not daring to move a muscle. 

“Tell me Y/N” she whispers again “do you want to be my good girl?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She chuckles lightly and tuts

“None of that now, I want to hear you say it” she whispers

You whimper lightly and swallow, just as you’re about to open your mouth the door opens and you and Emily get away from each other, she sits down in her chair composing herself. You sit back in your chair, feeling out of breath. You lock eyes with a tall grumpy agent who stares deadpanned at you. 

“You’re free to go Ms. Y/L/N” he says

“What?” you ask, shocked

“You’re free to go” he repeats “your alibi checks out”

You get up from the chair and as you’re about to leave the room you stop right by Emily’s ear and whisper:

“That was fun, we should do it again sometime” 

You don’t give her time to reply, swiftly exiting the room. On the way out you feel all the other agents staring at you as you walk past them, but all you can do is smirk - thinking back at the moment you just had with Emily - and how you need to get rid of the wetness between your legs the first thing you do when you get home. 

/

The sun was shining outside the BAU, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, picking it up you see your uber is on its way. You close your eyes and exhale once more, but before you know it someone is behind you and pushes you against the wall of the building, their hand on your throat. You feel your air supply being cut off and open your eyes in panic, and there in front of you is the grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent once more. She releases the pressure against your throat a little, but keeps her hand steady. You gasp for air as she leans towards you. 

“Listen here you little slut” she says “I don’t think you’re as innocent as you make it look, but to be honest right now I don’t give a fuck”

You don’t answer, focusing on your breathing

“But what I’m more interested in right now is to keep our little party going” she says, backing away “If you want to?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, but can tell from the look on her face that she is serious. You chuckle, looking down at your feet with a sly smile - you look up again, meeting her brown eyes and reply:

“I’d never thought you’d ask”

/ 

She pulls you inside her apartment, dragging you towards her bedroom. She pushes you against the wall once again and presses her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth as your hands caress her body, reaching her breasts. 

“Let me take your shirt off” you pant into her mouth

She pulls away and you pull her shirt over her head, and then do the same with yours. You take off her bra while she does the same with yours. She trails her kisses along your neck, and you throw your head back, giving her full access. She stops by your pulse point, sucking hard on it. You close your eyes and moan as she does, your hands finding her breasts. You start rubbing one of her nipples between your fingers, causing her to moan against your neck. She keeps trailing kisses further down on your body and reaches your breasts. She takes one of your nipples in her mouth, circling her tongue against it. 

“Holy fuck” you breathe out “keep doing that”

She chuckles lightly against your nipple before pinching it lightly with her teeth, making you yelp. 

“Lay down on the bed” she says

You obey, laying down on your back

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she asks, smirking

You lick your lips and nod, staring up at her. 

She lowers herself, trailing kisses along your stomach down towards your pussy. You feel your clit pulsing and wetness dripping between your legs. 

“Spread those legs for me” she says, and you obey instantly “let me see that pretty pussy of yours” 

She starts kissing your inner thighs slowly, just brushing over your clit lightly when she switches from one leg to the other. 

“Please” you pant, putting your hands in her hair directing her towards your clit “Please stop teasing and fuck me”

“As you wish princess” she says and start sucking forcefully on your clit, making you moan hard of the instant pleasure she gives you

“Such a good girl” she says against your clit, and you thrust your hips forward, looking for more. She chuckles softly and starts licking up and down your slit, and she easily slips two fingers into you - thrusting them slowly. 

“Harder please” you pant “I’m gonna cum”

She picks up her pace, her thrusts becoming more determined, and your eyes starts fluttering from the overwhelming pleasure that is approaching you

“Cum for me” she husks and circle your clit once more, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure 

“Fuck” you breathe out as she starts lapping up your juices

She kiss you and you taste yourself on her tongue, and then you flip her over - with her underneath you this time

“My turn” you coo and lick your lips, pinning her wrists above her head as you caress one of her nipples with your tongue

"So perfect" you murmur "Perfect tits. Perfect ass. Perfect everything" 

You work your way down her body, kissing her 

“Please” she breathes heavily “I need you”

“Where do you need me?” you ask, kneading her breasts once more 

“Inside” she whimpers “your fingers inside”

You lick a line along her slit, tasting her wetness 

“My my” you chuckle “do I make you this wet?” 

“Yes” she groans “please just fuck me”

You slide two fingers inside of her, thrusting them slowly as you lower yourself towards her clit and take it in your mouth. She moans deeply and arches her back, and you start picking up your pace. 

“Please” she breathes “need more”

You add another finger smoothly, and let her adjust a little before you start thrusting again, and you curl your fingers at her g-spot and start circling your tongue on her clit again - feeling her walls clenching against your fingers

“Yes” she cries out “just like that, I’m cumming” 

You pick up the pace, flicking her clit harder and thrust your finger faster. 

You feel her orgasm taking over, and she cries out from pleasure. You keep thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm. When she has calmed down you slip out your fingers and take them in your mouth, cleaning her juices from them - and you moan once again from her taste. 

The two of you crash down on the bed next to each other, panting heavily. 

“That was good” she whispers

“So fucking good” you reply and she chuckles at you, turning her head towards you

You stare into Emily’s dark brown eyes once again, the first thing you had noticed about her when she walked into that interrogation room what felt like an eternity ago. Whatever lies behind those beautiful brown eyes is one mystery you would spend your entire life solving. 

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

Taglist: @rafetopia / @ssa-sapphic  / @sweetmidnights / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover /  @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad / @rookie-prentiss (this taglist is sooo old, so i'm sorry in advance if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and i'll delete you <3)

[slutforleeminho]

Hiiii just wanted to know if you could make a oneshot of you being the 9th member and having cramps during practice and Bangchan and Lee Know comfort you (sorry I'm a sucker for them they are my bias😩) Thank you so much I love your writing. I just followed you and will be waiting. Though if you don't want to write it, It's completely fine. Oh and sorry for such a long note! 😅 Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language.🫶

this is super short but i hope you like it🫶🏻

“shit!” you dropped to the floor, tripping for the third time tonight. your knees and elbows are bruised from attempting to catch yourself each time. but this time your reflexes didn’t kick in and full on belly flopped against the hard ground. you couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore, curling into the fetal position and sobbing.

all eight boys rushed to circle around you, eyes wide and full of concern. you’ve only cried like this in front of them a handful of times but that was mainly when you were on tour and extremely overwhelmed. never during dance practice.

“i’m okay, i promise.” once the pain subsided a bit you sat up and explained to them that it was just really bad cramps and that the last fall hit you right in the gut.

jisung brought you a bottle of water and some medicine and kissed you on the top of your head before leaving. the rest of the members either gave you a hug (not too tight though) or squeezed your shoulder as to show you that they cared, and then they all left.

well, except for minho and chan.

you looked at them confused as the members filtered out of the room. “i’m okay, you can go back to the dorms. i just need a minute for the medicine to kick in.” you smiled at them.

“i’ll wait with you, can’t have you getting kidnapped walking back in the dark all by yourself.” bangchan said while sitting on the ground behind you, outstretching his legs on either sides of yours. you were about to question him about it until he placed his hands on your shoulders and started kneading your sore muscles. your head fell forward as you felt immediate relief, sighing in contentment.

“yeah, we can’t just leave you here in pain.” minho said, sitting directly in front of you.

“i’m not a baby, min, i can take care of myself.” the exhaustion started to kick in as chan was easing all the tension from your upper back. you started to lean back against him without realizing it and soon you were completely surrounded by his chest and arms, his warmth radiating off of him making you all the more comfortable.

“you don’t seem to be complaining now” chan snickered. you snapped your eyes open and tried to break free from his hold, in which you failed from being to weak, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. “oh, stop being stubborn and rest for a minute.”

you gave in and relaxed into him again, this time sliding down until only your head was in his lap, using his thigh as a pillow. you closed your eyes as a yawn escaped from you, feeling a hand wrapped around your ankle you opened them to see minho maneuvering up onto his knees and taking both your ankles into his hands. “what are you doing, minho?”

“i heard this helps with cramps.” he says as he confidently folds you legs forward and against your abdomen, not too hard but just enough to cause a little bit of tightness in your lower stomach. it hurts. and you’re about to tell him so until he pulls them back towards him, the tightness releases and it felt so relieving. you probably looked ridiculous, the way he was stretching your legs like you were in fact a baby.

“did it help?” his eyes wide like a curious cat.

“yeah, it actually did.” you rolled your eyes and he laughed cause of your annoyance. he continued moving your legs back and forth, putting pressure on your stomach and then pulling back once more. “i appreciate you both staying with me,” you began. “it means the world to me to know i have people who sincerely care about me and care for me. i’ve never had that with anyone, and it’s actually really nice.”

minho sat your legs back on the ground. “we’ll never leave you, y/n, okay? you’re stuck with us until the day we all die, and even then i’m sure i’ll find you in the afterlife to aggravate you some more.” he gave you a wide smile, giving you a full view of his bunny teeth.

“yeah, if we don’t make your life equally miserable and fun, who will?” chan poked your cheek. you giggled and just smiled the widest you have in a long time.

“i wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

“awww you do love us!” minho squealed.

“oh, shut up!” you kicked him in the shoulder blade, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to push him on his back. he still acted as though he’d been shot nonetheless. “you’re so dramatic.”

as all your laughing died down another yawn came from you, which made chris yawn too. “has the medicine kicked in yet?” minho asked sitting back up.

you tested it by pushing yourself up and standing to your feet. “yeah i feel pretty good actually.”

“good.” was all you heard from behind you before chan was lifting you up bridal style.

“what are you doing?!?!” you screamed, wrapping your hand around his neck, scared he might drop you. “chris, i can walk, i’m not helpless.”

“oh, shut up and let’s go home.” minho whined.

you couldn’t argue with that.

i wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or not, so if you want an alternate ending let me know:)

taglist: @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukiswife @seung-mine @sungprotector @soephiphanymain @z4ir3 @minnieslover @kjr-army @extrhotjne

[theodoresgirl]

PLEASE write more cheshire!fem!reader x Killian Jones 🙏🏻

i loved it sm. i’m actually quacking. (i was the one who requested it!!)

Maybe this time, he meets her again and there’s like a strong tension between them and reader is saying strange things and he just wants her to stop so he kisses her!!🤭🤭

and if your comfortable with it, the kiss leads to smut? if not, then fluff is great too!!

Just shut up - Killian Jones x Cheshire Cat!Reader

Killian Jones x Fem!Reader a/n: im sorry it took over a month and that its not good. Im sorry TnT

Part 1

Y/n had found a portal back in Wonderland and got curious, The portal transferred her from Wonderland to Storybrooke. Though not the way she would’ve guessed.

She screams as she falls from the sky, She luckily lands in the lake next to the docks. She shoots up out of the water screeching, She looks around paddling towards the docks. “So cold, so cold” She repeated as she grabbed the edge of the dock and pulled herself up. It was freezing, It was the middle of winter, and It was probably -20 degrees in that water. She groans and stands up ringing out her clothes' excess fabric out. “Water. It had to be water. I hate water.” She mumbles and starts to curse under her breath, shivering. 

“I hope you don’t mean that. It’s better when it's on a boat, and not 5 degrees outside..” Y/n looked up hearing a familiar voice from one of the boats docked. Killian stepped off his boat walking over to her with a towel. “Cats don’t like water, Captain.. Sorry to break the news to you.” She shivered looking at the towel and at Killian. “Such a shame.” He shrugs and unfolds the towel. “Where did you come from then, love?” 

“I feel through the sky.. And landed in a body of water. ” She looked at Killian still shivering. He wrapped the towel around her and rubbed her arms with his hand and hook. “This’ll dry you off some..” She rubs her upper arms trying to get warm. “Okay, come on. Let's get you new clothes and a warm shower.” Killian grabs her by her belt using his hook and walks towards his ship. 

She blinks following along not wanting to be cold anymore. “So Cap, This is where you live?” She asked, grinning trying to think of a pun to make. “Not at the moment. I’ve been staying in a room above a diner, The cold isn’t pleasant to sleep in.” Killian unhooks y/n and steps onto the Jolly Roger to grab a bag, He steps off the ship before placing the arm with his hook behind y/n and gilding her to town. “Is that where we are going then?” “Yeah, It's got warm water, and you’ll be able to get a room for as long as you need it, Granny is a sucker for helping new people.” 

Killian and Y/n walked into town, Y/n was as cold and frozen as an ice cube. They headed up to his room to clean y/n up before going to eat and get a room. Killian opened his door and y/n walked in going straight for the shower. Killian tossed his bag onto a table and went to the dresser. He starts to rummage through the drawers looking for some clothes y/n could wear temporarily til he could get one of the girls to take her shopping. 

Killian took out a black Poets shirt and some sort of comfy pants he’d never worn. He walked over to the couch in the room he’d paid for and laid out the clothes for her. He could hear the shower turn on, He walked over to his bed and laid down to wait for y/n to take a shower. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, He began to let his mind wander through scenarios of what would happen once she got out. His heart started to race as he pictured her in his clothes.

He didn’t hear her turn the water off and walk out of the bathroom. “Are these mine cap?” Y/n spoke, picking up the shirt. Killian sits up looking at Y/n in just a towel. Her hair was stuck to her wet skin, skin shimmering against the light. He nodded, not saying anything, What was he gonna say? You look amazing with your hair sticking to your back. That sounds crazy.

Y/n looks over at Killian, “Stuck in your imagination?” Killian shakes his head snapping back, “Not at all. Yes, those are yours.” Killian gets up and runs his hand through his hair. Y/n slips the shirt on as she drops the towel. “Imagination is the only weapon in the war with reality.” Y/n looks over at Killian who is facing the wall, His heart is racing. “Hmm?-” He turns around to look at y/n. Y/n holds the pants in her hands and grins talking in riddles. Killians' eyes twitch a bit, “Just put the pants on so we can go eat.” He walks past her into the bathroom to splash his face with water. Y/n slips the pants on and ties it so they stay up. Killian walks out of the bathroom, and heads to the door. Y/n followed behind him continuing talking in riddles or rhymes.

Killian takes Y/n to Granny's diner to order food to go. Then grabbing a room key for Y/n. They headed back to Killian's room to eat.

Killian opens the door to his room and Y/n rushes inside and over to the couch. “Giveeee! It smells delicioussss.” Y/n licks her lips looking at the bag that holds the food. Killian shuts the door and walks over to the couch and table, He puts down on the couch setting the bag on the table. Y/n grabs the bag and takes their food out while Killian takes his boots off. 

Y/n started to eat, Finally keeping her mouth shut. Killian grabs his food and leans back to eat. It was quiet while they ate. Killian ordered a burger with ketchup, Pickles, lettuce, and cheese. Y/n ordered chicken strips with fries and ranch.

Killian finishes his burger and gets up walks to the window and opens it a bit. “A little hot there captain?” She smirks. He looks over at her, Not saying anything, he knows he can’t lie to her, and He can’t admit she was right. “Captain?” She raised an eyebrow still smirking. “Captainnn~” She kept taunting him by repeating his name. 

“Something isn't working up there love'' Killian rubbed his temples, Y/n climbed over the couch and walked closer to him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m not all there, Captain~” She tapped her head loving how irritated he seemed. Killian glared at her before filling the leftover space between them and kissing her. She hesitates for a second before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing back. He puts his hand on her waist and his hook brushes the skin on her collarbone, The cold metal meeting her warm skin. She shivered at the touch.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back licking his lips. Grining, She pulls back “So i’m guessing you were in your imagination earlier.” Killian kisses her again before answering her with a nod. “You have no idea love.” “Why not show me.” She kisses him, deeper this time. 

She moves her hands to his chest and pushes him towards the bed. He backs up towards the bed and sits down still kissing y/n. Her arms return to hanging around his neck. She stands between his legs pressing against him. He pulls down the oversized pants she had on, She steps out of the pants and kicks them away. She unbuttons his jeans and belt, He stands up picking her up and putting her on the bed before pulling his jeans and boxers down.

He breaks the kiss and starts kissing her neck, as she moves her hands to the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off him. “Want me to stop-” before he could finish his sentence she cut him off. “Killian just shut up.”

Killian strokes himself before lining  himself up with her entrance, “You're the one who rhymes.” She rolled her eyes opening her mouth to say something but let out a gasp as he pushed in. He kisses her deeply, holding still for a minute while she adjusts. 

He starts to thrust continuing to kiss her, Both running short of air. They break the kiss both catching their breaths. He holds his hand on her waist and plays with her hair using his hook. She smirks, blushing, Her heart was racing. He continues thrusting, She places her hands on his shoulders gripping tightly. 

She moans, leaning her head back arching her back. He puts his hook on her waist. "Love, you are absolutely breathtaking." Killian complimented her. She grins before moaning. She raised an arm to grab her hair and hold it above her head. Killian and her continued for awhile until they both hit climax. 

“K-Killian” She gasps arching her back cumming, 

         Killian moans, He keeps thrusting before pulling out and releasing on her lower stomach. He plops down next to her, Both of them were panting heavily. “I like it when you say my name.” He smiles.

[writingduhh]

i literally got my wisdom teeth removed a few hours ago and i am in PAIN

pls pls can we have some comfort ted to schlatt?

love you sm stay safe 💓💓💓💓

Ahhhh I love this idea! I’m so sorry about your wisdom teeth I’ve heard it’s so painful :( please rest up and take care of yourself! Hope this can offer a little distraction 💜

❥ Jschlatt :

▷ Before your surgery, Schlatt does a deep dive into what you’ll need post-op. How to relieve pain, help you heal faster, and everything in-between. He also makes sure to stock up on tons of soft foods, wanting to make sure you have lots of options

▷ On the way to the office he immediately notices your nervousness. He takes it upon himself to lighten the mood the best he can. If all attempts at humor fail he takes a much sweeter approach.

He lays his hand on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. “You’re going to do great, y/n. And I’ll be right here with you.”

▷ After the paperwork has all been signed he tightly hugs you goodbye, gently whispering to you that title be ok. Once you’re taken back he sits down in the waiting room. He insists on staying in the office until you’re done, no matter how long it takes he refuses to leave without you.

▷ As soon as you’re out of surgery schlatt is by your side, making sure you’re comfortable whisky he intensively listens to the nurses aftercare instructions.

▷ Even though you might be a little grumpy or out of it, due to the anesthesia, Schlatt is incredibly patient. If you try to say something but it’s all garbled he listens attentively. He tries his best to decipher your words, occasionally making silly guesses that get you both laughing.

“Can you say that one more time, toots? I couldn’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and tried again, but somehow it came out even more garbled this time.

“Uhh… you want me to turn it up? Like the radio?”

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, struggling to get the words out. He looked a little flustered now.

“You want to… fuck? Darlin’, you just got out of—” Before he could finish, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

You pointed dramatically at the colorful suckers sat in the cup holder that the receptionist had given you on your way out.

“OH! You want a sucker.”

The two of you broke into laughter, tears forming in your eyes from how hard you were laughing.

Once you both finally caught your breath, Schlatt grabbed one of the suckers from the cup holder and handed it to you, making you smile even wider.

Through the gauze in your mouth you managed to say a “thank you.”

“Of course.” He lovingly says, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

“Ya know, if you hadn’t just got out of surgery I wouldn’t have said no.” He subtly smirks, earning a playful slap from you.

“Hey! Hey! I’m just being honest.”

▷ When he notices you’re feeling tense from the soreness, schlatt offers to give you a gentle shoulder or neck massage. He’s surprisingly good at it, and you find yourself relaxing under his touch, the pain melting away a bit as he works out the tension.

▷ When you’re too sore or tired to eat by yourself, Schlatt happily feeds you spoonfuls of soup or pudding, joking about how he’s becoming a pro at this. He makes airplane noises just to see you roll your eyes, but you secretly love the attention.

▷ Knowing that you’ve been through a tough time, Schlatt takes it upon himself to spoil you with little gifts. He surprises you with a cozy new blanket, a scented candle, or that book you’ve been eyeing for a while. Each gift comes with a cheeky comment like, “Just a little something to make you smile, even if you’re still puffy.”

▷ He is super protective of you during your recovery. If anyone asks to visit or call, he gently but firmly lets them know that you’re resting and need your space, all while making sure you know that he’s there for anything you need.

▷ He can’t resist teasing you a little about your puffy cheeks, but it’s all in good fun. He pretends to take “before and after” pictures, making goofy faces in each one to match your swollen expression.

▷ If you wake up in the middle of the night feeling uncomfortable or in pain, he is right there to comfort you. He gets you a fresh ice pack, helps you take your meds, and stays up with you until you’re able to fall back asleep, all while holding your hand and whispering reassurances.

❥ Ted :

▷ On the way to the dentist, Ted can sense if you’re feeling a bit anxious. He gives you a lighthearted pep talk, reminding you that it’s just a quick procedure and that he’ll be there every step of the way.

▷ Once you’re taken back into the surgery room he makes his way to a nearby store. He buys all of your favorite treats, drinks, and foods. Well, at least the ones you can eat

▷ Ted is the first face you see the moment you come out of surgery. He gives you a reassuring smile and plants a small kiss on your forehead. Before the nurses can bring out a wheelchair, Ted has already decided to carry you out to the car himself.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks sweetly, cradling you in his arms as he walks through the parking lot.

“Mm, good,” you mumble, your arms snugly wrapped around his neck.

“Alright, let me just figure out how to open the door here…” he grumbles, trying to find a way to reach the door handle without setting you down.

“Ted, it’s okay. You can set me down—I can open my door,” you say softly.

“Nope. It’s my job to take care of you and keep you safe.”

“Well… I think you might need to put me down to be ‘safe,’” you smirk.

He sighs. “Alright, you might’ve got me there.”

Ever so carefully, he lowers you to the ground, his hand resting gently on your back as he ushers you into the passenger seat. He even manages to buckle your seatbelt for you. Not without giving you a quick kiss

▷ On the ride home, Ted reflects on how proud he is of you for getting through the procedure. He playfully teases about how you handled it like a champ and how he’s going to tell everyone how brave you were. His words are full of admiration, making you feel cherished.

▷ When you get home, Ted carefully helps you out of the car, making sure you don’t trip or stumble. He wraps an arm around you to keep you steady, guiding you inside and straight to the couch or bed, where he’s already prepared a cozy spot for you to rest.

▷ Ted is super thoughtful, having already set up a recovery space with everything you might need. He’s laid out blankets, pillows, and has the remote within arm’s reach. He’s also got your medications and a glass of water ready, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.

▷ Once you’re back home and resting, Ted sits quietly beside you, holding your hand or gently stroking your hair. Even if you’re too tired to talk, he stays with you, offering silent support and comfort just by being close.

▷ As you start to come around, Ted sits beside you, keeping the conversation light and soft. He talks about plans for when you’re feeling better, maybe a fun date or a small trip, to give you something to look forward to while you recover.

▷ At night, he insists on sleeping next to you, even if it means squishing into the bed with all the pillows and blankets you have piled up. He keeps an eye on you, waking up occasionally to make sure you’re still comfortable and not in any pain.

[alien-magnolia]

please could i request a joel miller x female reader smut where they’re playing 21 questions and they’ve always flirted and she asks him awkward/sexual questions like “which way does your cock bend” and “what turns him on” etc etc, and it end with hella smut, lots of daddy usage and maybe squirting i’m a sucker for squirting 🫶

A/n: Hey :) sorry it took me a while to get back to you, but we here now. Hope u enjoy :) and feel free to send more requests

21 Questions

Tw: dom!coded Joel miller, subby!fem reader, innocence, corruption kink, bj, squirting, age gap

18+ minors DNI. Wc: 1.8k

A late evening in early June. 8 o’clock, and the sun shines over a rich dark green lawn, paired with a light blue suburban ranch home. The wind gently pushes the colorful windchimes near the oak door, on a porch entrance. Inside, a young woman. Outside, an older man, shuffling upon the porch.

—————————————————

The doorbell rings throughout the house, you rush quickly to open it. Tonight you had on a pure white mini-skirt, a lacy top to match, that showed off your cleavage perfectly. You were still a Virgin, yet something changed when you first met Joel. You wanted him, in a way that you haven’t wanted any guy you’ve met before. Besides, Joel was not just some guy. He was a man. With your meet-up with him tonight, you wanted him to know how you really felt. You just didn’t know how to do it.

Your small, dainty, hand opens the door. There he is. “Heya, sweetheart,” his thick Southern voice drawls across the living room. Your eyes fixate on his Adam’s Apple, you watch it with curiosity and intent. He catches your glance, chuckling, as you shyly invite him in.

He sits down on the couch, manspread. You gulp, telling your eyes not to draw over to his crotch. “How about a beer, Mr. Miller?,” you offer. “Please, sweetie. Call me Joel. Yeah, I’d like one.” You nod, as you scurry over to the kitchen to bring him a beer. You bend over as you are by the fridge, reaching in for a nice, cold beer for this incredibly attractive man in your living room.

You bring him the beer, and he thanks you, patting the spot next to him, on the couch. A cue for you to sit. You cross your legs, folding your hands over your lap, your diamond ring on your one hand shining. You were quite different from Joel. You did not spend all day in the dirt like he did. This aspect of him, only made you want him more.

“Hey. Um. Can we play twenty-one questions? Maybe get to know each other a little better?,” you gingerly ask. “Sure, hon. How about I start, yeah?”

You nod. “How old are you again?,” he asks. “I’m twenty-two. I know you’re a lot older than me,” you chuckle, looking at him. “Fifty-six,” he replies. You are in awe of this. This was a huge age gap. You start to feel a bit of wetness growing, spreading across your pink lacy thong.

You giggle, crossing your legs together to ease some of that tension. His chiseled arms, the brown — gray stubble on his face, his deep brown eyes, those soft, pink lips. You wanted to kiss him right then and there. You restrained yourself. “Can it be my turn now?,” you ask, batting your eyes at him, while your manicured fingers tap on your smooth, soft, thighs. “Sure, hon. Ask away,” his deep southern drawl just excites you even more.

“What’s your type? Do you like it if someone is younger than you?,” you pose the question as innocently as possible. He chokes on his beer, nervously chuckling, and wiping his mouth with a napkin. You beg him to tell you the truth. Something tells you that you would like the answer you find. “I do, yeah. Frankly, to be honest, hon, someone as young and sweet as you, is exactly my type.”

Your heart rate begins to quicken. You looked into his eyes, it felt as if they were pulling you in. You smile a bit, confessing that you were into him as well. More questions begin to arise, as he downs the beer you gave him, even tilting the bottle towards your mouth so you can have a little sip.

“What turns you on, Mr Miller?,” you say, out of the blue. The both of you were a little tipsy on the beer at this point. He chuckles. “You really wanna know, sweetie?” You nod eagerly. “Well, you see, I like good girls. Obedient, sweet, good girls that listen, wear nice lingerie, and know how to suck cock the right way,” he states, matter of factly.

Your face began to burn as you squirmed around in your seat on the couch. You failed to notice that he had moved a bit closer to you. “I can do that,” you whisper, now noticing how close he was to you.

He smiles, and then brings his face closer to yours, two pairs of lips meeting for a kiss. A long, gentle yet passionate kiss, you felt his tongue slip inside your mouth, his stubble tickling your cheeks in the most wonderful way.

“How about another question, sweetheart,” he starts. You nod. “Ya think that tonight, I can see what’s under that pretty skirt of yours?”

This was it. It was actually happening. “Yes. Please,” you moan a bit, breathily. “My good girl, using her manners. C’mon now. On your knees f’me,” he commands, sternly but softly. Fuck — you loved it.

Your tiny hand palms him through his jeans, feeling the bulge grow bigger and bigger with every stroke of your fingers. Soon enough, a tent in his jeans appears, and you want nothing more than to put your face in it. You look up at him. “Can I?” He nods. You begin to unzip his jeans, your small hands around his belt. Both jeans and belt fall to the floor, and you stare with hungry eyes at his tent in his boxers.

Your small hands gingerly pull off his boxers, revealing his already erect cock, with a good bush to match. You run your hands all over his v-line, tracing spots there, feeling his coarse hair. You shift around on your knees a bit. “Come up, sweetie. I got something better for ya.”

You get back onto the couch, as he lays down, his big arms behind his head, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His coarse hand comes up to hold your cheek. “Look at you. Gorgeous. Ready to suck my cock, sweetie?,” he asks, gentle. You nod.

Nervously, you move yourself closer to his cockhead, giving it little kisses, as you make eye contact with him. His deep moans can be heard, softly, like music to your ears.

You give his cock a bit of kisses, before taking it in your mouth, God — it was so soft, so warm, it sat perfectly in your throat!!! Periodically, his cock became firmer, harder, as you took it deep down your throat. You looked up at him for approval.

His eyes were closed, head up high, moaning, softly, you watched those little hairs on his chest slightly move with every of his motions.

His eyes meet yours. A toothy smile. You smile back, as you pamper his cock with some kisses. “Fuck, hun. Jus’ like that. Being such a good girl for me, yeah?,” his raspy voice startled you.

You shook your head, giggling, as his large and hairy hand came up to give your face a few reassuring rubs and nods. You continue your gentle kisses and licks on his cockhead, tracing all three, bulging, prominent veins on the sides.

He stops you. You are confused —- what if he didn’t like your head anymore?! Could you have done something wrong?

“Sweets. Hows about I put it in, yeah? Wanna see how nice and tight and pussy this is,” he gruffly says, waiting for your approval.

You nod, looking at him with those sweet, doe, eyes, as he stands up, towering over you. With one big knee pressing into your thigh, his hands grab onto your thighs and roughly pull you forward. One hand on each side, caging you into him. You’re brought in for yet another kiss, longer this time, sweeter, the both of you smile into it.

You feel his bearded, rough cheek, against yours. Heaven. With that, you see him pull out a box of condoms.

“Joel. No need. I’m on the pill,” you softly say. He looks up, in shock. “Gonna let me, uh…,” he was about to start, then hesitates. “Breed me?,” you finish for him. There was that toothy smile again.

“Open f’me, sweets.” You do as said, your plump thighs spreading on the bed, ready for him to inspect. You were his little cow, all ready to be bred and pumped full of cum, until she couldn’t walk!!

“Fuck. Lemme see how good this cunt’s gonna take me, yeah?,” he asks, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Well, you certainly did feel like his prey. You feel his hard length slide into you, pulsing, hot. It felt like you were filled up to the brim. He was around eight inches, it felt like. You could feel that warm, round sack against your puffy lips. He starts slow, reaching in deep, causing you to shudder as his tip touches the tip of your cervix :)

Soon enough, his hairy thighs slap against yours, as he moves at a bit of a quicker pace. You feel his cock pulsating and twitching inside you, it just turns you on so much!! You squeeze tighter and tighter around him. You feel his veiny hands trail around your front to grip at your soft breasts momentarily, before returning to their guiding place on your hips, his grip so tight on you. Oh God — he was strong.

His grip tightened, rough, calloused fingers on the plush of your hips, tracing over those stretch marks :) You were glad that he liked them.

“Feel you squeezin’ me, princess. Tell me what ya want. Go on,” you hear his deep and a bit slurred voice above you. He must have been absolutely delirious by how tight you were around him. “Want you to breed me, Joel …please,” you whisper out in a breathy moan. You hear his chuckle — you loved how deep his voice was.

“Stay still, babygirl. Gonna give you my cum, gonna - fuck, make you mine, gonna fill you up,” he barely moans out, he was so close, you felt it. You both came at the same time, you were seeing white, hot pleasure, he was seeing the same. You felt a bit of cum spray out onto him, onto those brown, curly hairs all over him, that you loved so much. “Honey. Did you just squirt?,” you hear him ask.

You blush. What if he didn’t like it!? “Hey. Princess.” He must’ve felt your anxiety. “Calm down, yeah? I think it’s cute. Reckon, I’m glad I came over here tonight. You showed me a good time,” he gently says, as you smile up at him, closing your eyes as he gives you a little forehead kiss.

“Can we do this again?,” you sheepishly ask, as he wipes you down with a towel, and then leaning back onto the couch, patting his thigh as a signal for you to come cuddle. You oblige, laying your head on his hairy chest.

“‘’Course, hun. We definitely will.”

[rascal-xo]

Hi ! I hope you’re doing well, I wanted to request the 141 & perhaps Los Vaqueros (I am a sucker for Ale) with y/n (preferably for her to also be in the military with these fine men) whose ex boyfriend ends up recently joining either the military or tags along a mission (I would love if their rank was below the 141/los vaqueros just to see how they would react, not intimated by the ex but more like cocky because they know they are better than them). Also maybe add a bit of NSFW… (pls & thank you). I’m sorry if it seems too specific or detailed but this plot has been nagging at my brain and I love the way you write so I was like okay, I know who can write this perfectly ! I appreciate you taking the time to read my request ! Have a good one !

Loose Ends | Alejandro x Female Reader |

Chapter Summary: You find self face to face with a toxic part of your past…

Warnings: Angst, violence, language, fluff, some minor smut |READERS CALLSIGN IS “RED”|

Word Count:

Tags: @satorisgirl

A/N: Ahh sorry it took so long but it’s finally here! I hoped you enjoyed the fic :))

——> Some stuff is not canonically accurate to MW2 or CoD in general

“Alright, gather around!” Price calls out to the team, There’s maps and documents sprawled over the top of the table where you and the rest of the team stand around it. “We’ve got one hour until we’re back out in the field, thanks to our lovely General Shepard, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” He says, with a hint sarcasm on his tongue.

You exchange a knowing glance with Soap, both of you aware of the tension between the Task Force and Shepard.

“We’re joining forces with Los Vaqueros for this one,” Price continues. “As you know, we’ve been tracking Hassan in the city for weeks now, and we’ve been tasked with assisting them in finally taking him down.”

The 141 and Alejandro’s men were hand in hand the past few weeks hunting down Hassan and the rouge missiles.

In the few times you had the pleasure of working with Colonel Vargas and his men, you always enjoyed it a little more than you liked to admit. You look over at Colonel Vargas, and he meets your gaze, nodding a smile.

But then, Price's voice interrupts your thoughts. "Another one of our company contacts will be joining us on this mission. They’ll be leading behind the operation alongside Colonel Vargas."

You feel your stomach drop as Price gestures towards the door. The man walks in question walks in, and you immediately recognize him as Phillip Graves, your old commander and ex boyfriend.

You had worked with the Commander side by side for 3 years, when you were recruited for the Shadow Company by Shepard.

The last time you saw him was when you announced your decision to leave. You had a huge fight, and things ended on a more than sour note. Hitting closer than personal between you and Phillip. You never expected to see him again so soon, especially not on a mission like this.

“Commander Graves, good to have you and the Shadows here.” Price greets him. The rest of the team seems oblivious to the history between you and Dom, but you can't help but feel awkward and uncomfortable.

You try to make a quick exit as soon as the briefing comes to an end, but Graves catches up to you, “Hey, Red, it’s been a while.”

You turn to face him, trying to keep a calm demeanor, “Not long enough, unfortunately.” You say before you have time to really think it through.

The commander smirks, “Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m just here to do my job.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “Hopefully you won’t be too distracted.”

You internally roll your eyes and walk away, not wanting to engage in any more conversation than you have to with him.

As you gear up and head to the chopper, you can feel the weight of the mission and the added tension of the Shadows presence weighing on you.

“What’s got you quiet, Roja?” Alejandro says, leaning closer to you.

“Just thinking.” You answer, “Don’t have much time to do that in peace lately.” You chuckle.

“Say I’ll buy you a drink once we make it out of this shitstorm alive, huh?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’d like that.” You smile.

Once you're on the ground, you and the rest of the team move quickly, working alongside Los Vaqueros to track down Hassan's whereabouts.

The mission is intense, with gunfire ringing out and explosions rocking the city. Despite the chaos around you, you stay focused, your training and instincts kicking in as you move with precision and purpose.

It's only when you and Graves are alone, working together to take down a group of insurgents, that things begin to take a turn.

You look over at him, out of breath from taking a hard blow to the ribs, taking in his features. He looks older, more weathered than you last saw him. But he’s still annoyingly good at his job.

“Not like you to take hits.” Graves suddenly says, breaking the silence between you two, once the coast is clear. You two are alone in one of the emptied buildings, awaiting clearance to evac.

Like you’re perfect.” You reply, trying to keep your annoyance at ease.

Graves smirks, “I never said I was perfect, just better than most.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

He chuckles, “No, that’s what you used to tell me.”

You feel a pang of memories hit you, remembering the times when you and Phillip were together, laughing and messing around during your downtime. But the memory is quickly replaced by the bitterness of the person he’s become, or was all along.

“So, this is what you left our unit for, coverts?” He says, leaning against a broken door. His demeanor suddenly shifts, and you feel the hostility radiating off of him.

“That’s one less person you can have at your disposal for good old Shepard.” You scoff, meeting his dark expression.

“You know, Y/N, you always did have a problem with authority. It's no surprise you didn't last long with the Shadows.” You feel your blood boiling.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" you snap. Graves takes a step towards you, his voice lowering dangerously, “Watch it. Don’t wanna start anything you can’t finish, Soldier.”

Before things can escalate any further, Alejandro suddenly appears comes through the doorway, pausing in his steps when he takes in the tense atmosphere between you and Graves.

Without hesitating, Alejandro strides forward, stepping between you and Graves.

"Graves," Alejandro says, his voice low and controlled. "You need to back off of the Sergeant. Now."

Graves sneers, "What, you gonna protect your little girlfriend?"

Alejandro's fists clench, but he remains composed. "I'm not playing games, Cabrón. Back off."

Graves takes a step forward, his face contorting with anger. "You don't know what you're getting into, Vargas. This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me when you're threatening a member of my team," Alejandro says, his voice sharp. "If you can't handle working with Y/N, then you can leave."

Graves looks like he's about to say something else, but the sound of the C-130’s engines outside interrupts him. "Don’t butt in where you don’t belong, Vargas." Graves says through gritted teeth, before turning and stalking out of the room.

You take this as an opportunity to brush past Phillip as you move towards Alejandro.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as he turns to you, concern etched on his face. "You okay, Roja?"

“Yes i’m okay. We just have a long past.” You exhale, fixing your red bandana that seems to have slipped a little from your forehead.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say, relieved to finally have an excuse to get away from Graves.

Alejandro nods, and the two of you head out of the building together. Once you're outside, the weight of the mission and Graves' presence finally lifts off your shoulders.

“I need a drink.” You say, trying to lighten the mood as you head towards the evac.

Alejandro chuckles, “I remember promising you one earlier.”

You smile, “Lead the way, Colonel.”

As you make your way back to base, the two of you decide to leave the the post-mission bar celebration earlier than the rest of the team, and you decide to go back to your quarters, which Alejandro happily obliges to.

As you walk through the quiet halls, you can feel the heat and electricity between you and Alejandro, and you know that you're not the only one who's been thinking about it.

Finally, when you reach your door, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your heart race. Granted you too are reaching tipsy at this point.

“Y/N…” He says, his voice low and husky.

Before he can finish, you reach up and pull him down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. The passion between you is electric, and you can feel the heat building as you explore each other's mouths.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he presses you against the wall. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment

Eventually, you pull away, both of you gasping for breath. You look up at Alejandro, seeing the desire and intensity in his eyes.

The moment you enter the room, he presses you against the wall once again, his mouth claiming yours as his hands roam over your body.

You feel the heat building between you, the need for each other growing with each passing second. Without breaking the kiss, Alejandro begins to tug at your clothes, revealing more and more of your skin.

Soon you're standing there in nothing but your underwear, your body flushed with desire. Alejandro steps back to admire the sight before him.

You reach down to palm him through his pants, eliciting a low groan from his lips. He breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

His hands slide down to your panties, tugging them down your legs and throwing them aside.

With one swift movement, he lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you.

Your bodies are a tangle of limbs and heat, desire and passion taking over.

[jarofstyles]

Teacher’s Pet III

A/N: the moment you have been waiting for is here. a fan favorite has made a return. It’s been a year? maybe more? I hope it was worth the wait!! planning a part 4 finale for this, promise it will not take a year this time hehe - n + d

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, daddy kink, overstimulation 

word count: 3.9k

Harry was hooked, effectively fucked.

He was spending a ridiculous amount on her streams and paying extra for sessions to speak to her. He couldn’t get enough, not when he knew he could have her so easily. Oddly enough, she had began to text him outside of the hours allotted and he didn’t mind at all. She was quite bright.

Was it wrong of him to do this? To take on the fact that his student was doing wonderful sex work and then help her tutor every week? Yeah. Probably. But no one had quite gotten him off like she had. She was so needy and so willing to give in to him, the pleading tone of her voice making his cock grow heavy with need. Y/N was able to so easy give up all her inhibitions and connect– and that was truly something he hadn’t experienced before. His ego grew every time she sent him a message, especially when he knew he’d been the object of her affection. She was in class when it happened the first time. His phone buzzed in his pocket, only for him to check when the movie had started that she had texted him she was wet. His spirit became brighter after that day.

When she had texted him a simple hello? He responded promptly. It was a Tuesday night, nothing special.

‘Hello, princess. May I help you?’ He responded.

Was it wrong for her to pay special attention to a guy from her streams? He was paying her for every conversation, sitting in on every stream. God, how did he even have the money to stay for as long as he did? She truly didn’t know, but it was hot. Really hot.

His body was stuck in her mind, every time she got off she thought about him and him making a total and complete mess of her. It excited her, his words edging her on. Of course, she was a sucker for whatever he gave her... she desperately wanted to hear him too. She had heard his moans, but she wanted to hear more.

Y/N was definitely buttering him up, texting him whenever she felt like it had been a few days and she felt like she could. They were forming quite the friendship. She hated to think that the reason she got so wet over this daddyh character was because he in a way reminded her of her professor.

‘yes please 🥺’

‘Sorry if this is a lot but I’m feeling really needy today’

Y/N had to meet with her professor tomorrow and she was desperate for some relief so she wouldn’t accidentally do something when he tutored her tomorrow. She just wanted to live in that little fantasy while she could.

‘That’s perfectly fine, sweetheart.’

‘Actually, it does please me quite a bit to know I’m the one you’re coming to.’

He had double texted and felt his stomach warm at the fact that she had chosen him. She had decided that he was the one she wanted to talk to while she was being needy, that she was in need and want to speak to. Their conversations weren’t always sexual— they’d spoken about a plethora of things. But there was always that... tension. And more often than not, she would hint that she was all alone in bed and it would spiral at that.

‘What can I do for you, baby? How can I help...’

He was wanting so badly to know how he could help her. If she wanted just more attention, or if she wanted something else. Money, too. He would give her anything she desired.

Y/N felt her stomach warm up, genuinely pleased at the fact that he was more than happy with her sending him messages like this. She didn’t want to seem clingy or like she was trying to get money from him, she genuinely enjoyed talking to him and he was a very good and loyal viewer of hers so why not.

‘awe good 🥰’

‘I’m happy to hear that’

Not only was he good at keeping conversation but he had proven time and time again that he was caring and it made her heart swell. Y/N wasn’t one to fall for people just like that, but he was slowly ticking off her boxes and she was so so needy for something to get her mind off of her professor. When he asked what he could do for her? She decided to be a little bold.

‘I was thinking maybe we could do a call?’

‘Free of charge of course! Really, I just thought it would be nice to actually get to talk to you and stuff :)’

Harry didn’t see an issue. Voices over the phone sounded distorted and if he spoke lowly in his throat, then he didn’t see the problem. Especially because he really, really would like it.

He decided to call instead of responding. Maybe he was a bit bold in that, but it didn’t matter. He was more than happy to speak to her and wanted to hear her voice in real time. He was praying that she was going to use that cute voice she did when she spoke to his username on the live stream.

“Hello, love.” He said when she answered. His voice was more gravelly and deeper, laying back on his bed. “Why are you feelin’ needy?”

“Hiii” A whine left from her lips once she heard him speak. “You didn’t tell me you had an accent....” Y/N was a pool in her panties. His voice was so deep and low, her pussy was already throbbing. “Daddy, you.... I love your voice.” She said shyly, feeling like he was really just her wet dream.

“I had an okay day today, I was studying and stuff but I just get really frustrated sometimes... my professor is really nice about it though.” Y/N’s Professor also happened to be British so this wasn’t making things any easier on her.

It was insane to hear her arousal. She had whined at his voice. He loved how she said Daddy so naturally, so eager to talk to him. The way she brought him up too— he was curious.

“M’sorry I didn’t, sweet girl. I forget I have an accent.” He wasn’t lying either— he really did forget often that he had an accent and that it was different than hers. Lack is awareness maybe. He’d been living in the states for a while now.

“Thank you for the compliment. And I understand being frustrating, studying must be hard. But you’re such a good girl for doing it anyway.” He was taunting a little bit, slipping the good girl in there without a second thought. “I’m also glad to hear your professor is nice. Good teachers are always an asset to the learning of students.” He murmured, stretching out on the bed. He could hear shuffling on the other side and chuckled.

Y/N was lapping this up. She swore hearing him just like that wasn’t enough, she wished she put on headphones so she could hear him as if he was right there with her but this would do. Instead, she decided to put him on speaker stripping out of the clothes she had left so she could just be naked.

“Y’alright? Moving quite a bit  over there.”

“Yeah— sorry, I just got really hot so I took of my shirt.” Y/N told him, “We don’t have to do stuff right now either, I just wanted to talk to you and hear your voice.” She felt the warmth in her cheeks rising like crazy, knowing that maybe it was a bit much to say to someone who was merely a supporter of hers but she meant it.

“How was your day? What did you do?” Y/N wanted to know. She could just listen to his voice and touch herself and he wouldn’t know, gently caressing her breasts and hips and ass. Y/N was tough starved, hungry for it. Quite desperate too.

“Hm... well; I ate a good breakfast. Went to work, stayed a bit longer than normal. It was a fairly normal day, I suppose. Had some food and came home.” He was talking to a shirtless Y/N on the phone and he knew damn well there wasn’t anything innocent going on in her mind.

“Tell me why you feel so needy.” He questioned. “S’it something you feel often? Or is it a new thing?” Harry wanted to be the one she was needy for. It seemed like he was though; just by how often they communicated and how sweet she was to him. Both at classes and over the phone.

Y/N hummed at his answer, closing her eyes and fully letting herself sink into that deep throaty tone that he had. He sounded so damn sexy she felt like she could cum just listening to him talk about anything. “I’m glad you had a good day.” She cooed, letting out a sigh without realizing it.

“Yeah... pretty often..” Y/N spoke and then thought about how to word this properly. “You know how I said I had a really nice professor?... He reminds me of you...” She explained, hoping that it didn’t make him feel weird. He did say he liked it when she wore the school girl outfit the other day on live so maybe it was a kink of his too? “Then I just think about you and I get so wet and I don’t want to be a bother... but thinking about you always makes me feel so good and I wish you could be here helping me...” Y/N’s tone was breathy as she started to play with her clit.

“Oh, baby. I already know that you’ve been touching at yourself this whole time.” He smirked to himself, hand holding his length in his briefs. God, she was perfection. “Get wet thinking about getting fucked by a professor, hm? You’re quite the naughty girl. Know that you get extra slick in your videos whenever I say something like that.” Oh, he noticed. “Wear that tiny little skirt in the uniform, I love it. I very much wish I was there to help you. I know that your little clit is probably all swollen. Probably feels really good to touch, yeah?”

Y/N let out another audible whine, hearing him talk dirty the way he texted? It was a whole different level of arousal she couldn’t even begin to explain how her body felt. She wanted more, she needed more. “I’m sorry, daddy, I can’t help it... you just sounds so good, it makes my pussy ache... I want more! Please let me touch more, please!”

“Fuck me... it aches, does it princess? M’sorry I’m not there to fix it.” He cooed, cock jumping at the thought. He was fucking aroused, wanting her cunt so badly he could punch something. His briefs were thrown to the side, Harry spitting thickly into his palm before wrapping it around his cock, stroking slowly.

Of course if he was going to pull her kinks out she would use his against him. It would only make him get a bit more heated, make his voice that much darker and deeper. “It feels so nice to touch...” Y/N let out another whimper like moan. “Are you touching yourself too daddy? Did I get your cock swelling for me?”

“Mm. Course I am, you always get me hot. You’re just... so fucking dirty. But you keep it relatively tame on your lives.” He muttered. “Know there’s a dirtier girl. Filthy. The way you talk to just me... know it.” He bit down on his lip at her next phrase, hearing her impatience and need for his touch and cock. That’s what made him feel even better.

She felt her breathing pick up, deciding she wanted to get her vibrator out because she knew she could tease herself and make this last much longer than she could with just her fingers.

“All I want is to be stuffed full of your cock!”

“You’re so impatient, princess. Already touching all over your parts and begging for cock. Can’t help yourself.”

“Please daddy...” Y/N whimpered, bucking her hips up against her vibrator, having it set on the lowest setting but it was already doing a lot. “Want to feel you— fuck.. feel you stretch me out.” She was teasing her entrance, he had gifted her a dildo and sent it to her PO Box. It was the only one she used now.

“I want photos.” He snapped at her. “Sitting there wasting such a nice sight, not letting Daddy see? That isn’t what I want.” He could hear her. “Your little cunt is soaked and I can hear it. What are you using, hm? Your fingers? A nice toy? Let me see.” He was demanding photos and maybe that was out of line but he knew she liked being bossed around in bed and would love to please him.

Y/N swore he brought the filth out of  her. She knew she could be dirtier than most on her streams but with him she turned into a proper animal. It was mostly because he called to everything she wanted when it came to a sexual partner, fulfilled her fantasies.

“Told you I was needy, Daddy!” Y/N whined, “want you to come here and fuck me, make me scream— Ah! Mmm, make me beg and cry for your to let me cum. Want you to force it out of me, over and over! Want you to use me..”

“So what you’re saying... you want to be daddy’s little fuckdoll?” He murmured darkly. “Want me to take what I want from you and make your pussy cum over and over until you’re a drooling mess?” He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Are you being a good little slut and taking photos for daddy? I want to see your pussy spread open.”

Y/N let out a whine, knowing that she would have to stop what she was doing just to take pictures and she was wondering if maybe turning on her camera would be better. She set up her phone, the way she usually did if she was doing these sessions to take photos and turned her video on so he could see.

“Look daddy..” Y/N whimpered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see him but that was fine. As long as she could hear him, that’s all that matters. She sat back with her back against her pillows, spreading her legs and showing him what was going on.

His own private show. It was all for him after all. Y/N giggled a little bit when she heard his reaction, setting the dildo that he bought her in front of the camera before leaning down and starting to suck in it as if it were his cock, looking up at the camera.

“Fuck, baby. That’s my little slut.” He growled, watching her give him the best gift. She was shameless and he loved for it. The way she just simply gave him everything, spread legs and looking right at the cane for him... he was incredibly turned on.

“Suck that cock. S’what your mouth is made for, isn’t it? To suck your daddy off, make me cum in your slutty mouth.” He was so aroused, watching her take it deeper into her throat. It was torture  that she wasn’t really sucking him. “Your little pussy aches so badly all the time, doesn’t it? S’cause you were meant to be stuff full of my cock all the damn time. Spread your legs a bit more for me, baby. That’s what I want.” He was stroking himself steadily, spitting on the hand every so often.

Y/N smiled when she pulled off of the cock, slapping it on her flat tongue a bit before pulling back and spreading her legs for him the way he had asked. Being a cam girl really came in handy, she really knew all the right angles and knew just what to say. She was horny too, hearing him praise and humiliate her all at once. It was the perfect mixture of what she loved.

“Daddy... did you buy me this cause it’s big like you?” She asked curiously, bringing the dildo up to her mouth once more so she could lick up the base of it. Y/N watched the camera curiously, knowing she wouldn’t see his face, but knowing he could get the pleasure in knowing she was looking right at him. Her hands moved to bring the dildo to her core again, starting to push it into her slowly but surely. Her head fell back as she moaned in excitement, “Wish it was you! Fuck! Daddy!” Y/N was a whining mess, grabbing at her breasts to ease some tension.

“Mm. I’m a little bigger than that.” He wasn’t lying either. But he was too focused on the view he had. “Fuck me, look at it stretch your open. Got such a tiny cunt, swollen and pink. You use it so much, get yourself to cum so many times. Have all those filthy fucking perverts watching your sweet little body. Wishing they could have a taste. Like a little tempting candy.” He watched her slide it in and out of her pussy.

“Push it all the way in. That’s it. All the way.” He instructed. Her mouth fell open as she struggled a little to take it but he watched it settle in all the way. “Press on your tummy. You feel that? Feel how full you are? S’what I could do for you. Make you even more full than that.” He admitted.

“Of course you wish it was me. You want a hand on your throat and fingers in your mouth. You want to be held down and used like the precious little cunt you are.”

Y/N was close to throwing a tantrum. She wanted it! She wanted him. Every little push of the dildo inside of her was sending her, the combination of his voice and just how deep it was inside her? Y/N swore she was ready to risk it all. If she didn’t know any better she would give him her address and tell him to come over now but she wasn’t that stupid. She didn’t really know him as much as she thought she might have.

“Daddy!” Y/N whimpered, taking a sharp harsh breath. “It’s so deep...” Her voice was quiet as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking about the scenario he had just told her about. She shuddered in response, letting out another loud whine before starting to thrust it in and out of her at a rapid pace. “I want it to be you...” Y/N moaned out, “please— I want it to be you, please.” She was wondering where he was from in that moment, if it would be easy for him to get here. She couldn’t stop thinking about his body, now she had a voice to match it. Y/N just knew he had to be attractive.

“I love hearing you beg. You’re filthy. I love that shit, you know that princess? I love hearing you beg for my cock. I’m just watching you fuck yourself and thinking about it being me... you’re going crazy.” He chuckled. “Fuck, you’re so wet too. Christ sake, you messy bitch. Look at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. Look at the little puddle.” He grit his teeth.

“Want that on my sheets. If I was there I would shove that pretty face in that stain and fuck your cunt open. Keep it held down there. Maybe I’d make you lick it up too. Depends how mean m’feeling.” His pace of his hand quickened.

Y/N couldn’t believe the words that were coming from his mouth. She wanted it to be real, the whine that left her mouth was primal. She was so so close and his words only edged her on, Y/N couldn’t formulate words she was just babbling at this point and she didn’t care.

“Daddyiwan— oh mhm, fuck!” A high pitched squeal hit when she added the vibrator back into the mix. Within seconds she was properly dripping on the bed, her thighs and ass slick and glistening from the light she had in her room. It didn’t much longer for her to cum. Her body shaking at the release, she screamed out for him, resisting the urge to call him by Professor Styles’ name. All she could picture was his face on this man’s body. Y/N was shaking and squealing as she left the vibrator on her sensitive clit, visibly clenching around the fake cock that was inside of her.

“Please, please, please, please!” She was begging, but she wasn't sure what for. Her body felt hot, muscles tensing at the delicious feeling.

“Don’t move it, princess.” Harry hummed, “You can give me another won’t you?” He was close to his on release, prepared to milk his cock entirely for her. Every shaky breath and plead that came from her only pushed him closer and closer to the edge. “So good baby, give me another one, I know you want to…”

"Fuck!” Y/N squeaked, the sensitivity made her legs twitch. It hurt so good, the feeling was like a drug to her. Every pulse of the vibrator against her clit had her mewling, heat spreading throughout her body in waves, her breathing becoming heavy once again.

“That’s it… just like that, cream all over that cock like you would mine.” Harry spoke through his clenched teeth. She was utterly perfect, he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. Y/N had been doing this all for him, of course she didn’t know it was him, but it was him none the less. The eyes they gave each other during class, the teasing during her streams, Harry wanted to feel her in the flesh. He imagined his hands all over her, coaxing more and more orgasms out of her with both his hands and the toys. For now this would do, watching her body begin to thrash due to the force behind the orgasm.

“You look beautiful…” Harry thought out loud, seconds before he himself felt his orgasm ripping through him. The sound of low groans and the slick of his hand against his cock filled the room, his eyes never leaving her body on the screen. So sweet and laid out for him on her bed, how he wished he could be there to lap up every bit of cum she had given him.

“Did so good for me, bunny.” He hummed, swallowing thickly as he started coming to his senses again. He cleared his throat and watched as she beamed, sitting up to grab the phone from its spot. How on earth was he ever going to let her go knowing she was so close to him?

“Go take a shower and rest up for me, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke without a second thought about their class tomorrow. Surely, that wouldn’t be where her mind went.

But it did.

[sicknessbysalem]

ooh I’ve been a sucker for sick before/during a performance lately and i deeply adore your fics!! so maybe any of the members of lex and soren’s band trying to make it through a performance or a recording session while feeling absolutely awful? your choice of who!

absolutely! i added that into this WIP i had of a very sick soren.

if you have any more requests, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw for emeto (lots of emeto), fevers, sick on tour.

The world outside was a blur of lights and movement, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window of their tour bus as they rolled into the next stop.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and equipment, a familiar atmosphere that Lex had long since come to associate with life on the road.

But tonight, the usual energy was subdued, the dim lights casting long shadows across the cramped space, adding to the quiet heaviness that hung in the air.

Soren lay curled on the narrow bunk, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, every shallow breath a careful, measured effort to keep the nausea at bay.

He’d been fighting it for hours now, a low, insistent ache that had started as a vague discomfort, a faint queasiness he’d hoped might pass with a little sleep. But as the hours dragged on, the nausea had settled in deeper, twisting in his stomach like a clenched fist, leaving him feeling weak, hollow.

Lex sat beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing gentle, absent-minded circles against the fabric of his shirt.

The touch was grounding, a steady presence that kept Soren anchored, even as the sickness gnawed at him, a relentless pressure that refused to ease.

Lex’s long, dark hair fell over his shoulder in soft waves, a few loose strands brushing against Soren’s arm as he leaned in, his gaze fixed on Soren with a quiet, unspoken concern that cut through the haze of discomfort, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“Do you want some water?” Lex’s voice was soft, a quiet suggestion that lingered in the air, a gentle nudge that didn’t press, didn’t demand, just offered a small, fragile comfort.

Soren shook his head, the movement slow, deliberate, as though even the slightest shift might set off the nausea again. His hand drifted to his stomach, his fingers pressing lightly against the ache, a small, useless gesture that did nothing to ease the discomfort but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churn in his gut. He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him feeling feverish, weak, a quiet, unyielding reminder of the sickness that had settled in deep, refusing to let go.

Lex’s hand drifted up to Soren’s hair, his fingers brushing through the pale strands in a soft, rhythmic motion, a small, grounding gesture that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

Soren leaned into the touch, his breathing shallow, each inhale and exhale a careful effort as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, from dragging him under.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, strained apology that lingered in the air, tinged with the quiet frustration of his own body’s betrayal. He hated feeling like this—weak, dependent, a weight on Lex’s shoulders when he knew they both had enough to worry about.

Lex shook his head, his hand moving to Soren’s back, a steady, reassuring touch that eased the tightness in Soren’s chest, the quiet anxiety that had been gnawing at him since the nausea had set in. “Don’t apologize,” he replied softly, his tone warm, a quiet reminder that he was here, that he didn’t see this as a burden, that he didn’t mind the weight. “Just focus on breathing. You don’t have to push through this alone.”

Soren took a slow breath, his head dipping as he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve. But the sickness clung to him, a low, insistent ache that twisted deeper, sharper, with every passing moment.

His stomach clenched, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over him, sharp and relentless, leaving him gasping for breath, his body tensing as he tried to fight it down, to hold it back.

But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up, relentless, and he barely had time to brace himself before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him breathless, his hand flying to his mouth as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand moved to his shoulder, a steady, grounding touch that kept him anchored, kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady presence that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth of his touch, the gentle reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone. “Just breathe—I’m right here.”

The nausea surged again, sharper this time, an insistent pressure that left him trembling, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers warm, comforting. He could feel the faint, damp chill of sweat beading along his forehead, a quiet reminder of his own weakness, the vulnerability he’d never quite learned to accept.

Lex pulled him forward a bit, getting Soren to lean over the edge of the bunk, where despite Soren’s will, his lunch made an unappetizing reappearance into the plastic bin Ksenia pushed in before she took her residence in the living area of the bus. Ksenia was never one for caretaking, so she left ample space for Lex to do his thing.

When the worst of it passed, Soren slumped back, his breathing shallow, uneven as he tried to steady himself, to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, his hand pressed against his stomach as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers brushing through Soren’s hair in a small, soothing gesture, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

“You’re okay,” Lex murmured, his voice soft, a gentle reassurance that lingered in the air, a warmth that seemed to cut through the discomfort, to settle over Soren like a blanket, easing the tension, the weight that had been pressing down on him.

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea lingering, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to ease, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling drained, hollow, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

“Think you can rest a little?” Lex asked, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, a quiet question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren nodded as he let out a slow, careful breath, his hand resting on Lex’s knee, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, kept him anchored in the warmth of Lex’s presence.

He knew, on some level that he had someone beside him, someone who saw him, who understood. But the thought of leaning on Lex, of letting himself be vulnerable, left him feeling exposed, fragile, a quiet discomfort that he couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

-

The hours wore on, and the low ache in Soren’s stomach refused to ease, twisting and tightening until it felt as though every breath, every small movement, was a battle against the nausea that seemed to coil deeper, sharper with each passing moment.

He lay there, curled in on himself, his forehead pressed against the cool wall of the bunk, his breaths shallow, careful, as though even the slightest shift might tip him over the edge.

Lex hadn’t moved from his side, his hand a steady, comforting presence on Soren’s back, tracing gentle circles, the rhythm grounding, familiar. He could feel Lex’s gaze on him, warm and concerned, a quiet, unspoken question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone, that he could lean into the comfort, the support Lex offered so freely.

“You’re really not looking great,” Lex murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, a gentle observation laced with concern. “I’ve got some ginger tea I could make, or… I have something stronger if you want.”

Soren managed a faint shake of his head, the movement slow, hesitant, as though he were trying to push past the discomfort, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

The thought of taking anything felt distant, unreal, his focus turned inward, fixed on the relentless ache, the quiet, insistent nausea that gnawed at him, leaving him feeling hollow, weak. Soren wasn’t even sure if he could hold it down, tea or otherwise. So, why bother?

But Lex didn’t push, just shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, steady, a small, grounding touch that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Soren leaned into the touch, letting out a slow, unsteady breath, his body slumping, the exhaustion settling over him like a weight, leaving him feeling drained, empty.

The nausea crested, sharp and insistent, a fresh wave that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the bunk as he fought to keep the sickness at bay, to push it down, to hold it back.

But his body betrayed him, the nausea rising with a force that left him gasping, his throat tight, his stomach clenching painfully as he felt the sickness clawing its way up, relentless, unyielding.

Lex was there in an instant, his hand moving to Soren’s shoulder, a steadying touch that kept him grounded, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Okay, okay my love, I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “Just breathe—it’s alright.”

But the nausea refused to let go, clawing its way up with a force that left him trembling, his body giving in to the sickness in harsh, involuntary waves. He barely had time to lean over the trash can before his body gave in completely, each heave leaving him breathless.

His throat burned, the acidic taste sharp and bitter, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers gentle, soothing, a small, familiar touch that kept him steady.

“It’s okay,” Lex murmured, his voice a quiet, constant presence, a warmth that settled over Soren like a blanket, easing the weight, the discomfort that had been pressing down on him.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, relentless, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, drawn, a reminder of his own weakness, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his body sagging against the bunk, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort to keep the sickness from rising again. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve.

Lex reached into his bag, pulling out a small orange bottle. Soren heard the familiar rattle of pills in plastic. It was only then he realized he probably threw up the antipsychotics and did not, in fact, want to face trying again even if he feared what might happen without them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not those meds,” Lex said, Soren wondered if Lex could read his mind, “I’ve got some anti-nausea meds. They work wonders, really. It’s what made me stop puking during our New York stops.”

Soren hesitated, even as the nausea twisted, sharper now, a relentless ache that refused to let go. But Lex’s gaze was steady, warm with an unspoken encouragement that settled over him.

And, Soren thought, Lex had been vomiting for days, unrelated to some sort of virus, during their four stops in New York. And if what Lex said was true, that he took it then, it really did work wonders.

With a slow, shaky breath, Soren gave a faint nod, his hand drifting to Lex’s, a small, reluctant acceptance of the care that Lex offered so freely.

Lex offered a faint, reassuring smile, his fingers brushing against Soren’s as he opened the bottle.

Lex handed him a pill and a small glass of water, his touch steady, gentle, a quiet reassurance that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

“This should help,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady encouragement that kept Soren grounded, even when everything felt so miserable.

Soren took the pill, the cool water soothing against his throat, a small comfort that settled over him like a blanket, easing the sharp, relentless ache that had been gnawing at him.

And as he leaned back, he let himself breathe, let himself sink into the warmth, the comfort that Lex offered, a small, fragile acceptance that settled over him, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s shoulder, Soren let himself lean into the comfort.

The nausea lingered, a low, insistent ache that refused to ease entirely, but with Lex beside him, with the gentle, constant touch of his hand, Soren felt a small, precious peace, a comfort that cut through the discomfort, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

And as he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth, the familiarity of their connection, he felt the quiet, grounding reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone, that he didn’t have to face it all on his own.

-

Morning brought a tentative hope that the worst of the sickness had passed. Soren lay on the narrow bunk, his eyes half-closed as he took careful breaths, feeling the familiar ache in his stomach but noticing, with some relief, that it was duller than the night before.

The nausea lingered, a quiet, uncomfortable reminder of his body’s rebellion, but it was manageable, a low, insistent ache that didn’t overwhelm him, that allowed him a small, cautious optimism for the day ahead.

Lex sat beside him, a steaming cup of herbal tea cradled in his hands, the scent of ginger and chamomile filling the air, soothing in a way that seemed to settle Soren’s nerves, to ease some of the residual discomfort.

Lex’s gaze was warm, soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but he offered a faint, reassuring smile as he handed the cup to Soren, his hand lingering on Soren’s shoulder, a gentle, grounding touch that settled over him like a blanket.

“Think you’re up for the interview?” Lex asked, his voice soft, careful, a quiet question that didn’t press, that allowed Soren the space to answer honestly.

Soren took a slow sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through him, a small comfort that eased the tension coiling in his chest.

“I think so,” he replied, his voice steady, though he could feel the faint edge of uncertainty lingering beneath the words. “I’m… better than last night, at least,” he added.

Lex nodded, his hand moving to rest on Soren’s back, a gentle, reassuring presence that kept him grounded, that reminded him he didn’t have to carry this alone.

“If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll take it slow,” he murmured, his voice warm, a quiet, unspoken encouragement that settled over Soren like a blanket.

With Lex’s support, Soren found the strength to get ready, moving through the familiar motions of his morning routine, each step careful, measured, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance.

The nausea lingered, a faint, uncomfortable ache that settled low in his stomach, but he pushed it down, held onto the hope that he could manage, that he could push through the day without letting it affect their plans.

By the time they reached the interview venue, the ache in his stomach had dulled further, a faint, manageable discomfort that left him feeling cautiously optimistic. He took a slow breath as they entered the studio, the familiar hum of pre-interview preparations settling over him, grounding him in the routines he knew so well.

Lex stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s arm, a quiet, steady presence that kept him anchored, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, even as the faint edge of discomfort lingered, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to let go entirely.

The interviewer greeted them with a warm smile, her energy bright and welcoming as she introduced herself, diving into the questions with an ease that put Soren at ease, that allowed him to settle into the familiar rhythm of answering, responding, moving through the motions with a practiced calm.

He could feel the discomfort lurking beneath the surface, a faint, nagging reminder of the night before, but he managed to push it down, to keep his focus on the conversation, on the quiet, grounding presence of Lex beside him.

As the interview wrapped up, Lex’s hand moved to Soren’s back, a gentle, comforting touch that settled over him like a blanket, a small, unspoken reassurance that he’d made it through, that he’d managed to hold it together, if only for a little while.

Soren let out a slow, careful breath, feeling a faint, tentative relief settle over him, a quiet hope that he could get through the rest of the day, that he could push through the lingering discomfort, the quiet, insistent ache that had been gnawing at him.

But as the day wore on, the nausea began to creep back, a low, relentless ache that settled in his stomach, twisting with each step, each small movement.

By the time they reached the venue for the night’s show, Soren could feel the discomfort intensifying, a sharp, insistent pressure that pressed against his ribs, his chest, leaving him feeling weak, unsteady.

He took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness at bay, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Lex noticed almost immediately, his gaze softening as he took in the tension in Soren’s posture, the way he was gripping his stomach, his jaw clenched against the discomfort.

Without a word, Lex moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s back, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles, a quiet, grounding presence that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a gentle, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “You sure you’re okay for this?”

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea building, sharper now, a quiet, insistent ache that settled low in his stomach, twisting with each breath, each careful movement.

“Yeah… just… need a minute,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could push through, that he could hold it together, if only for a little while longer.

But even as he spoke, he could feel his control slipping, the nausea rising with a force that left him breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He pressed his hand tightly against his stomach, his fingers digging into his side as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold it back, but the ache only grew sharper, more insistent, a weight that settled heavily, unyielding.

Lex’s hand drifted to Soren’s shoulder, a small, grounding touch that kept him anchored, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“If you need to sit this one out…” Lex’s voice was soft, careful, a gentle suggestion that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren managed a faint, weak smile, though he could feel the nausea clawing its way up, sharper now, a quiet, relentless pressure that left him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the nearby chair as he fought to steady himself, to keep the sickness from dragging him under.

“I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, desperate assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through the discomfort.

But the nausea surged again, sharper this time, a relentless ache that left him gasping, his body giving in to the sickness with a force that left him breathless, weak.

He barely had time to lean over the trash can Lex had set beside him before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him shaking, his hand gripping the edge of the can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex was beside him in an instant, his hand moving to the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, comforting, a small, familiar presence that kept him steady, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that settled over Soren like a blanket, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry this on his own.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, unrelenting, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his head hanging, his hand still pressed to his stomach as he fought to catch his breath, the nausea lingering like a dull ache, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion. He felt weak, hollow, each breath a careful, measured effort, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers gentle, soothing, a quiet, steadying presence that kept Soren grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, babe, you don’t look good at all,” Lex said softly.

“I don’t feel good, at all,” Soren said, sighing softly, “But I’ll… I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, because the reamins everything you’ve eaten in the past three days looking like some fucked up recipe for disastwr in the trash is a very clear indication you’re totally fine.” Lex said sarcastically, chuckling softly.

“If you ever describe it that way again, next round goes on you,” Soren mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head on the dressing room vanity.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s back, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady.

And in that small, quiet space, Soren let himself lean into the comfort, the warmth, a fragile, tentative acceptance that he didn’t have to face this alone.

As showtime drew near, Soren could feel the discomfort creeping back, sharper and more insistent with each passing moment. The cautious optimism he’d felt that morning, the faint hope that maybe he was on the mend, had faded, replaced by a familiar ache that settled low in his stomach, a relentless, twisting nausea that left him feeling hollow, unsteady.

He took careful breaths, willing the sickness to ease, to give him enough strength to get through the night, but the nausea only grew, sharper now, a quiet, insistent reminder that his body was protesting in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Lex stood beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt. It was a quiet, grounding gesture, a familiar warmth that cut through the haze of discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Lex’s gaze lingered on him, soft, concerned, a quiet, unspoken question lingering in his eyes, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just stayed close, his presence a steadying comfort that kept Soren grounded.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight on his own.

Soren managed a faint, strained smile, his head dipping slightly as he nodded, his voice steady, though he could feel the tremor lingering beneath the words. “I’ve got this,” he replied, his tone firm, a quiet determination that belied the nausea twisting in his stomach, the sickness that clung to him, sharp and unyielding. He’d pushed through before—long nights, rougher shows, moments when he’d felt weaker, sicker than this. He could manage, he had to.

As the band took their places on stage, the roar of the crowd washed over him, a deafening wave that usually settled his nerves, that reminded him of the rhythm they’d built, the routines that held them steady. But tonight, every sound, every bright flash of the lights felt like an assault, each sensation amplified by the discomfort gnawing at him, leaving him feeling off-kilter, exposed.

Lex stayed close, his gaze flicking to Soren every now and then, a quiet, subtle check-in that kept him grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone. Soren’s hand drifted to his stomach, pressing lightly against the ache, a small, futile gesture that did nothing to ease the nausea but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churning in his gut.

He could feel the sweat breaking out along his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion, the weakness he could never quite accept.

The first song began, the familiar chords reverberating through the stage, grounding him in the routine, the rhythm he knew so well. He focused on his guitar, each note a small, careful movement that kept his mind occupied, that allowed him to push the sickness down, to hold it at bay, if only for a little while.

Lex’s voice rose over the crowd, steady, powerful, a sound that seemed to cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the present, in the familiar warmth of their connection.

But as the minutes ticked by, the nausea grew sharper, more insistent, a low, relentless ache that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, weak.

He took careful breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together. But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up with a force that left him gasping, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t fight.

Soren took advantage of a small instrumental break, slipping to the side of the stage, his movements careful, deliberate, as he braced himself against the wall, his hand pressed tightly to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness at bay.

He barely made it to a small trash can set discreetly offstage before his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, his throat raw from the acid, the strain.

The sickness was relentless, each wave sharp, unyielding, leaving him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to steady himself, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

He barely had a moment to catch his breath before the next song began, the familiar chords pulling him back, forcing him to push the sickness down, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

He wiped his mouth, his hand shaking slightly as he steadied himself, forcing himself back onstage, back into the rhythm, the routine that kept him grounded, that allowed him to push through the discomfort, if only for a little while.

Lex’s gaze met his as he stepped back into place, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint, reassuring smile, a quiet assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

He could see the worry in Lex’s expression, the way his gaze lingered on Soren, a silent question, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just continued, his voice steady, powerful, a grounding presence that kept Soren anchored.

But as the night wore on, the nausea grew worse, sharper, a low, relentless ache that refused to let go, that twisted in his stomach with each song, each note. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Another instrumental break offered a brief respite, a small window for him to slip offstage again, to find a quiet corner where he could brace himself, his hand pressed to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness down, to hold it back.

But his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, the taste of acid sharp and bitter on his tongue, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t push through the night without consequence, but the thought of stepping down, of leaving Lex to handle it alone, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t quite shake.

As he made his way back onstage, he could feel Lex’s gaze on him, a quiet, gentle concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren forced a faint, reassuring smile, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

Lex’s hand brushed against his arm, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the weight alone, that he didn’t have to hold it all on his own.

But as the night drew to a close, the sickness refused to ease, each wave sharper, more insistent, a reminder that his body was reaching its limit, that he couldn’t push through without consequence.

By the final song, Soren could barely hold it together, his body trembling, weak, the nausea a relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, breathless, each breath a careful, measured effort.

Lex glanced over, his gaze soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint nod, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

And as the last notes faded, as the lights dimmed, he felt a small, tentative relief settle over him, in the form of Lex’s arms wrapped around him.

-

The afternoon sun poured through the bus windows, casting a warm, gentle light over everything, a contrast to the relentless exhaustion that had plagued Soren over the past day.

He sat at the small table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands, the faint scent of peppermint and ginger filling the air, soothing in a way that reminded him of Lex’s own quiet attentiveness, the careful way Lex had stayed beside him through the worst of it, grounding him, comforting him.

The sickness had lingered through the early morning, each hour a quiet battle against his own body, but by now, the nausea had faded to a dull, manageable ache, a faint discomfort that was nothing compared to the sharp, relentless sickness that had gripped him the day before.

He took a slow sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him, easing the last remnants of tension that clung to his body, a reminder of the vulnerability he could never quite shake.

Lex sat across from him, his long, dark hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, his gaze soft, warm, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his expression.

He’d been watching Soren with a gentle, attentive gaze, his gaze lifting every so often from his phone or his notebook.

“Feeling better?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push himself, that he could take things slow, that he could let himself recover at his own pace.

Soren nodded, managing a faint, reassuring smile as he set the tea down, his hands resting on the table as he leaned back, letting out a slow, careful breath.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a faint edge of exhaustion lingering in his tone. “Finally feels like it’s passed… thanks to you,” he added, a small, grateful smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of the care Lex had offered so freely, so gently.

Lex waved off the thanks with a soft smile, but his gaze lingered, a subtle warmth in his eyes that conveyed more than words ever could—a quiet understanding, a comfort that had always been there between them, a connection that needed no explanation.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to rest lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the silence stretching between them, Soren’s gaze drifted to Lex’s face, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his expression, a subtle discomfort that hadn’t been there before.

It was small, barely noticeable, but Soren had known Lex long enough to recognize the subtle shifts, the quiet signs that hinted at something deeper, something Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Lex cleared his throat softly, a faint, almost absent-minded sound that Soren had come to associate with Lex’s own discomfort, a small, unconscious habit that often preceded the early signs of sickness. It was subtle, a quiet tic that most people wouldn’t notice, but to Soren, it was a small, telling detail, a hint that Lex might be feeling the first stirrings of whatever illness had overtaken Soren. Lex only ever cleared his throat this much when he was feeling like he was about to vomit, as if doing so would dislodge the sickness from his throat and go back down, a habit picked up to avoid throwing up, Lex always hated getting sick like that.

“You alright?” Soren asked, his tone light, casual, though there was a faint, gentle concern lingering beneath the question, a quiet, unspoken hope that Lex might be willing to acknowledge the discomfort, to let himself lean into the support that Soren was ready to offer.

Lex glanced up, his gaze meeting Soren’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression, a small, vulnerable look that settled over him, before he brushed it off with a faint smile, a small, self-assured nod. “Yeah… just tired,” he replied, his tone calm, steady, though there was a faint edge of something else lingering beneath the words, a quiet discomfort that hadn’t quite settled.

He cleared his throat again, a small, almost reflexive gesture, his gaze dropping to the tea in his hands as he took a slow sip, his movements careful, deliberate, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance. Soren’s gaze lingered, a quiet, gentle concern settling over him as he watched Lex, taking in the small, subtle shifts in his posture, the faint way his hand trembled as he set the cup down, the way his gaze seemed to drift, unfocused, a quiet discomfort lingering in the background.

“You’re sure?” Soren pressed, his voice soft, a gentle, unspoken question lingering in the air, a quiet hope that Lex might let himself lean into the comfort, the support that Soren was ready to offer, a small, tentative invitation to share the weight, to let Soren take care of him for once.

Lex’s smile was faint, a small, grateful expression that flickered at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of Soren’s concern, though he didn’t answer, didn’t give any indication of the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the quiet stretching between them, Soren could feel the faint, subtle tension in Lex’s touch, the quiet discomfort that lingered in the background, a small, unspoken reminder that there was something more beneath the surface, a hint of vulnerability that Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But Soren didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just held Lex’s hand, a quiet, grounding presence that kept them both steady, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone.

And as the afternoon sunlight filled the space, casting a warm, gentle glow over them, Soren felt a small, quiet understanding settle over him, a reminder of the quiet strength, the connection they shared, a bond that needed no words, no grand gestures, just a hand on a shoulder, a quiet, steady comfort that held them both, even in the vulnerable moments, even in the quiet, unspoken understanding that lingered between them.

As the silence stretched on, Soren couldn’t shake the faint, lingering feeling that hinted at the possibility of Lex coming down with the very same illness he’d struggled through.

It was subtle, a small, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a quiet tension that lingered in the background, but Soren knew, in that small, fragile moment, that he would be there, that he would offer the same care, the same quiet support that Lex had given him.

Soren didn’t miss the way Lex set down his mug of tea like it had personally wronged him, or that the mere thought of drinking more would make his body stage an all out rejection. But, he didn’t say anything about it, Soren didn’t ask.

Soren moved to sit next to Lex, closing the space between them, wrapping an arm around Lex’s shoulders as if that would protect Lex from whatever knocked Soren so badly.

“Come here,” Soren said, rubbing Lex’s shoulder, “I’ve got you.”