#sorry this was just so much better than anything i could have ever anticipated

[thedragonagelesbian]

i like actually screamed. out loud. god bless

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: You're not sure what to get Javi for Christmas, until he gives you an idea for a gift you can't put under the tree

Word Count: 3.3K (I wrote this in two hours, the thots do be thotin)

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex (whoops), breeding kink (I'll say it once and I'll say it again, you KNOW this man deserves 17 kids) vaginal fingering, creampie (big time), family planning, Javi gets so excited about the idea of another baby he literally can't control himself, terrible, sexual Christmas puns, cute and sweet Christmas fluff bc I love this family more than life and you know they give their kids the most magical Christmases 🥺

A/N: I'll take Javier Peña with a big fat breeding kink for a thousand, please!!! I was feeling in a writing rut, until I read @notjustjavierpena Husband Javi Christmas fic last night, and lord have MERCY, consider me inspired 🫡 I'll never shut up about the fact that this man wants a football team, and every Christmas will ask to put another baby in you as his only Christmas gift BYEEEEEEE I need to be institutionalized at this point sorry this is poorly beta'd, it's me, I'm allergic to editing!!!

Forever and Always Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Javier Peña, there has to be something you want for Christmas.” 

“As long as all my girls are happy, that’s all I want.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t wrap your sappy sentiment, Javi.” 

There was nothing more that you enjoyed than showering Javi with gifts for the holidays. There were few people on earth you could imagine being more deserving than your husband- you’d find a way to wrap the moon and top it with a bow, if that’s what he wanted. Unfortunately for you, Javi was so sweet, it made buying gifts for him nearly impossible, considering there was rarely ever a tangible item on his wishlist. 

“I don’t need anything, baby.” Javi smiled, reaching for the roll of bright pink and sparkly wrapping paper in front of him to start covering the new Barbie Dream House Lucy had been begging for all year long. “Toss me the tape.” 

“Well obviously I have things for you, but I always wanna make sure I’m getting you things that you want.” You sighed, gently throwing the roll of Scotch tape you had been using over the pile of gifts between you and Javi you were working on wrapping while your daughters were asleep. 

After six Christmases under your belts, you and Javi had learned from the one grave mistake of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all your daughter’s presents, now taking a few nights before the big day to wrap and assemble any gifts being left under the tree for your own sanity. 

Now that your girls, Lucy, Elliot and Harper, were six, four and two, it made Christmas even more magical, knowing that they were beginning to understand the concept of what the holiday meant, and all the joyous anticipation that led up to the 25th of December. 

It also meant that there were a lot more presents to wrap- 1, because Lucy and Elliot knew that they could ask for gifts they wanted, and 2, because Javi would say he’d be done buying presents and then show up the next day after work with another toy for his girls. 

“Honey, you get great gifts, for me, but especially for the girls, too. Fuck, I forgot this needs batteries…” Javi mumbled to himself, carefully undoing the wrapping paper he had started working on, “You make a very good Santa.” 

“I think the girls like your version of Santa better, since that’s how they end up with double the gifts under the tree.” You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes at Javi before reaching for the next toy in the pile, “I’m being serious, Javi. I love spoiling those girls just as much as you, but you also deserve to be spoiled too, ya know.” 

“You’re my wife, gave me three beautiful daughters, and tolerate me on a daily basis. Baby, that’s plenty fucking spoiled, if you ask me.” Javi grinned, giving you a reassuring nod and little shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re much more than tolerable, you goof.” You laughed, cheeks pink at the warmth of your husband’s words, never failing to make you melt a little more each day. “Will you please just tell me one thing you want? Then I’ll let it go, I promise.” 

Javi sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the edges of the wrapping paper he was working on before a boyish smile began to creep into the corners of his cheeks. 

“Uh oh.” You laughed to yourself, immediately recognizing the goofy grin Javi was trying to contain, “What is it, Peña?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi snickered to himself, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Jav, if it’s another dog, I told you, when the girls are older and-” 

“No, it’s not another dog.” He smirked, still softly laughing to himself as you tilted your head at him in confusion, trying to piece together what kind of gift Javi would want that would take any convincing from you, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempted to decipher the devious splayed across his face. 

It only took about two seconds and that look to figure out what Javi was in the market for.  

“Javi…” You sighed, your tone jokingly stern. 

“Osita?” He responded back, trying to downplay his giddiness now that you had figured out his gift suggestion. 

“Javi, four kids is a lot of kids. One more, and they’re doubling us in ranks.” 

You had always been on the fence about having a fourth baby. Not because you didn’t love having kids, or that you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it, mentally or financially, but because your brain worked in logistics- adding one more member to your family was getting you to the point where you’d have so many kids, you wouldn’t even all fit in Javi’s truck anymore, unless someone got demoted to the trunk, which, in all honesty, you were sure Elliot wouldn’t mind. 

For Javi, on the other hand, there was no need to worry about logistics- the two of you would figure it out sooner or later. The only logistics he was worried about was instigating the baby making process.  

“You asked what I wanted!” Javi replied, chuckling as he held his hands up in defense, “I think I’ve been a very good boy all year, if you ask me.” 

“What you’re asking for is definitely putting you on the naughty list.” You huffed, trying to distract yourself with finishing wrapping the present you were working on to hide the fact you were genuinely considering Javi’s present suggestion. “You really think we can handle four kids, Jav?” 

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way Javi instantly perked up when your first response to his gift idea wasn’t rejection, eyeing you up and down and gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“Mhmmm.” He nodded, slowly making his way around the pile of presents to scooch closer to you, “I’ll take care of everything, mi amor. You, the girls, the baby, I can ask for less hours at work so I can help around here, whatever you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“You really want this baby, huh?” You giggled, smirking at Javi as he crawled next to you, hungry look in his eyes while he began to cage his body over yours, carefully laying you down on the floor beneath him. 

“Fuck, I wanna knock you up again so bad. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Javi groaned, planking overtop you, his hot breath dancing across your skin in between his soft nips at your pulse point. “Let me fuck another baby into you, Osita. Please.” 

Any inhibitions you would have had in protest had completely flown out the window, arousal soaking the fabric of your underwear as Javi kissed up your neck and across your collarbone, softly palming at your breasts under one of his old sweatshirts you had thrown on. 

Truth be told, you and Javi had talked about baby number four enough that you were already leaning towards saying 'yes' anyways, but that wouldn’t stop you from having a little fun in seeing how badly Javi really wanted the Christmas gift he was asking you for. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, Javi. Tell me how much you wanna fuck another baby into me.” You devilishly whispered into his ear, smiling to yourself at the pathetic groan that rumbled from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me-” Javi moaned, hands feverishly groping your body, “Fuck, I want it so bad, quierda. Wanna fill you up ‘till it has no choice but to fucking take, fuck this pussy so full of me, let everyone know who it belongs to, watching you carry our baby. Please, Osita.” 

It was a good thing you were already prepared to be easily swayed, because even if you weren’t, listening to the way Javi was begging to put another baby in you would have easily been enough. 

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Papí.” 

Your green light was all Javi needed to spark something completely feral in him, practically ripping your clothes off you in the middle of the living room, sprawled out on the carpet. 

“Javi, we can go upstairs and-” 

“No. Fuck, I need to fuck you right now, just like this.” He grunted, shedding his clothes before his hand was cupping over your underwear, jaw going slack at how absolutely soaked the fabric was under the pads of his fingers. “Apparently you do too, huh, Momma? She’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussy wants me to fill her up so bad.” 

Your stomach churned in arousal as Javi ripped your panties down your legs, revealing the puffy, glistening mess beneath. Javi had barely touched you, and you could already feel the way you’re dripping, admittedly just as turned on as him at the idea of letting him add another addition to your family. 

“Christ, baby.” Javi muttered, settling between your legs. Letting his hands run up the insides of your thighs, he took his thumbs and slid them between your folds, spreading you open to get a full view of the way your slick was coating your cunt. “Making a fucking mess for me already.” 

“I think I’m ovulating soon.” You sigh, doing some quick math in your head, trying to account for just how worked up you were, Javi’s eyes so going wide at the realization, you were worried they may just pop out of his skull. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Javi groaned, shaking his head in disbelief at his luck, “You’re right, Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me then.” 

Swirling the pads of his fingers against your clit, your back arched against the floor at the shockwaves the pleasure sent through your body, making you gasp so loud, you were worried you risked a real possibility of waking up your daughters. 

“F-Fuck, Javi-” You whimpered, already bucking your bottom half towards him as he sunk his two fingers into your cunt while the heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit. Reaching up, your grasp wrapped around Javi’s bicep, muscles flexing with each pulse of his fingers as you left half-crescent moons in his skin. 

It took everything in you not to scream as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you out as he bumped against your g-spot, tension already beginning to build in your core. A sudden gasp escaped your chest, surprised by the newfound emptiness that had you clenching around nothing, looking up to see Javi reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to fucking feel you, baby. Swear you’ve got me feeling like I’m about to bust like a fucking teenager.” Javi grunted, running his tip against your clit and down your cunt, collecting your arousal before thrusting himself inside you, filling you to the brim with every inch of him. 

Unless you were desperately pressed for time, Javi normally had a bare bones minimum of pulling at least one orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but seeing how worked up and needy he was to feel you wrapped around him, it was about as close to an orgasm you could get withtout actually having one. 

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you whined, feeling the tip of his head kiss your cervix as he began to thrust in and out of you, feeling dizzy from his fullness. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, his hips slamming into you in deep, slow thrusts, breath hitching in the back of your throat every time he buries himself deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill her up, give you every last fucking drop. Taking me so fucking well.” Javi moaned through gritted teeth, already scrunching his face in concentration through his pussy drunk babbling.  

Running his hands up the back of your thighs, Javi pushed your knees to your chest, pinning your legs in place against your stomach to stretch you out even further, letting him sink himself even deeper to hit the spot he knew drove you just as crazy as it drove him. 

Despite how lost in pleasure the two of you were, Javi was at least conscious enough to realize how loud you had gotten, quickly reaching up cup your mouth, catching your muffled moans in the palm of his hand. 

“I know, hermosa. Fuck, I love hearing you, but we gotta keep quiet enough, baby.” Javi huffed, snaking the hand covering your mouth between your bodies, circling at your clit, almost as if he was putting you through some sort of cruel test to see how far he could push you before he had you screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“Fuck- fuck, I know. You feel so good, Javi.” You whined, hand pressed against his bare chest, his warmth and weight pinning your body below him. 

You feel the way Javi’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, filling himself as deep as he could as your cunt began to clench around his length, sucking him in with your warmth and wetness. Your eyes had been scrunched, so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t even noticed the nearly pained look on Javi’s face, furrowing his brow in deep concentration with each slap of his hips against yours. 

“You okay, Javi?” You asked, panting out each word as he pounded into you, circling your clit faster and faster as his grip tightened around your thighs, trying to keep himself grounded. 

“Yeah, I- Fuck- fuck me, I’m trying so hard not to finish before you do. Pussy feels so fucking good. Wanna cum so fucking deep inside you.” Javi moaned, the rhythm of his hips already starting to falter thinking about his endgame. 

If you weren’t so lost in your own ecstasy, you probably would have giggled at Javi’s admission, giving him shit about how he couldn’t hold it together for even just a few minutes, knowing he could finally try to get you pregnant again. But right now, you’re just shocked you can even get any words to form coherent thoughts to string together, let alone tease him. 

“Put a baby in me, Javi. Fuck, want you to cum so deep inside me, please, baby.” 

You could barely finish the whimpers of your sentence before Javi’s pace became sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering before his jaw went slack, letting a low, long groan escape from his chest. 

“Oh, f-fuck-” Javi stammered, flushing his hips against yours as you felt his warm spend coat your walls, pressed so deep inside you, you were convinced it’d have no choice but to stick, in a few weeks finding out baby number four would be on the way. 

Javi’s chest rose and fell, looking down at the way your bodies melted together beneath him, igniting something primal in him to see the mix of your arousal seeping around where the two of you met. His eyes darkened, looking down at you with a feral sort of smirk, not even giving you the chance to speak before his lips were crashing into yours again, hips slowly thrusting while his fingers rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“J-Javi, what are you-” You muttered, cut off by the messy dancing of tongues and teeth in your mouths. 

“I’m not done yet, Momma. Not until I fuck myself so deep in there we know it fucking takes. Wanna keep you stuffed so fucking full of me.” Javi grunted, rubbing your clit faster at the way he could feel the walls of your pussy starting to flutter around him, determined to make sure he wasn’t the only one who finished. “Cum for me, baby. I know you’re close. Can feel how tight she’s getting for me.” 

You knew just as well as he did that the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine had slowly begun to flow to every inch of your body, building up through your legs and into your core, clenching down harder and harder around Javi’s cock, knowing there was no doubt the mess between your legs was surley just as wet as it sounded as he slid in and out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Javi, oh fuck- fuck, fuckfuckfuck- ah!” 

It didn't take long before your orgasm crashed through you, lighting up every inch of you in radiating pleasure, your cunt clamping down so hard around Javi’s cock, it made him let out a strangled gasp as he choked out curses under his breath. 

“Jesus, fuck. Gonna squeeze every last fucking drop outta me, huh? My greedy fuckin’ girl.” Javi smirked, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling as one as you finished coming down from your high. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths and basking in bliss before Javi was pulling out of you with a hiss, one hand wrapped around his softening cock, the other scooping up the mix of your spend pooling between your legs before it dripped to the floor, carefully pushing it back inside you. 

“Fuck,” Javi laughed to himself quietly, sitting back on his haunches, admiring the slick, shiny mess your pussy had become, “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” 

“Looks like Christmas came early this year… and so did you.” You giggled, making Javi roll his eyes, playfully shaking one of the legs still pressed to your chest. 

“Shut up.” He sighed, shaking his head at you before laying back down beside you, shifting so that his chest was pressed to your back, spooning you in his grasp. “Gotta make sure Santa’s not the only thing coming down the chimney this year.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You can’t help but snort, ashamed of how easily amused you are by his stupid puns. 

“What? You let me get my gift early, least I can do is stuff your stocking for you.” 

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” 

The two of you giggled, basking in your laughter as you laid together on the floor, only spurred on by the fact you realized how ridiculous it was that the two of you were completely naked in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and presents. 

“Speaking of stocking stuffers, we should finish wrapping the rest of these gifts we have out before we go to bed. At least some of these presents should be wrapped, because the one you just gave me was most definitely not.” You teased, craning your neck to pepper ticklish kisses across Javi’s jaw. 

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I’ll give it to you tomorrow too, if you let me.” Javi grinned, giving you a playful wink before pressing a kiss into your messy hair and patting your hip, reaching over you to grab the pile of clothes the two of you had left next to you. “Seriously though, thank you. You and our girls are the best gift I could ever have, but adding one more would make me so fucking happy. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi. You guys are the best gift I could ask for, too. Although, I will say, your gift also selfishly works in my favor, too. Some presents are just better unwrapped.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[spencerreidwifey]

Tied Up - Spencer Reid

MDNI! 18+!

Summary: Spencer reveals his private red room to the reader, but when unexpected guests arrive he’s forced to leave her alone, leaving tension literally hanging in the air.

Masterlist!

Part 2 - Tied 2 You!

Post Prison!Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Smut 🔥

Word Count: 8.2K

Warnings: MDNI! 18+! softdom!spencer, sub!reader, pre-established relationship, pre-established safe words, SLOW BURN, chains mentioned, whips mentioned, blindfold mentioned, flogger mentioned, handcuffs used, use of ‘Good Girl’, use of safe words, thigh riding, no sex, just teasing (sorry).

WARNING: THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FIC, PLEASE BE NICE

The room felt like it was closing in on her, each item on display mocking her—mocking the reality she’d always known. She was no stranger to the darker corners of the human psyche, but this? This was something she hadn’t expected, especially not from Spencer. The chains, the whips, the cuffs... it was all laid out in front of her, each object far too intimate, far too raw, like a slap to the face. A stark contrast to the quiet reserved Spencer she thought she knew.

Spencer Reid, the FBI genius with a shy smile and a brain that could unravel the most complex cases, had always been hard to understand. But this—this—was not the Spencer she’d known, and yet, in a way, it was exactly the one she’d feared existed beneath the surface. Prison had changed him, she knew that. He’d come back with a quiet storm inside him, a part of him more ferocious than she’d ever expected. But this... this was far beyond what she had prepared for.

Her heart was racing, the intensity of the room’s atmosphere mixing with the intensity of the moment itself. She could feel the weight of his presence behind her, his breath brushing against her neck, as he stood close enough to make her skin tingle with a strange combination of dread and anticipation.

“Spencer…” She whispered, more to herself than to him, the words barely escaping her lips. Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of everything. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid, or if curiosity was beginning to outweigh the fear.

He was so close now, she could feel his fingers brush the fabric of her shirt, his touch sending a jolt of heat across her skin. His hand snaked around her from behind, settling at the opposite side of her waist. The touch was firm and possessive, and as he pulled her just a little closer, she felt a surge of heat flood her body despite herself. He was patient, letting the moment simmer, his other hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if giving her time to process.

"I understand it’s a lot to take in, but one night is all I’m asking," he murmured, his voice low, almost coaxing. There was an undeniable edge to it now—a darker, rawer version of him she hadn’t known existed. The boy who had always been awkward, and uncertain, was gone, replaced by someone much more confident, much more determined to get what he wanted.

His words made her heart beat faster, but the undertone of desperation—the need in his voice—sent a shiver down her spine. She could see it in his eyes now. He wasn’t just asking. He was pleading for release, and it was clear that he wanted her to be the one to give it to him.

“We don’t even have to do anything, just let me give you a test run.” He spoke with a growl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The room was heavy with tension, and she could feel herself beginning to crack under the weight of it.

Her mouth went dry as she tried to process his words, her mind racing for a response. “A test run?” she echoed, her voice barely audible, still stunned by the shift in their dynamic. Her eyes darted nervously over the room again, the chains hanging from the walls, the whips draped over chairs as if all of it were daring her to make a decision.

The silence between them stretched, and still, neither of them looked at each other. Spencer knew better than to press her immediately, but his presence was undeniable. He was waiting, and though she felt that familiar sense of control over herself slipping away, she was too caught up in the moment to make a move just yet.

Her breath hitched as she felt the undeniable pull of the man behind her—no longer the shy, reserved Spencer, but something darker, something that called to a part of her she’d never fully acknowledged. Something she couldn’t resist.

Her mind was spinning, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Spencer’s words hung between them, heavy and deliberate, his tone steady, but there was a hidden hunger underneath it, something primal. He wasn’t asking anymore; he was offering something—daring her to accept, to take a step into a world she had only seen glimpses of, a world she wasn’t sure she was ready to enter.

She looked at him, his features sharp in the dim light, his posture exuding confidence, like a predator who had set its sights on its prey. Spencer Reid, the brilliant, often timid genius of the FBI, had always been a puzzle to her, but now, standing in front of her with that cold certainty in his eyes, he was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

“We’ll do something light for tonight,” Spencer continued, his voice unwavering, almost as if he were reading a script. “If it’s something you’re not interested in, we’ll never speak of it again. But if it is something you want…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, knowing the weight of it hung in the balance.

The offer, the challenge, the invitation—it was too much for her to process at the moment. She wasn’t naïve, she knew what he was asking, what he was proposing. Spencer had always been a curious soul, someone who explored the depths of the human mind, but this was different. This wasn’t a case to crack open, a mystery to be solved with intellect. This was something visceral, something rooted in control and power, and she was the one he wanted to bend.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to wrap her head around it. Spencer was brilliant, yes, but he was also deeply sensitive, a man who had been through so much, and who had struggled with his own demons. How could he possibly want her, of all people, to be the one he could dominate?

She couldn’t help herself. “But why me?” Her voice cracked slightly, caught between disbelief and a tinge of hurt. “You know me. I’m not the one you want to be your submissive. I’m the complete opposite.”

She could feel the heat of the room pressing in on her, the walls lined with tools and items meant for pleasure, for control. But none of them made sense to her. They felt foreign. She was a woman who took charge, who fought for what she wanted, a woman who refused to bend to anyone's will.

Spencer’s gaze didn’t falter. He understood her hesitation, but it didn’t make him waver. In fact, the challenge only fueled his desire.

“I know you’re strong-willed,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper against the backdrop of her doubts. “That’s exactly why I want you. I’ve had plenty of submissives before, but they were always too easy, too willing to give up control. I want you because you’re different. I want to break through that hardness, make you see things from my side.”

His words hit her like a wave, and despite herself, she felt a strange shiver of anticipation. The thought of submitting to him, of allowing him to have control, was so foreign, so against everything she had known about herself. She was passionate and forceful, a woman who never let anyone hold power over her. But there was something about the way he spoke, the unrelenting force in his words, that made her question everything.

“I want a challenge,” he continued, almost as if he could read her mind. “I want a submissive who doesn’t make it easy for me. I want the fire, the resistance. The satisfaction of breaking down those walls. The pleasure is in the struggle. In bending you, forcing you to surrender just a little of that control.”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She knew Spencer—knew the parts of him that others didn’t. But this side of him? This darker, more dangerous side that wanted to claim her, to make her submit… it was something she hadn’t seen coming.

“You want to break me?” She scoffed, trying to muster some strength, but her voice faltered, betraying the crack in her armor. “I’m not some project for you to fix or control, Spencer.”

He stepped closer, not breaking eye contact, his presence overwhelming. “No,” he murmured, his voice almost tender despite the command in it. “Not to fix. To free you. You’re just as much in control of this as I am. But I’m not going to let you hide from what you really want, from what we could be.”

The air between them was charged now, the boundary between challenge and desire blurred. Her pulse raced, and even though part of her was telling her to walk away, another part—one that she hadn’t acknowledged before—was intrigued, fascinated by what he was offering.

Spencer’s smirk was soft but knowing as if he had already won, as if he was certain that, in time, he would break through to her. His words weren’t just an invitation; they were a promise.

And for the first time, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she was ready to walk away.

“Just try, for me,” Spencer murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice low and commanding. He pulled back with a lingering look, walking toward the plush red velvet chair. He eased into it with an air of deliberate confidence, stretching out as he sat, his legs parted just enough to make his intention clear. The subtle yet calculated display was meant to unnerve her, to draw her in, and it was working.

(Y/N)’s gaze faltered before inevitably settling on him. How could she not? Every move he made seemed to be a challenge, a dare meant to test her resolve. Her pulse quickened, the crimson glow of the room amplifying the heat already building in her chest. He was playing a game she wasn’t sure she knew the rules to—but she couldn’t deny how much she wanted to play.

“Take off your top,” Spencer commanded his tone firm but not harsh, cutting through the thick tension in the room. The words hung in the air like a tangible weight, their presence making her heart race. She hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as they hovered near the hem of her shirt. The space between them seemed to shrink as his voice softened, yet grew more intoxicating. “Slowly, (Y/N). Play with me a little.”

Her breath hitched, the words wrapping around her like silk, pulling her deeper into his control. She couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her nervousness melding with a flicker of boldness. If this was a game, maybe it was time to stop being afraid of losing.

Her fingers trembled as they softly grasped the hem of her shirt, toying with the fabric as though deciding whether to commit to the moment. Slowly, she began lifting it, teasingly revealing the soft curve of her stomach, inch by deliberate inch. The fabric slid higher, grazing her skin, until it passed over her chest and finally slipped free of her head. The shirt fluttered to the floor at her feet, abandoned yet heavy with the weight of what it represented.

She could feel his gaze on her, hotter than any spotlight, tracing every contour of her body with an intensity that made her stomach churn. Spencer didn’t need to move, didn’t need to say a word—his eyes alone held her captive. Shame bubbled in her chest, threatening to spill over as she wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, fighting the urge to cover what she’d just exposed. Her head dipped low, too afraid to meet his eyes.

“You’re gorgeous.” His voice was gentle but unwavering, carrying a reassurance that seemed to cut through her self-doubt. She risked a glance up, her breath catching at the warmth in his expression. He wasn’t mocking her, wasn’t scrutinizing—he was admiring, revering her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“You’re doing so well,” he added softly, his tone both a compliment and an encouragement. But then, he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and his next words were lower, more intimate, pulling her further into his world.

“Do you trust me?”

The question hung in the air, a fragile thread between them. Her heart hammered in her chest, her body torn between the vulnerability of her situation and the strange, undeniable comfort his voice offered.

She gave him a soft nod, her movements tentative, barely perceptible. Her vulnerability was written across her face, her uncertainty etched into the way her hands lingered at her sides as if still debating whether to shield herself. But that wasn’t enough for Spencer.

“I need verbal confirmation, (Y/N),” he pressed, his voice calm yet firm, each word carefully measured. His gaze didn’t waver, steady and unrelenting, like a lighthouse cutting through the fog of her doubt.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she hesitated, the weight of his demand bearing down on her like a physical force. Her lips parted, but no sound came at first—just a shaky exhale. His head tilted slightly, his patience an unspoken challenge, silently urging her to cross the threshold.

“Yes,” she finally stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and resolve. “Yes, I trust you.”

The words came out louder than she intended, almost like a yelp, as though speaking them had taken more courage than she thought she possessed. Her cheeks flushed instantly, the warmth spreading down her neck.

Spencer’s lips curved into the faintest smile, his expression softening. The tension in the room shifted, not lessened but transformed—where once there had been uncertainty, now there was something unspoken yet undeniable: her surrender, her choice.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum as he leaned back in the chair, savoring the moment like a victory he’d been patiently awaiting. Then, with deliberate ease, he rose to his feet, his movements measured and purposeful, each step echoing faintly against the room’s silence.

Spencer approached her, his hand finding the small of her waist, the touch firm yet oddly reassuring. He guided her gently but unyieldingly toward a ring mounted to the ceiling. Her pulse quickened as she followed his lead, her eyes darting nervously between him and the strange, ominous apparatus.

His hand never left her waist as he reached up, his other arm brushing against her as he brought the cuffs down to her height. The metallic clink of the chain echoed softly in the space, and her breath hitched when he lowered them to dangle just above her reach.

“You want me in those?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the tremor betraying the fear laced in her question. The vulnerability in her tone was unmistakable. She glanced at the cuffs, then back at him, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Every fiber of her being told her to run, to escape the unknown. Yet something else—something she couldn’t explain—anchored her in place. Curiosity, perhaps. Or the magnetic pull of his presence.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, his darkened eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip. He could see it all: the hesitation, the conflict, the desperate tug-of-war inside her. And he could see something else, too—that faint flicker of desire she was too scared to voice.

“Yes,” he answered finally, his tone steady but softened by a hint of reassurance. “You’ll have a safe word. If you use it, I promise I’ll stop immediately. No questions asked.”

His words were firm yet kind, grounding her in the moment. For a fleeting second, she almost believed that he could see straight through her fears and into the part of her that wanted to trust him, wanted to let go.

“You’ll be safe,” he added, his voice dipping lower, the sincerity in it undeniable. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking back to the cuffs. The urge to flee still clawed at her, but so did the pull to stay. As the silence stretched between them, she realized that it wasn’t just the situation that kept her rooted—it was him.

She hesitated, her breath shallow as she wrestled with the decision swirling in her mind. Finally, with a slow exhale, she raised her hands above her head, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the cuffs that dangled just out of reach. It was a gesture of tentative surrender, a signal that she was ready—or at least, willing—to take this step.

But Spencer wasn’t done with her yet. He wanted more, needed more. The dominance he had craved for so long wouldn’t be satisfied by half-measures.

“Take off your bra,” he instructed, his voice low but commanding, the words settling over her like a velvet chain. He stepped closer, his towering presence casting a shadow that seemed to engulf her. The way he looked at her, with that quiet, unyielding intensity, made it clear—this wasn’t a request.

Her eyes widened as his demand sank in, the weight of it making her heart race. “I thought this was supposed to be a test run,” she managed to say, her voice shaky and uncertain, her gaze darting between him and the cuffs above her.

Spencer’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, his eyes dark with purpose. “How will we know if you like it or not,” he replied smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of teasing, “if you don’t show some skin?”

The words hung in the air, both a challenge and a justification. He wasn’t just pushing her boundaries; he was coaxing her toward something she hadn’t fully admitted to herself that she wanted.

She swallowed hard, her thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation and nerves. Deep down, she knew this was coming. She’d known from the moment she stepped into his suite that her imagination—the fantasies she’d entertained but never dared voice—was inching closer to becoming reality.

But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

Her hands drifted downward, brushing against the clasp of her bra as her breathing quickened. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, his gaze like a magnet, pulling her in even as her mind screamed at her to stop. There was no turning back now; the pull was too strong. 

In that moment, she let go—let go of the armor she wore so tightly, the hard and unyielding persona that shielded her from vulnerability. She surrendered it all to Spencer, letting him strip away the control she clung to so desperately. Deep down, she knew she could trust him. The knowledge that he would stop the moment she uttered her safe word was her anchor, the thread that allowed her to take the plunge.

With trembling fingers, she unclasped her bra, the fabric loosening its hold on her body. Gravity took over as it slipped from her shoulders, fluttering softly to the floor between them, pooling at their feet like a quiet surrender. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the cool air grazing her bare skin, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Instinctively, she wanted to shield herself, her arms twitching as if to fold over her chest. But she resisted. Instead, she lifted her chin and kept her gaze locked with Spencer’s, refusing to break the connection. His eyes were steady, dark pools of intensity that seemed to swallow her whole. They didn’t stray—not even for a second—to her newly exposed form. He stayed focused on her, his stare grounding her, holding her in place.

Her vulnerability hung heavy in the air between them, but his expression wasn’t one of judgment. It was something deeper—reverence, maybe, or an almost predatory satisfaction at her willingness to give herself to him. The heat in his gaze burned away the edges of her lingering shame, replacing it with a strange, electrifying mix of fear and exhilaration.

Slowly, she raised her arms above her head, her movements deliberate, her breaths shaky but resolute. The cold metal of the cuffs grazed her wrists, the chill jolting her skin as she settled them in place. Her fingers curled slightly, her body tensing with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to lock her into place.

Time seemed to stretch as she stood there, exposed and open, the chains rattling faintly with her unsteady breaths. Yet, despite the vulnerability of the moment, she felt an unexpected calm settle over her. She had let go. The control was no longer hers, and somehow, that made her feel free.

Spencer’s hands moved deliberately, reaching above her head to secure her wrists in the waiting cuffs. The faint metallic click echoed in the stillness as he locked her first hand into place, his movements measured and precise. Her breathing hitched when he reached for the second cuff, the soft brush of his fingers against her skin sending a shiver racing through her.

“Is that too tight?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur, grounding her in the moment.

She gave an experimental tug on her restraints, testing the give of the chains, the slight pull on her wrists making her hyperaware of her position. The cold metal pressed firmly against her skin, but it didn’t hurt—at least, not yet.

“My left one feels a little too loose,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with both vulnerability and trust.

Spencer nodded, his expression shifting into one of careful focus. He adjusted the left cuff with precision, tightening it just enough to hold her securely but not uncomfortably. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as though he understood the weight of her trust and carried it with care.

“Try that,” he said, stepping back slightly to give her room to test the adjustment.

She pulled again, her wrists shifting slightly in the cuffs, the sensation strange but not unpleasant. “That’s good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet the words carried a finality that made her pulse quicken.

Spencer’s lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes darkening with intent. The moment hung between them, heavy with anticipation, as the last barrier between her and his desires dissolved. She was bound now, completely at his mercy, and the realization sent a thrill through her that she couldn’t quite name.

He stepped closer, his presence commanding, yet his movements were unhurried, savoring her surrender. She felt the heat of his body near hers, the air crackling with a tension that made her stomach twist in a dizzying blend of nerves and excitement.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that made her knees feel weak. But there was an edge to his tone, a promise of what was to come.

She knew now there was nothing stopping him, nothing holding him back from taking what he wanted—and, as much as it terrified her, she realized she didn’t want to stop him either.

“This will be the only time I give you a choice in what we do,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet unwavering, the firmness in his tone underscoring his sincerity. “Would you like to try a blindfold as well?”

He spoke with an unusual gentleness, a kind of care he rarely extended to anyone in his role as a dominant. But with (Y/N), it was different. She wasn’t like the others who had stepped into his domain, already accustomed to giving up control. This was her first time, her first step into uncharted territory, and he felt an overwhelming need to ensure she felt safe every moment of the way.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw the flicker of panic in her eyes. It was subtle but unmistakable—the way her body stiffened slightly, the way her lips pressed together as if to hold back the truth. Spencer didn’t need her to say it aloud; the answer was written all over her face.

He knew it would be a no, and yet it wasn’t a simple refusal. It was a no that carried a weight, one wrapped in a quiet fear of disappointing him. The realization sent a pang through him, a reminder of how much trust she had placed in him and how fragile that trust was.

“It’s your decision,” he said softly, stepping closer, his tone warm and reassuring. “Whatever it is, it will never disappoint me.”

The sincerity in his voice seemed to settle over her like a calming blanket. Still, she couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes dropped to the floor, focusing on their feet—the stark contrast between her bare toes and the polished leather of his tuxedo shoes. The image felt oddly symbolic to her: vulnerable and exposed next to his commanding presence.

Her breath wavered as she shook her head, the gesture small and hesitant. She forced herself to speak, her voice trembling but audible. “No,” she said, her tone heavy with a mix of shame and relief, as though the simple act of voicing her refusal felt like an act of rebellion against her own self-doubt.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, studying her with those sharp, thoughtful eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said gently, his lips curling into a faint, approving smile. “You don’t need to feel ashamed for setting a boundary. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

Her shoulders eased slightly at his words, her breathing evening out. At that moment, she realized that he wasn’t disappointed—far from it. If anything, he seemed pleased that she had trusted him enough to speak her mind.

Spencer reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face with a touch so tender it made her heartache. “You’re doing perfectly,” he murmured, his voice like a balm against her lingering doubts. “This is about you, not me. Always.”

And for the first time since she’d stepped into this world of uncharted sensations, she began to believe it.

Spencer’s fingers moved deliberately, brushing lightly against the curve of her hip. His touch was soft, almost featherlike, the kind of teasing that sent shivers skittering across her skin. He wasn’t rushing; this was about exploration, about seeing how her body reacted to him, how far she would let herself go.

Her breath hitched, and a quiet, involuntary giggle slipped past her lips. “That tickles,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with both embarrassment and restraint. She didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to break the moment or risk displeasing him. But her body betrayed her, shifting slightly out of instinct, as if it had a mind of its own.

Spencer’s hand stilled for a moment, and then he withdrew, his touch trailing away from her hip. Her heart sank at the loss, but before she could fully register the absence, his fingers were under her chin, tilting her face upward.

The movement was firm yet careful, guiding her gaze to meet his. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist and her knees feel weak. There was no need for him to speak; the demand in his expression was unmistakable.

She swallowed hard, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Somehow, she already knew what he wanted, what he was waiting for. Her voice came out as a breathy whisper, soft but resolute. “Yes, you can touch me.”

Her words hung in the air like a confession, and Spencer’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t a grin of triumph but of satisfaction—a confirmation that she was willing to give herself to him, step by step, in her own time.

He leaned in slightly, his hand still resting lightly under her chin, his thumb brushing against her jaw. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, a reward in itself. The praise sent warmth flooding through her, melting away the last of her hesitation.

Spencer’s hand moved again, slow and deliberate, tracing her skin with the kind of care that left no doubt—this wasn’t just about control. It was about connection, about her trusting him enough to let him take the lead.

Spencer moved slowly, his touch deliberate and teasing, each contact designed to heighten the ache, the need growing in both of them. He knew how badly she wanted him to touch her, how much she would beg for it if he pushed her to that point. And yet, he was patient, letting the anticipation simmer, knowing that the slow build-up would make the moment more intense when it finally arrived.

He started at her cuffed wrists, his fingers trailing softly over the restraints. His touch was tender at first as if savoring the sensation of her restrained form. Slowly, his hands moved lower, tracing the line of her forearm, and the soft skin of her upper arm, each motion lingering longer than necessary. The gentle caress was almost maddening—he could feel the tension in her body, how her muscles tightened, waiting for the next move.

When his fingers reached her shoulder, he paused, deliberately drawing out the moment. Her breath hitched in anticipation, her body tensing as she prepared herself for the next step, expecting him to move downward, to give her the relief she craved. But Spencer, ever the tease, left her waiting. He chose to wait just a little longer, knowing that the suspense would make her feel every second of it.

Instead, his fingers danced across her shoulder, up her neck, tracing the curve with a soft, almost reverent touch. Her skin shivered under his fingertips as his hand moved slowly to her face, cupping her chin gently but with authority, guiding her to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, almost cold, as he took her in. He studied her carefully, noting the way the microfit shorts clung to her body, and how they outlined the contours of her hips and thighs. He could see the way her breasts stood out, her nipples hard against the chill of the room, a soft flush of color on her skin. Her stomach, ever so slightly bloated from the meal earlier, gave her an endearing vulnerability that only added to the beauty of the moment.

She was perfect to him. Every detail, every inch of her body, was etched into his mind. And as he looked at her, he couldn’t help but wish that she could see herself the way he saw her—vulnerable, beautiful, and entirely his in this moment.

The silence between them stretched, thick with desire and the tension of what was to come. Spencer’s fingers lingered on her face, tracing her jawline, his thumb lightly brushing her lips. He didn’t need to say anything. His touch spoke volumes—he knew she was waiting for him to give her what she needed. But for now, he wanted to make her wait just a little longer, drawing out the ache until she couldn’t take it anymore. 

As Spencer’s thumb grazed across her lips, a gentle shudder ran through her body. She couldn’t help herself, the desire bubbling up inside her, compelling her to lean forward and softly kiss the pad of his thumb. She longed for more—wanted to kiss him fully—but the cuffs that bound her to the ceiling kept her restrained, her arms stretched above her head, leaving her helpless in the moment. Still, the kiss she gave him, so subtle, was enough to send a shiver of satisfaction down Spencer’s spine. It was a silent reassurance to him, a sign that she trusted him completely, even in this position.

“Tell me what you want, Darling,” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, low and commanding, yet there was a softness to it that matched his intent. He wanted her to be brave enough to voice her desires, to speak up if she needed something, to never feel as though she couldn’t communicate with him.

Her breath caught as she swallowed, taking in the weight of his words. There was no hesitation now, only the quiet realization of how far she had come in this moment. “A kiss? Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She reminded herself of the rules she had read about submissives—about the importance of politeness, of asking for what they wanted with respect.

Spencer smirked, amused and pleased by her request, the politeness of her words making the moment all the more enticing. He moved toward her, bending down to her height with a teasing, almost taunting air. The position she was in—her arms bound to the ceiling, her feet barely able to touch the ground—made her feel both vulnerable and desperate for him. She had to balance precariously on her toes, her body trembling from the strain as she waited for him to make his next move.

When he leaned in, his lips capturing hers with an intensity that sent a rush of heat through her, she melted into the kiss. It was deep and consuming, full of longing, with a quiet urgency. She didn’t want it to end. She couldn’t. Her body responded before her mind could catch up, and her hands instinctively reached for the chain of her cuffs, her fingers gripping it tightly to ease the strain on her arms. The discomfort was sharp, but she pushed through it, lifting herself slightly off the ground. As her legs wrapped around Spencer’s muscled waist, she pressed herself against him, a quiet plea in her actions.

But Spencer was not so easily swayed. He pulled away, his lips lingering just out of reach. “Ah uh. Good girls don’t misbehave,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. The smirk on his lips deepened as he felt her thighs wrap around him, trapping him in place, her body pressing against his with a force that betrayed her desperation.

His hands moved to her hips, steadying her as her legs held him in place. He could feel her warmth through their clothes, the way her breath quickened with need, and it made him pause, letting the silence between them stretch. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his touch, her every reaction amplifying the tension in the room.

For a moment, Spencer basked in the control he held over her, the way her body clung to him so desperately, her breath shallow and uneven as if she couldn’t bear to let go. His dark eyes lingered on her face, taking in every flicker of emotion—the need, the vulnerability, the surrender. She was entirely at his mercy, and he reveled in it.

But then, with deliberate care, he reached down, his strong hands firmly but gently prying her legs apart. His touch was commanding, yet never harsh, guiding her movements as he unhooked her feet from around his waist. Her thighs trembled as they released their grip, the strain and tension of holding herself up now giving way to his control.

As her feet found the ground again, Spencer softened, ensuring she landed with grace rather than force. His hands remained steady at her hips, holding her in place as her weight shifted, grounding her. The contrast between his earlier teasing dominance and the tender way he lowered her back down was enough to send a fresh wave of heat through her body.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a faint hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. He lingered close, his presence still overwhelming, his hands resting on her hips for a moment longer before finally releasing her. The intimacy of the moment was undeniable��every movement calculated, every gesture leaving her yearning for what he might do next.

Spencer straightened, his eyes never leaving hers, as if daring her to test him again, to see how far he’d let her go before taking back the control she had so briefly attempted to seize.

 “You need to be punished,” Spencer said, his voice low and eerie, carrying a dark promise that sent a chill down her spine. Slowly, deliberately, he turned away from her, leaving her bound and vulnerable as he walked toward the imposing wall of floggers and tools. The soft rustle of his footsteps on the floor seemed deafening in the heavy silence of the room.

Her heart pounded as she watched him run his fingers along the neatly arranged implements, his touch dragging across the leather strands and polished handles. Each one swayed slightly at the friction of his movements, the gentle creak of leather making the air feel electric. Spencer cast a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Which one should I use?” he mused aloud, more to himself than her, the teasing in his tone unmistakable. His fingers hovered over one flogger before moving to another, keeping her guessing, keeping her on edge. The deliberate slowness of his movements was maddening, a calculated way to build her anticipation—or her dread.

Finally, he stopped, his hand resting on a flogger with sleek black leather strands and a braided handle that looked almost elegant in its design. His fingers curled around it as he pulled it from the wall, his eyes flicking back to her. The way he studied her, the intensity in his gaze, made her stomach churn with a mixture of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. Deep down, she knew Spencer wouldn’t actually use it on her tonight. He wouldn’t push her that far, not on her first time in the red room. But in that moment, her logical mind gave way to raw emotion—fear and uncertainty clawing their way to the surface.

“Yellow!” she blurted out, her voice trembling as panic took over. The safe word slipped past her lips instinctively, a desperate plea for him to stop. She tugged against the cuffs in a frantic, almost futile attempt to ground herself, her mind racing as she tried to ease the discomfort that had taken hold of her.

Spencer froze instantly, his entire demeanor shifting. The teasing smirk disappeared from his face as he set the flogger down on a nearby table with a quiet thud. Without hesitation, he turned back to her, closing the distance between them in a few quick, purposeful strides.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice now warm and steady, a sharp contrast to the dark playfulness from moments ago. He cupped her face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing soothing circles over her cheeks as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“You’re alright,” Spencer murmured, his eyes softening as he searched hers, his concern evident. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to use it, I promise.”

Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of her nose, the gesture so gentle and intimate that it made her heart ache. His touch, his voice, everything about him in that moment was designed to bring her back to a place of safety and trust.

“You did exactly what you were supposed to,” he reassured her, his voice calm and soothing. “You told me how you felt, and that’s all I’ll ever ask of you. You’re safe with me.”

Spencer stayed close, his hands never leaving her face as he waited for her breathing to slow, for the tension in her body to ease. And when it did, when her eyes finally met his with a glimmer of trust, he smiled softly. The flogger was forgotten, left behind on the wall as Spencer refocused all his attention on her.

“I just want to be touched by you tonight, please,” she murmured, her voice trembling and fragile. She knew how it sounded—pathetic, almost desperate, as if she were bargaining with a man who held all the power, especially here in his sanctuary, his carefully curated pleasure room. But wasn’t that what he wanted? For her to speak her desires, to get comfortable expressing herself in this space without fear of judgment?

Spencer’s eyes darkened at her plea, but his expression softened. “I can make that happen,” he said, his voice deep and soothing, a promise laced in every word. His fingers moved with practiced precision, brushing lightly against the waistband of her black fitness shorts. He didn’t rush, didn’t assume. He lingered there, his fingers barely dipping beneath the fabric, waiting—no, insisting—that she give him permission to continue.

“Yes,” she breathed, the word escaping her lips in a soft, almost inaudible whisper.

Spencer’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles before he sank to his knees before her, moving with deliberate grace. From her vantage point, cuffed and bound, the sight of him kneeling was intoxicating, his presence commanding even as he took a submissive position at her feet. His hands rested gently on her hips, and then he leaned in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her slightly bloated stomach.

Her breath hitched, the tenderness of the gesture catching her off guard. Slowly, Spencer hooked his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down inch by excruciating inch. He took his time, letting the cool air brush against her exposed skin, adding to the anticipation. When the fabric finally pooled at her ankles, he left her standing there in nothing but her underwear, vulnerable and exposed.

But Spencer didn’t rush to the end goal. Instead, he moved with agonizing slowness, lowering his head further as his lips ghosted over the curve of her knee. His kisses trailed upward, soft and teasing, his warm breath brushing her skin as he made his way to her inner thigh. Each kiss lingered, igniting a spark that spread through her body like wildfire.

Her body betrayed her, straining against the cuffs, her hips shifting slightly as if to draw him closer. The chains rattled softly, her quiet plea for more unmistakable. Spencer noticed, of course—he noticed everything.

When his lips reached the sensitive skin just below her hipbone, he paused, pressing a lingering kiss to her lower abdomen, dangerously close to the edge of her underwear. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling as the tension built.

“You can take them off,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. She thought that was what he wanted, thought that her compliance would please him.

But Spencer only chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver through her body. His lips curled into a smirk as he tilted his head to look up at her, his dark eyes locking with hers.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice a mix of authority and amusement. “I want you like this.”

The statement hung in the air between them, final and undeniable. It wasn’t about rushing to undress her fully—it was about savoring the moment, the anticipation, the power exchange. And in that moment, she realized that Spencer wanted her exactly as she was: bound, vulnerable, and entirely his.

As Spencer rose from his kneeling position, his hands moved with purpose. One cupped her breast, his palm warm and firm against her soft skin, while the other snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and keeping her from shifting under his touch. His fingers worked skillfully, kneading her breast with just the right pressure, his thumb brushing over her nipple in deliberate, teasing strokes. Every so often, he pinched the hardened peak, eliciting sharp gasps and soft whimpers that fueled his own satisfaction.

His other hand began its slow descent, gliding down her waist, pausing briefly to caress the curve of her hip before finally settling on the fabric covering her aching core. Spencer’s movements were slow and deliberate, his thumb pressing against her clothed clit in slow, torturous circles, testing her response.

The moment his touch found the perfect rhythm, (Y/N) couldn’t help herself. Her head fell back, her lips parted in a shaky exhale as waves of pleasure rippled through her. Her body strained against the cuffs, her wrists aching to be free so she could touch him, pull him closer, beg for more.

“Spence, please…” she whispered, her voice soft and pleading, tugging futilely on the chains above her head. “Keep going.”

Her desperation sent a thrill through Spencer, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew she wasn’t in any position to demand, but something about the way she begged him stirred a dark satisfaction deep within him. His fingers continued their torment, experimenting with pressure and motion, coaxing whimpers and moans from her that only grew louder with each pass of his thumb.

But just as she began to lose herself, Spencer’s hand abruptly left her throbbing clit, the absence of his touch almost painful in its suddenness. Her whine of protest was cut short as he swiftly clamped his hand over her mouth, his eyes dark and commanding as they locked with hers.

“Be quiet,” he growled, his voice low and rough, a sharp contrast to the gentle way he’d been touching her moments before.

His dominance was unyielding, and it left her breathless. She nodded faintly against his hand, her wide eyes filled with both submission and unspoken desire. Spencer’s smirk deepened, satisfied with her obedience.

Without another word, he shifted his stance, lifting one knee between her legs. The movement was deliberate, his thigh pressing against her clothed core as he resumed the rhythm she craved. He applied just enough pressure to drive her wild, the fabric of her underwear adding a delicious friction as he moved his leg.

Pinned between the unyielding cuffs above her and Spencer’s strong, unrelenting presence, (Y/N) had no choice but to give in completely. Her muffled moans against his hand were filled with a mix of frustration and pleasure, her body trembling under his control.

Spencer leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “You don’t get to dictate how this goes. I decide when and how you get what you want.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized with every passing second just how thoroughly he intended to own her tonight.

She was teetering on the edge, her body trembling as waves of pleasure built with every calculated movement Spencer made. His knee continued its agonizingly slow, circular motions against her clothed clit, and the dual sensations of his hand teasing her sensitive nipples and his other muffling her soft moans were driving her mad. Her breaths came in short, erratic gasps as her release approached, her body betraying her desperation to finally let go.

“Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” Spencer murmured into her ear, his voice low and smooth, sending a fresh surge of heat coursing through her. As he spoke, his lips brushed along her jawline, placing soft, deliberate kisses that only heightened her arousal.

The pet name unraveled her completely. Her head fell back, a muffled cry escaping against his hand as her body arched into him. Gathering herself, she tilted her head forward again, locking eyes with him. Her gaze was pleading, her response a breathless, trembling, “Mmhm.”

Her release was seconds away, her body tightening in anticipation. But just as she was about to tumble over the edge, the unmistakable sound of his apartment door opening shattered the moment.

“Spencer! Henry’s here for your sleepover tonight!” JJ’s cheerful voice rang out from the front of the apartment, oblivious to the scene she had interrupted.

Panic shot through both of them. Spencer froze for a split second, his hands and knee pulling away from her in one fluid motion. The sudden absence of his touch left her aching and unfulfilled, her body still straining against the cuffs in frustration. Their eyes met, wide and panicked, as reality crashed down on them.

“Spencer!” she whispered harshly, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t leave me like this!”

But Spencer, acting on instinct and clearly rattled by JJ’s unexpected arrival, turned away without a word. He moved quickly toward the door, leaving her suspended, nearly naked, and vulnerable. The lock clicked as he exited the red room, sealing her inside.

Her heart pounded, a mix of humiliation, disbelief, and residual arousal swirling in her mind. “Spencer!” she whisper-yelled again, tugging futilely at the cuffs. She tried to free herself, twisting and pulling, but the restraints held firm.

Panic bubbled up inside her as she realized the absurdity of her predicament. Left hanging in the red room, her body exposed save for her panties, she cursed herself for insisting earlier that the cuffs be tightened.

She squirmed in frustration, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. The sound of distant voices from the other room filtered through the walls, a constant reminder of her helplessness.

Her mind raced as she considered her options—or rather, the lack of them. There was nothing to do but wait, stuck in this mortifying position, and hope Spencer would come to his senses and return before JJ—or worse, Henry—wandered too far into the apartment.

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! Part 2 - Tied 2 You!

Masterlist!

[mydarlingclaudia]

I’m still coming back to you

note : divider is from @/aquazero. I've never written smut before, plus this is probably ooc, so I'm sorry if it's not the best. I based this off of She's My Collar by Gorrilaz. since this is smut mdni.

wc : 1.3k

desc : you and Leon have something special, neither of you would trade it for anything. smut!! - oral (f receiving), more focused on Leon's pov, fwb (kind of??), Leon being kinda head over heels for you, a little bit of angst, not proofread, fem!reader, wrote this with DI!Leon in mind

Leon thinks he might be in love with you. You’d always welcome him into your home, or he’d welcome you into his. You helped take the stress away from his work and made him forget that everything was out to get him. The two of you weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but he knew damn well that he was yours and you were his.

It was routine. Leon would come back from a mission, wash up real quick, make his way to your apartment with a gift for you in his hand, and you’d be there waiting for him, like you usually were.

He’s been doing this with you for a while now, he’d met you at a bar in D.C. a few years ago, a one night stand turned into the two of you continuing to run into each other whether at the same bar or anywhere else in the city, and that led to more nights of the two of you passed out in his bed or yours, wearing nothing but love-bites and blankets. He liked you a lot more than he’d anticipated, he liked doting on you a lot, too.

Leon coming home from a mission wasn’t the only time he’d see you. He had a busy schedule, you knew that, that was the pretty much the only thing you knew about his job besides it being doing dangerous things for the government, but he’d try to see you once every couple of weeks at the very least. His arrival wouldn’t always be a surprise, he liked taking you out to dinner almost as much as he liked having sex with you. Leon did his best to plan dates with you, they weren’t ever anything really mind blowing, usually just dinner dates or him taking you shopping. Leon liked watching you try on dresses, he liked sharing a bottle of wine with you, he liked spending some money on you.

He couldn’t stay away from you, and you couldn’t stay away from him, he could die and still find a way to get back to you.

Leon never asked for your number, he hardly used his phone for anything outside of reading the news and work, he figured that if he had your number, he’d never put his phone down. Of course, that didn’t keep you out of his mind all day long. And it’s not like him not having your number made him unable to ever see you, he knew where you lived, he knew your work schedule. If he was to drop by your house and you weren’t there for some reason, he could just leave a note taped to your door telling you to come meet him at his apartment.

Leon also thought that if he got your number and ended up losing his phone on a mission and it got into the wrong hands and they somehow found out about you, then things wouldn’t end good for either of you. That’s why after he joined the DSO he hasn’t been in an actual relationship, as much as he longed for one, he knew he couldn’t risk it. You were the closest he could get to that, he’d never really be able to date you, but you seemed happy with what the two of you had. Marriage and kids probably wouldn’t be his scene, anyway. And even if his relationship with you was able to get that far, he couldn’t just leave you home alone with a baby for weeks at a time, he’d feel horrible about it.

You’d never really talked about it, you’ve joked about it a few times, but there wasn’t really any significance behind them. It’s better that way.

Leon was lucky that you were his, even though it wasn’t official. He could pretend his life was normal for a few nights when he was with you.

The nights where he felt the most normal, was when he had his head buried between your thighs after he cooked you steak in the comfort of his apartment.

He’d just come back from California, as always, he didn’t say much about the mission other then it was more complicated then it should’ve been. Leon had told you that he went to the store and bought everything he needed for steak, all you needed to do was go home with him, which you were more than fine with. You always loved his apartment, it was comfy and smelled like him, you’d left a few of your own things there over the years. You knew what was going to happen when he knocked on your door, sometimes after missions he just had this look to him that told you he needed your help de-stressing, you were always willing to help.

Your back is pressed against Leon's bed while your hips are supported by his hands, your thighs rest on his shoulders, occasionally squeezing his head while he kneels between them. A string of shaky pants and whines fall from your mouth as he continues to eat you out, your grip on his hair tightens as you buck your hips against his face.

One of his hands leaves your hip to press down on your stomach, keeping you still against his mouth. Leon pulls away from you, pressing his face against your thigh and biting it gently.

"Stay still, like I told you." Leon mumbles softly, pressing down on your stomach a bit harder, the hand that had remained on your hip slips down to hold the underside of your thigh.

"C-Can't-" You whimper, weakly digging your heels into the back of his ribs to try and bring him closer once again.

"You can't?" He teases, raising an eyebrow and pulling further away from you slightly, to which you whine at. You removed your hand from his hair and sat up on your elbows and huffed, Leon only chuckled softly and reached up to place a hand over your chest, pushing you back down. Leon let his hand slide down over your breasts that were spilling out of the bra he hadn't bothered to take off of you after he covered your chest with soft indents of his teeth and hickeys, his hand returned to your hip before he attached his mouth back to your aching sex, sucking roughly.

Your thighs tightened around Leon's head again, refusing to let him go as your back arched ever so slightly off the bed so you could grind against his mouth. This time, he didn't pull away or scold you about keeping still, he just gripped your hips tighter and pressed his face against your cunt, lavishing attention to the sensitive flesh.

Leon always tried his best to savor you, even though you've done this together countless times. He loved the noises you made for him when he found the right spot to suck on or grind against, his memories of moments like these with you are what got him through tough missions, along with knowing that he'd get to do this all over again with you when he got home.

Your hand finds its way back into Leon's hair, he grunts against your flesh, giving your thigh a light slap as he pulls his head a few inches away, his breath fanning across your cunt.

"I know you missed me, but be patient. I've got you, I promise." He reassures you before he drags his tongue slowly up your slit, listening to you as you moan.

Your grip in his hair only tightens as you rock your hips again, feeling his tongue delve deeper to eat you out more thoroughly. He always did this; the teasing. You loved it.

Leon's down there for another five minutes before your orgasm washes over you, by the time he's done licking you clean, he's already gotten his belt buckle off and his pants unzipped, trailing wet kisses up your body before his lips meet yours. He'd never get tired of this, even if he does it one thousand more times, he'd do it happily. He's got you, and you're the best thing life has ever thrown his way.

[sweetbans29]

Support - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You are an advocate for Caitlin's W transition (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 5.1k

Sweetban Masterlist

AN: The request was very specific and I am going to be honest, I did not follow it to a T but I hope you enjoy!

"Hey CC, you better hurry up the game is starting," Jada yells from the couch. Caitlin taps the microwave in hopes that will speed up the popcorn. It doesn't.

Cait hurridly puts the chocolate chip cookies on a plate, cursing as she keeps burning her hand on the cookie sheet that she just pulled from the oven. She places the last cookie on the plate, grabs the popcorn bag, and scurries to the living room with the other girls.

The team had just finished a summer training session and booked it back to Caitlin's place to watch the game. It was one they all had been talking about for weeks.

"You know one of you could have helped me," Caitlin says passing the popcorn to Jada and placing the plate of cookies on the table. A swarm of hands comes to grab them, leaving 2 on the plate.

"You didn't ask," Jada says like it was a fact, and Caitlin rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, we'll help next time," Kate says as she finishes her cookie.

"Yeah, whatever," Caitlin says as the game tips off.

"CC, my popcorn is burnt," Jada whines as she tries to pick through the burnt pieces.

Caitlin doesn't respond, her eyes glued to the screen as you make your first appearance in 11 months.

You were the first pick in the 2021 draft, there was no question about it. You had led your team to two championships, back to back. There wasn't much left you felt you needed to do at a college level and declared for the draft. The NY Liberty getting first overall pick made the decision a no-brainer.

When you were drafted, you were in the best physical shape of your life. Tired, yes, but more ready than you have ever been for the jump to the W. Getting to NY and starting in training camp confirmed even more that this was the right decision for you. When games started, you realized that the transition was way more than you had expected. The physicality yes, but the mental transition was even harder. You went from a near-perfect season your senior year to losing what felt like every other game.

You were only 7 games into the season when the worst happened. It was during an away game in Minnesota when you went down and you went down hard. The pop in your left knee was something you were trying hard to ignore but the scream you let out was anything but ignorable. When it happened the whole arena went silent as you made your way off the court - only accepting help when you got to the tunnel. After a few scans, you learned you had torn your ACL, officially taking you out of your rookie season.

Caitlin remembers watching the game when it happened. If Cait were honest, she had been watching your game since you entered college. She watched your freshman year as your game immediately translated into a college setting. She watched as they built a team around you your sophomore year, already anticipating playing you when she becomes a Hawkeye. Then your senior year, her freshman year, when your team knocked out hers in the Sweet Sixteen.

It was in Caitlin's freshman year when you had been posted up against her - playing elite defense and causing Cait to have the single worst game in her college career thus far. She went back and reviewed the tape multiple times to see what had caused her to become so shaken. As she watches it, she realizes several things.

First off, you put your head down and do the work. She rarely sees you arguing with the refs when a call doesn't go your way. She actually finds it comical how your teammates go up questioning the ref or trying to explain how what her team did was a foul and you just jogged to the other end of the court.

Second, she noticed how calm you were while playing. You handled the ball like you were playing a pick-up game with some friends. It was mesmerizing to Caitlin. So often she felt like she played all over the place, and if she were to watch herself it was obvious, but when she watched you - you never once seemed jarred.

Third, your vision is similar to hers. She can only assume you see what she sees. Your vision on the court and IQ for the game is one that she hopes to continue working at. As Cait watches you scout out the floor, you don't always go with what she would expect or do herself. It was almost like a game of chess to you. If you saw the defense react a certain way, you would adjust and get them thinking you were going one way when really you would get everyone to shift, waiting until the last second to show your hand. That is what got under Caitlin's skin during the game. It was almost as if you were baiting her and were playing a head game with her. It was most obvious when you were on defense and were able to pick apart her offensive strategy. It was almost like you knew what Caitlin was going to do before she knew it.

The last thing she noticed had nothing to do with the game, and she almost missed it the first four times she watched the tape, but it was the way she caught herself looking at you. Caitlin throughout the whole game was stealing glances of you. She thinks back to the game and feels herself start to blush. She remembers how your cheeks would tint red and how you stood there with your hands on your hips when something was taking too long. She remembers how your team would gravitate to you because she also wanted to. She remembers how after playing a whole game, when you were giving high-fives, you looked over and smiled at her - your eyes looking directly into hers until she finally broke the contact. She realized that not only was she swayed by your game but she took a particularly deep liking to you.

As Caitlin sits with her team watching your first game back, yes she is watching you because it is your comeback game but also because since she has realized she has taken a particular liking to you, she wants to watch you nonstop.

You take the court and isn't the game you want as your first one back but you are back. You are still figuring out how to move on the court with the adjustment of a weaker knee but know that will come with time. To anyone watching, you looking good as new but you know your game is different - so does Caitlin.

You end the game going 12/4/8 with 2 steals and a block. You aren't super happy but you know you are your biggest critic. You also have to remember this is the first game of the season. After the game, you check your phone to see messages from a handful of people congratulating you, responding to them all with some sort of reaction you open Instagram and scroll. Any time you see anything about you, you scroll right past it.

You stop on a post about the winner of the Dawn Staley Award winner. You see it went, for the second time, to Caitlin Clark - a guard out of Iowa. You wrack your brain and remember playing her in college, she is a solid player. It is tough that she has won the award back to back her freshman and sophomore years. You post the achievement to your story with the caption '1-of-1'. You then click on her profile and give her a follow before locking your phone and heading to the post-presser.

Caitlin gets a notification and immediately stands up. When the game ended, the girls didn't move and kept snacking on whatever was in front of them. Cait is the first one to move.

"Woah, are you okay there?" Kate asks grabbing Caitlin's calf. Kate's sitting right next to Caitlin and lost balance when the girl decided to stand up without any sort of notice.

Caitlin didn't know what to say as she just stared at the notification of you following her. She shows Kate.

"Holy shit, there is no way," Kate says looking at her phone. "That is sick."

The other girls are asking what happened and Kate tells them that you followed Caitlin. Cait sits back down and taps on your story only to see a photo of her. She sits there with a stupid smile on her face. You know who she is. You know who Caitlin is. You posted about her winning an award right after you just took the first dub of the season.

Caitlin tries not to let it get to get head considering you are a pro and she still had two (possibly three) more years in college but that is hard to do when the player she is crushing on now knows who she is.

Time flies when you are having fun. At least that is what Caitlin tells herself as she has just played in her last college game. What a time it has been for her. She brought her team to the championship game twice but fell short both times, never being named with a title. She is now headed to the WNBA draft and will likely go first, making her way to Indiana.

The transition is fast and before she knows it, she is moving in to an apartment in Indianapolis and preparing for training camp. When games begin, she feels like she hasn't received a break in what feels like a year. In reality, it has only been six months but the amount of play she has had both in her senior year and entering the W is overwhelming.

The thing is - Caitlin would never outright say she is overwhelmed, rather just swallow it and keep going. She may not say anything but her body language and eyes tell the story.

You on the other hand have started the season out on fire. Your mindset for this year was redemption. Over the last two years, your game wasn't where you had wanted it to be coming out of college and coming back from a major injury but where you are now is a much better place than you were before. The year you came back from injury, your game was anything but great. You had the worst season you had ever had playing, including the very first year you started with the sport. It was downright embarrassing but that is what drove you to be where you are now. It may have taken longer than anyone had expected but you have arrived.

It is a few games in when you are asked about the rookie guard.

"What are your thoughts on Caitlin Clark? She has been struggling in her transition and many people have been comparing it to your start in the W," one reporter asks. You smile and let out a little chuckle.

"You all love to pick apart a player when they're down, don't you," you begin and your media manager is in the back corner giving you a death stare. When it comes to the media, you have never had a problem calling them out. Unlike you on the court where you just put your head down and play, when it comes to how the media depicts players - well that is something you don't stand for.

"You need to give the girl some space to breathe. I feel like every time I open Twitter it is a huge rookie feast and it's not cool. It is like the world has forgotten they just got done playing their asses off in March and now you expect them to come into a league, freshly adapted to a different game," you say and continue before anyone can cut you off. "It was just a few days ago when I saw something circulating about how these rookies are facing a rude awakening and I laughed. I laugh because people are not looking at the whole picture. Looking at her box score is not a fair assessment of her game. I've been able to catch a few of the Fever games and yes, they have room to grow but all of our teams do. Do you all see the way she is running the floor? Have you looked into how many times she touches the ball? Like, come on, her vision of the game is the same as it was in college - she is now, alongside a team, are both learning how to adapt to play with her. You all may not say she is coming in and dominating but just watch - she will have you all stunned by the Olympic break - use that a headline."

You glance back at your media manager and they have they are rubbing their eyes as their head shakes back and forth. You personally don't think you have said anything out of line but you know you'll get an earful for something. And you do but not as badly as you thought you would.

On the other side of things, Caitlin gets out of a game where she went 8/5/9. She got in her head and stayed there. She gets out of her own post-presser to see a link from Jada.

When Caitlin opens it, she sees you with the headline '[Clark] will have everyone stunned by Olympic break'. Caitlin quickly opens the link and watches you talk. A smile can't help but make its way to her face as you call the media out and speak praises about her.

'Just wait until you see this game, if you see this game', Caitlin thinks as she flinches again at the thought of her efficiency this last game. The link is followed by Jada being Jada.

[Jadaaa: Your girl's got your back, think you can work up the nerve to talk to her when you face off in a few weeks?]

Caitlin knows the younger girl is joking but the feeling that swells in the pit of her stomach thinking about talking to you has her feeling sick.

As much as Caitlin doesn't want to think about you, she does. She can't help it. The last time she faced up against you, you handed her the single worst game she has ever played and in her mind, she wants to show you what she's got.

Little to her knowledge, you were also looking forward to your match-up against the rookie. It has been years since you played against her and look forward to seeing how she has grown. Also, to see how you two match up in the W.

The game finally comes, too slowly in Caitlin's eyes but finally here.

You are the first one on the court. It's not unusual for anyone who knows you but when Caitlin walks out, she stops dead in her tracks. She should have known you would be on the court already but she was so used to being the first one out that it never occurred to her that there would be someone else out there with her.

Caitlin makes her way out and begins to warm up herself. She wants to go over and talk to you but chooses to keep stealing glances. Soon enough, the whole team is out doing a shoot around and the opportunity has passed.

The game is about to begin as the teams take the floor. You go over and hug one of Cait's teammates and high-five the others. When you make your way to Caitlin, everything moves in slow motion for the younger girl.

You come up to her, wrapping one of your arms around her waist. You lean in and whisper something only she can hear.

"Have fun today, it's just you and me on the court - forget about everyone else, and let's have some fun." You tell her.

Caitlin smiles and nods as her cheeks heat up from your closeness. You pat her lower back and get positioned.

The game is a battle.

You play like you have been since the beginning of the season. You hit your double-double in the third quarter and are working towards a triple-double, which would be the second one of the season if you get there.

Cait is also playing better than she has yet and you can even see a little smile come out every now and again.

It is in the fourth when the two of you are standing next to each other during one of your team's free throws.

"Having fun?" You ask.

"Actually, I am," she says, surprising herself with her answer.

"It will get more fun, just wait and see. You're getting there C," you say and she smiles.

"I actually want to tha-" Caitlin begins but is cut short when your teammate knocks down both free throws and the ball is back in the Fever's possession.

The fourth quarter finishes and your team had come out on top by just 2 points. The closest game of the season thus far. It was probably the most fun you had in a game since you got to the W.

In the post-presser, you are asked about the rookie guard again.

"Now that you have faced Caitlin firsthand, what are some challenges you see in her game?" a male reporter asks.

You flat-out laugh at the question.

"You're kidding me, right?" You say and you already see your media manager waving her hands in the air to stop whatever it is you are about to say.

"I am tired of you guys hounding her into the ground. She played a tremendous game today - what was it, another double-double for the rookie? What more does she have to do to show you all she is already dominating in the W? This is midway through her first season playing the sport professionally. She is already doing the damn thing. What you all should be asking is how much more capable is she? If she is doing this in her first year, what will she be doing next year? In 2 years? 5? Like come on, she is already playing better than any of you could so I don't know why we are still talking about what she can't do," you say and stand, tired of their stupid questions.

You are on your way out when you add one last thing.

"Caitlin Clark is a force of nature. She is one of one, I said it about her in college and I will say it again with her in the W. She is unlike anyone we have seen before and you should all be more concerned with how high her ceiling is versus how low to the ground she stands."

You walk out and wait for your media manager to rip you another new one. You don't care and just take it.

When you get back to your hotel, you ignore all the things you are tagged in and open Caitlin's profile.

[You: Hey, this may seem out of the blue but I wanted to let you know I am on team Caitlin. You know the media spins things but keep your head down and play your game and they will see. I've been where you are, I know the media is a circus. Feel free to call or text if you need anything]

You follow your first message with a second that contains your number. It was a little bold and your motives are pure, mostly.

No one asked but if they did, you would tell them that you remember playing Caitlin in college. You remember how your one and only match-up was one of the toughest of your college career. You would speak to how you have followed her ever since, catching every game you could when she played. You were just as mesmerized as she was and neither of you had a clue.

Cait gets back to her apartment and falls on her bed. She unlocks her phone for the first time since the game, a rare occasion but she doesn't want anything to do with what the media was saying about her after that game.

Similarly to when you first followed her, she shoots up to a sitting position on her bed. She scans the message a thousand times.

Caitlin, who was just tired is now wide awake and smiling. She cannot believe her favorite player (and crush) has just given her phone number.

Her phone begins to go crazy in an old team group chat.

[Jadaaa: CAITLIN FREAKIN CLARK]

Jada then sends a link to another post-game presser.

[KMoney: Bro, it is your game to lose now. She's pro-Clark]

[Stulke: I'll start planning the wedding!]

[Caitlin: I bet you can't guess who just got her number 🫣]

[Jadaaa: SHUT UP]

[Stulke: Yep, wedding planning in progress]

[KMoney: I call dibs on making a speech]

[Jadaaa: Get in line Kate, I am getting first speech]

[Caitlin: Shut up]

Caitlin debated sending you a message but decided to wait until the morning. When Caitlin wakes up, she shoots you a text.

[C: Hi...I want to say thank you for always defending me. You really don't have to but I appreciate it]

[C: It's Caitlin btw]

[C: Caitlin Clark if that wasn't clear]

Caitlin feels like an idiot after she texts three times in a row. She locks her phone and throws her head into her pillow with a groan when she hears a 'ding'. She pulls her phone up to her face.

[You: I thought you weren't going to message]

[You: It's cute that you felt the need to put your first and last name]

[C: Didn't want to get mixed up with someone else]

[C: I don't know how often you hand out your number]

[You: Not often]

[You: So...who is Caitlin Clark?]

The two of you messaged pretty consistently. Messages turned to phone calls, phone calls turned to Facetimes then before you knew it you both were talking about anything and everything.

Caitlin's season has gotten better as the Fever as a team has grown, winning more games in a stretch than losing.

It is a few games later after a win that Caitlin is sitting in a post-presser with Aliyah. An interviewer asks if Caitlin has seen the clips of you talking about her in her post-pressers.

Caitlin blushes and looks down, trying to hide her rosy cheeks. Aliyah chuckles and nudges the girl who is now covering her uncontrolled smile with a towel.

"Ya...I've seen them," she says as she removes the towel to show her smile. "I think it is pretty cool how she stands up for me. I have been watching her for years now and love her game so it means a lot when she speaks of me with such grace."

"Ya, I've caught CC watching that presser probably five times now," Aliyah says throwing Caitlin to the wolves. Someone's got to do it right?

Caitlin playfully pushes Aliyah.

"Way to out me," Caitlin says and hides her face again.

There aren't many more questions asked and Caitlin feels like she is in the clear. That is until she gets a call from you.

"Hi," she says with a smile. She doesn't know it but you can tell by her tone when she is smiling.

"Five times, five times is a lot C," you tease her.

She is glad you aren't standing in front of her because the blush that had subsided from the presser is fully back. The truth is that she watched it 15+ times now.

"What can I say? I like watching people praise me," she says trying to speak with confidence.

"Isn't that cute," you say.

"And you are the one who is calling me right after I get out of a presser and you are calling me obsessed?" Caitlin asks.

"That's fair, I won't call next time," you say and Caitlin immediately says 'no'. You laugh and she is thankful you can't see how fast her face turned red.

The conversation is light and flirty before she has to go.

"I'll see you at All-Star weekend," you say, and are looking forward to seeing the rookie. It would be another fun match-up with you being on the Olympic team and her being an All-Star.

"I look forward to kicking your ass," she says, the confidence in her voice dominating over the phone.

You laugh and give her some nonsense response. You've learned she wouldn't talk a big game to the public but when it was just the two of you, that's a completely different story. To you, she talks a big game and you let her. You know she has the game to back it up but you also know you have the ability to slow her down and that is exactly what the plan is for your next meeting.

The weekend arrives and the fun begins. You are included in the starting lineup for the Olympic team while Caitlin is in the starting lineup for the All-Stars.

Your eyes meet hers and you smile. She returns it as you walk up to her. You greet her.

"You ready?" You ask as you pinch at her hip. She swats your hand and shakes her head but your hands are persistent.

"Oh I am more than ready," she says trying to hide her smile.

"Why don't we put a little skin in the game," you say as you lean into her.

"I win, I get to take you out," you say and Caitlin feels a heat rise in her.

"And what do I get if I win?" She chokes out.

"Whatever. You. Want," you say. Caitlin smirks.

"You're on," she says as the two of you shake on it.

The two of you go head-to-head in the game. Caitlin plays one of the best games she has in the W so far. You take note of how hard the girl is working but you also put in the work, having quite the game yourself.

In the final minutes, the score is tied. Your teams switch off points as the seconds wind down.

You have control of the ball, trying to set up the play. Caitlin is guarding you - poking her hand in to try to get the ball away from your hands. You turn and use the screen that Stewie sets up for you, stepping back you put up the three. As you come down, Cait gives you a little push causing you to fall to the ground but you just catch sight of the ball bouncing on and then out of the rim.

Caitlin then proceeds to stand over you, in the heat of the moment, showing you and the crowd that she is tough.

You get to your feet and bump her chest - exchanging a few words.

Someone comes and pushes you back from Cait while they grab Caitlin's arm but you don't back down, bumping Caitlin again.

By now both of your teams have gotten involved and the refs are trying to separate the two of you. As you feel yourself being pulled back you blow Caitlin a kiss.

You both receive techs.

In the final few seconds, all you have to do is not foul and play solid defense which you do, making Caitlin pass it for the final shot that doesn't fall. Team USA taking the victory.

As you celebrate with the team on the court, you also go and hug your opponents from the night making a conscious decision to end with Cait.

When you go in to hug her, you can tell she is moody.

"I'm picking you up at 10 tonight, be ready," you say and wink at her.

As much as Caitlin wanted to win, she couldn't help but be excited.

Once everyone clears out and makes their way back to the hotel, you quickly shower and head to pick Cait up.

When you get to her door and knock, she answers within seconds.

"Someone is a little eager," you joke and she blushes.

"Well it's 10:20 so technically you're late," she says.

You laugh.

"Okay C, come on," you say and lead her on a walk. The two of you talk and she opens up about her experience so far, asking you questions left and right. You answer every single one of them.

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, half expecting the two of you to just stay in her room.

"Patience, we are almost there," you say as you make a turn and Caitlin sees it.

You have brought her to an outdoor court. It is dimly lit and there is a single basketball laying on one side.

You jog to pick up the ball and she walks over to you.

"I just had the best game of my career so far and you want me to play more?" She asks trying to sound annoyed but she isn't annoyed at all.

"Thought we could play a little one-on-one," you say bouncing the ball between your legs before passing it to her. You can tell she is a little skeptical but goes along with it. She begins to bounce the ball and your hand immediately finds her hip, giving it a squeeze like you did before the last game. The same blush as before rose in her cheeks. She works her way around you but your arms wrap around her waist not letting her go anywhere.

"Foul," she yells as you pick her up with her still holding the ball.

"This isn't a normal game babe," you say and she gets the hint. You put her down, still standing right behind her with your hands on her hips. "Take a shot," you whisper in her ear as your lips graze her neck.

Caitlin swallows and puts up the shot missing it.

"That's not fair," she says turning around.

"Better luck next time," you say bringing your hand to graze her cheek. Your eyes go from her eyes down to her lips as you lean in painfully slow.

Caitlin grabs your shirt and anticipates your lips on hers. When they never come, she pouts.

You run to grab the ball and pass it to her again.

"No bucket, no kiss," you say and you can see her demeanor change.

Caitlin locks in.

"Oh it's on," she says as she is ready for the one-on-one action.

AN: Here you go! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Extra cream and sugar.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 5295 Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Frankie is your barista, every morning you walk into his café asking for a tall coffee with extra cream and sugar. He dreams of giving you another kind of cream… Tags: Frankie's POV, brief description of reader and what she wear but no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described (she's you, baby ♥︎) , reader has her own business, pining, yearning, slow burn, Frankie is eager for you, masturbation, obviously mention of coffee and sweets, a side of Christmas (just a glimpse), soft!Frankie, kinda rom-com vibes but we go smutty 😏, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), cream pie, nipples play (At this point you know me so you expect it, right?), reader rides him cowgirl style (yeehaw!), teasing, Frankie wants you to tell him exactly what you want from him, pussy pronouns, Frankie is smitten with you bb, no age gap, mention of alcohol, derogatory pussy eating (because it's Frankie, you know), oral (m! receiving), masturbation, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, some more filth I probably don't remember. Please, excuse me, I'm posting this almost 2 am as the usual mess that I am LOL. If I forgot something I will add it asap. I wrote a temperature in Celsius degrees somewhere in this fic, I don't know anything about Fahrenheit, sorry, I'm Italian. A/N: This fic is my Christmas gift to all of you who support me and have loved my Frankie so much in the past, I really didn't think so many people would like him 🥹 And it's especially dedicated to @baronessvonglitter who gave me this prompt around November, I promised her I would do something with it and this is the result 🤭 No beta, no proofread, no nothing, we're going down with this ship, please have mercy. I really hope you like it and I wish you happy holidays, love you all ❤️

Frankie had been noticing you for weeks. You would arrive every morning at 10:30 and ask for tall coffee with extra cream and sugar. 

He thought you looked lovely, with your sexy dresses, a dainty necklace around your neck, little makeup except for a red lipstick on your gorgeous lips. 

You were the highlight of the day. He had decided to open a café after retiring from the army because there was nothing he wanted more than to live a quiet life. He had seen enough pain and destruction for two whole lifetimes, all he wanted to take care of now were coffee blends, foamed milk, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies. 

He loved arriving in the morning and quietly opening his place, arranging the pastries in the display cases, turning on the coffee machine, setting up the tables, and getting everything ready while waiting for the city to wake up and the customers to start arriving. You were his favorite since you first appeared before him almost 3 weeks ago, but who was counting?

You were pretty in the truest sense of the word according to him, radiant, elegant without striving, charming and nice.

He had started waiting until 10:30 just to see you, with butterflies in his stomach in anticipation and his heart pounding in his chest as soon as you walked in the door.

The first time you had spoken to him he had been enchanted by your eyes; he could have sworn they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. He had not heard a single word you had said and had made you repeat the order, apologizing. 

You had laughed, and your sweet laughter had resounded in his ears like music. It had never happened to him, not even once, but at that moment it was as if everything else in the world had stopped and only you existed. 

“One tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please,” you had patiently repeated.

You looked so pure that it seemed almost immoral to him the way his jeans had suddenly become tight. 

He had shaken himself, trying to come to his senses, hurriedly headed for the coffee machine. He had prepared your cup to go and set it on the counter in front of you "cocoa? sprinkles?" he had stammered, awkward and nervous. Heck, he'd spent years in the military, he could fly a damn helicopter, his business was going strong, but in front of you he felt like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Uhm..sprinkles, thank you," you had smiled.

He had sprinkled colored heart-shaped sprinkles on the cream -- so pathetic, he had to admit, but they seemed to suit you --, closed it with the clear plastic lid and handed it to you, all with fear of spilling something and making a mess. 

"It looks so yummy, thank you" you chirped handing money to him.

“Thanks to you, um, come again,” Frankie had stammered, running his sweaty palms over his apron. 

He had watched you leave, your ass swaying deliciously wrapped in your skirt, and a whiff of your perfume had reached his nostrils, filling them with a heavenly flowery scent. 

It had taken him a few seconds too long to pay attention to the next customer, a rather impatient middle-aged man who had ruined the magic you had brought into his café.

He had hoped you would come back all evening, and the next morning he woke up even earlier than usual, showered, stood several minutes in front of his closet thinking about which of his shirts you might like best, even wasted time adjusting his beard. He had even contemplated not wearing the cap he always wore with fear that you might find it silly, but in the end habit won out. Besides, he had thought, I might as well show her who I really am. That is, assuming she comes back. And if she doesn't come back? He had felt so disappointed at the idea. Maybe you hadn't even liked his coffee in the end. Once at the café, he had kept himself as busy as possible so as not to drown in false hopes, but he had found himself staring at the clock more often than he would have liked to admit. 

At precisely 10:30 a.m. you had entered. You were even more beautiful than the day before, wrapped in a little flowery dress, your beautiful legs exposed, your sweet scent in the air.

He knew absolutely nothing about you, had barely spoken to you and yet his palms were sweating again, his throat was as dry as a desert, he nervously switched his weight from one leg to the other, standing behind the counter as he watched you approach.

“Good morning,” you had said, with a sweet smile spreading across your face.

“Uh...good morning,” he had stammered, ”what would you like this morning?” 

“Tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please.” 

Your melodious voice had again gone straight to the crotch of his pants. 

“Same as yesterday” he had said ”coming right up.” 

“Oh, you remember!” you sounded surprised. How could he have forgotten the most beautiful creature who had ever set foot in his café?

“Um, yeah, it's my job after all” he had clutched his shoulders. He didn't remember orders from customers who had been coming to him for months, he had memorized yours instantly. He didn't need to let you know anyway. 

“That's so cute,” you had observed while continuing to give him that amazing smile.

He had turned to make your coffee feeling your eyes behind his back, he was so nervous that he almost burned himself pouring the coffee into the cup. 

He had managed to avoid it by a whisker; he would have hated to look clueless in front of you. 

“There you go,” he had smiled nervously at you, ”be careful, it's very hot.”

“I will, thank you” you had answered him softly. 

You had paid him and headed for the exit, turning to look at him before pushing open the door “Have a good day” 

“Oh, thank you, you too” he had replied, his voice hoarse with excitement.

That evening he had surrendered to his lowest instincts and as soon as he had jumped into the shower after a long day's work, he had allowed himself to close his eyes and think about you. 

He had tightened his hand around his cock and thought about your scent, your smile, how your dress deliciously enveloped your tits, showing off your cleavage.

He had imagined kissing you and feeling the softness of your lips, lowering a hand between your legs and discovering that you were not wearing panties, running his fingers over your wet folds and then bending over in front of you and making you come with his tongue. 

He had lingered in these fantasies as he pumped his cock faster and faster, stroking the tip, imagining that it was your delicate hand doing it, your red-enameled nails wrapped around its length. 

He had come in his hand, soiling the shower wall, uncontrolled, totally enraptured by the wonderful vision of you in his head.

____________________________________

He had continued to play it cool for three weeks, but by now every time you came in his head was just thinking “say something more than ‘good morning’ and ‘be careful not to burn yourself’ and ‘have a nice day,’ you idiot.” Ask her something, find out if she's involved with someone.”

So one morning he finally had attempted “Do you work near here?” he had asked, handing you your usual coffee. 

You had hesitated a moment before answering, “Actually, yes, just a stone's throw away. You know that jewelry store that opened three weeks ago? That's mine.” 

“Oh, great,” he had said, straining not to smile like a sucker. 

“Yeah, I'm a jewelry designer, I finally got to open a store with my own brand, I'm very excited.” your eyes twinkled with pride and Frankie had thought you were so incredibly beautiful that he wanted to kiss you there and then. 

You had held out your hand to him and said your name, and he had shaken it with his heart in his throat. 

“Nice, and nice name by the way” he had replied instead, ‘did you make that one?’ pointing to your necklace. It had a small star-shaped pendant. 

“Yes, do you like it?” you had asked, brushing it with your fingers. 

“I like it very much, it looks good on you.” 

“Thank you,” you had replied, smiling, ”well, if you have to give any gifts to your girlfriend or wife, come by and see me.” 

“Uh, actually, I'm not married or even engaged.”  He babbled, looking at you embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, I see.” and then in a lower voice and winking at him you had added, ”Can't say I'm sorry.” 

Holy fuck, you were flirting. 

His cock had twitched at your wink; he couldn't believe that all this time you had been reciprocating his silent interest. 

“I have to go back to work, now. Have a nice day, Frankie,” you said, smiling and heading for the exit. 

He was dumbfounded a few seconds wondering how you knew his name, since in the heat of the moment he hadn't even told you. Then he had looked down at his shirt, where his name tag was pinned.

“I like your cap, by the way,” you had said before you left.

“Oh. Thank you. I like your dress," he had replied a little too loudly, so much so that people at the tables had turned around cackling.

You looked at him one last time with a smug expression before disappearing down the street.

____________________________________

Christmas was coming, as much as it may have felt like Christmas in Florida with 26 degrees during the day. Frankie had decorated the café with small silver decorations at the windows, a small Christmas tree near the counter filled with lights that were also silver. 

While decorating however, the only thing he was thinking about was you. He had done everything early in the morning, before opening, wondering what you were doing, if you had just woken up and were stretching in bed with your hair tousled and your eyes still clouded by sleep. He wondered what you were wearing to sleep, wondering if you were a babydoll type or more of a T-shirt and shorts type. 

Or maybe you were sleeping naked. He daydreamed of your florid body wrapped in your sheets, the soft curve of your ass, your breasts, your nipples brushing against the cotton fabric.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, realizing that he had dropped one of the balls he was putting on the tree, which had ruinously fallen to the ground, splitting into a thousand pieces on the floor.

He rolled his eyes as he went to the closet to get a broom and dustpan.

Maybe it was time to stop fantasizing and get moving on asking you out. 

He was terrified that you would say no but he had to do it before someone else tried. Someone like you wouldn't be alone for long.

You had entered the venue at the usual time, admiring the decorations. Frankie felt a small surge of pride in the middle of his chest as you approached the counter. “Oh wow, this is so festive, I love it.”

He knew he had just smiled like a dork but he didn't care. 

In your brief little chats you had mentioned that you were not originally from Florida so he took the opportunity to ask, “Are you going to visit your family for Christmas?”

You had smiled, squinting slightly, with that look that was now familiar from when you noticed his true intentions. You had given it to him with every attempt he made to flirt with you.

“Um no, actually Christmas is the best time to work for me. So I'm going to stay here.”

He had felt his heart do a little jolt in his chest as he struggled to find the right words to ask to take you to dinner.

He felt like he had never been so awkward in his life, but the truth was that he really liked you and made him nervous with your innate confidence and the sensuality you exuded. 

 “Well, if you'd like to go out sometime, I'd be happy to” he babbled.

“Gladly.” you had replied, looking at him -- he would have sworn -- mischievously.

“So...um...how about Saturday? Is 7 okay?”

“Perfect. You can pick me up at the store.” you had replied, fiddling with your pendant. 

“Okay, well...see you soon then.” 

You had leaned over the counter for a moment, signaling him with your finger to come closer, and when you had been close enough to his ear you whispered, “It's about time.”

You had left while your voice still rang in his ears like a siren song.

On Saturday night Frankie was so nervous that he had changed his clothes four times. Finally he had decided that a blue shirt and a pair of jeans would do. Maybe. 

You had said you liked his cap but he had decided it was not appropriate to wear it to take you to dinner, so he had left his hair wet and styled it back with a little gel.

He arrived at 7 parking in front of your store and entered looking for you. 

You weren’t there. He had looked around and the place was just like you, elegant but not overly so, bright and warm. 

There were small display cases filled with bracelets, rings, necklaces, watches even. 

All very fine, carefully crafted things, not that he understood much about jewelry but they looked well made and high quality to him. 

You had put little window decorations similar to his own, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at them.

Not only you were beautiful and funny, you were also talented and smart enough to run your own business,  a strong independent and brilliant woman with ambitions.

He felt a jolt down his spine feeling unworthy of you with his simpler and quieter life. 

You had appeared from the back after a short while "Oh there you are! Hello!” you had greeted him with a smile, approached him and kissed his cheek. He had brushed your arm as you leaned closer, feeling your soft skin under his fingers and his heart bouncing in his chest. 

"So what do you think?" you had said, gesturing to the place.

“I can't say I'm a connoisseur, but it looks like a beautiful store to me,” he had said. 

“Thank you. I really like your café, too.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to this” he brushed off. 

“I don’t think so, your coffee is so good and that cupcake I tried the other day? It was heavenly. I would say you did a great job with it” you insisted and he felt suddenly better.

"Well I actually… I don't bake them, I get them from a supplier.” He had admitted.

“You have good taste anyway.” You had shrugged, smiling.

The hold you had on him was ridiculous at that point, you could have said whatever to him and he would believe you without hesitation. 

“Let me get my purse and close the store and then we can go.”

___________________________________

Frankie had tried to behave like a real gentleman, had opened the door for you, complimented you on the dress you were wearing  -- continuing to ogle your thighs while you were sitting next to him -- , asked you things about yourself, your studies and your life while driving to the restaurant. 

The more you chatted the more comfortable he felt, you were witty, subtly flirty, exactly what he expected. 

Truth was that he would have jumped on you immediately but he was trying to control himself so you wouldn't think he was a creep. 

His cock however was of a different opinion, his jeans were starting to get really tight and he was afraid you would notice. You had a smirk on your face, something that made him think it was possible that you were desiring him as much as he was desiring you but he didn't want to risk making a wrong move.

“I'm sorry not to see your cap tonight” you had joked and then added ”your hair looks good though.”

“Thank you.” 

“And I like the shirt,” you had said, lingering with your gaze on his outstretched arm holding the steering wheel. 

He had decided to take you to one of his favorite restaurants, nothing too fancy because he wouldn't feel comfortable, the place was warm and familiar and put him at ease. 

He had asked for a table with settees, to have a chance to be closer and talk more easily. 

Maybe even reach out a hand to your beautiful thighs, if he had any luck.

You had ordered and he had chosen a wine, you had continued talking, and you had asked him several questions, very politely, without making him feel like you were interviewing him.

“So you were in the army...and you can fly a helicopter. Heck, I never would have guessed that. I like a competent man,” you had cooed, and he had felt his neck and face on fire. God, he wanted you so badly he felt like he might explode at any moment. 

“Yeah...apparently,” he had replied proudly.

“And how did you end up opening a cafe?”

He had become serious, feeling that he was about to open up about something very intimate “Well...I actually couldn't take that life anymore. It's very hard, you know. When I got discharged, I thought all I needed was to live a quiet life without slinging a rifle for hours and playing with danger 24/7.”

You had nodded, “sure, that's perfectly understandable. It must have been brutal.”

“It was. I decided to open a coffee shop because well... basically, I love coffee.”

You had burst out laughing, a full, lovely laugh that had made it difficult for him to keep his hands in place resting on the table.

“It makes perfect sense,” you had agreed immediately afterward.

You had kept talking until you had said, “So, Francisco Morales, I have a question for you.” your expression was enigmatic and he didn't understand where you were going with this. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

He had chuckled, “Good question. And I really want to do that. I've wanted to do it from the first moment I saw you,” he had admitted.

“Then do it,” you had urged him. 

He had moved closer toward your lips, breathing in your perfume mixed with the scent of your skin; you smelled good, clean, like a sunny morning in spring.

Your lips were even better than he had imagined. Soft, delicious, inviting. You were incredible. 

Everything around was suddenly gone, there was only you and the way your lips encouraged him to continue, the way they had parted at the approach of his tongue, your intoxicating taste on his tongue. 

Your fingers lingered on his biceps, wandering over his shirt and down his forearm, while his hand wrapped around your face caressing your cheek.

He had pulled away from you a moment before putting on a show inside the restaurant, his hands tingling with the urge to touch your breasts, reach down between your legs, get rid off your dress and finally feel your body against his.

“God...maybe we should go,” you had whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“I think so, too,” he had breathed.

He had stood up trying to keep at bay his erection pressing impatiently against his jeans.

He had paid the bill and escorted you out, despite your insistence to go halfsies. 

Once you reached the car he had not resisted and had kissed you again, pushing you against the door. “I want you so bad,” he had whispered against your skin. 

“Take me home,” you had replied, looking into his eyes in a way that drove him crazy. 

Once in the car, you had placed your hand on his leg squeezing it from time to time. At a stoplight, you had moved your hand to his hard-on, massaging it slowly. “God, you are naughtier than I thought.”

"Is that bad?" you had asked feigned innocence.

“Not at all, baby...if I'm being honest...fuck...” he had interrupted when you had squeezed harder on his cock ”Christ, I can't wait to rip that dress off you.”

“I’m glad to hear that” you had replied in a honeyed voice. 

_________________________________

The instant you had entered the door he had dragged you into the bedroom. 

He had pulled down the zipper of your dress, letting it fall at your feet, and pushed you onto the bed. 

“You're so beautiful.” he had whispered, almost more to himself, as if trying to convince himself that indeed everything he had imagined in previous weeks was coming out of the territory of his wanking material.

“You too,” you had replied sweetly, ”why don't you get rid of those clothes and come and get me?”

Frankie hadn't had it repeated, standing naked in front of you in an instant; he had never undressed so quickly even when he was in the army and had to observe a curfew. 

He had stretched out beside you, his cock semi hard, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your hips over your panties, reaching up to graze your lace bra, brushing against your exposed neck as you lay limply sprawled on his bed as beautiful as a goddess. 

“Tell me what you want me to do, baby,” he had whispered.

“What you want, I-” you had tried to answer but he had interrupted you.

“No, tell me, please. I would like to hear it. I would like you to tell me exactly what you would like me to do to you.,” he had urged you “is that okay?”

“Yeah” you murmured 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I like it…so uhm…Undo my bra and play with my titties, first. Would you?” You cooed.

“Of course, honey” he replied

You got up to sit to ease it, and then you lay down again as he tossed the bra to one side.

Frankie's eyes were fixed on your exposed breasts, he reached out a hand surrounding one of them with his palm, marveling at the softness of your skin.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anything more perfect” 

Your skin exuded an enveloping warmth that flowed through his body and merged with him. He moved a finger closer to your areola, circling your nipple very slowly and then pinching it suddenly, making you gasp.

“Too much?” 

“No…go on” you sobbed “please”

“How?” He pressed you gently, continuing to brush your nipple with his fingertip. 

“With your mouth…” you murmured.

He was full hard at that point, his cock grazing at your thigh while he lowered himself on your of your tit, sticking out his tongue and making you arch your spine as soon as he kitten licked your nipple. He smirked “mmm so sensitive, baby” before wrapping his lips around your bud and beginning to suck slowly, his beard pinching lightly against your skin.

His tongue brushed over you in short thrusts as he sucked greedily, his hand slowly descended over your torso, over your tummy, down to your mound and had stopped there, just above the hem of your panties. 

You groaned beneath him, melting at his touch, he could feel your body slowly becoming more pliant to him.

“Yes - oh my god - go on like that” you whined and he couldn’t help but smile on your skin. 

“What more do you want me to do?” he had asked, and to your discomposed groaning he had replied ”with your words, remember?”

He liked that you were slowly losing control, your barely half-closed eyes glazed with pleasure silently pleading with him.

“Touch…touch my pussy. Please”

He had moved his fingers down from your mound, slowly, over your folds, feeling your body tense deliciously. 

His index and middle fingers had slipped between them, bathing in your essence. 

"God, you're soaked," and you had panted. 

You looked like a dream to him, your hair disheveled on his sheets, your legs spread wide for him, your breath coming in short gasps, your little pendant that rose and fell on your chest as he worked in your cunt with his fingers, lingering on your opening, going up to your clit and barely touching it, leaving you eager and hungry, just as he wanted.

"mmm more, please" you had begged and a smirk had unfolded on his face "be more specific, baby" 

“I want ... fuck ... I want you to put them in me.” 

"Yeah? You want me to finger-fuck this pretty cunt?” He purred, while stroking your labia, gently circling your clit with his thumb.

“Yes” you had sighed and he had easily entered you, slipping into your arousal. 

He had curled his fingers looking for your special spot as you squeezed them hard “Oh damn...right there...God Frankie...right there” you had whined as a swell of pride was spreading in his chest and his cock throbbed. 

You had the sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to see, the obscene wet sounds coming out of her as he never stopped moving his fingers inside you was heaven.

You were magnificent, just magnificent, his cock was begging for mercy but he had no intention of rushing it. He wanted to fill his eyes with you, he wanted to see you sink beneath him, to lose your inhibitions completely. 

Every fiber of his body longed for you but he stifled his need to take care of yours first; it was too good to see you like that, your pussy clenching convulsively, your mouth half-open, your moans filling his ears.

“I need...your mouth...”

“Where?” he had asked feigning naivete.

"On my clit...please" you had cried. 

He had moved, taking down your panties, lowering to reach for your clit, passing his tongue flatly all over it.

“suck it,” you had said in a whisper, ”please.”

And so he had done, taking it between his lips, savoring your taste on his tongue as you cried your last wail and broke down in shattering pleasure.

Your back had arched, your hand had flown through his hair as the other gripped his sheets tightly, and your hips pushed against his lips, your lips bent in a grimace of pleasure that radiated into your eyes, your pupils dilated, tiny droplets of sweat beading on your forehead.

“Yes… fuck… YES”

He had continued to lick and suck and push on your spot until you had calmed down.

But you were not yet satiated, as soon as you had regained the ability to speak you had whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Mmm baby” he had said arching an eyebrow, scrutinizing your face unmade with pleasure and your eyes still glazed with your orgasm.

“Really. I want it.”

You had accompanied this last sentence by wrapping your delicate hand around his length "he wants me too," you had said with a smirk, beginning to massage him, running a finger over the tip to collect the pre cum dripping down profusely from it. 

“who am I to say no to you...do what you want, baby” he had granted you. 

As much as he had tried to dominate, he had to admit that he was completely subdued by you, and he didn't mind it, he didn’t mind that at all.

You had gotten up and gently pushed him onto the mattress, settling between his legs, locking your gaze with his, a glint of desire in your eyes as you began to lick his engorged tip, sliding down his shaft humming in pleasure “mmm you taste so good” you cooed.

"God, baby, if you do this I'm not going to last long." 

He had craned his neck not to miss any of your moves, but he already felt he was on the verge of bursting, had tried to control his breathing and stay right on the edge, without plummeting down.

"Hold on a little longer, I want you to finish in my pussy. Please, Frankie?” You had purred.

He had let out a long sigh as your mouth descended on his cock, enveloping it as much as you could, continuing to stroke the rest with your hand. You had red nail polish, just like in his fantasies, but the reality was even better. Your mouth was incredible around his cock, your tongue vexing his swollen veins, your saliva sliding slowly going to pool on his crotch. 

“Please, baby,” he had grunted, and you had hummed in response, vibrating on his cock.

Your tongue had swirled over his red, swollen tip, then you had pulled away and said, "Please what?" glancing at him.

“Sit on me, please, I can’t…” he had groaned.

You had moved warily, straddling him, taking his cock back into your hand, aligning it with your entrance.

You had lowered yourself slowly, moaning "you are so thick" as he felt your cunt open up for him, your walls stretch and your essence coiling around him mixing with your saliva.

“And you are so tight ... fuck, baby, it’s so good.”

The instant you had sat completely on him had been unreal, he felt so deep inside you he swore he was pressing against your cervix, and you were squeezing him so hard he had thought he would lose his mind. You began to roll your hips over him, rubbing your clit with your fingers while your other hand was anchored on his hip. 

He had begun to move his hips in rhythm with yours, thrusting inside you “harder” you had urged him “please, Frankie” 

He was lost in the instant he had seen you bring one hand to your tit, kneading your breast as you continued to ride him faster and faster, pinching your nipple while rubbing your clit with the other. 

“I’m coming…fuck..where, babe?” He had stammered and you cried “inside, please, I’m on the pill.” You had thrown your head back immediately after, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your disheveled hair falling over your neck, seeing you so totally ravished had made him explode inside you, painting your hot, soaked walls with his cum. 

You were collapsed on top of him, wrapping yourself around his body while he was still pulsing inside you. You had waited for his breathing to return to normal by peppering his neck with little kisses, going up his jaw and ending on his lips.

He had hugged you tightly, reveling in your warmth, the softness of your breasts on his chest, your legs wrapped tightly with his, and the intoxicating scent of your skin.

You had hummed in the crook of his neck, then looked into his eyes and moved a lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead, kissing him one more time, his mustache tickling your cupid's bow. 

“From the first time I saw you, I knew we would end up like this, you know?” you had said with a proud undertone.

“Oh yeah?” he had replied, wryly raising an eyebrow, ”how were you so sure?”

You had looked at him with the look of someone who knows very well what she is talking about and had replied, “For three reasons. First, I noticed right away how you were looking at me, second, I wanted it too and usually when I want something I get it, and third, you never charged me for the extra cream.”

bb tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @harriedandharassed @milla-frenchy @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

I would like to add a couple of special people that I am starting to know a little bit better and I like them a lot: @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk @gothcsz @msjarvis

archive: @pedrostories

[ghostandsoap]

Feeling You

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader Tags: Light smut. Cockwarming. Ghost being a softie. Word Count: 1.0k "Just happy you're here."

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

In the quiet sanctuary of your shared solitude, you and Ghost sat chest to chest, your hearts beating in a rhythm that echoed the symphony of your love.

The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other's presence, your souls whispering secrets that only you could understand.

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, blurring the lines between where one ended and the other began. Your breaths intermingled, a testament to the intimacy that you shared. Each inhale was a silent promise, each exhale was a sigh of contentment.

The only sounds were your breathing, heartbeats, and the occasional whimper from you when Ghost shifted his hips underneath you.

Ghost's cock was nestled far inside of you, his tip pushed against a sensitive spot that you didn't even know existed until just now. He stretched your walls so perfectly and sat so comfortably inside of you that Ghost felt high off of it.

You had soaked his thighs and lower stomach, your arousal leaking on and around him. You weren't much better, because your inner thighs were dripping.

The two of you were spending the week together, not a single plan or obligation to be had. Ghost had every intention of staying in and keeping you as close as possible. It wasn't often that he had this opportunity, and he would be a fool to let it pass him by. The week consisted of movies, snacks, cuddles, and just about anything else that didn't require either of you to leave.

The two of you had been lounging on your living room sofa, just watching some cheesy documentary that you both agreed to watch. It was more for filler noise than anything, because the two of you had managed to chat with one another through the entirety of it.

When the film was over, you turned off the TV and your side table lamp to prepare to close your flat up for the night -- however, Ghost wanted just a few more minutes.

This was about an hour ago when Ghost had set you up on his lap. Mainly just because he liked having the chance to look up at you and he loved watching you sit on his thick, muscular thighs.

Frankly though, he hadn't anticipated this.

Somewhere along the way, your cotton sleep shorts and T-shirt were discarded, along with his sweats. Your clothes were tossed aside to be retrieved in the morning.

The two of you had shared some sweet kisses, and all the shifting around prompted Ghost to slide his cock into you slowly when you were wet and ready.

However, Ghost held you still when you tried to bounce on him, which caused you to raise a brow. Ghost was sitting up straight against the back of the couch, holding onto you in his lap like you were his lifeline. It took you a few moments to settle into this arrangement that he was making.

Eventually, the two of you morphed around one another like you were the most perfect fit. Like two pieces of the most beautiful picture.

It was inevitable for you to start squirming though. After all, it was hard to resist him when he was literally right under you.

Ghost groaned and huffed when you rolled your hips forward, one of his hands coming to your hip to restrain you.

"Sit still," He said, kissing your forehead. "I just want to feel you for a bit."

"Sorry," You sighed, head still resting on his shoulder. "Just getting comfortable."

"It's alright, doll..." He chuckled. "Just happy you're here."

Ghost's fingers traced paths of affection on your skin, each touch igniting sparks that danced beneath the surface. The silence returned, filled with the unspoken words of love that hung heavy in the air.

In this moment, you were not just two bodies sitting chest to chest; you were two souls intertwined in an eternal dance of love. Your connection was palpable, a force that defied logic and reason.

As the two of you sat there, Ghost realized that he was living a life he never thought he would ever have. He was experiencing a love that was uniquely his. A kind of love that he once thought he was far too damaged and broken for.

"You're so beautiful," He almost whispered. "My pretty girl..."

You pulled your head back to look at him, your eyes sleepy and cheeks glowing. He loved you so much he could barely even understand it.

"I love you." You remarked, rotating your hips in a way that was more involuntary than anything else.

Ghost couldn't help but let out a low laugh when your grinding down against him was returned with a slow, yet firm snap of his pelvis into you. He knew that this charade wouldn't last long, because one of you was going to crack sooner or later.

"I love you." He returned, his lips meeting yours in a meaningful kiss.

He didn't stop you this time when you started to rock your hips against his cock, the feeling of moving inside of you causing a flutter of his eyes.

He couldn't deny you any longer. He had to let you have your way with him. Truth be told, it was starting to drive him a bit mad anyways.

Your movements along with Ghost's were slow and careful...sensual. He wanted to feel you for as long as he possibly could. He would do this forever and ever if he could.

His cock felt insane inside of you as you fucked him at such a glacial pace. It was insanity because Ghost couldn't believe that he could ever deserve something as good as this...someone as good as you.

The slow rise and fall of your body onto his made both of your hearts begin to beat faster. The two of you craving the other like you were the only source of life.

And in the sound of your shared heartbeat, you found a melody that only your hearts could compose.

[writers-hes]

i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said. 

I appreciate you. 

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well? 

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him. 

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you. 

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable. 

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow. 

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me? 

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you. 

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend. 

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all. 

Is it too late for me to love you? 

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto. 

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him. 

-

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.  

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you. 

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?” 

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him. 

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table. 

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly. 

-

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks. 

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole. 

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

-

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown. 

“Carmen,” you replied. 

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“ 

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly. 

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head. 

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy. 

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second. 

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls. 

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows. 

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething. 

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

-

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him? 

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all. 

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure. 

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!” 

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,” 

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it. 

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head. 

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter. 

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place.  “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,” 

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t… 

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.” 

Still, he stays silent. 

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips. 

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go. 

-

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy. 

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work. 

That was a lie. 

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue. 

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately. 

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him. 

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts. 

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…” 

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot. 

That’s an easy job, right? 

-

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!” 

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some? 

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee. 

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,” 

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again? 

I’m sorry for the things that I said. 

Can we talk? 

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly. 

“Sorry,” you offered. 

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket. 

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied. 

what time do you close? 

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

-

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath. 

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you. 

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago. 

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different. 

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face. 

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away. 

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.” 

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked. 

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same. 

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile. 

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.” 

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession. 

“I don’t hate you…” 

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?” 

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me. 

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything. 

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing. 

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?” 

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation. 

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock. 

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple. 

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you. 

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter. 

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,” 

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you. 

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face. 

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

-

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

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[arieslost]

certified haters | ln4

summary: you and your boyfriend hate valentine’s day.

word count: 634

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

if there was one thing you hated more than the stupid groundhog that could hardly ever predict the season changes properly, it was the so-called “holiday” that followed a couple weeks later: valentine’s day.

when you started dating lando, you made it perfectly clear that you refused to celebrate such a dumb, performative day. you’d expected more pushback considering how clingy and doting he was before the two of you even made anything official, but to your surprise he’d launched into a whole rant about how much he hated it too.

“i don’t need a specific day on the calendar to show you how much i love you,” he’d concluded, sitting back down on the couch and pulling you into his arms. “if you don’t know that every day of your life, then i’m doing something wrong.”

that was why, while other couples were being sappy and having breakfast in bed or something, you were more than happy to be freezing your ass off at silverstone as your boyfriend prepared to get behind the wheel of his 2024 car for the first time.

you honestly couldn’t imagine doing anything else— lando had seemed a bit hesitant when he asked you to come, like he thought you’d say no, and watching his eyes light up when you enthusiastically agreed was better than any valentine’s day gift.

you rubbed your hands up and down your arms to try and bring some heat back to your skin. lando, always so attentive, noticed immediately.

“are you cold?” he asked, and didn’t even wait for your response before he was putting his helmet down and shrugging out of his mclaren jacket. “put this on. c’mon.”

“no, lan, it’s fine—” your argument was pointless as he gently put your one arm, and then the other, into the sleeves of his jacket before zipping it up.

“can’t have my valentine freezing on me,” he could hardly get through his sentence without giggling, and it morphed into true laughter when you smacked him with an oversized sleeve. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

“get out of my sight, norris.” you rolled your eyes, reaching for his helmet and shoving it into his chest.

“ready?” one of the engineers asked as he handed you a headset, and lando gave a thumbs up in return, flipping his helmet over as he walked toward the car.

“oh, wait!” you called out before he could put it on. “i almost forgot.”

he already knew what you were going to do before you did it. it was tradition; you always did this before he got in the car, no matter what. he closed his eyes and puckered his lips cutely in anticipation as you ran into his arms and kissed him.

“good luck, have fun, don’t die,” you said, smiling as he mouthed the words along with you.

it was what you had said before the first race he brought you to. you’d tried to come up with something profound, but you were so nervous that those six words came out instead. now you say them every time.

“i love you,” he pressed another kiss to your lips, and then your forehead. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

he donned his helmet and climbed into the car as you put the headset on, stepping back so the engineers could do the final preparations on the car.

right before he drove out onto the track, he stuck his arm out of the car, formed a sign with his hand, and waved.

i love you! you knew he couldn’t turn around to look, but you signed it back.

you and lando hated valentine’s day, but the two of you were just as sappy with each other every other day of the year— why should today be any different?

note: this was fueled by my own hatred of this silly little day and i wrote this on mobile (thus the lowercase) in maybe two hours. the title ended up being more ironic than i thought it would be; i wish lando was my valentine and this got fluffier than i’d planned. hope u enjoyed!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

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[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Hi! I was wondering if you knew anything in particular about the Lincoln Park Zoo- I think it’s the only zoo I’ve ever been to that’s free/no admission! Especially considering the scale. The only thing that concerned me was that their polar bears seem to have a history of stereotypical behaviors (pacing, primarily) which I saw while I was there, but again, I’m a total outsider to the actual inner workings of the facility. Sorry if this is too vague, haha.

There's a couple city zoos like that with free entrance! It's a cool option, and indicative of the city providing enough funding for the facility to operate without the need for income from tickets. (Sometimes the way things are set up, I think they can be required to stay free). The St. Louis Zoo is another!

I don't know a lot about the Lincoln Park Zoo beyond what I've seen as a guest. I've gone a couple times and haven't seen anything that stood out to me as major red flags, but that's just from a public perspective and not a comprehensive assessment. They're AZA-accredited and have been for a long time, which is an indication of their general ethos and operations. I can't speak to more than that about their quality, unfortunately.

You're right about the polar bear stereotypies - that's a thing I've seen for myself. The thing is, with stereotypies - and especially with polar bears - they're not necessarily an indicator of current welfare or quality of life.

For folk who are new to the blog or unfamiliar with the concept, in animal care, a stereotypy is a "repetitive, invariant behavior pattern with no obvious goal or function." Examples often seen are repetitive pacing, head-bobbing, licking or chewing, and rocking or swaying. (It's important to note that not all repetitive behaviors are stereotypic behaviors - e.g. animals may pace when excited and anticipating the arrival of a keeper). Stereotypies can be an indicator of chronically poor welfare, under-stimulating enrichment, or inappropriate captive environments, but the important thing to know about that is that they often persist after the problem that caused them is resolved. So you can take a polar bear or an elephant that picked up a stereotypic behavior in one zoo and move them to another, much better situation, and they may still continue the stereotypy.

(The fact that stereotypies can be indicators of previous, but not current, welfare problems is a really important nuance that is often left out of discussions. Sometimes they're called "zoochosis", which anti-captivity folk define as "the psychosis induced by captivity"... but that's a very unscientific approach, and doesn't facilitate productive discussion or attempts to identify causes and alleviate the behavior. Zoochosis is nothing but a useless manipulative buzzword, folks.)

Bears in general seem to be prone to stereotypies in captive situations. I've seen some recent research that hypothesizes it's likely due to a lack of ability to engage in normal behavioral sequences, such as foraging. Polar bears seem especially prone to it. One 2013 study found that of the 55 polar bears in North America they assessed, 85% engaged in stereotypical pacing. It might be because they natural cover such a huge range in the wild that older, smaller exhibits haven't allowed them to move as much as they need to; it could also be due to a historical lack of appropriate enrichment. We don't really know, because there's so many potential factors, and the long lifespan of polar bears means longitudinal studies of multiple generations take a very long time.

These are both things the industry is working on fixing: newer polar bear exhibits are built to be much larger and more complex, and there's been a heavy focus in the literature for at least a decade on finding ways to reduce stereotypies by providing engaging enrichment and increasing bears' activity levels. Lincoln Park Zoo's polar bear habitat was renovated in 2016, and - while it looks rather boring to me, as a guest - it was apparently designed to allow for a lot of activity range and polar bear-specific needs.

Their current bears are both about 20 years old, and were transferred to the Lincoln Park Zoo after the new habitat was completed. It's entirely plausible the bears arrived with stereotypies from their previous facilities, given that the emphasis on improving polar bear care is younger than they are. Here's a photo I took there a couple years ago, of Talini (I think), engaging in a repetitive head tossing behavior. It's definitely hard to watch, as a guest, and I don't remember if they had signage up about it.

That all being said, I wouldn't judge the whole zoo based on the polar bear stereotypies, because there's so much at play there in terms of history and the evolution of care for the species. What's important is how they're handling it, and what they're doing to help encourage more normative behavior from the bears. Given the amount of research and effort the zoo field has put into addressing the topic in polar bears for the last decade, it's highly probable that a lot of staff time goes into helping reduce the amount of time those bears spend engaging in stereotypies.

[wholoveseggs]

Extra-Extra-Extraordinary {three}

♡♡ HAPPY HOLIDAYS ♡♡

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Just a quick ménage à trois with the boys … but it's round three & under the mistletoe.

8.5k words {I'm so sorry, I can't write anything short} - Warnings: Smuttier than santa, {soft?} dom Elijah & Klaus, jealousy, a little violence & angst, biting, blood drinking, Klaus being Klaus, Elijah being the rough one, panettone.

{Part One} {Part Two} Don't worry, reading Part 3 without Part 1 and 2 is totally fine. You might miss the plot, but hey, that's not really the point of these, right? -xoxo ♡♡

"It's okay to love fucking them both. I did." ---Kathy P

Twas the night before the Mikaelson’s Christmas party, and you were snuggled up with Elijah on the sofa, drinking whiskey and eggnog, enjoying a quiet moment together. You had a batch of gingerbread cookies baking in the oven, the warm scent of them hanging in the air.

Klaus sauntered over with a cheeky smile, taking a seat next to you. "Well, isn't that quite the cozy picture," he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence.

You playfully smacked his arm. "Don't start, Nik."

"Oh, come now. I was simply admiring your happiness." Klaus raised his glass in a toast. "To love and family."

Glasses clinked, and you all took a sip, reveling in the camaraderie of the moment. A comfortable silence settled, interrupted by Klaus leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I'm afraid there's a slight problem, though."

Your curiosity piqued, you quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? What's the issue?"

"Well, I didn't get a present for you," Klaus confessed with a sly smile.

"Oh, don't worry, Nik, I wasn't expecting—"

He cut you off, his playful smile deepening. "I mean, I don't have a physical gift. But," he paused, the intensity in his gaze making you squirm. "I have a much better idea."

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, feigning annoyance.

"I was thinking I could give you some more quality time with my tongue," Klaus whispered, his words going straight to your core. 

Elijah's arm instinctively tightened around you, and you knew he had heard the exchange. You couldn't deny the rush of desire that shot through you. Still, you were determined not to let Klaus's antics disrupt the festive mood.

"Right now?" you teased, hoping the heat creeping up your cheeks wasn't too obvious.

"Why not?" Klaus winked, taking another sip of his drink.

Elijah, ever the picture of composure, remained silent, clearly amused at the ongoing banter.

"Maybe later," you teased, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

"I'll hold you to it," Klaus smirked, leaning back into the couch. "Do you have any more special requests? Do you want us to fully tie you up this time?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed, "You know, Klaus, maybe this is where I take a break and check on the cookies."

"I think they could use another taste tester," Klaus added, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I think," Elijah chimed in, a wicked smile playing on his lips, "that we all need another round of drinks.’

Grinning, you gracefully stood up and made your way to the kitchen, the enticing scent of fresh gingerbread and molasses filling the air. Both men followed suit, Elijah coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"My darling," he whispered, his voice a seductive melody, "would you like me to get rid of my brother for the night? I'm sure he could entertain himself somehow."

You turned to face Elijah, your hand intertwining with his.

"It's alright," you said softly, pulling him closer.

Klaus smiled, his gaze meeting yours. "So, tell us what you want this time around?"

Your cheeks flushed red, a secret desire had been forming in your mind for quite a while now. The mere thought of it turned you on immensely. You had tried it once with Elijah, and it was an experience you craved to have again, but you were far too shy to voice that desire to Klaus.

"I... want," you whispered, biting your lip nervously. The air crackled with anticipation as you mustered the courage to express your hidden fantasies.

Elijah caressed your cheek, sensing your nervousness. "You want what, my love?"

"I want…," you paused, feeling a rush of heat spreading throughout your body. "For you both to be in complete control," you whispered, your gaze shifting between both men, gauging their reactions.

"Is that so?" Klaus mused, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Yes," you murmured, a wave of desire crashing through your body.

Elijah smiled, his voice a sensual purr. "What is your safe word, my love?"

You looked at him, a shy smile playing on your lips. "It's still the same."

"Good," Elijah whispered, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Well, well," Klaus murmured, his voice low. "Have you tried this with Elijah before?"

"Yes, we have," Elijah answered for you, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity. "And it's an exquisite sight."

You blushed, remembering the intense pleasure of submitting to Elijah's will. It was unlike anything you had experienced before, and it filled you with a rush of anticipation.

Both of them moved closer, pinning you against the kitchen counter. Elijah pressed his body against your side as he planted kisses on your neck, while Klaus approached from the front, pressing a hand into your lower abdomen, locking eyes with you.

"When shall we start, love?" Klaus inquired, his lips mere inches from yours.

Your breath caught, a soft moan escaping as Klaus lowered his hand between your legs and began a slow, tantalizing rub through your pants. Elijah's breath, hot against your ear, intensified as his hands traveled up to caress your breasts through your shirt.

"Wait," you whispered, hands clutching the counter. "Not tonight," you gasped, a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Klaus asked, mischief in his eyes, but a note of genuine concern in his voice.

"Tomorrow," you whispered, attempting to gather your thoughts. "After the party," you continued, your voice hoarse.

"Perhaps during the party," Elijah suggested, you could feel him smile against your skin.

Your cheeks flushed as you tried to calm your wildly beating heart. "But what if someone hears us?" You stammered.

"Oh, don't worry," Klaus chuckled, nipping at your ear. "We'll make sure everyone hears how good we're going to fuck you.”

A thrilling wave of pleasure ran through your body at his words. Klaus possessed a certain charm that always left you yearning for more, and you could already feel your resolve crumbling.

Elijah's lips left a trail of soft kisses along your jawline, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on your waist. "Tomorrow it is, then," he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through your skin.

Klaus withdrew his hand, but the intensity in his eyes lingered. "We'll be counting the minutes until then," he said, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

You took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of your senses. "I need to finish those cookies," you stammered, your cheeks still flushed.

"By all means, love, we wouldn't want to keep you from your baking," Klaus quipped, leaning in and kissing your cheek. 

As they reluctantly released you, you couldn't deny the anticipation building within. The promise of tomorrow hung in the air, and with playful smiles, Klaus and Elijah retreated, leaving you with the lingering heat of their touch and the scent of fresh cookies filling the kitchen.

Hand in hand with Elijah, you descended to the grand Christmas party hosted in the compound. The opulent halls were adorned with twinkling lights, and the scent of fresh pine mingled with holiday treats. Guests in elegant attire filled the space, laughter and music creating an enchanting atmosphere.

The grand Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments and sparkling lights, stood tall in the center of the room. Rich, jewel-toned colors reflected in the polished marble floors as guests mingled, exchanging gifts and raising their glasses in celebration.

The sounds of a live orchestra filled the air, playing festive melodies that added to the magical ambiance. Klaus, with his signature charm, welcomed guests with a charismatic smile, and Rebekah dazzled in a breathtaking gown.

Tables adorned with fine china and crystal glasses showcased a feast fit for royalty. A mix of traditional Christmas dishes and exotic delicacies delighted the senses, and expertly crafted cocktails flowed freely.

As Elijah led you through the crowd, you couldn't help but be swept away by the festive spirit. The warmth of the atmosphere, the twinkle of fairy lights, and the joyous laughter of friends and family created an enchanting backdrop for the evening.

Elijah pulled you onto the dance floor, gently swaying you around. Your heart fluttered as you looked into his dark eyes, a soft smile forming on his face. 

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You are so beautiful,” as he pulled you closer. 

Your cheeks flushed, he still gave you butterflies. As the tempo picked up, he spun you around and pulled you close again, your bodies moving in sync. He leaned in and brushed a kiss to your temple, his lips curving into a smile. You felt warm and content in his arms, reveling in the festive atmosphere and intimacy of the moment.

"I must tend to some business, my dear," Elijah whispered. "I won't be long, though." His kiss was sweet, but there was a fire in his eyes, he wanted more, you just had to be patient. You could see the promise, knowing it was coming soon.

You made your way to the dessert table, feeling a bit self-conscious about the panettone you contributed, worrying that it was over-baked. Your thoughts were cut short when a man approached, you recognized him as one of Marcel's nightwalkers.

“I’m not really a dessert person, but you look absolutely delicious,” he said, standing far too close to you.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep your distance. You suspected this man was quite drunk. His breath reeked of cheap booze, and his clothes were disheveled. "Excuse me," you said, trying to brush past him.

"Oh, come on now," he slurred, grabbing your arm. "Don't be so cold."

You attempted to pull away, but his grip was like iron. "Let go of me," you demanded, anger flashing in your eyes.

Before you could react, the man was knocked backward, the breath being driven from his lungs in one powerful blow. 

Klaus stood over him, a cheerful smile on his face. "You were being rather aggressive, mate," 

The man stared up at Klaus, stunned. After a moment, he staggered to his feet and mumbled a half-hearted apology before slinking away.

"Are you alright, love?" Klaus asked, his gaze full of concern.

You smiled, feeling grateful for his interference. "I’m fine, thank you, Klaus, I appreciate the help."

"Always," he responded, flashing you a charming smile. He looked around the room, then took your hand, leading you to a quiet corridor.

"Where are we going?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just want a moment alone with you," he said. As soon as you were out of sight, he pressed you up against the wall, his hands gripping your waist. He leaned in, his lips hovering inches from your own.

"Now who's being the aggressive one,” you teased, your hands pressed into his chest.

"I can't help myself, love. You're the most gorgeous woman in the room," he whispered, his voice laced with seduction.

"Nik, don't. What about Elijah," you protested, trying to ignore your rapidly beating heart.

“He left you all alone," Klaus smirked, his lips ghosting over yours. "If my brother can't appreciate the beauty standing before him, I will gladly take his place."

"You can't say that," you responded, attempting to push him away.

"But, love," Klaus drawled, his lips pressing a teasing kiss against your neck. "I already know how wet you are for me," he whispered, his hand roaming up your thigh.

You gasped, feeling his hand moving closer to your core. "Klaus, we can't," you pleaded.

"Just tell me to stop and I will," he whispered, his fingers brushing against your panties.

You moaned, the feeling of him teasing you, the risk of being caught, only heightening the pleasure.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," Klaus murmured, his voice dripping with lust.

You gasped, biting your lip to keep from moaning.

Klaus smirked, his finger rubbing slow circles against your clit. "Do you ever think about me when he fucks you?”

Your head was swimming with pleasure, and you could barely form a coherent thought. "No," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"I don't believe you," Klaus whispered, his lips finding yours. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His fingers moved faster, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

The sounds of the party grew distant, your senses focused solely on the feeling of his touch. His fingers dipped lower, pushing past your panties, sinking into your pussy.

"Nik," you cried, burying your face into his shoulder, trying to muffle the moans escaping your lips.

He pushed two fingers inside, slowly thrusting in and out. Your hips bucked, the pressure building. He added another finger and one of your hands fisted into his shirt, the other digging into his back.

"Yes, Nik," you whimpered, a white-hot explosion of ecstasy ripping through you. You trembled as you clenched around his fingers.

Klaus continued his movements, prolonging the pleasure, until you couldn't take it anymore. You weakly pushed him away, your breath ragged.

He pulled out, bringing his fingers to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "So fucking delicious," he purred, a smug smile playing on his lips.

The reality of what just happened hit you, and you quickly straightened your clothes. You couldn't believe what just transpired.

He leaned in and kissed you again, it was surprisingly gentle and loving, as if he was savoring the taste.  

"If you were mine I would never share you," he murmured against your lips.

"Nik," you breathed, a warning.

"But you're not, so I must take what I can get," Klaus smirked.

You smoothed your hair, attempting to regain your composure. You tried to hide the fact that his words affected you.

Klaus chuckled, pulling away. He glanced down at his watch, his smile widening. "It's time, love. Shall we go find my brother?”

"I'm right here," his voice sounded behind you.

Elijah stood in the corridor, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His eyes were dark, his jaw set.

"How long have you been there," Klaus asked, his tone casual.

"Long enough," Elijah responded, his eyes fixed on you. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, your cheeks flushing.

Klaus grinned, "No harm was done."

"On the contrary," Elijah growled. "You know the rules, Niklaus. You are not to touch her without my permission."

"Oh, come now, brother," Klaus chuckled, his tone mocking. "You let me taste her when it's the three of us," he challenged.

"This is different and you know it," Elijah responded, his fist clenched.

"Is it?," Klaus questioned, stepping closer. "Perhaps you should have paid more attention to your love, rather than entertaining the guests."

"I was making sure the room was ready for tonight," he countered, his tone ice.

"My dear brother, so committed to making sure everything is perfect for her," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Elijah's eyes narrowed. "You are dangerously close to crossing a line, Niklaus," he warned.

Elijah took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. Klaus chuckled, enjoying getting under his brother's skin.

"She clearly gets something from me that she doesn't get from you," Klaus remarked, his gaze challenging.

You looked back and forth between the two of them, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation swirling in your stomach. The tension between the brothers was palpable.

"Stop," you interjected, placing a hand on each of their chests, trying to calm them.

Elijah couldn't help but think back to all the nights he spent in bed with you, making love, whispering sweet words in your ear, but also, the times Klaus joined you. Klaus would push you to the edge, make you scream and beg, while Elijah would always take care of you after. Klaus was a lot rougher than him, and perhaps that's what you craved. A spark of anger ignited inside Elijah, and before he could stop himself, his fist connected with Klaus' jaw.

Klaus' head jerked backward, but his smirk never faltered. He leaned forward, spitting out blood. "That's more like it, brother," he taunted, the mischievous glint in his eyes intensified. "That's the kind of man she wants," he said, goading Elijah.

You knew this was about more than Klaus simply getting handsy, but instead the truth of his feelings for you. A truth you avoided addressing, you loved Elijah, but you couldn't deny the pleasure of your shared encounters with both of them. Unfortunately, Klaus had grown quite attached to you and, at times, very possessive, often lashing out and making attempts to sabotage your relationship with Elijah. Tonight's display seemed like yet another attempt.

Your relationship had changed after the first time all three of you were intimate together. It made things unnecessarily complicated, it became apparent that jealousy and feelings were a factor now. A realization neither of them seemed to understand or deal with, making things, all in all, messy and confusing.

Your head was spinning, you didn't know which emotion was greater, arousal, shame, guilt, or fear. "I thought we had an understanding, Nik," you muttered, choosing your words carefully, your cheeks flushed and stomach churning.

"Oh, come on, love," he smirked, knowing he was on thin ice.

"Enough, Nik," you said firmly, glaring at him. "When we started this, we had clear rules. You broke them," you chastised, then turned to Elijah, your expression softening. 

"I love you, only you, Elijah," you whispered, standing on your toes, pulling him closer. You kissed him, a slow and sensual kiss, meant to comfort and reassure him.

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. He glanced back at his brother, his jaw clenched. You touched his cheek, bringing his focus back to you. "We don't have to include him, if you don't want to," you whispered.

Elijah's expression softened, hearing the love and concern in your voice. "I just want to see you happy," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

"You make me happy," you smiled, kissing him again.

Klaus stood, observing the intimate scene, trying his best to mask his jealousy and pain. You were everything he wanted, and more, and yet, you belonged to his brother.

"Come," Elijah murmured, taking your hand.

"Where are we going," you asked.

"A special spot I’ve prepared for you," Elijah smiled, squeezing your hand.

Klaus trailed behind you, trying to hide his emotions, the last thing he needed was to have his brother witness his heartbreak.

Elijah led you through the halls, the party growing distant. He pushed open a pair of double doors, revealing a magnificent sight. The entire room was decorated like a winter wonderland. Fairy lights draped along the ceiling, casting a soft glow throughout the space. A cozy fire burned in the stone fireplace, the heat warming your body. Thick, fluffy blankets covered the sofas and bed, and plates of desserts adorned the coffee table.

You wandered through the room, taking in the luxurious details. The walls were covered with towering shelves filled with books, and the vast windows offered an enchanting view of the night sky. The air was fragranced with cinnamon and pine, the holiday decorations adding to the festive ambiance.

Soft music played, creating an intimate atmosphere. You smiled, feeling the tension and excitement building within you.

"You are a master of romance, Elijah," Klaus commented, his voice breaking the silence.

"Only for her," he answered, a twinkle in his eye.

Elijah leaned down, capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. "This is amazing," you breathed against his lips.The spark slowly turning into a fire as his hands roamed your body.

Elijah started undressing you, kissing every exposed area of skin. You could feel his breath hot against your body, a rush of desire washing over you. He was slow and deliberate, seemingly wanting to savor the moment.

You pulled at his clothes, wanting to feel his bare skin against yours. You unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it down his arms. You traced the lines of his chest, enjoying the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

You turned and reached out to Klaus, beckoning him closer, he approached and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was insistent and passionate, conveying all the desire he's been holding back. Your fingers dipped under the hem of his shirt, sliding it up his toned chest. You parted only to pull it over his head, then he continued kissing you, barely allowing your lips to leave his. 

Elijah tugged on your chin, demanding your lips back to his. His kiss was deep and intense, his tongue sliding along yours. Both of them undressed you further, hands and mouths devouring you. You couldn't focus, could barely breathe as they took complete control. 

Soon you were completely naked, pressed between them, Elijah was behind you, sucking and nipping at your neck and Klaus in front of you, kissing down the valley of your breasts. Your core pulses in the need of attention and you push back into Elijah grinding and rolling your hips against him.

Elijah softly ran his hands down your arms before grabbing your wrists and securing them behind your back. He took both of them in his strong, firm hold, no longer free to touch either of them. Instead, they're free to touch and pleasure you however they see fit. They share a quick glance between themselves, each grinning deviously.

Klaus kept working his way down your body, until he got down on his knees, your thighs at the same level with his head. His eyes caught with yours and a sly grin spread across his lips before his gaze went to your pussy. He began planting soft kisses along the top of each leg, his tongue drawing patterns as he went. You tried to bite back the moan that is about to escape from your lips, knowing he's getting the most enjoyment out of this teasing he's performing. You watched with both pleasure and anticipation, as the sight of him nearly getting close to your aching cunt and stopping in his tracks just to torture you some more. Your head instinctively rolled back onto Elijah's shoulder, biting your lip as your eyes shut, doing everything in your power to hold back your moans.

"You're just dying for it, aren't you love," Klaus murmured, nipping at your inner thigh.

"You're no better," you teased.

Elijah growled, restraining your wrists in one hand, forcing your head up. "Careful," he warned, his free hand coming to rest around your throat, squeezing slightly. "Watch your tone,"

You moaned, despite his warning.

He raised his brow, a hint of surprise flashed on his face, pleased to hear you being so turned on by him handling you in a way he normally wouldn't. 

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck and whispered against it, "If you want to play those games, I can be just as rough." He emphasized his point by tightening his hand around your neck, pressing against your windpipe, cutting off your air.

"Now, spread your legs wider."

The way he was using you only fueled your fire. The more demanding, rougher, and meaner he was, the wetter you became. You obeyed his orders, it was the only thing you could do anyway.

Klaus finally obliged, his mouth hovered a mere inch from your pussy. The stubble on his cheeks tickling your soft and sensitive skin as his tongue came out. He dragged it, almost painfully slow over your clit and back down, dipping inside you before repeating the motions once more. Your hips involuntarily moved with his tongue and you heard a faint chuckle rumble from Elijah's chest as he pinned you against him.

The faint sound of a moan escaped you as Klaus continued his exploration, and that's when he lost all his restraint. He yanked your leg over his shoulder and drove his tongue deep inside you, devouring and fucking you with it. Your breath grew even shallower and a deeper, throatier moan was pulled from you. The men groaned simultaneously at your response, loving how they affected you. Your hands opened and closed and twisted and clenched behind your back in a failed attempt to regain control. You couldn't stop yourself from writhing and wriggling in the grasps of both men, feeling as though your bones had melted and your legs had gone weak.

Both sets of strong and muscular arms were the only things holding you up at this point. It felt so overwhelming, to be trapped between them like this. You didn't have anywhere to go or any chance to escape the intense pleasures they were giving you.

While your legs weakened, your core tightened, and that tell tale feeling washed over you, warm and fuzzy, creeping up your limbs, creeping along your stomach and soon you could feel that ball forming, needing something, a push to make it snap. As you were just about to break, you were overcome with disappointment. 

"Nik," You whined, trying to protest against the denial of your impending orgasm. But he had removed himself completely from you. Elijah had you securely in his hold but Klaus had backed away, just watching you closely, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

Elijah yanked on your neck, pulling your head to the side so you would look at him. "Behave," he commanded, and a grin crept on his lips and you shuddered. The firm tone he used with you was almost enough to get you to cum on the spot and both men saw how desperate and helpless you've become.

"I love seeing you like this," Elijah murmured, his lips close to your ears, he dipped his head and nipped at your neck. Your hips bucked at the touch, causing him to laugh lightly. You could feel him smile against the nape of your neck, kissing up to the tip of your ear. You gasped slightly and he grinned wider. He pulled you roughly towards the bed, throwing you down, you bounced slightly from the impact and landed on your back. Elijah watched you in complete admiration. Your hair fanned around the pillows, your cheeks flushed, your chest rapidly rising and falling. 

Your lips parted as you tried to steady your breathing, your eyes growing wide. You gulped, swallowing nervously as a dark smile spread across Elijah's face. You loved seeing this side of him and you always begged him to show it more often. He bent down to kiss your calves, slowly making his way up. He kissed every bit of skin, squeezing and massaging your body along the way.

Klaus moved to the other side of the bed above your head, leaning over you, he was peppering your neck with kisses. Occasionally leaving tiny nips or gentle tugs on your skin. Klaus cupped your cheek with one hand and his eyes locked with yours as his finger grazed your bottom lip. He then slowly pushed two fingers past your lips.

"Taste yourself, love," Klaus grinned, wiggling his digits in your mouth. You did as he wished, sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself. Klaus smirked, pulling back. Your head lolled back and Klaus kneeled next to your head, his already hard member was mere inches from your mouth and his cock pulsed. He grasped it firmly, slowly stroking its length up and down a few times, before lining it up to your lips.

You looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster as you parted your lips a little wider, allowing him to push himself into your mouth. Your eyes remain locked with his as you swirl your tongue around the tip, slowly taking him further into your throat.

You let out a muffled moan as you felt Elijah parting your legs and pressed his tongue to your entrance, the tip slipping just the slightest bit into you, teasing you. You moved your hands to grip his hair, but Klaus grabbed your wrists and pinned them next to your head, denying you any control. Your back arched and a light, desperate, needy whimper fell from your lips as you longed to just be completely filled and fucked by them both at the same time.

Elijah spread your legs further apart, relishing your taste and the way you trembled with every touch. His movements grew harder, deeper and stronger. His hands holding your hips firmly as his tongue drove in and out of you, making you arch your back and your eyes roll to the back of your head,

You took Klaus's full length into your throat and held him there for a moment. Your actions were rewarded when he moaned deeply, smiling down at you. Elijah moved his tongue away, replacing it with one single finger. Slowly teasing and moving in circles before sliding it all the way inside your already soaking pussy. You started bucking your hips, the pace growing quicker.

Elijah suddenly sank his fangs into your inner thigh. You let out an agonizing scream and your back arched up off the bed as a warm wave of pain and pleasure hit you. You felt yourself clamp down around his finger as he continued fucking you with it. He drank greedily from the small holes he made, sucking hard on your sensitive flesh, the intensity becoming too much to bear. You shook uncontrollably as he used his thumb to circle your clit, Klaus still holding tightly to your arms and thrusting deeply into your throat.

Klaus grins watching you as a loud moan fills his ears, vibrating against his dick. You're struggling to concentrate, unable to form words to protest or demand. His thrusts become sloppier and less controlled. Sloppy noises getting louder and he moves his other hand to stroke his fingers through your hair. You moan loudly once more and he lets go. He lets his head fall back, as his cum spills into your throat and he loses the ability to move or talk, merely riding out his release.

Elijah's mouth made its way up your body, sinking his fangs into your lower stomach, making you yelp. Then he made his way further up and bit your breasts, his fingers still pumping inside you. He continued to feed, leaving dozens of bite marks all over your body until there were hardly any places left he didn't get to mark. Tears streamed down your face and you struggled under Klaus's grip, trying to escape, and whimpered desperately for one of them to stop, the pain was starting to overwhelm your pleasure.

Elijah’s eyes were completely black, with dark gray veins snaking underneath them, accompanied by his bared fangs and blood-stained lips. His true form, on full display for you, making his beauty and his danger even more exceptional. He moved up to your face, finally giving you a chance to kiss him. You hummed into his mouth, tasting your own blood as his tongue brushed against yours, he smiled against your lips and kissed you harder. 

This animalistic side of Elijah turned you on immensely. When the rare occasion arose, where you were lucky enough to get him like this, all of those barriers came crumbling down. He wasn't here to please or serve or pamper you like a goddess, tonight was about using you. He broke the kiss, leaving you a panting mess.

Your pleading expression did nothing as his mouth went to the most sensitive area of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. He parted your legs with his knee and teasing your pussy with the head of his cock.

"Who does this belong to?" Elijah asked, his voice husky, you felt goosebumps rise on your flesh.

"Yours. It's yours," you whimpered.

Klaus smirked at you, clearly getting a kick out of seeing you so helpless and controlled by his brother. Klaus's hand gripped your jaw firmly as he forced you to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb across your lips. He could feel your jaw shake as you trembled.

"Good answer," Elijah grinned, his eyes turning black as he pushed his cock inside you and sunk his fangs into your neck. You cried out from the pure bliss and pain he inflicted on you. He was usually so gentle and romantic, but right now, he was fucking you, devouring your body. The sensations overwhelmed you, making the line between pain and pleasure blur.

The more you squirmed beneath him, the rougher he grew with you, both of his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you into his every move. The sweet slapping of his skin against yours filled the room and mingled with your cries, your ragged and frantic breathing. It wasn't enough, you still needed more, you could hardly even breathe and he kept biting, never giving you time to catch your breath, or make sense of what was going on.

Elijah slowly removed his fangs from your neck, his breathing uneven as he pounded into you, whispering your name. You could tell he was close, by the way his thrusts started to quicken, his face changing from his vampire side to his human one, a blush tinting his cheeks.

"Look at me," he said. You met his gaze and realized that despite his features being back to normal, the animal still lived just beneath his skin.

He pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, a hand weaving into your hair. "Come for me, my love," he whispered. His voice was gravely and it turned you on beyond belief.

Klaus still had your wrists in his grip, stopping you from moving an inch. You couldn't get away no matter how hard you tried.

Your vision was blurred and Elijah groaned against your neck, gripping your thighs so tightly it stung. He stopped and pressed his forehead to yours, his breaths uneven as you pushed your thighs against him.You squeezed his cock hard as your orgasm finally shattered, tensing up all your muscles and moaning his name. He was close behind you, burying himself deep inside you as he moaned into your mouth and filled you with his cum.

Klaus released your wrists and you immediately wrapped your arms around Elijah, holding him in a tight embrace as you slowly came down. He held onto you, smiling to himself. He kissed you tenderly, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead as his fingers caressed your flushed skin.

Elijah placed light kisses down your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin, a soft giggle escaping your lips. His eyes landed on the many bite marks on he left, his expression turned guilty and he pulled away from you. He got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom without a word.

"Elijah," you said softly, but you didn't follow, knowing he would want some space to process. He often scolded himself and grew cold whenever he got rough like this with you.

"What's wrong with him?" Klaus asked you, gesturing to the open bathroom door.

You knew what it was, but you didn't wish to tell Klaus. Your heart ached for Elijah, hating that he always beat himself up for hurting you. Even though you've told him countless times that you enjoy these rare moments when his vampiric side comes out. You love feeling the power coursing through him as he has his way with you, biting and fucking and drinking from you however he pleases.

"Nothing, leave him," you whispered, the ache in your body preventing you from wanting to leave the bed.

You looked up at Klaus, giving him a gentle smile. He pulled you into his lap and cupped your cheek, softly stroking the pad of his thumb along your jaw. He was so gentle, not his typical cocky, confident, arrogant self. You kissed him deeply, enjoying how sweet and tender he was, after the rough sex and treatment Elijah gave you, the contrast was perfect.

His hands ran over the bite marks and you winced, pulling back. He looked up, offering an apologetic smile. 

"I didn't think Elijah was capable," he chuckled, trailing his eyes over you once more, imagining his marks covering you instead.

Klaus brought his face close to the most visible and recent set of fang marks and lightly flicked out his tongue, swiping across your broken flesh, soothing the stinging sensations and sealing up the bleeding. He dragged his tongue down to the one just above your breasts and repeated the actions.

You let out a soft moan from the sensation, slowly grinding your hips against him. Klaus placed a trail of kisses along your chest and neck, climbing up to your lips as you looked at him. He locked eyes with yours, his pupils blown wide with arousal. You let your fingers tangle into his hair as you pressed your lips firmly together.

"Nik," you whispered against his lips, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, happy to hear his name, instead of Elijah's, leaving your mouth.

He began rocking his hips in time with yours, growing more and more desperate by the second. His hands ran over your curves, coming to rest on your waist. In one fluid motion, he picked you up and flipped you over so that you were on your stomach and he was hovering over you.

You let out a surprised gasp and your eyes went wide. Klaus let out a soft laugh as his fingers traced along the contours of your backside, massaging your plump skin. You glanced over your shoulder at him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you up slightly, raising you to your knees, with your ass presented towards him. He bent down and licked his way from your clit to your ass, paying equal amounts of attention to both spots, eliciting soft moans and whimpers from you.

Klaus swatted one of your cheeks playfully, then slipped a couple of fingers inside you and pumped in and out of your core while he worked a fingertip against your other hole. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, forcing a gasp to leave your lips.

Elijah returned to the bedroom and stood quietly, leaned against the wall, admiring your beautiful form on display. He walked towards the bed and sat down in front of you. He laced his fingers gently with yours and you looked at him, giving him a reassuring smile. He loved you so much and worried too often that you weren't safe around him. 

"Welcome back," Klaus chuckled, his fangs grazing over your ass cheek. You shivered and buried your face in the mattress, earning a low laugh from him. "Are you done with the self-loathing session?"

Elijah gave Klaus a stern look and shifted his focus back to you. You weren't going to allow his guilt to ruin this for either of you. You sat up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him slowly, wrapping an arm around his neck. He looked at you and his expression changed, becoming lighter.

Your lips parted and you exhaled shakily, Elijah ran his knuckles down your cheek, soothingly and you gave him a faint smile. "It's okay Elijah. You didn't hurt me," you murmured. He frowned, looking into your eyes for a long moment before leaning closer and claiming your lips in another kiss.

Klaus let out an irritated sigh and gently pushed on your lower back, signaling for you to settle back down. You parted the kiss from Elijah and did what you were asked. Elijah threaded his fingers in your hair and held you still as Klaus used the new angle to circle your asshole with his tongue, drawing a series of low, whimpering moans from your throat. Klaus chuckled, pleased with your reactions. Your grip on the sheets tightened as you gasped into the mattress. Klaus felt your wetness increase and gripped your thighs harder as his tongue started fucking in and out of you, the pleasure making you gush.

Elijah grinned in amusement and placed a hand against your throat, tilting your head back. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked, a low growl emitting from his throat.

You nodded your head, completely drunk off their attention. Klaus gave your ass a hard slap, making you yelp and tense up.

"I didn't hear you, love," Klaus quipped, pressing his lips to your stinging cheek, eliciting another moan from you.

"Yes," you practically sobbed.

Elijah hummed at your answer, leaning down to kiss your mouth. His tongue danced over yours as his hand tightened against your throat. Klaus pressed a finger against your asshole, pushing forward until the tip of his finger was inside you. You let out a gasp against Elijah's lips as Klaus plunged his finger all the way inside, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your skull. He pressed his lips to your ass cheek, gently biting it with his blunt teeth as he worked a second finger inside you.

"Do you want both of us again?" Klaus whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"Please," you begged.

Klaus and Elijah looked at each other, a silent exchange happening between the two of them. You didn't notice their conversation, you were too focused on the aching feeling as Klaus removed his fingers. Elijah helped you to your feet, rough hands gliding over your skin as he lifted you off the bed. You stood between them, your back pressed into Elijah's chest as he held you close. Klaus placed his hands on your waist, pressing his body against yours and placing gentle kisses against your collarbone. He trailed his way up to your neck, lightly biting with his teeth. You rolled your head to the side, enjoying every ounce of attention that they gave you, his hands sliding down your body until they came to rest on the curve of your ass. Elijah nipped at your neck, grazing his fangs against you. A wave of heat flowed throughout your entire body, making your knees tremble.

"Just relax and let us do all the work," Elijah whispered, his hand gently gripping your waist.

"Okay," you breathed, and let out a soft moan.

Klaus picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around him. He tilted your chin up, making you look at him. His eyes were dark and predatory, flashing gold as he gazed at you, a sight that made your stomach flip. He lowered you down onto his cock and you clung to his shoulders. Hanging tightly onto him as he began to slowly thrust and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, letting out soft moans. 

Elijah came up behind you, his fingers smoothing down your back. He placed light kisses to your shoulder as he placed his hand on your ass. Elijah's finger stroked down, circling your rim gently, making you tense up and clench down on Klaus's cock. Klaus groaned and hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you closer. Elijah pushed one slick digit inside, barely taking any time to let your muscles stretch and relax before working in a second.

Elijah kissed your spine, working you open carefully. You pushed yourself against his fingers, whimpering loudly at the stimulation. Elijah pushed further into your ass, knuckle deep, he smiled when he heard you moan.

"Does that feel nice, my sweet girl?" Elijah purred against your neck, biting his way up your ear.

You nodded and your heart pounded faster in response, wanting him closer, wanting more of him. Elijah pressed his lips to your shoulder as his cock nudged against you. He began pushing into you, holding your hips, and carefully guiding his way in. Your breathing became shaky as he eased into you. Klaus stilled his movements, locking eyes with you, and he leaned in to give you a comforting kiss. You let out a soft moan against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders. It was the most delicious sensation, being pinned between their firm chests, and stuffed completely.

"You love this, don't you?" Klaus whispered as he moved you against both of them in slow strokes.

You gave a slight thrust back, begging for more, and Elijah grunted, pushing into you slowly.

"You know the answer to that," you whispered back, giving Klaus a wide smile as your eyebrows arched in pleasure.

Klaus grinned at you, his grip on you becoming a little tighter. They both held you completely still, kissing and teasing every exposed area of your neck and chest as Elijah began rocking himself back and forth, setting an excruciating rhythm, with slow, deep thrusts.

You trembled between them, feeling so full and loved. Their presence was intense, strong, all consuming. You were exactly where you wanted to be and you never wanted this night to end.

"Please... don't stop, I'm close," you panted, reaching a hand to Elijah's and gripping it. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, until it felt like you would implode from the sensation. You tensed and trembled in their arms. Their grip tightened against you in order to hold you steady. They both moved to either side of your neck, grazing their fangs along your skin.

"Please..." You begged once more. They couldn't resist.

Both their fangs pierced your flesh, almost at the same time. That final little nudge was enough to push you over the edge. They drank deeply, your blood on their lips, and your body soaring from the intense, extended high.

You let out a drawn out groan as your orgasm shook you. Klaus and Elijah didn't move an inch, focused on drinking your blood as your muscles squeezed around their cocks. They groaned into your skin, thrusting deeper and faster as your blood coursed through them.

Their thrusts turned feral, chasing after their releases, losing themselves in the bloodlust. Their bodies crashed into yours over and over and they let out deep moans against your skin.

You felt a warm rush in you as they climaxed. Elijah stilled inside you, gasping against your skin, riding out the waves of his orgasm. Klaus rocked you back and forth slightly, breathing heavily into your neck, his heart hammering wildly.

They pulled their fangs out of your neck, licking the blood away with careful movements. You were breathing heavily, coming down from your high. You couldn't stop the massive grin that spread across your face. You rested between the brothers, completely exhausted but oh so satisfied. Elijah pulled out of you, a gentle smile spreading across his lips. Klaus carried you back to the bed and laid you down, his body hovering over you, pressing against your warm skin. 

You tried catching your breath, too overwhelmed by the intensity of what just happened. Elijah laid next to you, he brushed your hair away from your face and placed kisses along your jawline. Klaus moved to your other side, covering you with kisses as well. You giggled and pulled Klaus in for a long kiss, then Elijah. 

"I love you," Elijah whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear and staring deep into your eyes, an intensity behind the dark pools causing the butterflies to return.

Klaus let out a quiet chuckle, dipping his face into your neck and you ran your fingers through his curls in response. Klaus shifted so he could place a kiss to the underside of your chin, slowly dragging his lips to your pulse, your heartbeat quickening the longer he lingered.

"May I have another taste," he said playfully, nipping at your skin, his tone filled with lust.

"Nik," you protested weakly, pushing on his shoulders.

Klaus smiled and pulled away, planting a soft kiss against your cheek, then scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom, gently sitting you down on the bathroom counter. He dampened a washcloth and began tending to your bite marks.

"I could give you my blood, to heal these," he said softly, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

"Elijah will heal them for me," you answered, giving Klaus a knowing look. "I'm sorry," you added, the words coming out before you even realized you said them.

"Don't be, love," Klaus said with a shrug. He caressed your chin gently and continued swiping the cloth gently over your shoulder. Elijah made his way into the bathroom and took the cloth from Klaus. 

"I would like to do the rest," Elijah said softly, he leaned in and brushed his lips gently over each puncture wound, the gesture so tender, and loving it made you ache.

Klaus walked away, lingering in the bathroom doorway to watch the intimate display between you and Elijah. A flicker of something you didn't quite understand crossed Klaus's features and he left, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Elijah began cleaning you, his touch soothing and gentle. You felt an overwhelming amount of love and devotion flowing through him.

"What's on your mind?" You asked softly, loving how focused and doting he is.

"How lucky I am," Elijah answered without missing a beat. "And how I feel I don't deserve you," he trailed off. You put a hand over his heart, feeling the firmness of his body and the steady drumming beneath.

"Don't, I wanted this, you were perfect," you insisted. Elijah met your gaze, your heart was aching at his guilty expression. He kissed you, attempting to convey his never-ending love for you.

When you pulled back, he bit his wrist and held it out. You pressed it to your lips, the copper taste flooding your senses. The profound sense of connection always made you lightheaded. The warmth spreading in you and the faint tingling of his magic working to close your wounds. Elijah pulled his wrist away, placing his hands on your knees and gave you a soft smile.

"Let's go downstairs and get some food," he whispered, helping you down off the counter. Your hunger spiked as soon as Elijah mentioned food.

Elijah held your hand as you made your way downstairs, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air, the Christmas party still in full swing. You joined the family in the living room, sitting beside him on the couch, his arm around you, pulling you closer. The guests were lively and cheerful, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. You looked around the room, taking in the festive decorations and the warmth of the atmosphere. It was nice, being a part of something like this.

Klaus appeared, a glass of wine in his hand, his gaze meeting yours. You felt a pang of guilt, you knew he had fallen for you, you hadn't meant to hurt him. You loved Elijah, and you never wanted anyone else.

He sat down next to you and Elijah, giving you a smile. "I may have lied about not getting you a present," he said, handing you a small box.

"Nik," you began, "you shouldn't have." Elijah kissed your temple, prompting you to open the box.

You opened the box and found a necklace with a small silver pendant, the Mikaelson crest engraved in the metal.

Elijah took the necklace from the box, fastening it around your neck. You ran your fingers along the pendant, a smile on your lips.

"Thank you, Nik," you said, a look of gratitude on your face.

"Anytime, love," Klaus replied.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him. He returned the gesture, holding you tightly, placing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You sat together on the couch, talking and laughing with the others, the weight of the guilt lifting from your shoulders. Elijah kissed your cheek, his eyes full of love and affection.

"Merry Christmas, my love," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin.

You smiled, "Merry Christmas, Elijah,"

Your heart was filled with happiness as you spent the evening surrounded by those you loved, enjoying the extraordinary holiday.

{Part One} {Part Two}

Thank you for reading my Extraordinary series!! This is the final ménage à trois I'll be doing with Klaus & Elijah... I feel like I covered all the bases hehe.

But a ménage à trois with Elijah and Kol????? Well... that sounds pretty exceptional...

PS: HAPPY HOLIDAYS ♡♡

[xxsunoosprincess]

could i request for enhypen legal line reaction to you being insecure about your stretch marks? under the chest and the thighs as well :( lol thank you

felt this one… again sorry it’s so late after your requested!

Enhypen reaction to their s/o being insecure about their stretch marks (OT6)

pairing: enhypen legal line x reader

warning: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of poor body image, insecurities, some are suggestive

Heeseung

Praise flows out of his mouth instantly because he is truly dumbfounded. His baby? His sweet baby doesn’t like how she looks. He is pouting, hands immediately gravitating to the stretch marks on your sides and gently brushing over the raised skin with his fingertip.

“I don’t understand” he frowns, the honesty and hurt across his face is clear as day “you and your stretch marks are really beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Baby, it hurts to see you don’t see yourself the way I see you”. It’s all said between the sweetest kisses he can muster up.

Jay

When you guys started dating, he vowed to take things slowly. He wants you for more than your body and he wants to make sure you know that. This accompanied by the fact that the furthest you have gone is some heavy petting over clothes means that he hasn’t ever seen your body.

It’s movie night, what movie you don’t know, because the way he is mouthing in your neck and how his hands slide up your shirt is taking all your attention. Partially due to anticipation, but also something much further from pleasure. When you mumble out a ‘wait’, hands catching his, he freezes and backs off. He would never overstep. If that means giving you space, fucking with your shirt still on, or an innocent cuddle, he is more than happy to oblige.

Jake

Jake has them too… Headcannoning him to have stretch marks on his lower back. Probably appeared during his growth spurt. Still shy about taking his shirt off around people, but this drastically changes when he overhears you comment negatively about your own stretch marks while on the phone with your friend.

I imagine he is kinda at a loss for words, unsure how to comfort you but his heart is broken to hear you don’t love your body as much as he does. So, he leads by example. When questioned about why he is walking around the dorm shirtless, he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, blushing a bit as he says “nothing to be ashamed of! even my stretch marks are a sign of how hard my body has worked to help me grow!!” Hopes his confidence is contagious, but for now he is satisfied with the giggles he pulls out of you with his over the top flexing.

Sunghoon

He isn’t stupid. He knows what it means when he sees you scrutinizing your body in the mirror when you think he is still in the shower. I mean, he did figure skating. He’s an idol. When you work in industries that are critical of your body, you just know. He just… he doesn’t know what to do. It kills him to see you upset about anything, let alone your body. It leaves him shuffling on his feet.

“You look really nice” it startles you, fumbling to pull your shirt back over your now exposed tummy. You whip around to see him standing awkwardly in the doorway, his cheeks just as red as yours. “You shouldn’t… do that.” The vague hand gestures he makes are confusing, but even more startling is the sudden bone-crushing hug he pulls you into. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself”.

Sunoo

I think he knows better than everyone what it’s like to feel insecure about your body, what it feels like to have everyone’s eyes just scanning for flaws, so his blood runs cold when you ask him what products can help reduce the marks. Sure he has the creams, the oils, whatever, that could answer your question but he is tossing them the moment he gets home.

“What? Did someone say something to you?” You’ve never seen Sunoo look so serious. Not a hint of a smile on his face, no softness in his tone. The idea of anyone making you feel insecure makes him sick. “You should never try to change yourself, your body, for anyone. Don’t look away, I’m serious, you shouldn’t change, not even for me and I would never ask you to change. You’re perfect.”

Jungwon

It’s such a lovely day. Jungwon has dragged you out for a picnic, the sun is shining bright and the river running next to you guys makes for such a picturesque day. At least, it would be if the dress you were wearing wasn’t riding up your legs at every move and exposing the stretch marks running up your thighs.

“-and then he told me to… wait, y/n are you listening?” Jungwon whines as he notices you distracted by your dress again. You stutter out an apology, face beet red, but he doesn’t let you get it out before he is pulling off his jacket and casting it over your legs “There. Is that better? Stop, don’t give it back I’m not cold! You seem uncomfortable with your legs exposed, it’s the least I can do. But I wish you wouldn’t… your legs are so sexy- hey! Don’t flick me!”

END.

a/n: this one feels like shart… I don’t think I’m great at writing fluff. They all are ‘T’s in their MBTI except Sunoo’s, so I felt like it was a little hard to gauge how they would react so something so sensitive. But! I think they are all lovebugs and would do their best to comfort you. I tried something new though :3 hope you guys enjoy - xx princess.

[sevensoulmates]

Buddie 7x07 "Ghost of a Second Chance" Meta

So sorry for the delay! This one took me a minute due to life/work stuff happening, but here it is! A doozy! This episode had a lot of parallels with the other characters storylines happening so bear with me here! This is mostly going to be about Eddie.

This episode deals a lot with past trauma, specifically bringing up stuff that some of the characters haven't dealt with in a while or seemingly had already dealt with in the past. Maddie with Doug's abduction, Bobby and the apartment fire, Eddie and Shannon. All of these are re-introduced in this episode, but it's important to note that they are NOT resolved, mostly Bobby and Eddie, and will likely continue into the rest of the season. Maddie reacts the most noticeably to her trauma being triggered, and of the three, she's the only one who has actually managed to work through that trauma from the past, so while it does affect her, it does not cause her to self-destruct like Eddie and most likely Bobby will.

As many of us predicted, we theorized that it was going to get much worse for Eddie before it would get better. And this episode has put Eddie on that path that will likely take him towards rock bottom if Ryan and Tim's interviews and teasers for his 7b arc are to be believed.

The first big parallel to Eddie's storyline is the woman and her baby being abducted by a man with mental health problems who allowed a past trauma with his ex-wife/child to reach a dangerous point. While Eddie's actions in this episode are not placing a woman's life in danger, it does parallel how in pursuit of soothing his own pain, Eddie and this man, are prioritizing their own feelings, over the feelings of a woman stranger (Kim) and an innocent kid.

I was already anticipating many many Shannon call-backs in this episode, but the writers dive in immediately by having Chimney intubate Catherine. This is the same heavy choice Chimeny had to make when Shannon was hit by a car, and Chimney was interim Captain. He had to make a choice to either intubate Shannon, effectively taking away her last chance to say dying words or to not intubate and allow Eddie and Shannon to exchange final words. With Shannon, Chimney does not intubate, but with Catherine, he does. This could possibly indicate the need for Eddie to make different decisions this time around if he wants to survive this new catastrophic plotline.

This was an interesting way for the writers to give us a kind of "speedrun" of introducing us to Marisol a bit more. I know that the ENTIRE fandom has been bugging over the fact that we "hardly know anything about Marisol other than DIY and Nunnery", and now they're giving us more information, but notably it's all very surface-level information. It makes the scene feel like Eddie's trying to get to know her for the first time instead of this being a woman he's been seeing for about six months at this point.

While 7x05 did indicate to us that Eddie is trying to get to know her all over again, it really does drive home how little effort Eddie has put into trying to build a relationship with her, which is then further proved by the rest of the episode. All of this demonstrated very clearly just how little investment Eddie has had in ANY of his relationships after Shannon's death. It's probably supposed to make us think "Oh, that's because he only ever truly loved Shannon!" but in reality, the Eddie-Shannon onscreen relationship was very tumultuous, and they spent most of their relationship (even during their time pre-military) away from each other. All in all, the topic of how well Eddie knows the women he's with, and how much effort/investment he puts into his relationships (including Shannon) are being pulled into question here. And I think it's being done to show the audience that Eddie has only ever dated and married women as a duty and not something he actually does because he wants to be with the women as people. Once again, this includes Shannon.

Before Marisol can even finish her two truths and a lie, Eddie interrupts, starting to dictate the conversation again, and Chris is the one who has to step in, reminding Eddie that this moment is about Marisol. Eddie has been the one to lead his relationships with both Ana and Marisol, almost to the point of steamrolling over them. A similar thing happened in his relationship with Shannon, where Shannon notes that Eddie is always making decisions for them without consulting her, including going to the military, or moving Chris to a new school, etc. and how that was always a giant issue in their relationship. While this moment is not Eddie purposely steamrolling over Marisol, it does show that again, Eddie has a myopic view of relationships with women, where he's constantly trying to steer them towards something that he wants without really letting the woman have any agency. Shannon had to physically leave him in order to get any agency of her own.

Additionally, the choice to have the get to know you game be "two truths and a lie", inherently implies dishonesty, or at least makes us think of lying. And considering that becomes a theme for Eddie this episode and likely in upcoming episodes, it's also indicative of the general theme of not knowing someone and not being honest with them. It could've been "twenty questions" or something not involving purposely lying, but instead it's two truths and lie, and Eddie is now about to be involved in a whole bunch of lies.

I've seen others point out that this line is clearly meant to compare Marisol and Shannon. Shannon, Chris and Eddie had a tradition involving smores, one that Chris and Eddie were trying to keep alive only last season when they visited Shannon's grave. This line is meant to show us that Marisol is not Shannon, and as Eddie actually gets to know her, this is more and more evident. It's no fault of Marisol's, but it's likely what is sticking in Eddie's head, right before he ends up meeting Kim. Eddie, once again dictating what he wants Marisol to be rather than accepting the truth of who Marisol is, exclaims that obviously Marisol has had smores because Shannon loved smores. But Marisol is not Shannon, and Eddie is always comparing his partners to Shannon in unhealthy ways.

While this line is clearly a joke, nothing is done without purpose in TVland, and this is another one of those times where even though Eddie's joking, it's actually telling of how he actually feels. He's already had one foot out the door with Marisol for the last 3-4 episodes, and now it's the smores that makes him say "we can still leave her" because who Marisol is, does not align with who Shannon was. But the thing is, I have a hard time believing that Shannon was even who Eddie truly wanted, at least not without expectation or pressure. Shannon is an Ideal, and no one, not even Shannon herself, can live up to it. No woman is supposed to or can reach this Ideal, because (in my opinion) a woman is not really what Eddie wants deep down in his most hidden of unconscious desires.

"You two aren't going anywhere". Oh, the dramatic irony is killing me here. Because not even a couple of minutes later, Marisol has lost Eddie for good when he sees Kim. The death bells have already been ringing from the very beginning, but this is the final death knell that has been rung. Even if Eddie stays with Marisol through most of this arc, their relationship will end, as will his relationship with Kim.

Eddie and Kim lock eyes and he's reminded of Shannon instantly. Because of that, this relationship is dead before it even begins. A moment later, Christopher calls out "Dad!" just like he did when Shannon and Eddie were on the beach, interrupting Eddie's thoughts.

Marisol notices Eddie acting weird, asks if he's alright, he says he's fine, and she calls him out, asking "is that the truth or a lie?" He promises he's fine, but we as an audience know that's a big ole lie. This has been the case for years, and it's interesting that it's coming at this point in the season. The early half of the season we saw Eddie the "happiest" he's ever been. And I can't help but wonder how much of that was true happiness, and how much of that was just putting off thinking about it. It's easier to lie and say he's fine, that his relationships are fine, that his relationship with Shannon was fine. It's harder to admit the truth, that he's not okay, that his relationships with Marisol and Ana were unhealthy and his relationship with Shannon was the unhealthiest of all. It's easier to place the blame on his unhappiness on missing Shannon, instead of admitting that it's his own choices that are making him unhappy.

Another theme of this episode is internalized biases and misunderstanding the current situation due to being blinded by the past. Maddie misses crucial details of her call with Catherine because she was looking at it with too much bias about her own situation with Doug. Eddie also misremembers his past with Shannon, but instead of recognizing his mistake like Maddie, and trying to look at it objectively, Eddie lets that bias from the past effect his current decisions, which is already resulting in a mistake by cheating with Kim and will likely result in more mistakes the rest of this season.

Maddie heard what she expected to hear. Eddie is seeing in Kim what he expects to see from Shannon. Both lead to really bad outcomes.

Eddie goes back to find Kim/Shannon, and they meet. She looks similar but not really the same (btw, kudos to the makeup team, wow). She has similar facial expressions (nose scrunches, giggles, etc.) and she asks him if he's looking for something specific. And the answer is yes, he's looking for Shannon in Kim, just as he was looking for Shannon in Marisol and Ana.

This is very obviously a sexual innuendo, which is interesting because their first real interaction is showing more of a "sexual" chemistry, than anything really romantic, or soul-connecting. It's a clear harkening back to how Eddie would use sex as a way to stop fights between himself and Shannon. It's also one of Eddie's biggest distancing tools. He used sex to distance himself from Shannon and from Marisol, as an excuse to not address problems, or just simply to not get to know them. And given that Eddie was having sexual dysfunction issues in his last major episode, this is meant to provide a juxtaposition to that. Sort of a "Hey look Eddie couldn't get it up for Marisol the Nun but he can get it up for the Shannon look-alike". On the surface, this might be to show us that Eddie really only has sexual chemistry with Shannon, but if you look below the surface even a little bit, you'll realize that his sexual relationship with Shannon was also deeply dysfunctional, but in its own way.

The answer is no. Eddie does not trust Kim because she's a stranger, but this line is meant to remind us that Eddie very much DID NOT trust Shannon for most of her arc in season 2 and even up until her death. It's a callback to the line in season 2 Merry Ex-Mas where Eddie says he "forgives Shannon but doesn't trust her" and Shannon says something along the lines of "Eddie trusting her enough to have sex with her, but not enough to let her see her own son". Kim is hitting all the lines that are meant to remind Eddie of rose colored "Good times" but are meant to remind us, the audience, of all the issues he had with Shannon.

This moment of Eddie and Shannon on the beach is meant to represent Eddie's "happiest" moment on-screen with Shannon when she was alive. Eddie remembers it that way, as kissing Shannon and finally having his family back together. But in actuality, it was the start of the end for them. Shannon thought she was pregnant, paralleling the time when they accidentally got pregnant as teens and both of them had to put their lives on hold and commit to a marriage that might not have been the ultimate right choice for them. If any of you remember, this is also the moment where Eddie and "signs" and the "universe" are connected for the first time. Eddie asks for a sign, and Shannon says she's pregnant. In my personal opinion, this was supposed to be a sign for Eddie to not get back together with her, given how traumatic it was the first time around, but he ignores it and tries to push down his feelings. "Life is like a vat of chocolate, it pulls you down but it's comfortable". And when Shannon very clearly stated she wanted a divorce, Eddie did not really seem to accept it...and the universe took Shannon away permanently. (Again, I want to reiterate this is all about fiction I'm talking about here not irl, okay? This does not apply to real life) The universe tried to warn Eddie, to bring him a sign, and when he ignored it, as he always does, the universe decided it needed to take Shannon away permanently.

And now here we are again, 6 years later, with Eddie ignoring ALL the signs over and over and over, and setting about down this path with Marisol that literally everyone knows will not make Eddie happy, and what does the universe do? It throws him the biggest wrench it could by bringing someone who looks/acts like Shannon back into his life. Kim was brought in by the universe (the writers) to show Eddie that his relationship with Shannon was not as wonderful and amazing as he remembers it....and he ignores all of the signs yet a-fucking-gain. I get the feeling that this arc with Kim is going to end VERY. VERY. badly for Eddie. I think we should all be preparing ourselves for that.

Eddie is making active duplicitous choices here. He's lying about being in a relationship with someone else, lying about being a single dad. And it's not the first time he's said something like this (see the "taken for now" line in 7x04), further demonstrating how he's always had one foot out the door with Marisol.

I also want to point out that Eddie lying and deceiving Kim and cheating on Marisol is not meant to be the show saying "this is good! this is who Eddie's supposed to end up with!" The writers know how most people feel about cheating. Most people are 100% aware that cheating is morally wrong, and by Eddie making these decisions, they're not supposed to show that Eddie is inherently a cheater or a bad guy. He's acting OOC on purpose. The writers want us to see Eddie lying and cheating and want us to clock that Something is Very Very Very Wrong and that has to do with Eddie's romantic relationships, Shannon, his perception of Shannon, his perception of his past marriage, and his expectations of himself.

We, as an audience, are not supposed to be enjoying this. We're meant to be uncomfortable.

911 is doing something really interesting lately with their pointed use of Full First Names vs. Nicknames. When I heard this my first thought was actually of Ana and how cringe it was to hear her calling Eddie Edmundo all the time. Shannon actually never once called Eddie by his full name. If anything, Eddie calling himself Edmundo here, introducing himself by it, is once again supposed to trigger the audience's "Something Is Wrong Here" mode. I was also going to mention how this is also something a lot of people have felt with Tommy's constant use of "Evan" instead of Buck. Some people like it, some people don't, but everyone can acknowledge that it's odd and unusual.

Even as he's flirting with Kim, talking more about "stimulation", Eddie is holding an "S" for Shannon. I think when Kim told Eddie her name, a sharp K, very far away from the soft S of Shannon, it was a slight shock to him. If her name was something similar like Sherri or Sheila or something, Eddie could've lived in the fantasy more. Her name being Kim momentarily broke the illusion, hence him looking down at the S for Shannon.

Eddie is remembering the first time he slept with Shannon after she came back into his life while he's sitting at the table with Marisol, completely ignoring her. But not only that, as many people have pointed out, he's misremembering. The walls in the background are recent, with the new teal color and his new bed. Shannon's hair is a cross between dark and light, almost like a mix of Kim and Shannon, and--and this one rocked my world--they had sex right side up.

Many have pointed out how it's odd that Eddie and Marisol's sex scene harkened so similarly back to his one sex scene with Shannon, where they both ended up at the tail end of the bed, upside down. People have often discussed Eddie and his upside-down sex as a metaphor for unhealthy sexual connection, for misconnection, and right side up sex to be healthy sex. To find that he is thinking of him and Shannon in his memory of being right side up has been pointed out by others to be yet another example of Eddie's rose-colored memories of his past with Shannon. In his memory, he views his relationship and sexual relationship with Shannon as this Amazing and One of a Kind thing, hence the right-side-up sex, but in reality, it was upside down, it wasn't healthy.

He's looking at his relationship with Shannon through a veil of the present, chock full of regrets, would've/could've/should've's, and two almost-failed relationships. Not to mention that he literally was just having extreme sexual dysfunction with Marisol not even two episodes ago it's very likely that his remembering this passionate, voracious, unquenchable thirst for Shannon is also brought on by the fact that he's having sexual issues with Marisol. It might also be him wanting to remember that he does and did have desire for sex with women...as long as they're Shannon or reminding him of Shannon. This is not at all supposed to be something that is represented as healthy for Eddie, and I don't believe the show is trying to put across that message.

Eddie remembers his sex with Shannon, and when he decided to "bring Shannon home for Christmas". Even in this scene, the focus is not on the two of them as a couple. He doesn't talk about how much he missed her, or how it feels good to be close to her again. He talks about how he wants to reunite her and Christopher. "Santa" in this present day and age is bringing "Shannon" home for Christmas, by bringing Kim into Eddie's life.

Bringing it back to Maddie's storyline, with the Big Bad Kidnapper of this episode. He was encouraged by his sister to move across the country for a fresh start after his wife and baby left him due to his own abusive actions (assumed, but the sister did say they were "afraid of him"). We don't know too much of the details of this man's story, but it does show a clear parallel to Eddie too, with his wife leaving him to move across the country too (though she left their son with Eddie because obviously, Eddie's not abusive like this man). But the man's sister was hoping that this move would mean he would "stop looking for them". Eddie ends up doing the same thing with Shannon metaphorically. He never stops looking for her in all of his romantic relationships, hurting other women like Ana and Marisol, in the process.

The man is so clearly a parallel to Eddie but in the worst most devolved way. Eddie has been seeking out a Mom for Chris for years, even when Shannon was alive. It was never about Shannon, wanting her, loving her, needing her because he's so deeply in love with her. No, it was, and still is, always about the mother she could be for Chris. It's the same thing he did with Ana, and with Marisol. I'm not sure if this thing he's doing with Kim will eventually lead there too, or if it won't make it that far before it gets blown up in his face. But Kim cannot be a new mother for Chris, even if she wants to be. Christopher would clock that she looks like Shannon, and might feel betrayed, like Eddie is actively trying to replace Shannon, which I doubt Christopher would take well. So what is Eddie's endgame here? In my honest opinion, I don't think he has one. I think he's acting on pure emotional hurt, and desperately seeking out a balm, and not considering the consequences of his actions.

Just like that man was hit dead on with the literal consequences with the police, I think Eddie's gonna be hit HARD as a result of these mistakes. I feel like it might be something really bad, possibly involving Christopher. If "isolation" is going to become the thing he might have to contend with Christopher being really really angry with him in whatever way that takes form, and the rest of the firefam not being happy with him either. I think Eddie's going to be going through another arc similar to where he was emotionally in season 3a with the streetfighting arc.

Just how like the man who abducted her was a parallel to Eddie, Catherine herself is also a parallel to Eddie. She's clearly in pain, but she refuses drugs that will make her feel better. She feels she has to stay awake and endure the pain as a comeuppance, similar to how Eddie felt he had to endure his pain like a man because he deserved it. She feels her husband will hate her, just like how Eddie feared Shannon would hate him for what he did. He fears Shannon would never forgive him, but just like Catherine, even worse is the fact that Eddie has yet to ever forgive himself. No matter how many times people tell her it's not her fault, no matter how many times people tell Eddie he's a good father or a good person, they will never believe it. That guilt still rocks them, and for Eddie, it's been the monkey on his back every day LOONNGGG before Shannon even passed. Likely he's been dealing with it from the second he found out he got her pregnant. Even though Catherine's daughter was returned to her, she will still likely feel guilty, just as Eddie's guilt has lingered and festered and turned to rot the longer it's gone unchecked.

It'll only be once Eddie can let go of that guilt, let go of Shannon, and forgive himself, will he ever be able to actually start healing, and making the right choices for himself.

Many people have pointed out how this parallels the scene in 3x03 with Christopher and Eddie coming to Buck's house after the tsunami. That was a moment where Buck was feeling "lost at sea" and Eddie and Chris came in to be his "life raft that gets you home." And now Eddie's the one lost at sea. He thinks he has to find Shannon when really all he really needs is here with Buck and Chris. Eddie and Chris are "late", but eventually, they will find their way home to Buck.

Have y'all ever heard the phrase "where there's smoke, there's fire"? It means that if there's a rumor or something being said about a topic, there must be some back story/truth in it. It's what I point out every time the show "jokes" about Eddie's sexuality or lack thereof to women, Eddie ready to leave Marisol, etc. They're in the script because there's a kernel of truth to them, even if it's still nebulous (or smoky) at the moment.

Additionally, Buck is making a new lasagna recipe (a metaphor for his new found bisexuality and MM relationship with Tommy) and something about it is not working. In the same way that I've been theorizing that there is misalingment in his relationship with Tommy, we're now seeing that lasagna (like in 6x01 where the couch theory was introduced) is yet another metaphor for Buck's relationships. He had 3 at that point in time (as well as 3 failed attempts at lasagna) and now he's here in a new relationship, and something about it isn't working, he just doesn't know what. I'll reiterate, it's not the bisexuality, but rather the person he's in a relationship with. This being told once again to Eddie, in Buck's kitchen, with Chris present, is driving home the point once again.

Eddie, on the other hand, is aligned with Buck. He knew ahead of time to order a pizza for them. This isn't usual, given that Buck's a good cook, and has cooked for Chris and Eddie many times. Eddie being attuned to Buck right now is meant to show that he can sense these things about Buck, even when it's not conscious.

"To be seen… to be found… isn't that what we're all searching for?"

Buck assumes Eddie's meeting with Marisol, and Eddie does not correct him. I've seen other people mention how this feels like Eddie is cheating on Buck, and not really on Marisol, and in my opinion, that all comes down to who is Eddie more emotionally intimate with. He already feels super disconnected to Marisol, even more so in this episode, but we've spent the first half of this season establishing how Buck and Eddie are closer than ever. So Eddie lying to Buck feels like the real cheating here, because Eddie has only ever given himself fully to Buck, in all his messed up glory. He's never given that to Marisol, or Ana. And he most definitely never gave that to Shannon.

Side note, I loved the cologne line because it implies that Buck knows how Eddie smells, and that smelling him now is something Buck is enjoying. Him saying they won't wait up for Eddie further cements the domesticity of the scene. Buck has a full relationship with Chris outside of Eddie, but they also have a strongly established bond all three of them. In an episode where Eddie assumes Marisol must love smores despite her never having tried one, Eddie inherently knows that Buck's struggling with lasagna and needs to order a pizza.

Eddie and Buck's flirting--because that's what it is-- feels natural. More so than the flirting with Marisol in the beginning of the episode, and more so than with Kim-Not-Shannon that was moored down by the reality that Eddie is severely projecting all of his major issues onto her. Buck and Eddie have an easy rapport filled with mutual support, inside jokes, gentle ribbing, synchronicity and above all, friendship and trust. THAT is why the betrayal of Eddie with Kim only a few moments later feels so stark and like a huge blow to the audience.

Eddie sees Kim, and all he sees is Shannon's face, but I have to give MASSIVE kudos to the hair, costume, and makeup department here because they couldn't make Kim look ANY more starkly different from Shannon. In the scenes at the store, Kim is dressed more professionally, in lighter more inviting colors. And then here, when Kim can take off the customer service mask, and be fully herself, we see that she dresses in darker clothing, pants, and jackets with her hair up in almost an alternative-punk style. It's a MASSIVE contrast to Shannon who was almost always dressed in lighter, warmer colors, in shades of orange, yellow, and warm pinks, with minimal makeup and long flowy dresses or soft sweaters. Shannon's hair was almost always down and flowing around her face with her bangs. Kim's hair is completely up, totally out of her face in a severe bun look, without any bangs. She could not look father from Shannon if she tried. And yet, Eddie is not seeing Kim, he's not seeing the individual woman who's probably really lovely, the woman he's inherently hurting by using her to be reminded of his dead wife. No, all he sees is Shannon, and he's 100% willing to tank his whole life just to get a bit of that feeling back.

Eddie is on his way towards rock bottom, and this episode is only getting started. The glass is going to shatter extremely hard, and I worry for what the consequences will be for Eddie for all this, because there's no way he's escaping this without deep cuts. He will likely lose Marisol and Kim in one fell swoop. As for Buck, Chris and the rest of the 118, that's yet to be seen. But we know Eddie's parents show back up later on, so they could be coming in with the steel chair, likely to hit Eddie harder when he's already down. After all, the originator of "Don't drag him down with you, Eddie" is none other than Helena Diaz. This season is giving very strong season 3/4 vibes, and if that's the case, it's possible Helena and Ramon are going to pose a problem by the end of the season like they might've done in season 4 if things had gone as originally planned.

I'm worried, scared and excited to see how this ends up for Eddie. But I'm also hopeful. I see a light at the end of this tunnel. After all, it's always darkest just before dawn.

Thanks for reading my meta!

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

[rendy-a]

Sorry, househusband Headcanons with Silver 👉👈✨💕(sorry the first questiom accidentally sent incomplete ) 👍

Ha ha ha. That first request would have been enough. Househusband Silver? Say no more. I'm with you there!

You have to keep an eye on him when he does chores to watch out for advice he picked up from your father-in-law.  Lilia passed on some of the strangest housekeeping habits to Silver and you never know when they’ll pop up.  You remember the winter that both of you were sick at the same time and Silver made an actual bathtub full of soup because that was the correct amount advised by Father. 

You do all the cooking prep together.  It’s not that you don’t like Silver’s cooking (even he knows to avoid using Lilia’s recipes), it’s just that you worry too much about his safety in the kitchen.  There have been some close calls where Silver has fallen asleep with a hot stove on or holding a knife.  Now, you have little dinner-prep dates to cook up meals for the week.  Each finished dish is one your spouse can finish off in the microwave or by setting a timer on a kitchen appliance.  It’s not foolproof but you certainly worry less.  Seeing Silver in an apron is just an added bonus!

You never thought you’d say this, but small forest animals are your back-up plan.  It’s like nature itself has decided to help your husband escape danger and accomplish his goals.  You’ve literally seen mice help him sew up a rip in your clothes and a deer pull your sleeping spouse out of the street.  You are grateful that Silver is so beloved by the animals, or you don’t know how you’d bare to leave him home without you!

You were sitting at your desk hard at work when suddenly a chill runs down your spine.  You look at the clock, there are three more hours of work left in the day.  You frown and decide to quickly check your phone messages, just in case.  When you pull the device out and look, your heart drops when you see the message, [Father is here for a visit.]  Oh dear, your famous Father-in-law is alone with your spouse, and you can’t do anything about it. 

You quietly take your phone and sneak away to the parking lot for a quick call.  It rings several times with no answer.  You hang up and try again.  This time, you get a sleepy, “Hello,” at the fourth ring.  You smile at the sound, picturing your spouse just awoken from a short sleeping spell.  “Hi dearest, I got your message.  How are things going?”  There is the smallest hint of a smile in the tone that replies, though you know he is stoic as ever on the other side.  “Father is helping me clean out the attic.  It’s going along well.  We’ve got everything moved out and into our living room now.”  You look out into the distance.  All the dusty things hidden away in the attic are now all over your clean living room.  Well, it could be worse.

You force an extra amount of cheer into your voice, “That’s great honey, and you are keeping an eye on him?  Making sure he…doesn’t work too hard?”  Silver assures you that he only fell asleep for a moment, but that Lilia was back where he expected him to be.  You feel a sense of dread, “Silver, it is nearly lunch time.  He hasn’t been cooking, has he?  Did you check?”  There is a long pause before Silver mutters, “I better go.”  You wish him the best of luck and disconnect.  Then, you gaze at your phone for a moment before dialing the nearest pizza delivery place.  Better safe than sorry.

A few hours later, you sneak away to the restroom to text your spouse.  [How are things?]  You wait quietly in the stall until you get a reply.  [Do you think we need to put a bedroom in the attic?]  You look at your phone in surprise, this conversation is already veering wildly from what you anticipated.  [Why would we do that?]  You see the dots appear and wait for your hubby’s text.  [In case we need to use the spare room for a nursery.]  You sigh and roll your eyes, Lilia again.  [We can talk about it when I get home.  Agree to nothing!!!]

After work, your thoughts turn immediately to your spouse, and you head straight home.  You see your house come into view and your sleepy husband is waiting for you at the door with his eyes shut.  You climb the stairs and give him a sweet kiss.  His eyes flutter open and he smiles at you, “I had a wonderful dream and now here you are.”  You brush a strand of his silver hair from his forehead, “Which was better?”  He looks at you with seriousness and replies, “You.  You are always better.”  You turn your head to the side, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “So where is our precious Father?”  Silver drops back until he is only holding your hand, “He left.  He said we needed time alone to work on his grandchildren.”  You laugh and think that sounds very much like your spirited Father-in-Law.  You rub your thumb along the fingers holding your hand, “Well, since he is gone, I suppose its safe to ask about your day.  How did the attic cleaning project go?”  Silver calmly assures you that things went just fine.  Nearby, a squirrel looks up and meets your eye before giving you the most traumatized shake of its little head.  “I’m glad everything worked out,” you say as you make eyes that say ‘I’m sorry’ to the neighborhood wildlife.  You didn’t know what trouble he’d been involved in, but you knew some evil had been conquered today.  You squeeze Silver’s hand and that prompts him to lift you into his arms and carry you over the threshold.  It wasn’t happily ever after, but for today, it was enough of a happy ending for you and your prince charming.