#the pause she makes after saying it and the pause she makes /before/ speaking up

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[scarletemeterio]

Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

[it-was-summer]

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead. 

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside. 

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say. 

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander. 

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head. 

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?” 

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you. 

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression. 

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot. 

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,” 

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.” 

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?” 

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey. 

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at. 

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.” 

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again. 

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one. 

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?” 

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.” 

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.” 

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question. 

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.” 

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin. 

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?” 

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,” 

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.” 

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger. 

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps. 

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar. 

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,” 

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,” 

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit. 

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.” 

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.” 

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you. 

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,” 

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile. 

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?” 

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.” 

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?” 

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.” 

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction. 

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.” 

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,” 

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.” 

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years. 

“Did he even like trail mix?” 

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer. 

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?” 

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.” 

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.” 

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you. 

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.” 

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat. 

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm. 

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,” 

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here. 

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up. 

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat. 

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone. 

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”  

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it. 

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice. 

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free. 

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up. 

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction. 

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone. 

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange. 

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons. 

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself. 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway. 

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away. 

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous. 

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes. 

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?” 

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders. 

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”  

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile. 

“Bills?” 

“Bills.” 

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.” 

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,” 

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.” 

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal. 

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.” 

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary. 

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?” 

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.” 

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.” 

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in. 

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–” 

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.” 

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.” 

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office. 

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair. 

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.” 

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee. 

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?” 

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze. 

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…” 

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look. 

“I’ll text the rest of the group.” 

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.” 

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them. 

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel. 

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?” 

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?” 

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you. 

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–” 

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’ 

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?” 

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—”  he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are. 

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you. 

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,” 

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran. 

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.” 

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard. 

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly. 

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,” 

“You don’t… know?” 

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly. 

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?  

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you. 

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it. 

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.”  Is what you settle on. 

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something. 

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.” 

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.” 

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.” 

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly. 

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’. 

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful. 

Wanting more than that was greedy. 

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,” 

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said. 

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?” 

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,” 

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.” 

“Care to take a guess?” 

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?” 

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?” 

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.” 

“What were you expecting?” 

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.” 

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.” 

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours. 

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly. 

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot. 

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?” 

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather. 

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf. 

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,” 

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer. 

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,” 

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again. 

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew. 

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal. 

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

 Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?” 

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.” 

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–” 

“You didn’t even know him!” 

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.” 

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer. 

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.” 

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,” 

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner. 

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up. 

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.” 

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?” 

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen. 

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.” 

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—” 

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.” 

“I am paying?” 

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.” 

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—” 

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.” 

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears. 

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours. 

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.” 

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,” 

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.” 

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.” 

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?” 

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain. 

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.” 

“Then make it up to him,” 

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him. 

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk. 

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket. 

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then. 

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer. 

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd? 

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again. 

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point. 

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose. 

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company. 

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low. 

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought. 

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?” 

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees. 

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?” 

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.” 

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.” 

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,” 

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,” 

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.” 

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.” 

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,” 

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,” 

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,” 

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you. 

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—” 

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again. 

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.” 

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response. 

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft. 

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,” 

“I like slower.” 

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?” 

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street. 

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last. 

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART FIVE ♡

paige x azzi

word count: 7.3k

A/N: This one lowkey took me longer than usual because I tried to make sure I represented both of their situations accurately. You'll get some resolution in this but it's definitely not going to just be rainbows and sunshine forever. Please keep up the comments and reactions!! I love reading what you guys have to say.

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The air in Aaliyah’s suite was tense, a quiet hum of anticipation hanging over the room as the team started trickling in. A few of them had already claimed spots on the couch or floor and the TV was muted, some random game playing in the background, but nobody paid it any attention.

Ice and KK walked in together, loud as always, and Caroline entered not long after, her phone still in hand, followed by Amari who looked between them all with curious eyes. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind the last person Nika didn’t waste time. She pushed herself off the counter she was leaning against and addressed everyone. 

“They slept together.”

A stunned silence followed. 

“Who?” KK broke the silence first, confused without any context. Ice who was sitting next to her just smacked her on the head as it was obvious with who was missing from the room. 

Nika, confirming anyway, just said “Paige and Azzi.” Her voice was steady, but her expression reflected how serious the situation was with the two of them not talking. “Paige told me like an hour ago.” 

A chorus of reactions broke out, some shocked and others not surprised at all.

“I knew it,” Q muttered under her breath, earning an incredulous side glance from Ice.

“So why did this cause World War Two?” KK asked, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be good news? Thought you were supposed to be a bundle of joy after doing the do.”

A chuckle escaped Nika as she continued, “Paige said Azzi was gone when she woke up. Like, left without a word, turned her phone off. And now they haven’t really talked since and it’s messier than it needs to be honestly.”

“Wait—what?” Ice sat up straighter. “Why the hell would Azzi do that?”

“Chill out,” Caroline interjected, her tone calm but firm. “We don’t know the full story. Don’t start judging before you do.”

The room went quiet again, but Nika’s gaze zeroed in on Caroline. Something about her reaction struck a chord.

“You know something, don’t you?” Nika’s question wasn’t accusatory, but it was sharp enough to get everyone else’s attention. “If you do, you need to tell us. We can’t help them if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Caroline hesitated, her fingers tightening around her phone. She glanced around the room, her lips pressing into a thin line as she debated whether to speak.

Aubrey, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the couch, leaned forward. “Come on, Car. We need to know. We barely scraped by last game and Geno was pissed, it’s only going to get harder from here. If we don’t fix whatever is going on between them, it’s going to fuck up the season.”

Caroline let out a heavy breath, her internal conflict evident. Azzi was one of her closest friends, and she knew how private Azzi was, especially about something as personal as this. But the situation was already affecting the team on and off the court and it had been almost a month. 

“Alright,” Caroline said slowly, her voice low. “Yes, Azzi left and asked me to take her to the airport, and trust me, I told her how stupid it was after she told me what happened. But she said she needed to, and I didn’t push her because she looked like she was about to fall apart.” She paused, shifting uncomfortably as all eyes were on her. “I don’t really know what happened while she was gone, just that when I picked her up from the airport when she got back she was... excited. I mean, I hadn’t seen her like that in a while. I honestly don’t really know what happened after that, but something must’ve gone wrong because she was in my room crying the next day. She wouldn’t tell me anything though.”

The room was silent for a beat as everyone absorbed Caroline’s words. Then Ice leaned forward, her face reflecting she was piecing things together. “Wait, when Azzi got back that Monday?”

“Yeah,” Caroline nodded. “Why?”

Ice leaned forward her expressions showing she was slowly starting to piece things together. “Because I was in the suite when Azzi got back.”

All eyes turned to Ice as she continued. “Azzi came back to our suite. I was on the couch playing the game when she walked in. She seemed... kinda nervous but a little giddy. Like she wanted to go see Paige but wasn’t sure if she should. She was about to just walk in her room but I told her to knock knowing Paige was in there with some girl. I didn’t know they slept together when this happened though.”

“Azzi saw her?” Nika asked, breaking the silence.

Ice nodded grimly. “Yeah. Azzi looked like she was about to throw up. And when Azzi didn’t say anything Paige just…slammed the door in her face.”

“Okay,” Nika began cautiously, “so Azzi left after they—” she hesitated, glancing around, “—you know. And when she came back, she saw Paige with someone else in her room?”

“Paige definitely made herself freak out because Azzi left,” Aubrey chimed in, her voice picking up speed as she worked through it, “but Azzi is upset because Paige started sleeping around again?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Caroline said slowly. “Azzi probably thought Paige didn’t care. I mean, she comes back all excited, and then... that’s what she walks into? Of course she’d feel like she was just another hookup.”

With Caroline’s words, the puzzle finally clicked into place for the team. The fragmented bits of the story now became slightly whole. 

Ice was the first to speak, her arms crossing as she leaned back on the couch. “We just need to make them talk.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Aaliyah said, her tone cautious. “They both still seem really emotional. Forcing a conversation might just make things worse.”

“They aren’t even upset anymore,” Ice shot back quickly, shaking her head. “They both just walk around the suite like sad puppies at this point. They’re miserable, and we’re all stuck watching it. They literally just need to speak to each other, and I’m sure all of this can be solved.”

Finally, Ice shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “You know what? I’ll handle it. I live with them. When they’re both back in the suite later, I’ll make sure they talk.”

“You think that’ll work?” Aubrey asked skeptically.

“It’s better than just sitting here and doing nothing,” Ice said. “I’ll lock them in the same room if I have to.”

There was a mix of amused chuckles and wary glances around the room, but no one disagreed. If anyone could nudge Paige and Azzi toward finally talking, it was their third roommate.

…

Later that day, Azzi was in her room, the faint sound of music playing softly behind the closed door as she was reading a book. Ice was laying on the couch in the common area, idly scrolling on her phone, when she heard the door to the suite open.

Paige walked in, her steps slow, her eyes still slightly puffy from the tears she’d cried earlier. She didn’t look up as she moved toward her room, clearly hoping to slip in without being addressed.

Ice sat up fast, her voice bursting with fake excitement. “P Boogers I miss you!”

Paige paused, startled, but a small fond smile tugged at her lips as she slightly rolled her eyes. She turned to Ice, trying to match her energy, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Hi, Isuneh. I miss you too.”

She made to continue toward her room, but Ice wasn’t having it. “Hey, hey, come here,” Ice called out, patting the couch beside her.

Paige frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Ice insisted with a grin that didn’t leave room for argument.

Still puzzled, Paige hesitated before sighing and walking over. She plopped down onto the couch, sitting at the edge as she glanced sideways at Ice.

“Good,” Ice said, clapping her hands together before standing up. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back.”

Before Paige could question her further, Ice headed to Azzi’s door. She knocked twice, then opened it without waiting for an answer.

“Yes?” Azzi’s voice was a bit flat, but Ice ignored the tone, walking in and grabbing her by the arm.

“Come on,” Ice said, tugging her toward the door.

Azzi frowned, resisting. “What are you doing?”

“Family meeting,” Ice said, her grip firm.

“Family meeting?” Azzi repeated, confused.

“Yes, and you’re coming,” Ice replied, dragging her out of the room despite her protests.

A moment later, Ice reappeared in the common area, Azzi in tow. She plopped Azzi down on the couch right next to Paige, who looked at her wide-eyed.

“Ice what are you doing?” Paige asked, her voice uneasy as her gaze darted between Ice and Azzi.

Ice grinned, crossing her arms and standing in front of them. “You two are gonna talk.”

Both Paige and Azzi started to protest at the same time, but Ice cut them off with a sharp look. “Nope. No excuses. You’re fixing this. Right here. Right now.”

Paige sighed heavily, crossing her arms. “Ice, we’re not just going to magically fix this because you say so.”

Azzi looked equally unimpressed, her arms folding across her chest. “For once in a while I agree with her.”

Ice rolled her eyes at their ridiculousness already, planting her hands on her hips. “Y'all are so damn stubborn. I’m not asking for magic, just a conversation. You’re still capable of that right? ”

Neither of them responded, the silence thick with unease.

“Fine,” Ice pressed, her tone firm. “Don’t talk, but you’re not leaving this couch until you do.”

Paige shifted uncomfortably, glancing quickly at Azzi, who stubbornly avoided her gaze. After a long pause, Azzi finally sighed and muttered, “Fine. I’ll talk. But I can’t do this with you here, Ice.”

Ice arched a skeptical brow. “Oh, sure. Because the second I leave, you’ll both magically become chatty besties?”

Azzi glared at her. “I’m serious. I’m not doing this with an audience.”

Paige chimed in softly, her tone more sincere. “Ice, it’s okay. We’ll talk. I promise.”

Ice’s gaze darted between them, her arms still crossed. “You better. Because if I come back and one of you is sulking in your room, I’m locking you both in the pantry.”

Azzi gave her an exasperated look, but Paige offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll talk,” she said again.

After a long moment of hesitation, Ice finally relented. “Fine,” she said, stepping back. “But don’t make me regret trusting you two, I’ll get hell if I don’t come back with results.”

She paused before leaving, “And don’t yell at each other. You both hate it and it leads to nothing.” 

Azzi muttered under her breath, “No promises,” earning a slight scoff from Paige, who crossed her arms but said nothing. 

With that, Ice retreated to her room, closing the door behind her. 

Once Ice left the silence hung between Paige and Azzi for a while, the suite so quiet they could hear the music coming from Azzi’s room. Paige was picking at her nails absentmindedly, her gaze unfocused as she tried to keep herself from spiraling being so close to Azzi. Beside her, Azzi sat quietly, her fingers subconsciously playing with her necklace, the motion almost automatic at this point.

After what felt like an eternity, Azzi finally broke the silence, her voice soft but cutting slightly. “You don’t have to sit here and pretend you want to talk to me P. It’s fine.”

Paige immediately looked up as if she was waiting for Azzi to speak first. Confused, she says, “Huh, what are you talking about?”

Azzi sighed, clearly already frustrated. She stared at the floor, avoiding Paige’s gaze. "Nothing, Paige. Nevermind.”

But the silence didn’t last long. Azzi’s tone changed, turning a little sharper, more pointed as she finally voiced the question that had been on her mind since she came back to Storrs. "Did you even get to clean the sheets before you had somebody else in your bed?"

Paige blinked, her eyes narrowing slightly, before her initial shock turned into something else—a mix of frustration and defensiveness. She didn’t want to engage in the hurtful back-and-forth, but the words spilled out before she could stop them. “I don’t know Azzi... maybe you would know if you cared to stick around to find out.”

The room fell quiet again, the jabs leaving an uncomfortable space between them that they clearly didn’t want. Neither of them moved, neither of them said anything at first, as though they were both waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally, Azzi’s voice broke through again, softer but no less pointed.

“Did it not mean anything to you Paige?” Azzi’s words were steady, almost too steady, but there was an underlying vulnerability to them.

Paige’s chest tightened, and she leaned back on the couch, rubbing her face with her hands, trying to gather her thoughts. She wasn’t ready for this conversation—not yet, so she played the confused card. “Did what not mean anything?” Her voice was weary, a little guarded, as she avoided looking directly at Azzi.

Azzi didn’t hesitate, her tone unwavering. “You immediately started sleeping around again. It was like you finally got me to sleep with you, and then I wasn’t a second thought anymore. Just like everybody else.” 

Paige’s jaw clenched, and she looked at Azzi, disbelief flickering in her eyes. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, her voice low but firm.

The silence stretched between them again before Paige let out a long, shaky sigh. She leaned forward, folding her arms across her chest, her gaze softening as she met Azzi’s eyes. “You left me,” she said quietly. 

Her chest tightened as she continued, the pain in her voice unmistakable. "The morning after Halloween, you were gone. No note, no message, nothing. You just disappeared like what happened didn’t matter at all to you!" Her voice was a little too loud. 

Azzi flinched, her eyes flickering with frustration as she said “Paige, stop yelling. We haven’t even started yet and you’re already yelling.”

Paige paused her tears threatening to spill again. She exhaled sharply, biting her lip, before letting out a deep sigh. The volume of her voice softened, but the hurt was still evident. “Do you know what that fucking felt like, Az?” Her voice was lower now, still raw but controlled. “To physically lay out your heart to someone... to try to be completely fucking vulnerable, and then wake up to nothing? To have someone vanish and act like it was all nothing? Like I didn’t mean anything to them?” 

Azzi opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. She swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in her throat. “That’s not what happened, Paige,” she said, her voice quieter now, trying to calm the tension between them.

Paige shook her head, disbelief flashing in her eyes. “That’s exactly what happened,” she countered. “You left. No explanation. Nothing. And then you came back and acted like nothing changed. Knocking on my door with this look on your face like you didn’t even care how you made me feel while you were gone.”

Azzi’s expression twisted, her own frustration building. “No, Paige! You treated me like I was just some random UConn slut you could forget about—” Her voice was sharp, echoing in the room, until Paige gave her a look that made her pause. Azzi’s face softened, and she exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, glancing away. “I didn’t mean to yell.” She looked back at Paige, her eyes dark with emotion as she continued, her voice quieter. “You just... you made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Paige’s confusion deepened, her brow furrowing. “Azzi, what are you talking about? I basically worshiped you that night” she said, her voice softer now but still filled with hurt.

She tried to explain, her voice almost shaking with emotion. “After we... After we slept together, and things got a little unclear, you just went right back to doing the same thing you always do. You slept with any girl who came your way, and I was just left there to watch, to hear it. It felt like I was nothing to you. Like I was some one-night stand you got bored with.”

“You ignored me for days, Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracked slightly, the pain evident in each word. “What was I supposed to think? Your phone was off. You didn’t send a single message telling me where you were or what was going on. You just left me hanging, and now you’re acting like it’s all on me?” Her breath came in shallow gasps as she spoke, the frustration of everything unresolved coming to a head.

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but Paige wasn’t done. The words were spilling out now, a flood of everything she had been holding in. “I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t think, honestly. I woke up the next morning, and you were just gone. And for three days, you didn’t give me a single word. Not one thing to hold onto, or look forward to. What was I supposed to think?”

The words cut through the silence between them, each one a strike against the walls they’d been building around themselves. Azzi’s gaze flickered away for a moment, her chest rising and falling in slow, shaky breaths. She looked down, her voice small but steady as she spoke, barely above a whisper.

“I just needed time,” she said, her words full of vulnerability. “I needed time to think, to figure everything out. I didn’t know how to process what happened. I didn’t want to do anything rash.”

“How the hell was I supposed to guess that, Az?” Paige’s voice rose, her emotions spilling over. “You just vanished and didn’t think to tell me anything—not one hint of where your head was at. Was I supposed to just sit there waiting for you to come back with some grand explanation? How was I supposed to trust that you’d even come back with something?”

“Stop yelling,” Azzi said simply, her tone firm but not angry.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair as she leaned back on the couch, forcing herself to lower her voice. “I’m sorry…How was I supposed to know, Az? You left me to figure it out all on my own.”

Azzi’s eyes softened with regret as she let out a shaky breath. “I thought... I thought you’d trust me, P. I thought you’d understand that I needed space. I didn’t want to hurt you by saying the wrong thing, or worse, doing something I couldn’t take back.”

Paige’s tone softened, but the hurt was still evident in her words. “It’s hard to trust someone who walked out on you. How can I trust you when you just disappeared? You don’t do that to someone after they open up to you. You don’t vanish for days and leave them wondering if they ever meant anything to you.”

Azzi’s expression twisted, frustration mingling with sadness. “I was ready to talk when I got back home. I had it all figured out,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But when I came back, you had some random girl in our suite, probably ready to fuck her. You didn’t even try to talk to me. So no, I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t even look at you after I saw that.”

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them sitting with the weight of the words they’d thrown at each other.

Paige finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what else to do, Azzi. I didn’t know if you were coming back, if you even cared enough to try.”

Paige’s breath hitched as she continued, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she looked at Azzi. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “It just felt like you didn’t care and that was the only thing I could come up with.”

Azzi finally glanced at Paige, the regret and longing in her eyes almost overwhelming. She hesitated before scooting closer, slowly reaching out to take Paige’s hand in hers, their fingers lacing together. The touch was hesitant but full of unspoken meaning.

“I cared,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible, a rawness to it that Paige had never heard before. “I cared so much that it scared me. Scared me not knowing where you stood, not knowing if I even meant anything to you. And for everything I did... I’m so sorry. For leaving you when you needed me. For making you cry, for making those beautiful blue eyes of yours look so sad. I hate that I did that to you.”

She paused, her voice trembling slightly as the words continued to spill out. “I’m sorry for all the snide remarks, the times I pushed you away when you were reaching out, for making you feel like you didn’t matter, when you meant everything to me. I’m sorry for every moment I made you feel small, when you’re anything but that. I promise you I never wanted to hurt you, Paige. I just... I was scared. And in all my fear, I made it so you were the problem, when it was never you.”

Azzi took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice laced with regret as she finally began telling Paige what happened. “I got up before you. I was planning on getting breakfast for us because I knew you were going to have a hangover.” She paused, looking down at their interlaced fingers, before continuing. “But when I was getting the food, I ran into one of your hookups. The one we ran into that night we were going to eat and you told her I was your girlfriend. So I guess to antagonize me she said something that... that reminded me of how much you’ve slept around. It... it scared me, Paige. It made me think about what happened between us, and I didn’t know what that night meant to you, what I meant to you. I didn’t know if I was going to be just another one night stand.”

Paige tried to speak but Azzi continued, “I guess she saw my initial reaction and decided to keep going. She asked if you were still as aggressive as you used to be and started rambling about all the things you did to her. I just..I felt so inadequate, Paige. I’ve never done any of that. I didn’t even know how to respond.”

Paige froze, her stomach sinking at the words. “She did what?” she breathed, shocked.

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper now, and she looked away. “She said it casually, as if it was no big deal. But it made me think, made me question everything. It reminded me of how much you’ve been... you know, sleeping around, and how experienced you are, and it just… kinda hit me. That I’ve never done anything like that and I’m probably a lot more inexperienced than the other girls you’ve been with.” Azzi continues kind of rambling now, “I started to wonder if it was even good for you. If I did anything wrong. You didn’t even try anything like that with me. I don’t even know if you’re into that kind of thing with me and it was just too much, so I had to take some time to think and when I came back and saw someone in the suite it just made all those feelings resurface.”

Paige’s heart clenched painfully as the weight of Azzi’s words sank in. She reached out and grabbed Azzi’s jaw gently, urging her to look at her. “Azzi, I swear to you, I never meant for you to feel like that,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I didn’t know she said that. I didn’t even know you were... Fuck I’m so so sorry Az, I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way.”

Azzi’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t pull away. “It hurt, Paige,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It really hurt. And I came back I had everything ready but you were–”

Azzi stopped, biting her lip as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. Instead, she took a deep breath and stood up. “Wait here,” she said softly before disappearing into her room.

Paige blinked, confused and concerned at the abruptness, her heart racing as she sat there waiting. When Azzi returned a few moments later, she was holding a crumpled up airport paper, covered in messy scribbles and arrows. 

Azzi handed it to Paige without a word, sitting back down as Paige unfolded it, her brows furrowing as she scanned the chaotic notes. “What...is this?”

“It’s a list,” Azzi said quietly. “I made it after… you know, that night. I was trying to calm myself down and prove that it wasn’t just some hookup for you, that it meant something more.”

Paige’s eyes darted over the napkin, trying to decipher the messy scrawl. Words and phrases jumped out at her. She kissed me, with an arrow towards for the second time in the corner of the napkin. Jealous at Ted’s but that one had a lot of question marks followed by she would’ve just told me which was crossed out with the words no she wouldn’t next to it. Other words Paige could clearly make out Teammates…felt too inanimate…the way she looked at me, which was underlined a few multiple times with the words think i’m delusional next to it. 

As Paige continues trying to decipher the napkin, realization dawns on her face. Her fingers slightly tighten around the paper as her chest tightens with emotion. The arrows connecting some points and scribbled-out words showed how much thought Azzi had put into it, even in her uncertainty.

“I had everything figured out,” Azzi said, her voice trembling. “I was ready to show you, to make you understand even if you weren’t ready, that it couldn’t have been just casual for you. It had to be something deeper. But then I saw her in your bed, and it all fell apart. God, Paige, I felt so stupid. Like I’d made everything up in my head.”

Paige stared at the napkin, guilt and heartbreak washing over her in waves. “Azzi…”

Azzi shook her head, looking away. “I cared so much about sleeping with you it scared me, Paige. And when I saw her, I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Paige’s eyes filled with tears as she placed the napkin on the table and cupped Azzi’s face gently, urging her to look at her. “Azzi, I swear to you, I never meant for you to feel like that,” she said her, her voice quiet but steady. “I didn’t even know she said that. I didn’t even know you were…I wasn’t that way with you because you’re so much more than that to me Az. I never wanted you to feel like you were just another hookup. I knew it was your first time with a girl, and I just wanted to take everything slow. I wanted you to feel safe, to feel like it was okay to just feel everything and just…just be. I was trying to show you how much I cared that night, and I thought maybe... maybe that was the way to make you understand. But it wasn’t. I see that now.”

Azzi’s face softened as she absorbed Paige’s words. The tension between them seemed to ease just a little, but there was still a quiet sorrow in her eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath before speaking. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never meant to make you feel alone, I know how hard that is for you. I was just so caught up in my own feelings, my own fear. I was so afraid of getting hurt that I couldn’t care about how anyone else felt.”

Paige reached out, cupping Azzi’s face gently in her hands again. She felt the weight of Azzi’s pain, the vulnerability in her touch, and it broke something inside her. “I understand,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I get it. I do. But you mean the world to me, Azzi. I never wanted to make you feel less than. I just wanted you to know how much I care, how much I need you.”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, locking with Paige’s, and she leaned into the touch, a tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t say anything right away, just let the silence hang between them, the weight of everything they had just shared in the air. At that moment, words didn’t seem to matter as much as the quiet connection between them.

Paige pulled Azzi into a tight, much-needed hug. She buried her face in Azzi’s hair and whispered, “I’m so sorry Azzi.” Azzi squeezed her back, the tension in her body easing with every second. “I’m sorry too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. The two of them sat in their embrace for a while, both of them making up for what they felt like was lost time. 

Ice’s door creaked open hesitantly. She hadn’t heard voices for some time, so she peeked out to check on the situation. Her eyes landed on Paige and Azzi wrapped in each other’s arms, their tears visible even from where she stood. A grin tugged at her lips as she then leaned against the wall.

“Okay thank god you figured it out,” Ice teased, crossing her arms. “I was starting to think I’d have to find a lock for the pantry. It was hard being a child of a divorced home.”

Azzi laughed through her tears, her face still pressed to Paige’s shoulder. “Shut up, Ice,” she said, her voice thick but light with humor.

Paige chuckled softly, finally pulling back just enough to wipe at Azzi’s damp cheeks. The warmth in her gaze made Azzi’s heartache in the best way.

Ice smirked, watching them for a moment longer before retreating back into her room, muttering something about how they better keep it down if there’s any more funny business around this house. Paige and Azzi exchanged a watery laugh, the tension between them finally broken.

…

Later that night, after showering and getting into her pajamas, Paige sat on her bed, the controller in her hands as she settled into her game for the first time in a while. She hadn’t felt in the mood to play in weeks, but tonight was obviously different.

Azzi walked into the room quietly, dressed in her pajamas and a bonnet. She stood by the door for a moment, hesitant, taking in the space that felt unfamiliar in this new version of them, something a little more than a friendship but not a relationship. She hadn’t been in Paige’s room like this—so casually, so unburdened—since October…since they slept together. It felt like the distance between them had changed everything, and for a second, she wasn’t sure how to exist in here.

But then she heard Paige mutter something incoherent at the game, followed by an exaggerated shout of frustration when she was killed. Azzi’s lips curled into a smile at the familiar sound. That was more like the Paige she knew. It made Azzi relax a little.

Azzi made her way over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to Paige, her body a little stiff at first. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself, what was ok to do and what wasn’t. But then, as she watched Paige continue to play, she cracked a joke, letting it slip out without thinking.

“Have you always been this bad, or is tonight just special?” Azzi teased, her voice light with amusement.

Paige paused the game immediately, her brow furrowing as she turned to face Azzi, an exaggerated look of disbelief on her face. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

Azzi shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes still on her phone, scrolling absentmindedly. “Eh, just stating the obvious.”

Paige crossed her arms, trying to hold back a grin. “I’m being disrespected in my own room, this is crazy.” She said, her voice a little dramatic, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Azzi chuckled, and for a moment, the tension from the past few weeks seemed to slip away. The easy banter between them returned, small but meaningful, like they hadn’t spent any time apart. Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her chest, the kind that came with knowing things were moving in the right direction.

Paige tilted her head, looking at Azzi. “You wanna play?”

Azzi looked up from her phone, her brow raising as if Paige had just asked her to solve all the world’s problems. “Me? Play? Are you crazy?” She shook her head. “I’ve never played before. And I’ve heard you, KK, and Ice yelling a little too much to know better.”

Paige shrugged, unfazed. “No big deal. You’ll like it.” She said as she tried to hand Azzi the controller.

Azzi hesitated, giving the controller a wary glance before reluctantly taking it. The second she started playing, Paige immediately realized how bad things were going to be. Within seconds, Azzi’s character on the screen was walking off of the building Paige had built, spinning in circles, and doing everything but what she was supposed to be doing.

“Azzi what the hell!” Paige burst out laughing as she watched the chaos unfold. “What are you even doing?!”

“I don’t know!” Azzi cried out, frantically mashing random buttons as her character continued to flail in every direction, shooting randomly here and there. She pushed Paige’s shoulder with a playful shove. “Shut up and help me!”

Paige tried to compose herself, still grinning as she pointed at the screen. “Okay, okay, see this button? That’s to move. And that one? That’s to aim. You’re just—” She dissolved into laughter again as Azzi’s character jumped straight towards someone shooting at her and immediately died.

Azzi groaned, pouting as she turned to Paige with a frown. “This isn’t funny! You’re supposed to be helping, not laughing at me.”

“I am helping!” Paige insisted through her giggles, her cheeks aching from how hard she was laughing. She reached over, guiding Azzi’s hands on the controller. “Look, just press this one and— no not that one!”

Azzi let out an exaggerated huff, dropping the controller onto her lap. “This is impossible. You’re a terrible teacher.”

“You’re just a terrible student,” Paige shot back, her grin widening.

At this, Azzi pouted harder, her lips pushing out in exaggerated frustration. Paige couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Alright, alright, come here,” she said, scooting back on the bed to make room.

Azzi gave her a skeptical look but didn’t argue, sliding into the spot Paige had just been sitting in, directly in front of the TV. Paige scooted up behind her, settling comfortably as she wrapped her arms around Azzi to guide her hands on the controller.

Azzi stiffened at first, her body going rigid against Paige’s. Paige noticed immediately, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Relax, Az,” she said, her voice gentle, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear. “I’m not gonna bite, Just teaching you how to play the game I swear.”

Azzi huffed a small laugh, the tension easing out of her shoulders as she leaned back into Paige. “You better not,” she murmured, her tone lighter.

As Azzi settled into Paige’s hold, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face, which was now resting on her shoulder. Paige smirked, not even looking away from the TV. “Stop staring and focus on the game, Azzi.”

“I’m not staring,” Azzi muttered, rolling her eyes, though her cheeks warmed slightly.

“Sure you’re not,” Paige teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “This is why you’re so bad at the game—you’re too distracted by me so you aren’t listening to instructions”

Azzi scoffed. “Please, I’d be amazing if you weren’t breathing down my neck every two seconds.”

Paige chuckled, her voice low and playful. “You like it, don’t lie.”

Azzi tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of her lips twitched as she turned her attention back to the screen. “Whatever. Just show me which button I’m supposed to press.”

“Alright, I got this,” Paige said, her fingers wrapping around Azzi’s to guide her movements. As they moved, Paige’s fingers brushed over Azzi’s, each shift in position almost feeling intentional, like she was trying to distract her more than help with the game. “See? You press this one to jump. No, not that one—this one,” Paige corrected, her hand pressing lightly on Azzi’s, guiding her thumb to the correct button.

Azzi shot Paige a playful glare, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. “Are you just playing for me now?”

Paige didn’t even try to hide her grin. “You’re a terrible student, Azzi. What do you expect?” Her voice was teasing, but there was a warmth beneath it, the closeness between them now undeniable. She adjusted her grip on Azzi’s hands, their fingers interlacing as she continued to control the game for both of them.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at how effortlessly Paige took over. “You’re not even letting me play at this point. What’s the point of me being here?”

Paige’s fingers tightened around Azzi’s making sure she didn’t go anywhere, guiding them both. “You’re here to keep me entertained,” she teased. 

Azzi rolled her eyes, trying to focus on the screen, but her attention kept drifting to the feel of Paige’s hand in hers, the pressure of her touch. “I think you just like controlling things,” Azzi said, her voice softer now, with a hint of something more teasing underneath.

Paige smirked, her grip remaining firm as she helped Azzi push through the game. “You know I love being in control.” 

Azzi shifted, feeling the warmth of Paige’s chest against her back as she continued to play. “You’re really trying to get me flustered, huh?” Azzi teased, though the playful tone didn’t quite match the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

Paige’s chuckle was low and soft, her lips brushing against the side of Azzi’s neck as she continued guiding her hands. “If you’re flustered, then I’m doing something right.” She let out a light laugh when Azzi flinched slightly at the touch. “But you need to focus, Az. We’re trying to win here.”

Azzi, still caught in the tangle of their touch and the warmth of Paige’s breath, let out a small, involuntary laugh. “I’m trying, but it’s hard when you’re distracting me like this.”

Paige leaned in, her lips grazing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “Then I guess you’ll just have to try harder, huh?”

As Azzi’s thumb pressed the button under Paige’s guidance, she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened under Paige’s touch. “You’re insane,” Azzi muttered, but she didn’t pull away.

Paige’s smile deepened, the playful glint in her eyes never fading as she held Azzi’s hands in hers. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi smirked, her voice light and teasing as she turned her head just enough for their faces to be dangerously close. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” she replied, her tone playful but with a hint of challenge. Her eyes locked with Paige’s, a subtle heat building between them. “But you’re starting a game that I was always better than you at,” she added, her words dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just a little closer, her breath brushing against Paige’s skin.

Azzi’s smirk only deepened as she leaned back slightly, tilting her head just enough to make their lips almost touch. The tension in the air shifted, both of them clearly forgetting the game in favor of something else. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, sending a shiver down Paige’s spine. “I miss you, P. I’ve been replaying it in my head for weeks,” Azzi murmured, her fingers gently tracing over Paige’s fingers, the motion intentional and carrying an unmistakable double meaning.

Paige swallowed hard, her breath catching as Azzi’s words lingered in the space between them. Her heart raced, but she quickly detached herself from Azzi, leaning back and breaking the moment with a forced, lighthearted laugh. “Alright, I need to get away from Casanova here before I forget how to function,” Paige joked, trying to ease the tension as she put some space between them, though her smile betrayed her, a mix of amusement and something deeper still lingering in her eyes.

Azzi let out a soft sigh and rolled her eyes, clearly amused by Paige’s attempt to lighten the mood. Without saying another word, she grabbed her book from the bedside table and settled comfortably into Paige’s bed, leaning back against the pillows as she opened it to the page she had left off on.

Paige glanced over at her, a smile tugging at her lips as she started the game again, the sound of the controller clicking in the quiet room. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of Azzi’s relaxed posture, her head slightly tilted down as she read, and the small sense of comfort that filled the space between them was nice to have again. 

After a while, because Paige really was rusty, she finally won a round of Fortnite, she threw the controller onto the bed with a triumphant “Victory!” She turned around, expecting to see Azzi’s usual playful smirk, but instead, Azzi was fast asleep, her body sprawled across the bed. The sight of her like this—calm, peaceful, unguarded—struck something in Paige. She hadn’t seen Azzi like this in a while, and it warmed her more than she expected.

Paige smiled softly to herself, a little bittersweet. After turning everything off she carefully climbed into bed, trying not to wake Azzi, but the moment she settled in, Azzi instinctively shifted closer, snuggling into her side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige smiled again, a real, gentle smile, her heart fluttering at the simple act of them being close again.

The room was quiet for a while, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of Azzi’s breathing. Paige felt herself drifting to sleep for the first time in a while, feeling the weight of everything they’d been through slowly melting away, replaced by the comfortable warmth of having Azzi beside her again. Just as she was about to fall asleep, Azzi’s soft voice broke the silence.

“Thank you for the necklace,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible. Paige’s chest tightened at the sincerity behind the words.

Paige smiled, her eyes still closed, and whispered back, her voice soft with affection. “You’re welcome.”

A small moment of silence passed between them as they both settled into the shared space of the bed. They weren’t together—not yet—but there was a quiet understanding between them. They weren’t rushing anything. They would work on it slowly but surely until they were ready. It felt like progress, even without words.

Just as they settled into a peaceful sleep, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. Ice, who had been passing by, peeked in and caught a glimpse of the two of them. She paused for a moment, watching as Paige and Azzi snuggled so naturally together. She smiled to herself, happy for them, before snapping a quick picture, closing the door and walking down the hallway to send the picture in the groupchat.

[misaerabl]

What's Your Christmas Wish?

Younger ellie X Older Reader

SUMMARY: Life in a small town is simple—until Ellie Williams comes along. At 21, she’s charming, persistent, and entirely too good at testing your resolve. For a year, she’s made her feelings for you abundantly clear, despite your insistence that the age gap is a dealbreaker. But on Christmas Eve, amidst the glow of fairy lights and the warmth of a town gathering, Ellie’s determination might just prove harder to ignore. As snow falls and boundaries blur, you’re left to wonder: is it the holiday magic, or has Ellie been right all along? WARNINGS: age gap, (Ellie is 21, no specific age mentioned but reader is in middle-late twenties), fingering, oral sex, top ellie, bottom reader, she calls you nurse sunshine, beautiful, etc.

December 22.

The warmth of the clinic wraps around you like a blanket as you organize patient files, the occasional Christmas jingle playing faintly from your phone. You’ve always loved this time of year—the crisp snow, the twinkling lights, the quiet hum of a small town preparing for the holidays.

But Ellie, well… Ellie loves to make this time of year something else entirely.

The bell above the door jingles, and you look up to see her strolling in, cheeks pink from the cold, auburn hair peeking out from under a wool hat. She’s carrying a tray of steaming hot cocoa in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other.

“Ellie,” you say with a sigh, knowing exactly what’s coming. “You can’t keep showing up like this.”

“And you can’t keep pretending you don’t like it,” she retorts, setting the tray on the counter. Her grin is nothing short of shameless, the same one that’s been chipping away at your resolve since the day you met her.

“Ellie—”

“Relax. It’s Christmas,” she interrupts, sliding one of the cups toward you. “Consider it my gift to you, Nurse Sunshine.”

You give her a pointed look at the nickname, but she only shrugs, unbothered. This has been her game for the past year: showing up unannounced, delivering food or drinks, and throwing out lines that would’ve worked on someone less resistant. But you know better—or at least, you tell yourself you do.

“You’re a college student,” you remind her for the hundredth time. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with people your age?”

She leans on the counter, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe. But why would I waste my time with them when I could be here, convincing you to finally say yes to dinner?”

Your laugh escapes before you can stop it. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only because you’re worth it,” she shoots back smoothly. Her confidence is infuriatingly endearing, and you have to look away before she notices the faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Ellie, this… whatever you’re doing—it’s not going to happen,” you say, trying to sound firm. “There’s an age gap, and—”

“I’m 21, not 16,” she interjects, rolling her eyes. “You act like I’m some clueless kid.”

“And you act like you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, softer this time. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly touched. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” she says without missing a beat, her grin returning. “But hey, I’ll leave you to your work. Just wanted to drop these off.”

She winks, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. Before she leaves, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Beautiful. I’ll see you around.”

The bell jingles as she disappears into the snow, leaving you with a tray of cocoa, a bag of pastries, and a heart that’s just a little too warm for comfort.

Ellie doesn’t make it easy to focus on your work after that. You sip the hot cocoa—it’s perfect, annoyingly so—and glance at the pastries, neatly arranged in their bag like a gift you didn’t ask for but can’t quite refuse.

She’s persistent, you’ll give her that. Every time you think she’ll finally take the hint, she bounces back with another clever line, another charming grin, another gesture that makes your heart waver just enough to frustrate you.

It’s late by the time you leave the clinic, the streets quiet under a blanket of snow. You’re halfway home when you see her again, this time standing by the town’s massive Christmas tree in the square. Strings of colorful lights cast a warm glow on her face as she fiddles with her scarf, pacing like she’s waiting for someone.

You hesitate. Maybe you could slip past unnoticed. But as if sensing your presence, she looks up, and her face lights up in a way that makes escape impossible.

“Hey!” she calls out, jogging over. “Leaving work so late?”

“It’s part of the job,” you reply, pulling your coat tighter against the cold. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you, apparently,” she says, falling into step beside you. “Thought you might need some company on the way home.”

You roll your eyes. “Ellie, I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone.”

“Sure you are. But where’s the fun in that?”

Her tone is playful, but there’s a sincerity in her eyes that makes your chest tighten. You’ve spent the past year trying to ignore the way she looks at you, the way her words linger in your mind longer than they should. It’s easier to focus on the reasons why this can’t happen than to acknowledge the part of you that wonders, just for a moment, what if?

“Ellie,” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “The age gap, the professionalism, all that. I get it. But, come on, it’s Christmas. Can’t we just… enjoy the moment?”

You stop walking, turning to face her. She looks up at you, her auburn hair catching the light from a nearby lamppost, and for a second, you hate how easy she makes it to forget all the reasons why you’ve been saying no.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s not fair?” she asks, her tone softer now, almost vulnerable.

“The way you make me feel,” you admit, surprising even yourself. “You’re young, Ellie. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to waste it on someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re incredible. And if you think I don’t know what I want, you’re wrong.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. She steps closer, her breath visible in the cold night air.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she says. “I’m just asking for a chance. One chance.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of her gaze almost too much to bear. You want to say no, to give her the same answer you’ve given a hundred times before. But something about the way she looks at you—like you’re the only person in the world who matters—makes it harder than ever to walk away.

“Ellie…” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

“Just think about it,” she says softly, stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Ellie steps back with a small smirk. “Just think about it,” she repeats softly.

But instead of turning to leave, she takes a step forward, brushing past you and walking ahead toward the direction of your house. She glances back over her shoulder, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Come on,” she says, tilting her head toward the road. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift, but she doesn’t give you much choice. The snow crunches under your boots as you follow her, her pace casual but her presence anything but.

“You know,” you say, catching up to her, “I thought you were all about dramatic exits. What happened to leaving me with some cryptic line?”

She grins, her breath visible in the frigid air. “I figured walking you home might make a better impression. Besides, I didn’t feel like saying goodbye yet.”

You sigh, shaking your head, but there’s no denying the warmth in your chest—whether from her words or the fact that she’s still here, you’re not sure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Persistent or charming?” she teases, her tone light. “Be honest.”

“Borderline annoying,” you counter, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your words.

She laughs, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, the world feels a little brighter despite the winter chill. You walk in comfortable silence for a while, the snow falling gently around you, the quiet of the small town wrapping you both in its peaceful embrace.

As you near your house, Ellie slows, falling into step beside you. “I’m serious, though,” she says, her voice softer now. “I get why you’re hesitant, and I respect it. But… I really do like you, [Your Name]. More than just some crush.”

Her words hit you harder than you expect, and you glance at her. She’s looking ahead, her profile illuminated by the glow of a streetlamp. There’s no trace of the usual playfulness in her expression—just sincerity and a hint of vulnerability.

You stop in front of your house, the warm glow of the porch light cutting through the night. Ellie stops too, turning to face you. “I’m not asking for an answer now,” she says. “I just want you to know how I feel. And that I’ll wait… as long as it takes.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters—makes it impossible to dismiss her entirely.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say finally, your voice quiet.

Ellie nods, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Anytime.”

You unlock the door and step inside, hesitating for just a second. She stays on the porch, hands back in her pockets, a soft smile still lingering on her face.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you say, your tone gentler than before.

“Goodnight, Beautiful,” she replies, and with one last look, she turns and heads back down the snowy path.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. Your heart feels unsteady, caught between logic and the pull of something you’re not sure you can keep ignoring.

And as you glance at the tray of cocoa and the star ornament Ellie left earlier, you can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

December 24, christmas eve

The Anderson house was stunning, wrapped in glowing lights and adorned with wreaths and garlands at every corner. It looked like something out of a holiday movie, with the laughter and chatter of nearly the entire town spilling out into the frosty air. You stepped inside, greeted by the warmth and the unmistakable aroma of mulled wine and fresh pine.

You spotted Jerry Anderson almost immediately, his booming laughter unmistakable as he entertained a group near the fireplace. His daughter, Abby, wasn’t far off, standing tall and commanding attention effortlessly. She waved you over when she saw you, her bright smile as inviting as her father’s hospitality.

"Hey! long time no see,” Abby greeted, her voice warm and confident. She towered over most people in the room, her broad shoulders and easy posture making her presence impossible to miss.

“Abby, hi,” you replied with a smile, grateful to find someone familiar in the crowd. “How’s it going?”

“Busy, as usual,” she said, gesturing for you to join her by the side table laden with appetizers. “But I’ve been home for a couple of weeks now. It’s nice to have some downtime.”

You nodded, picking up a glass of cider as she continued. “What about you? How’s life at the clinic? Still saving lives left and right?”

You chuckled. “Not quite as dramatic as that, but yeah, keeping busy.”

Abby leaned against the table, genuinely interested. “You must have some stories, though. Come on, give me the juiciest one.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Patient confidentiality, remember? But let’s just say, small towns definitely keep you on your toes.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, diving into topics of medicine and health. As a soldier, Abby had seen her fair share of injuries and medical emergencies, and her insights made the discussion lively and engaging. You found yourself enjoying the back-and-forth, though oblivious to the way her smile lingered a little longer on you or the subtle warmth in her voice.

Across the room, Ellie spotted you. She froze mid-conversation with a group of her friends, her eyes narrowing as they landed on you and Abby. Her jaw clenched when she noticed how close Abby was standing, the way her hand casually rested on the back of your chair as you laughed at something she said.

Ellie’s friend nudged her. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Ellie snapped out of it, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… thirsty. I’ll be back.”

She excused herself, weaving through the crowd with a cider in hand but no intention of drinking it. Her steps slowed as she approached the area where you and Abby stood, unnoticed by either of you. She leaned against a nearby pillar, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Abby lean in closer, her voice dropping slightly as she said something that made you smile.

Ellie’s grip tightened around her cup. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the way Abby looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky or the fact that you didn’t seem to notice.

Ellie lingered by the pillar, her knuckles whitening around the cup as Abby leaned closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. The sound lit up the room for Ellie, but not in the way it usually did. Tonight, it felt like it was for someone else entirely—and that someone wasn’t her.

Her chest tightened as Abby straightened up, glancing toward an older woman waving her over from across the room. Abby’s face briefly soured before she plastered on a polite smile and turned back to you.

“Looks like my dad’s trying to set me up again,” Abby muttered, her voice low but just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised an eyebrow. “Set you up? With who?”

Abby tilted her head toward a tall, broad-shouldered man standing stiffly near her father. “That guy. He’s a doctor, apparently. Or at least that’s what my dad’s been bragging about all night. Like that’s supposed to impress me.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the corners of your lips curling upward. “What, not your type?”

Abby smirked, leaning just a little closer. “Not even in the same galaxy as my type. But Dad’s already waving me over, so I guess I can’t avoid it.” She glanced at you, her eyes glinting with humor. “Wish me luck?”

You chuckled. “Good luck, Abby. Don’t be too mean to him.”

She winked before standing up straight and heading toward her father, muttering under her breath as she went.

Ellie saw her chance and took it. She pushed off the pillar and strode toward you, her steps deliberate and purposeful. By the time you noticed her, she was already sliding into the chair Abby had vacated.

“Hey,” Ellie said casually, though her eyes betrayed her tension.

You blinked in surprise. “Ellie? I didn’t even see you there.”

She shrugged, setting her cider down on the table. “You seemed pretty… busy.” The edge in her tone was subtle but enough to make you pause.

You tilted your head at her. “Is something wrong?”

Ellie shook her head quickly, her expression softening slightly. “No, just thought I’d say hi. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.” She leaned back in her chair, her usual confidence returning as she added, “Figured I’d rescue you from whatever overly charming nonsense Abby was throwing your way.”

Your lips quirked up, but you shook your head. “Ellie, we were just talking. It’s not like that.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Not like what?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Ellie said with a small smirk, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer than they should. “Anyway, Merry Christmas, Nurse Sunshine.”

She picked up her cider and raised it slightly in a mock toast. You couldn’t help but smile at her, despite the slight tension still hanging in the air.

The room buzzed with excitement as the countdown to Christmas neared its final moments. People gathered closer together, their faces lit by the warm glow of twinkling lights and the gentle flicker of the fireplace. You stood among the crowd, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched the joy radiating around you.

As the countdown hit ten, you glanced up at the ceiling, noticing the delicate greenery of a mistletoe hanging just above you. The realization made you chuckle softly. Of course, Jerry Anderson would have mistletoe.

“Didn’t think I’d find you standing here,” a familiar voice said behind you, warm and teasing.

You turned, already knowing who it was. Ellie stood there, her hands in her jacket pockets, her green eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and nervousness. Your gaze flickered upward again, realizing with a slight jolt that she was standing directly beneath the mistletoe with you.

Ellie followed your line of sight, and her smirk widened. “Well, would you look at that?” she said, her tone light, but there was a softness in her eyes that made your heart skip. “Guess this is what they call fate, huh?”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect the weight of the moment. “I think it’s just poorly placed holiday decor.”

Ellie took a small step closer, her expression more serious now, though the smile still lingered on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

The countdown reached five, and the crowd’s cheers grew louder around you, but it all seemed to fade as Ellie’s gaze locked with yours.

“Four…”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came.

“Three…”

Ellie tilted her head slightly, the playful confidence giving way to something more vulnerable.

“Two…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“One…”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

And then Ellie closed the distance, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of all the things she’d been holding back for a year.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe as the world blurred around you.

Ellie pulled away slowly, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet space that lingered between the two of you. Her eyes searched yours, soft and vulnerable, the playful spark now gone. The weight of the moment hung heavy, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a steady beat that seemed to echo in the air around you.

The world outside the bubble you shared felt far away. The warm glow of the lights, the hum of voices and laughter, all faded into a distant memory. It was just the two of you, standing beneath the mistletoe, and the silence between you was as intimate as any words could be.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Ellie whispered, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the room, but to you, it was the only sound that mattered.

You swallowed, your mind spinning with emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully feel. “Ellie…”

She smiled, her fingers brushing against yours, tentative yet familiar. “I know. I know it’s been complicated. But tonight… I couldn’t let it pass by without telling you. Without showing you.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of emotions flooding your veins. It was like a slow-burning fire, growing warmer with every second that passed. The tension that had been building for so long finally cracked, and in its place was something softer, something fragile, yet full of promise.

"You've never stopped making me feel..." you began, the words coming unbidden. "Like maybe you were right all along."

Ellie’s eyes softened, as if hearing the truth she'd always known. She took a small step back, the tip of her nose grazing yours as she let out a breathless laugh. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The clock struck midnight, and the room burst into applause, but neither of you moved. The world outside was celebrating, but here, beneath the mistletoe, it felt like time had stopped. A single moment that would be etched into your memory, like the twinkling lights above, a reminder that sometimes, love finds its way through the smallest of things.

Ellie’s hand slipped into yours, the simple contact grounding you, pulling you back into reality as her smile softened. “I meant it, you know. I’ve been waiting for you. Just… let me wait a little longer.”

And in that quiet exchange, amidst the noise of the world, you realized that you were no longer standing alone. You were standing with Ellie, beneath the mistletoe, but more than that, you were standing together, and somehow, that made all the difference.

The crisp winter air bit at your skin as you walked side by side with Ellie, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound filling the silence. The lights of the town slowly faded behind you, leaving just the glow of the moon and the stars above. Despite the cold, you found yourself warm beside Ellie, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you like a soft, unspoken promise.

Ellie kept her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, but every now and then, she'd glance at you, her eyes bright, as if she was trying to memorize the way you looked tonight—the way the snow caught in your hair, the way the streetlights cast shadows on your face.

When you reached your doorstep, she paused, her gaze falling to the ground. "I guess this is where I leave you," she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

You hesitated, the pull of her presence undeniable. The night had been full of quiet, unspoken moments, and you didn’t want it to end just yet. "Ellie..." you began, your voice tentative but sure. "Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation in her—like she wasn’t sure whether to take that step forward or hold back. But then the corner of her mouth quirked up in that familiar, confident smile, and she nodded.

"I’d like that," she said softly, her voice warm with something that felt both new and familiar.

You stepped aside, letting her in, and as she entered, the warmth of your house seemed to wrap around you both, pushing back the cold of the night. Ellie kicked off her boots by the door and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on the hook with careful ease.

The soft hum of your house felt soothing, and as you moved into the living room, you gestured toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab something to drink."

Ellie settled into the couch with a deep sigh, her eyes glancing around the room. "It’s nice in here," she said, her voice soft, but her gaze was steady, like she was taking in every little detail.

You nodded, making your way to the kitchen. The silence was peaceful, not awkward, just comfortable in the way only a few people could ever manage to make it feel. You returned with two mugs of tea, the steam rising from them like the warmth of the moment you’d shared only an hour before.

You sat down beside her, the space between you smaller than it had ever been before. As you handed her a mug, your fingers brushed lightly against hers, and for a second, the world outside the room felt miles away.

"I’m glad you came inside," you said, your voice softer than you intended, but it felt right.

Ellie smiled, her gaze flickering toward you for a brief moment before it shifted to the mug in her hands. "I’m glad you asked me to." Her voice held something deeper this time—a quiet sincerity that made your chest tighten with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The soft crackle of the fire in the corner was the only sound, filling the space between you with its comforting rhythm.

But then Ellie broke the silence, her voice just above a whisper. "I don’t know what happens next... but I’m okay with figuring it out, if you are."

You met her gaze then, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. You nodded, your heart beating faster now, in a way that felt right, in a way that made everything fall into place.

"Yeah," you said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I think I’m ready to figure it out."

The quiet between you and Ellie lingered, comfortable and filled with the soft glow of the moment. The warmth of the house, the scent of tea, the flickering light from the fireplace—all of it wrapped around you like a blanket, but nothing compared to the way Ellie’s presence filled the space. It was gentle, but undeniable, like she was the missing piece you didn’t even realize you’d been waiting for.

As you sat there, her eyes kept flicking to you, her lips pressed into a small smile, but there was a tension in her gaze, a quiet intensity. You could feel her wanting to say something, or maybe do something, but the words and actions were both suspended, hanging between the two of you like the very air you breathed.

Then, without warning, Ellie shifted closer. She leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. Her gaze dropped to your lips for a moment, and that subtle movement told you everything you needed to know. The hesitation, the uncertainty, it was all gone. The distance was gone, too. She was right there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the softness of her touch that you had learned to crave.

Her lips brushed against yours softly at first, like a question, like an invitation. And this time, there was no hesitation from you. You melted into the kiss, your hands moving instinctively to her face. The moment her lips met yours again, something in you shifted—flooded with warmth, with a deep sense of longing that you hadn’t fully realized you were carrying.

Ellie’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, her body aligning with yours in perfect rhythm. You could feel the way her heartbeat quickened, the way the world outside seemed to fade away entirely. She was the only thing you could focus on, her warmth, the way she made you feel alive, the way she made everything feel right.

Your hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as the kiss deepened. Every movement between you felt instinctual, raw, like the way the earth moves without thought. Her lips were soft and sure against yours, coaxing and gentle, as if she knew exactly how to make you feel everything without saying a word.

The world around you faded as you both melted into each other, the kiss a slow dance of longing, of closeness. Time lost meaning as the pull between you intensified, and all you could think about was how perfect it felt to be here, with her. Ellie, the girl who had quietly found a way into your heart without you even realizing it, was now pulling you into her world, and for the first time, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

In that moment, nothing mattered except the feeling of her touch, the warmth of her embrace, and the quiet promise in the way her lips met yours.

Ellie's eyes sparkled with mischief as she gently pushed you back onto the plush couch. Despite the chill outside, the room felt warm and cozy. She crawled on top of you, her body pressing against yours through layers of winter clothing."Mmm, you feel so good," Ellie purred, her lips brushing against your ear. Her hands slid under your sweater, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

She shifted, straddling your thigh as she captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Her tongue teased yours as her hips began a slow, sensual grind against your leg. Even through your pants, you could feel the heat emanating from her core."God, I want you so badly," Ellie breathed, her voice husky with desire. She tugged at the button of your jeans."Can I touch you? Please?"

"Yeah… You can," you breathed, your body arching into Ellie's touch. 

Ellie's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

"You're so beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers gliding through your slick folds."Does this feel good, baby?"

Her thumb found your clit, circling it gently as her other hand pushed your sweater up, exposing your bra. Ellie's eyes darkened with lust as she gazed down at you.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, lowering her head to place open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Ellie's fingers continued their sensual exploration, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body. Her touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending."You feel amazing," you gasped, your hips rocking against her hand. "Don't stop..."

Ellie's eyes locked with yours, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I'm just getting started," she purred. 

Her fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before slowly sliding inside. You moaned at the delicious stretch, your inner walls clenching around her digits.

"That's it," Ellie encouraged, her voice husky with desire. "Does that feel okay?"

She began a steady rhythm, her thumb still circling your clit as her fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot. The couch creaked softly beneath you as your body writhed in pleasure.

"Ellie," you whimpered, your hands gripping her shoulders. "Oh god, Ellie..."

Ellie's fingers continued their passionate exploration, her movements becoming more intense as she felt your body responding. She curled her fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars."Fuck, you’re gorgeous" Ellie groaned, her breath hot against your ear."I love how wet you are for me."

Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling it with quick, precise movements. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly in your core.

"I want to taste you," Ellie whispered, her voice dripping with lust. "Can I use my mouth on you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she began kissing her way down your body. Her free hand pushed your sweater up further, exposing your breasts. Ellie's tongue flicked over your nipple through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp."Ellie, please," you whimpered, your hips bucking against her hand.

She grinned wickedly, slowly withdrawing her fingers from your pussy. You whined at the loss, but Ellie quickly shimmied down your body, positioning herself between your legs.

"I've got you," she purred, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties.

Ellie slowly tugged your jeans and panties down, her eyes darkening with desire as she revealed your glistening pussy. She licked her lips, her hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh."God, you’re beautiful," Ellie murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns on your inner thighs."You’re perfect."

Without further preamble, she leaned in, her tongue flattening against your slick folds. You gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively arching up to meet her mouth. Ellie moaned appreciatively, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

Her tongue explored every inch of you, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks against your clit. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as pleasure built within you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you whimpered, your thighs trembling. "Feels so good..."

Ellie's response was to redouble her efforts, her lips wrapping around your clit as she sucked gently. Two fingers slid inside you once more, curling to hit that perfect spot as she pleasured you with her mouth.

The dual stimulation was overwhelming.

All the things that had consumed your thoughts—the age gap, the judgment you might face, the whispers in a small town where everyone knew everyone’s business—faded into nothingness. You, a nurse in your late twenties, admired and respected in the community, and Ellie Williams, a 21-year-old college student with ambition and fire in her eyes. For so long, the idea of being with her felt like a risk too great to take.

But now, as you sink into the couch, all of that worry dissolves. Her touch is a balm to your overthinking mind, her presence grounding you in the here and now. Every careful brush of her fingers, every dance of her tongue, reminds you of how alive she makes you feel. And as she continues to lavish you, the world outside ceases to matter. All you can think about is her—Ellie—and how effortlessly she makes all your fears disappear.

She continued her relentless exploration, her free hand gliding up your chest with purpose before squeezing gently, igniting a trail of warmth in its wake. Her tongue, soft yet commanding, danced against you, pulling you deeper into the moment, leaving no room for anything but her.

She doesn’t stop, her fingers pumping inside, her tongue making your pussy feel good, building you up until you finally come undone, breathless and trembling. 

Ellie catches you effortlessly, her hold firm yet gentle, pulling you close against her chest. The glow of the Christmas lights dances across her face as she looks down at you, her eyes soft with adoration.

"God," she murmurs, her fingers brushing through your hair. "You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this."

Her words are a balm, soothing every doubt and fear you’d held onto. “The whole year, you know? I’ve been waiting for you to give me an answer. And you were worth every second.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and lingering.

Her arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you further into her embrace. "This... this is all I wanted for Christmas," she whispers, her voice full of raw honesty. "You’re my Christmas wish come true."

You let out a soft laugh, your chest still heaving as you lean into her warmth. She tilts your chin up, her eyes sparkling with something deeper than desire. "So," she says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, "what do you say we make this official? A proper date. Just you and me. No hiding, no excuses. What do you think?"

[zesty4zenin]

“𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞”

YAN!FEM!KNIGHT!TOJI FUSHIGURO X PRINCESS!READER

Your father gets you a new knight after your old one was mysteriously found dead. But it seems like she wants to be more than just your knight…

WARNINGS: death and nothing else in this chapter. But things will get darker as I continue this story. There will be gore, murder, smut, drinking, kidnapping and more later on. Please stay tuned :3

You awaken with a gentle yawn, stretching out the remnants of sleep. It was a surprisingly peaceful rest, void of any unsettling dreams.

As you become more aware of your surroundings, a soft, fuzzy sensation tickles your leg, prompting you to look down.

There, in her casual attire with a dagger secured at her hip, kneels Toji. She's asleep, her head resting on your lap, lips slightly parted as she breathes calmly.

She was so pretty.

Your hand moves instinctively towards her head, hesitating just above, when suddenly her grip tightens around your wrist, causing a slight wince to escape your lips.

Toji stirs awake instantly, releasing your wrist and rising to her feet with a swift apology. "Sorry, princess. It's my instincts," she murmurs, gently pressing kisses onto the spot where she had grasped you.

You watch as she stands, her expression a mix of guilt and concern. "You scared me," you admit softly, rubbing your wrist.

Toji gives a crooked smile, scratching the back of her head. "Yeah, my bad. Can’t help it sometimes," she says, her voice tinged with genuine remorse. She steps closer, her eyes locking onto yours. "Didn’t hurt ya too bad, did I?"

You shake your head. "No, it’s fine. Just startled me."

Toji nods, relief washing over her features. "Good. Ain't wantin' to hurt ya, princess." She pauses for a moment, then adds, "I just wanted to make sure you were safe, even while ya slept."

You give her a reassuring smile, though your concern lingers. "I appreciate that, Toji. But you need to take care of yourself too."

Toji's eyes soften, and she steps closer, gently taking your hand. "I know, but protecting you is what matters most to me."

Before you can respond, Toji kneels beside the bed once more and lays her head back in your lap. Her eyes flutter closed as she nestles against you, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

You rest your hand on her head, your fingers lightly threading through her hair. "You really should get some proper rest, Toji," you say softly, though you can't deny the comfort of her presence.

Toji's voice is a murmur, barely audible. "I rest better knowing you're safe, princess."

You watch her, a mix of concern and affection in your eyes. "Alright," you whisper, continuing to gently stroke her hair. "But promise me you'll take care of yourself too."

"Promise," Toji replies, her voice already heavy with sleep. "Just… let me stay like this for a while."

You nod, even though she can't see it, and continue to comfort her, feeling a strange blend of worry and warmth as you watch over her.

You continue to stroke Toji's hair, feeling her relax under your touch. After a few moments of silence, she speaks again, her voice quiet and vulnerable. "Ever since I started being yer knight, I couldn't sleep without checkin’ to see if you’re okay. So one night, I just fell asleep while checkin’ up on ya."

Her words make you feel a bit unsettled. "Toji, how did you get in at night?" you ask softly, your curiosity piqued.

Toji shifts slightly, her eyes still closed. "I've got my ways," she murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "But don't worry, princess. I'd never do anything to hurt ya."

Your concern for her well-being quickly outweighs the oddity of the situation. "Toji, you need your sleep too," you say gently. "If it's that bad, you can stay in my room."

Toji's eyes open slightly, a look of surprise and gratitude in them. "You mean it, princess?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes, I mean it. Just promise me you'll get some proper rest, okay?"

Toji's expression softens even more, and she nestles her head deeper into your lap. "Thank you, princess. I'll stay right here then, if that's alright."

You smile down at her, continuing to run your fingers through her hair. "It's alright, Toji. Just make sure you get some more sleep."

Toji lets out a contented sigh, her eyes drifting closed once more. "I will, princess. Thank you."

You watch over her, feeling a mixture of affection and concern, but knowing that, for now, she feels safe and comforted in your presence.

Toji's head rests comfortably in your lap, her eyes closed and her breathing even. Outwardly, she appears calm, but inside, her thoughts are a whirlwind of emotions. She can hardly believe how close she is to you, her beloved princess. Each gentle stroke of your fingers through her hair sends shivers of delight down her spine.

Despite her composed exterior, Toji's heart races with excitement. The warmth of your presence so near fills her with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Being allowed to stay in your room, to sleep so close to you, to be with you this close, feels like a dream come true.

Her mind replays your words over and over, savoring each one. "If it's that bad, you can stay in my room." The invitation echoes in her head, making her heart swell with joy. She had always kept a watch over you, even when she wasn’t a knight, ensuring your safety from the shadows, but now she is here, with you, and it feels perfect.

Toji's thoughts are a blend of protectiveness and adoration. She would do anything to keep you safe, to see you smile. The fact that you care for her well-being, urging her to get proper rest, only deepens her feelings. She never imagined she'd be this close to you, and now that she is, she wants to cherish every second.

As she drifts back into sleep, her last conscious thought is one of profound contentment. Being near you, feeling your gentle touch, and hearing your soft words make her happier than she could have ever imagined. With a final sigh, she succumbs to sleep, her heart filled with love and excitement.

A FEW HOURS LATER…

You're in the sitting room, enjoying a slice of cake with Toji. It surprised you to learn that she had never tried anything sweet before. How could anyone live without indulging in something sweet now and then?

"You have to try this," you insist, offering her another forkful of cake. Toji hesitates for a moment before accepting it, her eyes widening slightly at the taste.

"This is… good," she admits, a hint of surprise in her voice.

You laugh softly at her reaction, delighted to introduce her to something new. As she takes another bite, a smear of icing ends up on her cheek. Without a second thought, you reach for your handkerchief and gently wipe it away, your smile warm and genuine.

Toji returns your smile, but there's something in her expression that gives you pause. It's almost predatory, like she's savoring more than just the cake. You brush it off quickly, reminding yourself that looks can be deceiving.

After all, Toji is your loyal knight, sworn to protect you. There's no reason to doubt her intentions, especially over something as innocent as enjoying cake together.

As Toji savors the sweetness on her tongue, her mind races with thoughts and memories. Every obstacle she had overcome to reach this moment felt worth it. Being able to share these precious moments with you, to see you laugh and smile, made everything worthwhile.

Her thoughts briefly flicker to Hiro, your old knight. He had been loyal, yes, but he was an obstacle in her path. Toji had dealt with him swiftly and efficiently, ending his life without a second thought. She had justified it to herself as necessary, a small sacrifice for the greater good of being close to you.

Now, sitting here with you, sharing cake and laughter, she felt vindicated. All her efforts, all the bloodshed, and all the sleepless nights spent watching over you were worth it. This moment of simple joy was her reward.

Toji's eyes remain fixed on you, her smile softening slightly as she takes in your every movement, every expression. She thinks about how far she's come, and how much further she's willing to go to ensure she never loses this closeness with you.

[bambisworlds]

there's a man in the woods (4)

part one, part two, part three

azriel doesn't cope well with his mate getting taken from him (3,249 word count).

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, established relationship, poly!batboys x oc, caregiver!batboys, possessive!batboys, loving!batboys, possessive!azriel, oral (f. receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, brief use of "daddy", use of "good girl", azriel's just obsessed with bambi's scent, let me know if i forgot anything x

Bambi’s agitation with Rhysand faded during her bath, the combination of the comforting warm bubbly water and the scalp massage from scrubbing shampoo made her feel relaxed. Being pampered by three large, muscly, beautiful men never ceased to make her feel warm and fuzzy inside and it eased the lingering anxiety and discomfort from the day. Bambi had a satisfied smile on her face as she laid back in the tub, Cassian watched her with a fond smile as his fingers dipped slightly into the bathwater to graze against her legs. Her peace was disrupted when Azriel abruptly stood from his seat on a stool beside the tub and hastily walked into their joined bedroom.

Bambi sat up in the tub, her expression one of concern, “Az?” She calls after him, preparing to stand in the tub to follow after him but Rhysand stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He had been sitting on the edge of the tub.

“He just needs a moment sweetheart,” Rhysand says gently, his hand massaging her shoulder slightly.

“Why?” Bambi asks with furrowed eyebrows, glancing back at the bathroom doorway, “Is he okay?”

Rhysand’s eyes flicker down to the ends of her wet hair as his fingers begin to twirl one of the strands, “There was a chance he could’ve lost you today. As your mate even the idea of you being hurt is enough to drive him, or either of us mad,” Rhysand says, motioning to Cassian, “Today you were taken from us and hurt. That’s no easy thing for him to cope with, even if you are safe now.”

“He just worries about you. Sometimes too much,” Cassian smiled softly as his fingers danced on the surface of the bath water, but Bambi noticed his eyes didn’t light up like they would for his genuine smiles. It was clear Cassian struggled with worrying too much as well.

“But why would that lead him to leaving the room so quickly?” Bambi asks, still not fully understanding.

Rhysand chuckles slightly and glances over at Cassian briefly before clearing his throat and focusing back on Bambi, “Darling, you’ve been through a lot today. Why don’t we table this discussion for a later day?”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? I feel fine.” she shrugs, too worried about Azriel to drop the subject.

Rhysand grins and leans down to kiss Bambi on the forehead before straightening up again, “Well… when a male feels threatened, or they feel…” Rhysand pauses, trying to find the words.

“Worried,” Cassian answers for him.

“Yes, when a male feels worried about their mate, especially in terms of other males staking any sort of claim on their mate they get… moody. Like today for example, a male had taken you from him.” Rhysand explains.

“This feels different than just moodiness,” Bambi says, her eyebrows furrowed to the point there was a crinkle between them. Rhysand nodded slowly and his mouth twitched.

“In this particular case Azriel’s ‘moodiness’ is fixed by a method you may not be in the headspace for today, especially after everything that happened. That’s why he left. Being near you makes his moodiness worse,” Rhysand tries to explain, a grin tugging at his lips each time he says ‘moodiness’. 

“Can you just speak in plain terms? I don’t get why I would put him in a bad mood,” Bambi says exasperatedly. 

“I don’t know if it’s so much as a bad mood, as it is a possessive one,” Rhysand concludes with a grin.

“Oh,” is all Bambi mutters, realizing where he was going with this. 

“Even though we’ve been mated to you for a while now, it’s still a struggle to handle our baser instincts sometimes,” Cassian smirks and Bambi smiles slightly with her cheeks tinted pink.

“So he’s not moody, he’s horny?” she asks with a suppressed giggle.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Cassian grins, looking at Rhysand with a knowing smile. 

“In what way would you put it?” Bambi asks, resting her forearms on the edge of the tub and leaning closer to Cassian. Cassian subconsciously licks his lips as she leans closer to him.

Cassian opens and closes his mouth for a moment, “Do you remember what it was like when you first came here?” Cassian asks and Bambi nods, “For the first month or so it was mainly just you and Mor here, right?” Bambi nods again, “And why do you think that is?”

Bambi furrows her eyebrows slightly, “I don’t know, I guess so you didn’t overwhelm me.”

“That’s partially why,” Cassian nods, “But the main reason was because we nearly lost our heads when we were around you. Staying in the same house as you where your scent was all over made it even worse. Azriel’s having a relapse of sorts with that problem. That overwhelming desire to claim, protect, and possess is going crazy for him again.” 

“But… Why now? I know I was taken but it’s not like I slept with Tamlin or anything,” Bambi says. Rhysand’s jaw clenched and his grip tightened on the edge of the tub, making the porcelain crack slightly at the mention of her having sex with Tamlin. 

Cassian cleared his throat, “No, no you didn’t. But Tamlin did put his hands on you. And he knows you and Tamlin had a…” Cassian’s body stiffens and he swallows roughly, “Personal relationship before we met you,” he says through gritted teeth, “That can stir up those instincts in us, knowing someone you…” Cassian couldn’t get the words out this time, “Knowing someone like that was touching you and keeping you from us.”

Bambi nods, understanding better this time, “I didn’t realize you still struggled with those sorts of things.”

“Darling those ‘things’ never go away when you’re mated, they may calm from time to time but those instincts never go away.” Rhysand says with an amused smile.

“Why do you think I train at least 3 hours a day?” Cassian chuckles dryly, “If I don’t get that energy out somehow I’ll pummel every male who talks to you.”

Bambi can’t help but smile softly, “I thought all those instincts went away after a few months. Like after we left the House of Wind.” she shrugs. The Bat Boys had practically kept Bambi locked away in the House of Wind for three months after they mated. 

“No, they did not,” Rhysand smirks and brushes a few locks of her hair over her shoulder to get a better view of her body as she lounged in the tub, “And seeing you like this, all bare and vulnerable in the tub, it makes those instincts flare up.” Rhysand inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, “Not to mention this room is practically drenched in your scent.”

“Should I go check on him?” Bambi asks gently, glancing at the bathroom door.

“That depends on what you’re in the mood for tonight. If you’d rather just take a bath then go to bed I’d leave him be, he’ll come back when he’s ready,” Rhysand says. Bambi nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment before rising to her feet in the tub, both Rhysand and Cassian’s hand instinctively move out to steady her in case she loses balance. 

“Careful baby,” Cassian mumbles as he helps Bambi out of the tub while Rhysand grabbed a heated towel and wrapped it around her.

“I’m gonna check on him,” Bambi says firmly and Rhysand grins.

“Okay baby, go check on him,” he encourages with a chuckle, placing a pat on her butt as she leaves the bathroom. Bambi could faintly hear Cassian snickering as she walked into the bedroom but didn’t pay it any mind. She glanced around for Azriel but he wasn’t there. Her feet padded on the wood floors as she peeked into the hall.

“Az?” she called for him, holding the oversized bath towel around her body. She stopped in front of the open doorway to one of the guest rooms that used to be Azriel’s bedroom. Now they all shared a bedroom. Azriel was standing on the balcony in the dark room. Bambi quietly walked over to him, “Are you okay?” she asks gently as she stands beside him. Azriel’s eyes immediately flicker down to her and the towel wrapped around her. 

“I’m fine,” he says, his wings bristling slightly as he catches a whiff of her natural scent, “You’re going to catch a chill,” Azriel murmurs, ushering her back into the bedroom and closing the balcony door behind them. 

“Why are you in here?” Becca asks, glancing around the dark bedroom. 

Azriel follows her gaze, “It holds fond memories. It brings me peace I suppose.” he says before looking back down at her with a grin, “Why are you in here? I thought you were taking a bath.”

“Because you’re in here,” she says with a soft smile.

Azriel hums in acknowledgement and his eyes slowly scanned her partially covered body from head to toe. “Do you know what my favorite memory of this room is?” he asks huskily.

“No,” Bambi mutters and Azriel takes a step closer to her, he leaned down until his nose brushed against the top of her head before trailing it down and inhaling deeply against her neck.

“It was when I fucked you for the first time,” he says with a low rumble in his chest, stepping even closer until their bodies were pressed firmly together and his breath was hot against her neck, “Right over there on that bed.” he mumbles, tilting his head just enough to glance at the four poster bed in the room, “My sheets smelled like you for days after. I wanted to drown in your scent.” His wings bristled slightly as he spoke. Bambi shivered slightly, not expecting him to be so blunt, “I still do, even after all this time.” he says breathily, nibbling on her neck slightly, “You smell so. Fucking. Good.” he sighs, emphasizing each word he spoke, “But you know what’s even better?” Azriel smirks.

“What?” Bambi whispers, almost forgetting how to form words for a moment.

“You smell like me now too,” Azriel purrs, nipping at her neck again but a little harder this time. “Because you're my mate. And right over there in that bed is where I made you mine.” Bambi’s eyes flutter closed and her hands absentmindedly lifted to grip his shirt. Azriel’s large hands gripped onto Bambi’s sides just above the flare of her hips, “You’re mine now, aren’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” Bambi hums with a nod and Azriel’s grip on her tightens.

“Mhm,” Azriel echoes with a grin as he begins to kiss and nip at her jawline, “You’re mine forever. Which means there’s always gonna be a bit of my scent on you. In your hair, on your clothes, on your neck…” Azriel mumbles against her skin, “In between your legs.” Bambi couldn’t help the shaky breath of air that left her from his words, her grip on his shirt tightening, “That’s my favorite place to leave my scent. And that’s where you smell the best too, baby.” he grumbles as he begins to place open mouthed kisses on her neck. 

“Az,” Bambi breathes, instinctively leaning closer to him. Azriel moans lowly at the sound of his name on her tongue and his grip on her grows near painful. 

“What baby? What do you need?” Azriel rumbles. Bambi could only whimper slightly, nuzzling her face against his chest, “My baby needs me, doesn’t she?” he asks and Bambi nods in response with another needy sound, “I know. I know you do, baby.” he murmurs as his hands sneak down to grip onto the underside of her thighs. He lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. Bambi couldn’t help but smile as he carried her over to the bed and laid her down. Azriel leaned over the bed, still remaining on his feet but bracing his hands on either side of her head as he loomed over her, “What’s the smile for, hm?” he asks with a grin, “You like being treated like a princess?” he teases, “You like being treated like your feet are too precious to touch the ground?” he smiles as he leans down to kiss her. The kiss was languid and unhurried, but their heavy breathing made it clear how much they desired each other. 

Azriel’s hand slipped down to teasingly tug on one of her toes, earning a yelp from Bambi and a chuckle from Azriel. He dipped his head down to suck a mark onto her neck as he gently massaged her foot. Azriel’s lips made their way down Bambi’s collarbone and to the swell of her breasts as his hands skimmed up her body until they rested on her thighs below where the towel sat on her body. His assault of kisses stopped as he bunched up the bottom of the towel to her belly button.

Azriel moaned unabashedly as her cunt came into view. His hand immediately moved, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Bambi moaned sweetly, her legs instinctively spreading wider, “That’s it,” Azriel encourages, “Let me see that pretty little pussy,” he murmurs, his breathing growing heavier as he looked back and forth between her face and where his thumb was busy between her thighs.

Unable to take it any longer, Azriel dropped to his knees between her spread thighs and licked up her cunt with a flattened tongue. His wings twitched rapidly, a physical representation of how turned on he got by tasting her. Azriel’s hands gripped Bambi’s thighs, tugging her further down the bed so her ass dangled off the end while he worked her cunt with his mouth. Azriel moaned in satisfaction, one of his arms sneaking beneath her lower back to lift her hips off the bed so her pussy was more level with his mouth. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes scanning over her intimate areas like one would admire a painting. 

Bambi looked down at him, her own breathing growing ragged. She wanted him to keep going, but she knew Azriel had a fascination with her cunt. He was borderline obsessed with it and often just stared at it when he had the chance. Bambi pouts with a slight wiggle and Azriel finally looks up at her face, “I know baby, I’ll take care of it,” he says as he begins his ministrations again with a groan. His hand that wasn’t against her back haphazardly reached up to tug the towel open all the way and he immediately groped and squeezed at her breasts. His fingers tweaked and pinched one of her nipples, enjoying Bambi’s gasps and slight jerk of her body against his mouth. As Bambi began to squirm too much his hand moved down to press against her pelvis so she stayed where he wanted her.

The sound of Bambi’s shaky whines and mewls spurred him on. Only when she tensed and came with a keening cry did his efforts gentle. He moaned contentedly, sucking on her clit as she spasmed and twitched while his hand rubbed her lower belly soothingly. As her legs fell limp on the bed he rose to his feet and tugged the towel out from under her and tossed it on the floor. Azriel began to strip off his clothes while Bambi basked in her afterglow. Her legs instinctively began to close but Azriel pushed them back open as he stripped off his last piece of clothing, “C’mere baby,” he mumbled as he settled behind her on the bed so he was spooning her. Azriel wrapped his arms around her and nudged one of her legs over his meaty thighs so he had better access to her.

“Guide me inside you sweetheart.” Azriel pants, holding her firmly against his chest. Bambi reaches down to position the head of his cock against her opening and Azriel rolls his hips to inch the head of his cock into her, “Mmh, fuck,” Azriel moans as he eased his cock into her. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck. Bambi whimpered and her leg slipped off of his, “Keep your leg there baby, you want Daddy to get nice and deep in this pussy don’t you?” he asks breathily against her ear and she nods, lifting her leg back over his, “Good girl,” Azriel encourages as he begins to rock her hips. He choked out a moan, holding onto her even tighter. 

Bambi’s eyes fluttered shut and her body melted against his with little moans and mewls. “That’s it, let me do all the work,” Azriel whispered into her ear. “You feel so good,” Azriel practically whimpered as he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. Bambi’s toes curled with a high pitched cry as he picked up speed.

Bambi nods mindlessly in agreement to his words, her head laying limp against the pillows while she begins to drool slightly onto the pillowcase. Azriel’s cock was hitting every special spot inside her and she didn’t think she could speak if she tried. Azriel’s hand snaked up to cup one of her breasts, using it as leverage as he snapped his hips with increasing urgency. His other hand gripped onto her thigh, lifting her leg higher so he could reach deeper inside her. 

“My perfect mate, my beautiful little girl,” Azriel mumbled and moaned praises into her ear, his thrusts unrelenting, “I love you so fucking much,” Azriel chokes out as her walls began to squeeze around him. Bambi blindly reached behind her to grip onto his hip, her other hand white knuckling the sheets. While keeping her leg lifted, Azriel reached down to rub her clit with his other hand, “C’mon angel, I can feel how close you are.” 

Bambi babbles nonsense slurred with moans, trying to rock her hips in time with his for even more friction. Azriel’s grip tightened on Bambi’s thigh as she neared her peak and began to squirm in his hold. His eyes rolled back with a shaky moan as Bambi came, her body convulsing as she cried out in ecstasy. Azriel’s forehead fell to the back of her head, his mouth falling open with ragged moans as he continued to fuck her through her high. He was near drooling as well as he came, his wings flaring slightly behind him. Azriel’s hand that was gripping her thigh quickly flew down to press against her lower belly as he buried himself to the hilt inside her, his hips jerking as he filled her with his cum. 

After a few moments of nothing but Azriel’s quiet moans and Bambi’s heavy breathing, she reached down to intertwine her fingers with his. Azriel held her hand tightly, his nose nuzzling against the back of her head as he remained inside her. He slipped his other arm beneath her neck to serve as a pillow for her and kept Bambi firmly against him.

“I would do anything for you,” Azriel murmurs in her ear. Bambi was nearly brought to tears from the sincerity in his voice, she could feel his love for her through the bond and it crashed over her like a wave. 

“I love you,” Bambi says with a slight tremor in her voice as she tilted her head to the side. Azriel nuzzled his nose against hers before pouring all of his love for her into a kiss. 

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[hopeswriting]

[Gifs description slightly expanded upon alt text: gifs of Amelia Pond and the Eleventh Doctor, from the TV show Doctor Who (2005). They’re in a baby’s room, with Amy being heavily pregnant.

She kneels next to Rory's ashes, slightly rocking herself, looking up at the Doctor. She says, "Save him. You save everyone, you always do. It's what you do."

"Not always," the Doctor says, standing and fidgeting with his fingers. A close-up on Amy's face shows her tearful eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her slight hopeful smile disappears, her face turning cold. "I'm sorry," the Doctor says, looking down, and the close-up on his face shows his regretful expression.

Amy turns scornful and accusing as his words sink in. She leans forwards, saying, "Then what... is the point of you?"

The Doctor looks down again, staying silent.

The camera goes back to a wide shot of Amy, showing her tenderly grasping onto Rory's ashes. The camera still does a close-up on the Doctor’s face, showing him mouth something as he makes to move forwards and closer to Amy, but hesitates to do so. /End GD]

This is the dream. Definitely this one. Now, if we die here, we wake up, yeah? (in bold) Unless we just die. (in plain text) Either way, this is my only chance of seeing him again. This is the dream. (in bold) How do you know? (in plain text) Because if this is real life, I don’t want it (”it” is italicized). I don’t want it.

[quimichi]

˚ ✦ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐃 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　. 　*　

WARNINGS: skin to skin contact, cuddling, it's all fluff but yk, pet names, light NSFW, I apologize if my view of these characters do not line up with yours or they may seem inaccurate, this is a mess btw, + lazy editing

SUMMARY: The love of their life/favorite person (you) graced them with love, affection and skin to skin contact...

CHARACTERS: Everyone x F!Creator Reader

WORD COUNT: 20.680

A/N: This was written before Natlan came out soo no Natlan characters yet. Also, the platonic parts are shorter. I unfortunately can't add more tags, they somehow stopped.

Aether

Aether is all too happy to spend his time with you on the cliffside; he leans against you, his head resting idly against your shoulder. Whenever he speaks, his breath would brush against your neck, tickling you gently. He is practically melting against you; he’s like a clingy cat, enjoying every second your warm skin touches his. "I've missed you," he says softly, lifting his head to gaze up at you with a dreamy smile.

You can't help but chuckle, "Understandable, you're barely by my side. You always end up traveling over Teyvat." Aether’s expression softens. He looks a little guilty when you bring up travelling, but his arms tighten around you, pulling his body a little closer.

”I know I’m always off adventuring…but I always come back to you. I always come back to you.” He pauses, and then he smiles a little wider. He seems cheeky when he adds: ”You do remember that, right?”

You pinch his cheek, such a brat sometimes. Aethers face scrunches up as you gently pinch his cheek. He looks disgruntled for a few moments, before he grins. His expression becomes warm and soft when he returns to the conversation. ”Well, as long as you remember,” he says with a smile. His gaze flits to the side for a moment, as he looks up at the sky; the sun is setting, casting warm light upon the landscape. He shivers.

”It’s getting cold.” he grins again, before he nestles himself comfortably against you. He wraps his arms around your midriff, trying to pull you closer.

”And you’re so warm,” he mutters, burying his face against you. He’s enjoying this more than a little...

Albedo

He can't help it. He wraps his arms around you, clinging to you almost desperately. He doesn't care how it looks or how utterly pathetic he seems as he clings to you. "Your Grace..." he mumbles, shifting further to bury his head against your collarbone. His hold on you has grown almost like an iron grip, as though he expects you to vanish the second he lets go.

He seems terrified, in a way, of the thought that this is merely an ephemeral dream. That he'll wake up and find himself by his shrine in the cold with only a lingering memory of your warm touch. He fears that any second, you would pull away and he would be left empty and wanting more. Like an addict deprived of their fix, he fears and craves for your touch with his whole heart. "Hmm?" a hum escapes you as you mindlessly stroke his hair. Albedo's body seems to loosen like liquid as you stroke his hair. He leans against you, almost desperately soaking up the affection like an addicted man.

"Your Grace..." he mumbles again, shivering as you run your hands through his silky strands. The action is so simple, and yet he seems to relish in the feeling. His arms are still around you, and they tighten again as you stroke his hair. After being deprived of affection for so long, he can't help but cling to you as though you'll slip away the second he lets go.

"Please don't... leave, ever"

Amber

She sighs softly as ahe curls against you, he back against your chest. The sound of the breeze gently blowing the blades of the windmill makes her smile faintly, as her eyes flutter shut. Luckily it's night, or the people of Mondstadt would go wild over the fact that you would be here. Amber seems at peace like this, and she can't resist nuzzling into your neck. Her expression is soft and she hums quietly along with the sound of the windmill, the gentle breeze making her hair stir from its position.

“Your Grace?” she calls quietly, lifting her head up just enough to meet your eyes. "Hmm?" Amber hesitates, for a moment, before asking his next question quietly. “You… you said you love me too, when I told you I love you. Do you-“ she pauses, her voice cracking, and she has to force out the next few syllables, “do you really mean it?”

"Of course I mean it." Amber lets her head fall backwards against your chest again, her expression softening. A mixture of emotions flicker across hwr face, a look of relief, but also disbelief that this is all real, that you truly love her.

“Say it again, please?”

"I love you."

"...thank you, so much."

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham has his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him close. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, every breath you take a gentle reminder of your presence. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that's so distinctly you. You feel his heart thudding against your back, but he seems otherwise still, holding you firmly and yet gently at the same time. Each breath he takes is shaky, as if he could shatter at any moment. His arms tighten around you, holding you so close that he's afraid he may be hurting you. But he can't help himself. You're here. You're in his arms, warm and close and alive.

He shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair. "Yours," he whispers quietly into your skin. "Hm? What?" you heard what he said, you just wanted him to say it again more clear. He feels your hum more than he hears it, the low rumble in your body reverberating through his own. Al-Haitham keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, his body moulding itself around you.

He lifts his head, whispering into your ear, "I said, 'yours.'"

Every fiber of his being belongs to you, and he feels the need to remind you.

"Yours, and mine" he whispers again, pulling you closer.

Arlecchino

Her arms are wrapped around your naked body, her exposed chest warm against your back. Her head rests atop yours, arms curling around your body to hold you closer. She can feel your hair against her skin, and she breathes in your scent. It's so familiar to her. So perfect.

She holds you like she's worried you'll be snatched away from her. Arlecchinos breathing is slow and measured, matching the steady rhythm of the crackling fireplace. Her chest rises and falls against your back, a constant reminder of her presence.

With you in hwr arms, she feels whole. She presses her nose to your head again, inhaling.

"That was nice..." you whisper, snuggling into her chest more and closing your eyes, enjoying the peace and quite. Arlecchino lets out a quiet laugh, her breath ruffling your hair.

"It was beautiful," she agrees. "You are beautiful." She reaches down and brushes her fingernails along your skin, the tips moving down your arm, tracing patterns against your skin.

"No, it was prefect, just like you." She corrects herself.

Ayaka

Ayaka can barely believe it.

She's in your bed, in your arms, pressed against the very body she's worshipped for so long. For a few moments, she's simply frozen as her mind struggles to catch up. Ayaka knows she should speak or do something, but the feeling of your body next to hers is a sensation so completely foreign, she's utterly speechless. All of this is new— the soft press of your curves against her back, your breath by her ear..."Your hair is so soft, 'yaka" you whisper against her ear. Ayaka feels her face flush at your words. Her hands involuntarily clutch at the sheets, pulling at them as she struggles to not react to your touch— except...she loves it. She loves it more than anything.

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep herself in control. She wants to give into you, lean back, let herself melt into you... but at the same time, she can't. She struggles to speak, managing to stutter out, "May I...turn around, please?"

You obviously give her permission. Ayaka lets out a soft breath, feeling it leave her lungs. At your affirmation, she turns around, finally facing you.

For a moment, Ayaka doesn't meet your eyes, she meets your lips. She's all too aware of how close you are to her, how her body presses against yours. She tries to still her heart, but the warmth of your skin burns through her clothes, leaving her senses overwhelmed.

"Your lips..."

Ayato - nah cause for some reason that's my fav??

He buries his face into your hair and sighs, his chest rising and falling against your back with the motion.

"You smell so sweet," he confesses. His nose brushes against the shell of your ear gently, as if afraid to break the spell. "Like you are heaven made flesh." You raise a skeptic eyebrow, "Heaven made flesh huh? The most accurate description I've heard all those millenia." "Heaven made flesh," he mumbles again, his arms pulling you in closer to him. His fingers dig into your sides, holding you tight.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils like a drug. "If my hands burn when they touch you, well," he says gently, "then it serves me right for having the arrogance to touch an angel." You roll your eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you have never burnt yourself by touching me" "Don't I?" He teases, laughing gently along with you. He brushes his lips against your neck, his breath coming out as a warm shiver against your skin.

"I may not be physically burnt, but I feel the heat all the same," he whispers. "I feel the heat when you laugh, when you speak, when I look at you. You're my own personal inferno." "And you are water, pure and fresh. If I'm an inferno, you will evaporate." you add. He laughs softly against your skin. "What a beautiful way to describe me. Water. Fresh. Pure."

He smiles, pulling back ever so slightly. The hand at your waist wanders to your chin, lifting it so that he can look you in the eyes.

"A waterfall doesn't evaporate when it brushes against fire," he says, blue eyes sparkling. "It extinguishes it." You blink, once, twice, until you deadpan. "So you wanna kill me?" Ayato scoffs, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair once more.

"Of course not," he answers, his tone indignant. "I don't wish to kill you. I wish to drown you."

He chuckles at his own words, the sound full and rich against your ear.

"Together we boil?" You ask

"Together we boil."

Baizhu

Changsheng, the white-scaled serpent, rests herself in a loose coil around Baizhu's neck, draped across his broad shoulders. She lifts her head and flicks her tongue out, glancing at you with her slitted eye before settling back into her nap.

As for Baizhu himself, he remains tense and stock-still at your side. He is utterly stiff, as if afraid that if he moved, he would somehow lose your touch. "You should relax and take a rest. You've been working too hard lately." Changsheng nods, "You tell this idiot." Baizhu blinks as if he's trying to process your words. To suggest that he rests, especially in your presence, seems... almost disrespectful. But after a glance at your face, he swallows his protest, opting to give a small nod at your suggestion.

"As you wish," he replies after a moment's hesitation. He almost looks ashamed; almost as if not working and devoting his entire being to you at all moments is failing you. Baizhu remains silent as you run soft fingers through his hair. He seems almost afraid to move, to breathe, to break some unspoken rule regarding his position as your humble worshiper.

His eyes flutter shut as you idly toy with his hair, threading your fingers through the green locks and gently tugging. Even the small gesture is enough to almost send him to another world. He takes a careful, deliberate inhale, savoring the scent of your presence.

"Realxing can be nice", at this point he's already half asleep when he said that. But one is for sure fully awake now, "Been saying that since forever, but you never listen!" "Shh Changsheng."

Barbara - aged up

She is cuddling you so close she's practically molded to you, with her breathing and the beating of her heart syncing up to match your rhythm.

She nuzzles her head against yours, burying herself against you and breathing deep with an almost desperate need. It's as though she can't get enough of you, and as if you're the air she needs to breathe. "I… I love you," she murmurs, like a prayer. "Never leave me." With every word she says, Barbara holds you even closer to her. She craves your presence, your touch, and your words more than anything else in the world.

With each gentle whisper of 'never leave me,' she grips you tighter in her arms, burying herself against you like she wants to become one with your very being.

"You're everything," she whispers. "I want to be with you forever."

"Babs? Sing me a song, hm? The one I like so much, please." you ask of her as you let your finger run over her cheek. She nods, her breath leaving her in one soft, sharp exhale that sounds like a sigh. "Anything for you," she says fervently.

Barbara takes a moment, before she begins to sing a soft, beautiful song. Her voice is like the moon on a clear night, like the first flowers blooming after winter.

The song she sings is one of devotion and adoration, its lyrics promising the moon, the stars, and everything in between, but only if it meant she could spend an eternity with you.

Beidou

She had her head leaning comfortably against your side, one of her muscular arms curled around your waist. Her eyes were fixated on the sky, taking in the constellations. To her, there was nothing more beautiful than the celestial bodies scattered across the night sky. She lets out a dreamy sigh, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze on her face.

"You know, I used to dream about the stars," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "And what did you dream about?" You ask, genuinely interested. She usually never talk so dreamy like this. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still fixed on the stars above. Her arm tightens around your waist for a moment as she ponders over your question. Then, she answers in her usual low whisper.

"I used to dream about sailing the stars one day," she confesses. Her voice is soft and slightly wistful. She's clearly still imagining the dream she used to have. "I'd sail through the cosmos, visiting all the planets out there. I wanted— no, I needed—"

Her voice is quivering slightly. She seems embarrassed. "Hm?" Beidou hesitates for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. Then, in a slightly shaky voice, she continues.

"I wanted to find someone special out there, someone to be my light in the universe. Someone to shine above the stars themselves...But I think I already found it."

"Yeah, I think I did too."

Bennett - aged up

Bennett all but melts within your arms. He's practically boneless on the bed; like a puddle, he fits perfectly into your embrace, like a missing puzzle piece into the gaps within you. He's clingy, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pressing himself against you as much as he can, wanting to feel you; to be with you.

His chest still aches from the wound he had received, but your presence alone is enough distraction. "I'm sorry for my...bad luck."

You look down at him, stroking his hair, "You can borrow my luck for tomorrow." Bennett looks up from your lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he considers your words. "Your luck?" he asks, his voice laced thick with surprise; he's never heard of someone sharing their luck before. Bennett's mind races as he considers this.

"I-I could borrow your luck, your Grace?" he murmurs, as if he's afraid of offending you. You can't help but hold back a giggle, how cute he is sometimes. "Always, everyday. Just promise me you take care. Maybe it'll balance your bad luck out a bit." Bennett inhales— his breath shaky. He doesn't understand why you're being so kind to a lowly creature like him, but you're giving him your luck, of all things. You're sharing your luck.

He knows that the chances of him getting hurt tomorrow are exponentially smaller now, but he can't help but worry— the fact you're giving him something as personal as your luck is overwhelming enough, and he's unsure how to respond.

"...Thank you," he whispers reverently. "Thank you so much...my love."

Capitano - shiny daddy in the house omg

Capitano continues to run his fingers through your hair, his fingers gentle and soft as if he was afraid that he would accidentally pull on a strand of your hair if he wasn't careful.

There's an almost reverent sense to his touch, as if he was a devoted priest and you the god he worships. His cold, gold gaze seems to hold a strange gentleness to it, and there's an almost tender look in his eyes that is unusual for the stoic war crazy man. (Lol)

"You seem relaxed...Cap." a teasing smile creeping on your face at the name. "Mm," Capitano hums in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

"Your presence is... calming," he admits. His voice is deep and rich, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love than mere words. "It... brings me peace."

As though he was a loyal dog, he seeks your touch as he pulls you closer; shifting so that your body is almost laying on his. "I'm glad."

"Mm," Capitano's response this time is almost a low rumble. He closes his eyes, letting them shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. His arms wrap around you, almost pulling you over his body. If you listen closely, you can hear his breathing start to grow more relaxed, almost like a low, quiet purr.

It almost seems as if he's trying to keep you close, as though you might disappear at any moment. "Hmpf...maybe I'm going a bit too soft."

"Damn since when do you talk so much?"

"Hmpf."

Candace (ik the color is off, i accidentally deleted the name sooo yeah sry for my lazy fix)

While youe gaze is fixed upon her village, hers is fixed on you. She swallows, trying to force herself to keep calm. It's hard, with the way her heart seems to leap in her chest at your sheer closeness. The way the scent of your skin drifts to her nose, causing her breath to catch. Her mind is filled with thoughts she would never dare to speak aloud.

"Beautiful," she murmurs under her breath. Her eyes dart back to you, tracing up and down your form. She can't tear her gaze away from your face, completely caught in your spell.

"The village...or me?" Candace's breath catches in her throat as she hears your words. The teasing tone you speak with, knowing full well the effect it had on her. "Ah... I meant the village, Your Grace," she manages to stutter out, her voice breathless, a little hoarse.

She swallows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But you-" she takes a deep breath before she speaks, "you are far more alluring by far." Her eyes do not leave your form.

"I can only hope that my girlfriend finds me alluring." Candace flushes pink. "Of course," she can't help the way her gaze rakes up and down your form again, following each contour. Her mind races with thoughts. Of her hands tracing each curve, of her fingers trailing over your exposed skin...

Candace swallows, trying to control herself. She tries to force her eyes to look elsewhere, but they stubbornly refuse, glued to your figure.

"And I hope that you love me as much as I love you...my grace."

Charlotte

Charlotte’s expression is utterly blissed as she hugs you close to her chest, her arms wound tightly around your torso. The girl buries her face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your hair, and sighs contentedly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, instead choosing to relish and commit everything to memory; the warmth of your body against hers, you holding her close. "How was your latest article?" Your words came out more muffled than youd like to admit, due to her chest all around your face. Charlotte huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling gently against your ear. She strokes your hair idly, the other hand tracing up and down your spine slowly.

"Hmm, it went well. Though that's not very surprising,” she says with a smirk. “I could have written about a rock and still gotten a raise; my editor is a hopeless simp, and has a massive crush on me.” Charlotte pulls back, her expression slightly amused. “I could flirt with him and write a shitty article, and he’d still be head-over-heels for me. Hell, the entire company wants me. I’m very charming like that,” she says smugly. "Don't let it go to your head." You warn her. “Oh, why not? I’m just stating facts.” Charlotte says, feigning an air of innocence. “I mean, who can resist me?” she laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Just joking." She says more calmly, "I love my job, I love Fontaine and I love you....and maybe I love fooling around with you a bit."

"Oh yeah you definitely do."

Chevreuse

Chevreuse's head rests on your lap, your fingers woven in her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breaths slowly. Her mind is still working, still worrying over the case that has her so torn, and your fingers running over her scalp do little to help.

"It's hopeless..." she murmurs, her voice soft in the comfortable silence that has fallen over the room. "I don't know what I'll tell them when I finally have to admit this..." Her eyes are closed now, and her voice has grown quieter with each passing moment. The words leave her as if they're barely formed in her mind; you can hear the exhaustion that clings to her every syllable.

"I'm not any closer to finding them now than I was two months ago," she says bitterly. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything else. There's no need; you can feel the anger bubbling up behind her sharp inhale.

"You'll find them, I know you will." "How do you know?" she snaps back. In spite of the short tone, though, her voice is lacking the harshness it normally has. Chevreuse is always like this when she's tired. Frustration, fear, pain-- it all comes out as anger. She buries her face against you, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Because no one is as good as you." you let your fingers run through her messy hair. "Stop complimenting me."

The words sound like an order, but there's no sharpness to her tone. No command, no firmness. It sounds more like a plea, a cry for help she won't say out loud.

"I can't think straight when you do that."

Childe

Childe is wrapped around you, clinging to you like a shadow, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He’s nuzzling your skin, pressing gentle kisses and murmuring against your ear. One arm is thrown around your waist, holding you tight.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You’re all mine. My darling, my angel…”

You chuckle lightly, "Someone's possessive today." Childe nips your shoulder at your words, smiling against your skin. He shifts slightly, pressing himself even closer to you.

“Mm. Damn right, I am. No one can have you but me.” His hand runs up your side, drawing senseless patterns as he traces your curves. “You’re mine,” he repeats again, his voice hoarse. “All mine. No one gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. No one is ever getting to put their hands on you like I do, no one gets to hear you make those pretty sounds for them—”

His hand tightens around your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. "Childe-!" Childe laughs a little when you warn him, though he does loosen his grip on you. “What?” he asks, his hand still roaming across your body, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“You don’t want me to mark you all over? Claim you for my own?” He pushes his luck and continues kissing your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of little love marks over your skin. “How could I let anyone else see you like this, hm?” he murmurs. “You look so pretty, all breathless and flushed under me. No one else gets to see you looking so nice and needy. But most importantly..."

"Hm?"

"No one gets the love from you like I do."

Chongyun - aged up

Chongyun relaxes against you. His head is leaned against your shoulder and his eyes are closed. The proximity to you is comfort and ecstasy in equal measures. He takes a deep breath as he takes in your scent, savouring it, relishing the fact that the two of you are so close.

"Can I ask a question?" His eyes are still closed; he's comfortable, but he wants something answered. "Hm?" You humm. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question. "If it wouldn't offend you," he begins, his voice a little tentative, "I wanted to ask if…. I could call you something."

"Call me what?" You have patience, for him you always do. His face flushes a little pink. Suddenly, he can't look you in the eye, he instead stares at your shoulder as he tries to speak.*

"Well, like…" he pauses. "Like a term of endearment. Can I call you something like 'my love', for example?"

You laugh lightly, damn he's cute. "Of course you can." Chongyun's face reddens further, but it's out of flustered embarrassment, rather than anything else. A quiet sense of relief washes over him, and he relaxes, fully resting his head against your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"My love," he says softly, testing the words on his tongue. It feels right; more than right, it feels perfect. It feels like the universe aligning. Finally.

"My love…"

Clorinde

Clorinde is curled up against you, pressed as close to you as is physically possible. Even now, it does not feel close enough. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A contented hum bubbles up from her throat, a soft, low sound of approval. The perfume you gave her lingers in her hair, on her skin.

She savours the feeling. Savours the fact it is YOU who gave it to her.

"I thought something subtle is to your liking. It's a special made perfume just for you, dear." "Mm." Clorinde nods softly, shifting a bit. She adjusts herself in your arms, her cheek resting against your chest, ear laid atop your heartbeat. It's steady and soothing; she could easily fall asleep to the sound.

"Like an aphrodisiac." She mutters, the words mumbled against your skin. "No doubt it would drive anyone insane." She lifts a hand, gently running it down your arm, down to your wrist. Her fingertips brush along your skin, a barely-there touch that makes her want to drown in your embrace.

"You've already poisoned me. I'm utterly at your mercy."

It's a half-joke, but the words hold more truth than Clorinde can even begin to express. "Ooor you're just incredibly tired and talk some nonsense." Clorinde lets out a half-laugh, half-groan. "I'm tired, yes, but…"

She pauses momentarily, burying her face into your shoulder. Her hair tickles your chin.

"It's still true. I'm weak against you," she murmurs. "I don't know how you do it. You could do anything you wanted to me. I'd let you," she admits, her voice a quiet whisper. She lifts her head enough to look up at you. In this angle, she looks almost delicate, the sharp corners of her face blurred and softened.

"There is no one else I'd let ruin me," she says softly, a smirk gracing her lips.

"No one else who could even come close. I'm a good fighter after all."

Collei - aged up

As you hold Collei close, you can feel the way she relaxes, almost melting against you, her small stature so slight and fragile. She presses her face against your chest, savoring your warmth and comfort. Collei’s soft breath is against your skin, a steady and reassuring presence, like the beating of a bird’s wing.

She takes a shaky breath, her words barely a whisper in the soft silence of the room.

"Please don’t let go.”

"Is the academia exhausting you?" You carefully ask. Collei nuzzles against your chest, her voice a weary whisper. "It is," she admits, her words coming out in a resigned sigh. "It's always too much. Too much to learn, too much to remember, too much to do."

She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts, her breath trembling against your skin. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel so tired." She buries herself against you, trying to draw comfort from your presence. Her weary body is tense, coiled like a spring about to release.

"I don't know if I can keep it up," she confesses, her voice small and vulnerable. She clings to you as if you are the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of her fears. "I want to... But it’s hard."

"I believe in you."

Your words feel like a soothing balm to Collei's weary heart. A shaky breath leaves her, as if a burden has suddenly lifted from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. Her slender arms tighten around you, her frame almost trembling with the effort she puts into holding herself together.

"I... I really needed to hear that tonight."

Columbina

Columbina sighs contentedly, wrapped up in your embrace. The sound of her soft voice hums through the air, the melody light as the touch of a summer breeze. She nuzzles up against you as she hums, her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the soft puffs of her breath warm against your body. For this moment, her body loosens, her muscles loosening into a soft pile of flesh against yours. For once she does not wear her usual eye cover.

After a few moments, Columbina speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Did you know," she murmurs against the soft skin of your throat.

Her lips brush your skin with every word. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues speaking as she presses herself even closer to you. The hand she rests against your hip pulls you gently against her.

"That there is nobody else I adore more than you?"

She lets out a soft moan when she feels you pull her closer, her breath warm and soft against your skin. She keeps her eyes closed. One arm wraps around your waist, her hand resting against you. It slides against your form, drawing itself up your side. Her breathing is still steady, but her heart feels as if it is pounding against her ribs.

"You're the only one I love," she murmurs, her words more a breath than a sound, "and if anyone ever dares to come near you..."

"...I'll fucking kill them."

Cyno

Cyno's arms are around you, his body pressed against yours. He's enjoying the warmth of your embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck. He smells faintly of fresh rain and smoke, an interesting mixture.

"I don't know how you can tolerate me," he murmurs softly into your skin. He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzling into your warmth.

"Meh, you're alright. Not THAT bad."

"Mm, yeah, only 'not THAT bad'," he says with a hint of a sarcastic tone, but his voice is soft, and there's a smile in his words. One of his hands begins to slowly trace circles on your skin, his touch gentle, almost reverent. His grip on you tightens imperceptibly as he cuddles closer. Cyno leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply— enjoying the way you feel, the way you smell. He's quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his tension seems to evaporate.

"No one else would put up with me," he admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his words, "No one else would love me. Only you, always you." He hums against your skin, his lips moving down to your neck. Every breath that leaves his mouth feels like a prayer. Against your flesh he mouths, 'you are my world.' against your collarbone he mutters, 'I adore you.' and against the hollow of your throat he says, 'I don't need anything else but you.' A shiver rolls through his frame, his body writhing against yours. A low, shuddering moan slips past his lips and into your ear, his arms tightening against you.

"I love you," he practically pants against your skin, his voice broken and ragged.

"I love you so much."

Dainsleif

Dainsleif holds you close, against his chest.

His arms wrap around you carefully, like he was handling a piece of fine china. One of his hands idly plays with your hair as he simply savors the feeling of you in his arms. After a few moments of quiet, he lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.

"You are so… warm," he murmurs quietly, like he was talking to himself. "Not just your skin. All of you," he says as he tightens his arms around you for a moment.

"And you're always so cold." you state. Dainsleif laughs quietly, a sound low in his throat. "Are you saying I should borrow your heat, then?" He teases, even as he tucks his head down, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

"I don't mind the cold too much," he says against your hair, but it still sounds like he's trying to convince himself, too. "Cause you're used to it."

A breathless huff of a laugh escapes Dainsleif, and he pulls you a little closer to him, as though trying to soak up every bit of warmth you're giving.

"I am. But some days I…"

He stops, his voice dying away for a moment. His hold around you tightens. "Some days it's like my very blood is freezing. It feels like I've forgotten what warmth truly feels like," he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder.

"Then I always come back to you, to be reminded of how warm your love truly is."

Dehya

She melts against you, her body soft and malleable, like clay in your hands. She buries her head into your chest, curling up like a cat in a sunbeam, nuzzling her cheek against you. She is warm and cozy, content to stay in your embrace until you decide to let her go. She mumbles something under her breath, the words a barely-comprehensible murmur against your skin.

“Never thought I'd be the little spoon...”

"You like it?" you ask with a smirk, you know she does. Dehya lets out a soft huff, her breath warm against your skin. She tucks herself a little closer, burying her face against your collarbone.

“Mhmm,” she hums, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “lts not that bad...”

Dehya is a clingy little thing tonight. While she is usually a little more stoic, a little more confident, right now all she wants is to be held. She clings to you like a limpet, not wanting to let you go.

She has her arms wrapped around you, fingers gripping your back through your shirt, as if afraid that if she lets go you’ll slip through her grasp like water through a sieve. She buries her face against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your skin. Her lips, soft as flower petals, linger against the crook in your collarbone before slowly drifting upwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up towards your jaw, and then your ear.

"Love you," she murmurs again, her voice softer than before, quieter, like a secret only you're privy to.

"Love you too."

Diluc

Diluc feels calm as you lay against his chest. He drinks in the weight of you against him like warm water, savoring how it feels. His thoughts are fuzzy, drifting through his mind like fireflies by a riverbank. His hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.

"We could just stay here, forever," he murmurs, his voice low and lazy. He looks over you, taking in the way your features are softened by the low light. You look perfect like this. He could watch you for hours.

"The outside world, the people in it, they're so complicated. But when it's just us…"

His hand continues tracing patterns on your skin, fingers dipping under the fabric of your shirt and caressing the bare flesh beneath.

"Hm?" "It's simple."

Diluc's voice is a low rumble, a gentle purr. He continues running his fingers over your skin, tracing every contour, every line, like he is trying to commit it to memory.

"When it's just us, it's simple."

He lets out a shallow exhale as if sighing with contentment, before he goes on. "No politics. No expectations. No duty. Just... just us."

His gaze drifts from you to the view outside. The night sky is dark, though the stars are visible, their light falling upon your body, making it almost glow.

Diluc swallows, his hand unconsciously grasping at your shirt as he stares quietly at the night, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts that can only be quieted by you.

"Let's just stay here and never look back..."

Diona - platonic

Diona snuggles against you, burying her face into your chest. She's like a clingy, fluffy and oversized kitten who is only happy when being held.

"Can we stay like this forever?" She mumbles against your shirt, her voice muffled. You let out a laugh, "You wanna cuddle me forever?" Diona nods silently, her messy hair bobbing as she moves. "I do," she confirms quietly, shifting to press closer against you. "You're warm and comfortable. I want to stay like this forever. And you make a good bed." Diona nuzzles her head against your neck, lazily resting her head. Her twitching ears tickling your skin.

"Besides," she murmurs, her voice taking on a more playful tone, "It's not like I have anything better to do. You're a good...how do you say it? Time killer."

Her voice takes on a more needy tone as she continues.

"And besides,...again" she adds, nuzzling her head against your chest again. "You're so soft. It's so warm here. Why wouldn't I want to stay snuggled up like this for ever and ever with my favorite person?"

Dottore

You can't help but worry, sitting in his lap in his laboratory. "What if someo-" Dottore shushes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you there, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Let them come." His voice is playful, his grip possessive as he pulls you even more firmly against his chest. "I want them to see you in my arms. I want them to see who you belong to."

You snort, "Me? Belonging to you?" "You belong to me." He repeats, as if the words hold truth more powerful than any other. His hand lifts, cupping your chin.

"You belong to me," he says again, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Body…" he presses once, slowly, then begins to trace the outside of your mouth. "Soul. Everything." The more that Dottore's touch brushes over you, the deeper his expression grows.

"When I hold you like this…"

His fingers trail down your jaw, over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.

"When I have you against me…"

He leans in, breath hot against your ear.

"When I touch you…"

"You're mine."

The gentle movement of Dottores hand turns rough, suddenly. His fingers tighten on your jaw and angle your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes are dark, hungry. His cheeks are flushed.

"I hate the thought of someone else looking at you," he whispers. "Of someone else touching you. You're my god."

Dori - platonic

Dori's mind is racing. She is completely starstruck in your presence. The sight of you makes her feel dizzy. Her palms are sweaty, legs feeling weak like jelly.

"Oh..." She looks at you, her eyes staring wide, like the waters of a summer lake.

"You're... you're so pretty," she says quietly. Her words are barely a whisper. "LIKE MORA-!" "Like mora?!" Dori is trying so hard to play things cool, but she thinks you are the epitome of beauty. "Uh... Yeah." She tries to sound nonchalant, but she's completely failing.

"So...?" She tries to feign annoyance, but her heart is still hammering in her chest. "What do you want? Wanna fight?" 

"You're cute, Dori." "I-I'm not cute," she protests, feeling the heat under her face become warmer with embarrassment. "I'm cool. And... super tough....super rich."

She drops her face against your shoulder, "thank you..."

Eula

She sits quietly in your lap, head against your chest, plush thighs around you. Her eyelids flutter slowly, the last bits of tension in her body slowly ebbing as she enjoys the closeness. There is a faint smile on her face. Being in your arms is a treasure she will never tire of, no matter how much she pretends such things annoy her. You are her light, her anchor, her everything. Her own quiet corner in an otherwise chaotic world.

"Not bad, huh? Taking a rest?" "Mhm." Eula replies sleepily, leaning more of her weight into your touch.

"You make a good pillow." She teases, though the words are said in a completely serious tone. She stretches her arms behind her, arching her back in a way that makes her lean even more away from you.

"But, if I recall correctly," she mumbles. "We're supposed to be training. Didn't you want to… what was it…see me in action?" Her eyes are half-lidded, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Or was that just an excuse to lure me into your arms?" She teases, shifting in your lap to get comfortable.

"Though I won't complain about being close like this, either…" She drapes one arm over your shoulder.

"I suppose you could just keep me here all day and call it a training session"

NEW ADDED: Èmilie

"You've been working harder lately..." Your fingers run through her short hair, "But you still smell amazing." Émilie blushes a little at your praise, melting into your embrace. She buries her face in your chest, as if to hide her embarrassment. Her arms are wrapped around you, slender fingers tracing idle shapes against your back.

"I… I suppose I have been working a little more lately," she agrees quietly. "There's been a lot to do...so many orders...requests" She nuzzles against your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in your scent. She sighs softly; you always smell so good to her. It's better than any perfume she could ever make.

"I've missed this," she confesses shyly, almost sheepish. "Being with you..." Émilie tilts her head so her chin is resting on your shoulder, your chests pressed closely together. She's warm, softer than any pillow, with skin like liquid moonlight. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

"I love you," she whispers, voice as fragile as thin ice, as though she dares not say the words any louder. With just a little maneuvering, Emilie rearranges herself so she's now straddling you, her body perfectly settled in your lap.

"Can we… stay like this, for a while?" she asks, not opening her eyes, keeping her face pressed close against your body. "Please?"

"For as long as you please."

Faruzan

Faruzan rests her head against your chest, curling up against you like a cat. This is her favourite position. She can listen to your heartbeat, feel your breath with every rise and fall of your chest. She is content here. Your presence soothes her. She loves feeling small, wrapped up in your arms like this. Faruzan lets out a sigh, nuzzling her head against you and pressing her ear to your chest. She can hear the beat of your heart. It's slow and steady. A comforting sound, as familiar as the tides or the stars in the sky.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Her voice is quiet, just a breath against your skin.

"For as long as you want." Faruzan hums, then she pulls herself closer to you, draping one slender leg across your hips. Her arms find their way around your waist, holding tight, as if afraid to let go even for a moment.

She sighs again, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of you.  "Forever," she whispers.

"That's a long time." "Not long enough," she mumbles against you.

"I could stay like this until the sun burns out, and still want more."

Fischl - aged up

Fischl is cuddled up in your arms, her head resting on your chest. Her blonde hair is spilling out across you and she's holding her body close to yours. She's so soft in your arms, warm like a furnace, and for her this is the greatest comfort she could ever have.

"Your skin…" She mutters. "You feel so lovely. You feel like… like…" She doesn't know how to describe the feeling, it makes her eyes flutter closed in bliss. Fischl’s hands reach out, tracing over your skin with a delicacy that defies description.

“I have never felt anything so…" Her sentence trails off, voice dying in her throat like a bird in the morning air. Her skin pebbles as your flesh brushes against her, each touch as if a piece of the divine.

"Is this a sin?" She whispers, the first of the words spoken in a long while. Her fingers hesitate on your chest, trembling. "What is a sin?" "This," she murmurs.

She can feel the heat of your body, the way your limbs press against hers, the way your skin feels like summer sun. It's so overwhelming, the sensations flooding her mind. Her hands move against your skin, tracing over your stomach, your chest, your arms— she can't keep her fingers still.

"Touching you, like this. Being close to you, like this. Is this sacrilege?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little? Even a hint of blasphemy is acceptable?"

Her head rests against your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She doesn’t know if your answer is correct or not, but the mere thought that this is acceptable— it is enough to make her heart soar in her chest.

“This feels…” her body presses even closer to yours, arms wrapping tighter around your frame.

“This feels divine. If sin is this sweet…”

Freminet

"Todays dive...was it good?" He lets out a soft hum of affirmation as he nestles closer into your embrace, his muscles relaxing in your presence.

"It was…" He murmurs. "It was good. Peaceful. I was just… thinking."

He closes his eyes and lays his head against your chest, sighing contentedly. The sound that escapes his lips is warm, soft like the caress of skin against skin.

"Thinking?" Freminet nods, though the motion is lazy and halfhearted. He can hardly be bothered to move when he's in your embrace. When he's safe.

"Just thinking…" He mutters again.

He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze rising to look up at you. A brief pause, as if he's deciding on what to say, then: "...about you." He shifts against you slightly, resting his ear against your chest and closing his eyes again. Your warmth makes him feel so relaxed, so safe. It's a strange feeling, being vulnerable. But for you, he'll risk it any time.

He's silent for another moment, just enjoying your presence and the sound of your breathing. Then, gently: "... can I tell you something?"

"Hm?" He takes a slow, shaky breath, like he's gathering the words in his mouth before he lets them escape. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"I…"

He hesitates, and his gaze lowers as his face warms. How does he voice this? How can he articulate the feelings in his heart into coherent sentences?

"I think... I may... be in love with you."

Furina

The question is unnecessary, stupid, but you can't help but ask again, "Did you have maccaroni again today?" Furinas eyes flutter, and she lets out a soft breath.

“Perhaps…” She whispers, burying her face into your chest. “How did you know?” "Cause you have it everyday." “Can you blame me?” She mutters back, her voice slightly muffled by the position she places herself in. She pulls herself a little closer. “It’s my favourite.”

"...Fair enough." “Hey… I’m not that predictable, am I?” Furina murmurs, her voice now more like a pout than a whisper. She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes full of faux-hurt. Nothing, no answer. You just look at her, that's answer enough. Furina lets out a sigh and buries herself back into your chest, hiding her face— no longer pouting, but definitely still annoyed.

“…You still like me, though… right?” She mumbles. "Yes." The words cause Furina to shiver— that soft, shuddering shudder that rocks her body everytime you praise her. She lets out a shaky breath.

“And you’re not… tired of the macaroni? Or… of me?”

"No."

"....good."

Ga Ming - aged up

He is in your arms, cuddled against your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He lets out a small whimper now and then, a response to the sharp bursts of pain from the newly-scraped spot on his hand. But mostly, he’s quiet. His expression is one of pure bliss, face completely relaxed as he simply lets you hold him.

"You should be more careful..." “I know,” he murmurs, eyes closed in contentment. He can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, warm skin pressed against your skin.

“But I’m also clumsy,” he laughs, a small half-smile curling his lips. “I’m not good at being careful.” His lips brush against your collarbone as he speaks, each word a puff of warm breath. He buries his face into your neck. The touch of your skin is soothing, like honey on inflamed skin.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” His words take on a hint of pleading — a small note of worry. Gaming hates disappointing you.

"No, never." You reassur him. His shoulders relax a little, the taut line of his spine beginning to bend. “Good,” he mutters softly. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. The gesture is affectionate, full of gentle tenderness. "I could never be mad at you." “I know,” Gaming breathes, his voice soft as a summer breeze. He moves a hand, slowly trailing his fingers across your arm — an aimless, gentle movement — while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continues, a hint of sadness in his words, “I’m clumsy sometimes, and… and I scrape my body up like an idiot...but hey you always patch me up!"

Ganyu

Ganyu nuzzles into your touch, her head resting against the crook of your shoulder, her horns brushing against your skin. She lets out a content hum and relaxes against you, a quiet sigh passing her lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, a sleepy look on her face.

"Mm..."

She seems comfortable, her form loose and lax against you. It is rare to see her like this—unguarded, vulnerable, soft. "This is nice," she mumbles quietly.

Ganyu pulls herself a little closer, her head resting against the hollow of your shoulder. For a moment, she is silent, then she speaks again.

"Can we stay like this?" Her question is soft, the words whispered.

"Mhm, of course." Ganyu's eyes flutter closed almost immediately, shutting against the outside world so only you can be seen. Her breaths become slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest steady and even.

She's comfortable with you, relaxed in your presence. You can hear her heart beating in the silence, a soft thump-thump that sounds just a little faster than usual. After a moment, one of Ganyu's eyes open, just a crack. She looks up at you, watching through her half-lidded gaze.

"You won't go, will you?" She whispers, voice still heavy and slow with approaching sleep.

"No." "You promise?"

For a brief moment, Ganyu's arm tightens its grip on you, her hand clenching a little more firmly against your shirt. She wants you close.

"I promise."

Gorou

"Tiring day?" "Yes..." Gorou closes his eyes as you hold him, shifting closer until he can lay his head against your chest.

Today had been tiring, and he'd longed for your presence since the moment he woke up. The ache in his chest is soothed by being in your arms. For the first time in hours, Gorou finds himself completely at peace. Gorou feels your fingers gently run through his hair, and his tail can't help but betray him. His ears twitch as it starts to speed up, tail wagging against you as your fingertips move against his scalp in a soothing rhythm.

Your touch is all he's longed to feel since he woke up, and now that he's got it, he's never letting it go. Gorou lets out a quiet sound as you continue running your fingers over his head, a sound that's somewhere between a hum of content and a whimper. It's a vulnerable sound, one that's not usually so easily coaxed out of the stern, stoic general.

"Please..." he says quietly, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. "Don't stop..." Gorou's tail thumps against the mattress once more, almost like a reflex. He buries his face into your shoulder as you coo the words "good boy."

Being praised by you is, without a doubt, his favorite thing. It feels so good to hear your voice say the words so warmly, like it's some treasured treat for him and only him.

"Your good boy..."

Hu Tao

Hu Tao is resting her head against your chest, snuggled up against you like a cat. She's enjoying the feeling of being in your arms, of being close to you in a snug, private place such as a coffin. "I could get used to this," she says, a hint of teasing in her tone. "I wonder how you'd react if I just decided to live in here from now on?" Her voice is light, casual. She's amused by the idea, enjoying the mental image of spending more time like this— resting against you in a small, confined space, like a pair of lovers trapped in an eternal embrace.

"Imagine, every time you open the coffin, there I am. No warning. I just move in and make myself at home." Hu Tao chuckles softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms.

"...ehhh no thank you." Hu Tao pouts at your response, her expression theatrical and deliberately over-the-top.

"Oh, come on. It'd be fun!" She protests. "Just think of how surprised you'd be every day. You'd never know if I was going to pop out and say hi."

She grins mischievously. "And think of all the extra cuddles we could have in such a cramped little space. Isn't that worth something?" She bats her eyelashes at you, a picture-perfect image of innocence and coyness that belies the mischief in her eyes.

"And just imagine how shocked the others would be if they found out I was living here too! Can you picture Zhongli just stumbling upon me sleeping in here?" She chuckles at the mental image. "He'd probably go into cardiac arrest before I even opened my eyes!His poor old heart really wouldn't be able to take it. But just think of how entertaining it'd be to see him flustered like that."

She sighs, her mischievous smile softening into a more sincere expression. "Although, I suppose I can see the appeal of a big, fancy palace... Especially if it means you'll let me snuggle up against you like this whenever I want."

Jean

A soft sigh leaves Jean's mouth, her shoulders relaxing instantly as she sinks into your embrace. She buries her face against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. Her eyes flutter closed, blue pupils disappearing like sapphires beneath a sea.

She feels like she can finally breathe for the first time in forever like this— safe in your arms, cradled against your chest. For once, the world beyond the two of you doesn't exist— nor does it matter.

"Long week, huh?" Jean lets out a sigh, the sound drawn from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes and nods, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder again.

Her words are soft, muffled by her face being pressed flush against your body. "Long days, long nights... so much paperwork, and I still haven't gotten through all of it." She pulls you a little closer, as if needing something to hold onto. Exhaustion seeps into her voice, even as it remains quiet and soothing.

"But... it's better now. This — you."

Jean tilts her head, her face buried against the crook of your neck. Her words brush against your skin like feathers, every exhale a small caress.

"Being with you always makes it better."

Heizou

"Did you solve the case yet?" You carefully ask. Heizou groans, lifting his head from your shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and ruffled from laying on the grass.

"I might as well be asking a rock if it's solved the case," he mutters, flopping back down against you, arms sliding around your waist. His head drops against your shoulder again, and Heizou nuzzles against your neck. "I'm getting nowhere with this damn case." Heizou sighs, his breath hot against your skin. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your shoulder again, burying himself in your touch.

"Everyone involved seems to be lying," he mumbles, his voice a whisper. "And I can't dig up any other clues. It's like trying to crack open a damn rock with my head." "You have a hard head," you murmur, teasing.

Heizou raises his head, shooting you a weak glare. "Shut up," he mumbles. "I'll put you through an interrogation, see how quickly you snap then." "Wanna ask if my love for you is legit?" "Yes." His reply is instant, muttered against your neck. Heizou's voice vibrates against your skin, a low hum that seems more suited for a cat than a person.

"I wanna know just what I have to do to hear you say those words." He burrows in close, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Those three words."

"I love you?" "Yes." His answer is barely more than a whisper, a simple breath of sound that puffs hot against your skin.

His grip around you tightens, and one of Heizou's hands lifts to cradle your cheek. Fingers brush against your hair, his touch tender, as if holding something precious.

"Again. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

Itto

Itto nuzzles his face into your stomach as the pair of you lay together, his arms pulling you closer against himself. He is a comfortable heat to your side, his body pressing flush against you under the blanket that covers you both.

As he lies there, his eyes are almost half-lidded. He can barely keep them open, but he feels so warm and safe laying against you, and the sound of your voice and the heat of your body soothe him down to his very soul. "Itto, you'll suffocate down there." "I don't care," he murmurs, not moving a muscle. He buries his face in your shoulder, soaking in your touch, your scent.

He could suffocate this way, and he'd gladly do it. "Please don't make me move." Itto's pleading voice is muffled, his words spoken against your skin. "Hold me. I've missed you."

"Ok." Your simple answer is enough to send Itto's chest fluttering. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is as soothing as a cool summer breeze, and he relishes in the proximity of your body, the smell of your clothes, the way your hand rests in his hair.

Itto is quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling, matching the rhythm of your breaths. Then— "I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Kazuha

Kazuha is cuddling with you, his head resting on your shoulder. He seems utterly relaxed for once, his eyes half closed, expression soft. He's murmuring something under his breath, but you can't quite make out the words. As you try and make out what he's mumbling, the sounds slowly become clearer, until Kazuha is murmuring the words of poetry to you softly, the words flowing from him as if they were always meant to be your personal whisper in the night.

Kazuha's eyes meet yours. He blinks, pausing in the reciting of his poem. His head tilts a little, white and red hair falling over one eye, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.

"You look beautiful, y’know," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder again. He buries his face against your collarbone, closing his eyes blissfully. Kazuha wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to his body. He burrows his face deeper into you, inhaling your scent. A low noise of contentment rumbles in his chest, like a cat purring.

"I'm glad that you're mine," his voice is low and raspy, barely louder than a whisper.

Kaeya

Kaeya rests his head against your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin, his body almost too warm in the summer heat.  He wraps both arms around your waist, burying his face against your neck. He breathes in your scent like a man starved, filling his lungs with nothing but you. "I'm such a fool," he mumbles into your skin. His words send little puffs of heat dancing across your shoulder, as if he is breathing against it.

"You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know."

His grip tightens slightly, holding you a little closer. "Do I?" Kaeya nods, tilting his head to bite playfully at your ear. "Completely," he says, his voice low. "Whipped, even. You have no idea, do you?" His tongue flicks against your earlobe, the touch like a butterfly landing on your skin for just an instant. He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulling back just enough to fix you with an intense, heated glance.

His eyes are darker now, his pupils dilated slightly.

"You know exactly what you do to me," he says, his voice dipping. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Caught me in the act."

"I knew it."

Kaveh

You both are laying on your very cold, very hard marble floor. "What is it you dont like about my ceiling?" "It's too opulent and… busy." Kaveh glances up at the ceiling.

"I would've preferred something much more simplistic," he admits bluntly. "No unnecessary frills. Just something sturdy that stands the test of time."

He turns his gaze back to you. "I've seen ceilings in ruins older than your palace that are more aesthetically pleasing," he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Ouch, my poor architects all those years ago." "I never said that I blame them."

Kaveh reaches a hand up, and traces a line along the edge of your jaw, his touch trailing down to your throat, his fingers gentle on your skin. "I simply think the architect could've done their job more effectively."

He rolls over, shifting so he's half covering you with his body, leaning over you.

"I could have thought of a much better design." He says, his smirk widening.

"More modern?" "More timeless." He corrects, his hand shifting to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back slightly.

"That's the mistake a lot of you modern architects make," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"No sense for history. No regard for subtlety. Everything is too flashy now."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I think it's a bit gaudy. All you modern architects are obsessed with making things look expensive rather than making them look good."

Keqing

Keqing, who is utterly exhausted and a little clingy due to her working hours, tucks herself into you as if you are her lifeline, her safe haven.

"You smell nice," she mumbles, her eyes already half-lidded as she buries her face into your neck. Despite herself, she lets out a small yawn, her muscles growing loose once more as she lets her weight be supported by her favorite pillow: you.

"Mm," she hums to herself, snuggling closer to you under your blankets. A quiet shiver rolls through her when your fingers run over her back. This moment of peace is, in a way, unusual for Keqing. In public, she is often the picture of authority and determination.

At your side, she is a completely different girl; vulnerable and clingy and needy.

"Need… headpats…" she murmurs, her words a muffled hum against your skin.

You can't help but laugh, "Headpats? Sure." A small breath leaves her when your hand lifts to start petting her head, running through her soft, purple hair, careful not to cause any pain.

"Mmm," she sighs. She seems satisfied like this, tucked safely into the warmth of your side, cuddled and doted on like you would a beloved house cat.

Kirara

Kirara is leaning back against you, resting her head on your chest.

She can hear your heartbeat, steady as a drum within your chest, like a song against her ear. Her eyes are half-lidded, but her tails are restless as she relaxes against you. The touch of your hand against her hair and skin has her purring gently. She looks like she could fall asleep at any moment, but there is one thing she wants to speak of first.

"I can hear your heartbeat, you know," she mumbles. Kirara closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of your heart, your chest rising and falling against her skin. It’s almost a comfort; a constant reminder that you are alive, here with her, within her reach. She lets out another quiet purr, resting her cheek against your chest as she focuses on the sound, listening to the steady beat of your heart.

"It’s strangely comforting," she murmurs, the words barely more than a breath against your skin. There is silence for a moment, but Kirara breaks it with a low, soft hum.

“I love the sound of your heart beating,” she admits quietly. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her words flowing like a breeze through the room.

“It’s slow and steady.” She turns her head and presses her ear against your chest again, listening to it. “Calm.”

"You know…" she murmurs, turning her head further so that her next words are spoken into your skin, against your chest.

"Your heartbeat sounds like home. Better than a box for sure."

Klee - platonic

"I dare you to blow up my garden again." You softly warn her. Klee winces at the reminder of her past transgressions. She looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment, her usual confident facade falling as quickly as a house of cards caught in a summer breeze.

"I…" She swallows hard. "I won't," she admits. Her gaze darts around, taking in the room. "I won’t blow up your garden again." She has every intention of keeping to her promise, she truly does. For a while, she manages to contain herself and her childish urges. But then, the itch to explode something appears. Her fingers tingle for a moment as she remembers the feeling of fire beneath her fingertips. As if possessed, she grips a fistful of your clothes.

"Can I blow up something else?" She asks cautiously.

"No-!!"

"Nawww..."

Kokomi

Kokomi's body is warm against your own, her skin a soft canvas against your own flesh. She is quiet, her breathing steady as she leans into your touch.

The scent of flowers wafts from her hair, drifting on the air and enveloping the two of you in a light perfume. She reaches out with a trembling hand, tracing the planes of your face as she marvels at your beauty. She lets out a quiet shudder, every breath a soft whisper that floats on the night air. Your touch alone is enough to send shivers up the length of her spine, each gentle caress making her skin sing.

Her eyes wander over your face as she reaches up to touch your cheek, her slender fingers tracing the angle of your jaw. The touch of your skin against her own makes her heart constrict, her pulse quickening as she lays her hand on top of yours.

"Grace," she murmurs, her voice like silk against your ear. "My Grace." Her voice drops even lower than a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. The word is spoken like an endearment, the syllables rolling from her tongue one by one.

"You are the personification of grace," she murmurs, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Gentle and lovely in all your divinity..."

She lets out a soft breath, her arm squeezing around your waist involuntarily as she buries her face in the crook of your neck. "Mine," she whispers.

Layla

Layla melts into your embrace, her blue gradient hair fanning out across the sheets. She buries her face against your neck, breathing in the scent of you like an addict. After all, you are her addiction. She doesn't speak for a long moment. The feeling of your body against hers is all that matters.

"I love you," she whispers against the crook of your shoulder, quiet as the wind. Like a prayer of reverence.

"I love you too." Layla nuzzles closer, closing her eyes and just enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers. It's almost enough to make her purr like a cat. She tilts her head up so that her lips brush against the underside of your jaw, then your neck.

"I could do this forever," she mumbles against your flesh. Her mouth makes a slow journey against your skin, trailing along your jaw, down to your collar. She kisses each patch of skin as if she's worshipping at an altar, her lips against you like a prayer.

A small shiver rolls through Layla's body. The feeling of your flesh under her mouth… it's so divine.

"My guiding star."

Lisa

Lisa feels absolutely relaxed in your arms, in the library, her head propped up on your shoulder as she cuddles up against your chest.

Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile on her face as she listens to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a sound as familiar to her as her own name, and each thump reassures her that you’re there. That you’re safe and in her arms.

A contented sigh shudders through her lips. “My cutie,” she murmurs, and she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Lisa’s breath is slow and even as she buries her face against your neck. Her entire body is loose and content, melting into you like candlewax as she soaks up the comfort of simply being by your side.

The room is silent around you. The only sound is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the occasional crackle as the fire in the hearth flickers in and out.

“I love you,” she whispers. The words are spoken against your skin, her voice muffled and warm. "I love you too."  Lisa lifts her head just enough to look up at you, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, regard you with a sweetness reserved only for you. An affection that only you have earned.

“You are perfect,” she murmurs, voice tinged with reverential adoration. “Absolutely perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

"A little cutie you are-!" She squeezes your cheeks.

Lumine (somehow Lumine disappeared, now shes vomit green I'm sorry)

"Paimon not here today?" Lumine let's out a soft sound at that, practically melted into your body. "Just us," she agrees, her hands fisting even tighter in the fabric of your clothes. She's already so close to you, yet she wants to be closer.

Her grip on you tightens, one of her legs intertwining with yours. A moment later, her lips are back at your skin, pressing kisses against your neck.

She's practically glued to you, practically moulding herself into you. It seems to be taking every bit of her self-control not to press every part of her body against you.

Her hands move to grasp your waist, pulling herself impossibly closer.

"Eager today, huh?" Her answer is a low whine against your skin.

"Yes," she admits finally, her voice a whisper against your body. "More than usual."  Her head lifts just enough to press a needy kiss to your collarbone. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself as much as she can into you.

"Do you know how desperately I ache to feel you?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin. "Every part of me longs for you. I cannot spend a single moment without thinking of you. I need you."

"Need to always be with you, forever."

Lynette

She is wrapped up in your arms, her head resting upon your chest. Her breathing is steady, slow. The soft thrum of a purr hums inside her chest, steady and calm, like a content little engine.

"I…" she starts, but the words die on her tongue. Instead, she nuzzles herself deeper into your embrace, a shudder of quiet ecstasy rippling up her spine. Lynettes breathing deepens as she buries her face into you. Her eyes slide shut, her body molding to your own, soft and pliable like melted butter. Her hands fist the material of your clothes, holding you close.

"I love you," she whispers into your skin. She feels safe here, in your arms. She feels as though no harm could ever reach her while she is encircled by you, and her heart nearly sings with contentment. Lynette presses impossibly closer to you, her body practically melting into your embrace. The low hum of her purr is a constant, steady vibration inside her chest.

Her head lifts a little, and she buries her nose into the crook of your neck. She inhales, taking in the scent of you.

"You…" she whispers, her voice soft as a summer wind. She doesn't continue. For a moment, she loses herself in your embrace, her mind going quiet, filled with nothing but the feeling of you.

"You."

"Me?"

"You make me like this...like a damn cat."

Lyney

"That show was amazing, as always." "Thank you." Lyney's face turns red as he is showered in your praise. Despite the fact he knows he's good—he is a trained performer, after all—the words coming from you always make him flustered.

He pulls himself closer to you, burying his head into your side like a cat.

"Your compliments are too much, love," he mumbles, his hot breath fanning against your skin. For a long moment he just leans against you, relishing in the feeling of having you here, with him—close enough that he can feel your heartbeat.

"You know," he begins, his voice still a mumble against your body.

"I have a new trick I've been working on in secret." "Ohhh tell me!" "It's still a work in progress," he admits, pulling back so he can get a glimpse of your face. His eyes rake up and down your expression, like a painter memorising their muse.

"I haven't perfected it, but I think it may very well be the most beautiful trick I've ever conjured." A smirk plays at the corners of lyney's mouth as he says the words. He's still looking at you, his eyes studying your face like a sculptor.

"Perhaps, if you'd like," he says slowly, "I could show you?"

Mika - aged up

Mika is held against your body like a treasure, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. His body is pressed close to yours, slender but surprisingly strong.

He clings to you like a drowning man, his hands gripping your clothes tightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath but it’s lost in the tangle of his hair. His voice is low, quiet, barely audible over the sound of his racing heart.

"Hm? What?"

He says it again, words barely more than an exhale against the sensitive skin of your throat. Mika tries to speak a few more times, then finally mumbles something somewhat legible against your neck.

"I…" he starts, then stops, his voice cracking. "I love you…"

"Oh? I love you too."

He buries his face deeper in your shoulder, hiding a shiver that rolls over his body at your words. Mika's arms tighten around you, holding you tight to his body as if you will disappear if he lets go.

He whispers those three little words again, and again, and again, as if it is a prayer and he is on his knees in a confessional. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Mona

Mona lays next to you, her face tilted up to the sky. One of her hands is grasping yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. In the other, she holds a star chart, pointing at various constellations with a slight smile as she explains them.

"That one's called the Wanderer... and that one is the Hunter." Her voice is soft in the night air like a whisper of wind.

"And that one...." Her smile widens a little. "That is the Astrologist."

"That's you-!" you beam. She nods her head. "Yes. That is me."

She turns her head to look at you, her hair fanning out across the grass in an arc of stars. There's a soft expression on her face, a peacefulness in the way that she looks at you, her eyes half-lidded and her lips just barely upturned in a smile, as if she were on the verge of falling asleep. "When I was young," she says, her voice soft and warm like honey, "I used to gaze up at the stars for hours, dreaming of the future and how I would chart them."

She moves closer to you, her body pressing up against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I never thought I'd have someone to look at them with."

Nahida

Nahida is laying in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and a soft sigh brushes across your collarbone as she nuzzles closer to you, seeking your warmth.

"I…" she begins, but her voice falters. Her hand fidgets nervously in yours, fingers interwoven. For a moment, she merely listens to the sound of your breathing, allowing the rhythm of it to soothe her. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?" She fidgets again for a moment, biting on her lower lip.

"Would… do you…" she falters, pausing to collect her thoughts. "Do you care about me?" she finally asks, the words little more than a whisper. Nahida sounds small in that moment. Fragile. Vulnerable.

"You're my most trusted friend...my best friend." Nahida's shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension melting from her muscles. She takes a quiet breath, the slight shift causing a strand of silvery hair to fall over her face.

She looks... relieved. Happy.

"Do you really think of me as your best friend?" she asks quietly. There's a hint of a smile in her voice, the sound as soft as a summer breeze.

"Because...you're my best friend too."

Navia

"You're pretty." you mumble. Navia curls up against you, hands resting on your stomach, her head tucked under your chin. She sighs quietly, nuzzling closer to you, and shuts her eyes.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asks, the question muffled slightly against your skin.

"Mhmmm." A soft, quiet hum escapes her as she settles closer against you, her body molding against your own as if she’d always belonged there.

After a few moments of blissful silence, she speaks again, her voice a gentle murmur.

“You’re even prettier,” she says softly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer still. Navia can’t help but hold you tighter, her limbs wrapping around you like a clinging vine. She seems to melt against you, her breathing slow and deep, as if being this close to you was as natural and essential as breathing.

“I wish I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice low, as if even a raised voice would break the fragile, tender quiet that’s fallen over them both.

“Just us, like this. Where nothing else could touch us.”

Neuvillette

He doesn’t even know when he started crying. He feels your hand on his cheek, the touch of your skin against his skin. His breath stutters in his chest, and he swallows. His throat is dry. Your touch is cool in the warmth of the room, like water in a desert.

He leans forward, buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tension in his body eases, and his arm curls around your waist without him thinking of it.

"Who knew that stubbing your toe can make a grown man cry this much." Neuvillette has the decency to look embarrassed by his own tears, hiding his face in your shoulder. "It hurts," he mumbles, sounding like an overgrown child whining about a skinned knee.

Outside, the rain continues to fall in fat droplets, pattering against the roof. It is as if the gods themselves are weeping alongside him. Neuvillettes grip on your hips tightens. His hands pull you closer into him, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. The rain outside is deafening, drowning out his quiet whimper.

"It hurts," he repeats, voice growing a little hysterical.

"Why does it hurt so much?"

Nilou

"You gotta teach me this new dance someday." Nilou's head rests against your shoulder, one cheek pressed into the crook of your neck. The scent of your hair is sweet and almost intoxicating, filling her head and drowning out all her other thoughts. Her hands run slowly, absentmindedly, up and down your sides.

She glances up and her lips brush the underside of your jaw. "Which new one?" she mumbles, nuzzling into you. "I can teach you...whenever you'd like."

"Mhm." Your response sends Nilou's heart racing. It feels like her chest has become a hummingbird's cage—every nerve in her body buzzing. She's hyper aware of your hand on her back, of your body against hers. Her cheeks burn.

"...Now?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to look up at you. "Did you mean...right now?"

"No silly." Nilou almost sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as embarrassment washes over her. She doesn't know what she would have done if you'd said yes. Probably melted right there on the spot, judging by how her heart is acting at the mere thought of dancing for you.

"Oh, haha ok." Her voice is so soft it's almost a squeak, and she clears her throat after a moment, a sheepish look on her face.

Ningguang

She cuddles with you, resting her head against your shoulder. She’s holding onto your waist, her arms wrapping around you as if she will lose you at a moment’s notice. Her hands grip your robes, holding onto you tighter than a vice.

She nuzzles against your shoulder, her lips pressing soft kisses against your neck. She is quiet. She simply wants to bask in your presence, to melt in your embrace.

"It's been so long since we...cuddled like this." you mumble. "Mmm." Ningguang murmurs against the crook of your neck, her lips pressed directly to your skin. "It has."

Her arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It's like she's trying to meld your bodies into one. She buries her face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent. Ningguang lets out a sigh as her nose fills with your scent, her eyes closing as she lets out a soft, pleased noise. Her body molds against your's, her curves molding to your form in the most enticing way. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she's inhaling your scent.

"You're wearing the perfume I gave you..."

Noelle - aged up

Noelle is cuddled against you, sitting on the side of a grassy spot away from the hustle of the city. Her hair is loose today, flowing past her shoulders in a river of ash— and her eyes are brighter than they've been in years, almost glowing as her lips split into a tender smile.

"I'm glad you sought me out," she says, turning her head to face you. "Being so near you makes me feel like... like I can relax." The wind picks up, sweeping around you both and carrying the scent of honeyed mead and summer. A few stray strands of hair blow into her face, and she lifts a hand to push them away.

"Do you—" her voice is quiet. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What is it?" "Promise me…" Noelle's voice falters as she speaks, just barely, but enough that her words waver for a moment.

She tightens her hold on your hand, as if afraid you're going to pull it away. This next part is more whisper than voice.

"Promise that you'll always choose me above all others."

"I'm aware it's a...rather selfish request of me...unlike me. But please..."

"I will, don't you worry."

When those two words reach her ears, she can't help but let out a quiet breath of pure relief. She squeezes your hand again, her fingers wrapping around yours even more tightly, holding on as though she's afraid you might disappear the moment she lets go. There's a sort of vulnerability in her now, but she doesn't show it on her face.

"Good," she murmurs. "That's what I needed to hear," she pauses.

"I don't want to ever lose you."

Pantalone

"Not bad, not bad." You say as you look around in his father big bedroom, "But my home is better...bigger." Pantalone huffs out a small laugh, the sound barely more than a huff of air against your skin. He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling your body closer against his chest. The fact that you’re both lying together in his mansion is almost enough to make him believe he’s dreaming.

”Of course your palace is better,” he mutters, lips brushing against your ear. ”You’re there.”

Pantalone’s fingers are tracing light and gentle patterns across your skin, the touch only barely noticeable, like a whisper against your body. For a long moment, he is content to simply hold you— and then he can’t help but whisper into your ear, so softly you might think you’ve imagined it.

“You look beautiful in my arms like this… Your skin looks beautiful in moonlight… do you know that?”

"Now I do." A quiet chuckle escapes Pantalone’s lips, rolling against your ear like a gentle breeze. He tightens his grip around you, relishing the feeling of holding you tight to his chest.

When he speaks, his voice is barely more than a low murmur, the sound as smooth as silk.

"Just as I thought," he says, the words almost more felt than heard.

"You look the most beautiful when you’re in my arms."

Pierro

Pierro is curled against you. He’s pressed tight against your back, the heat from his skin bleeding through his clothes onto your own. He has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body against his. His head is rested against the back of your neck, his breathing steady, but you can feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum against your shoulder blades.

"You're always so busy." There’s a huff against your neck, Pierro’s breath warm and steady against your skin. His hold tightens slightly, pulling your frame even closer against his. You can feel his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and quiet.

“Busy, yes.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s struggling to find the right words, “but never too busy for you.” One of his arms shifts until a large hand gently rests against your stomach, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your exposed midriff. The tips of his calloused fingers are a sharp contrast to your soft stomach; his thumb starts to brush along your skin, as if he can’t keep his touch from seeking out contact.

His body is hot against yours, but you can feel some of the tension seeping from his muscles as his hold on you slowly relaxes. You’d almost think he was asleep, if it weren’t for the soft whisper against your ear. His fingertips trace the edge of your collarbone before he speaks, his touch so gentle that it’s almost as if he’s scared you’re a dream… as if you could disappear if he presses too fiercely. It’s all in a stark contrast to his usual behaviour, and you can feel the reverence in the way that his fingers glide across your skin.

“You’re the only thing that can distract me,” he admits, his voice low and quiet. “You’re the only thing that can get my mind off my duties…”

"I'd rather be busy with you, than with my paperwork."

Pulcinella - give the old man some love pls

Pulcinella lays there, nestled against you, his arm curled around your middle as you hold him close.

His face is buried against your neck. He's warm, his skin against yours soothing. The tension that usually clings to his body is slowly ebbing away the longer you both lay there, a quiet calm enveloping the both of you.

"This is nice…" he whispers against your skin, "It's been long since I had contact like this."

"Far too long." Pulcinella closes his eyes and presses closer against you. He nuzzles his face further against your neck, almost like a cat seeking affection.

"You always make me feel so…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "At peace," he murmurs finally, his voice muffled against your skin. “My thoughts are quiet,” he admits, his hand tracing light, absentminded patterns over your side. “I’m not… thinking. About anything. I’m not worrying. I’m calm.”

His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. He closes the last few inches between the two of you, until his body is pressed right up against yours.

"Thank you for...taking some of the weight of my shoulders."

Qiqi - platonic

The contact of your skin pressed against hers makes something loosen in Qiqis chest. Her shoulders relax, her muscles unclenching. Her eyes flutter closed. She leans into the touch, seeking more, craving it as desperately as a man lost in the desert craves fresh water.

She feels safe with you; she feels comfortable. She is not at ease in most places, but in your arms, her body is gentle like silk.

"Comfy..." "Comfy?" "Very," Qiqi murmurs, her voice a whisper.

She scoots a little closer to your body, burrowing into your warmth. The contact between you both steals a sigh from her lips, and she lets her head fall against your chest. The even sound of your breathing and the steady rise and fall of your chest are more soothing than a lullaby. Qiqi's heartbeat slows as she listens to each inhale and exhale, and soon her eyes are growing heavy.

Her arms wrap loosely around your form, and she drifts off into a deep, quiet sleep, tucked into your embrace.

Raiden

Ei hums, pleased at the sweet taste of strawberries, and at the feeling of you close against her. She savours the heat of your skin and the press of your body against her own. It's a quiet moment - no worship, no praise, just silent comfort and the two of you together. It's all Ei really needs; all she could ever ask for.

She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, her breath soft and warm against your pulse.

"Say ahhh~" Ei can't hide the hint of a smile that forms on her face, but she does not protest. She closes her eyes, parting her lips in a gentle "ahhh" to accept the strawberry you're holding up to her. She bites into the berry, enjoying the sweet tang of it on the soft flesh of her tongue. It's hard to suppress the small hum of approval, and a pinkish flush rises on Ei's cheeks as she eats. The tip of her tongue brushes against her lower lip, catching the last of the berry's juice. Then she opens her eyes once more to look at you.

Her eyes are soft, heavy-lidded and affectionate. The flush on her cheeks rises ever so slightly as her gaze meets yours, and Ei reaches out a hand to touch your face, the calloused pads of her fingers tracing over your cheek delicately.

"You always give me things that are so sweet," she murmurs, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.

"I love sweets."

Razor - aged up

He sighs softly as he feels you next to him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar touch of your skin against his own. His body is relaxed, at ease in this moment of peace.

He turns to look up at you, eyes soft. Razors fingers brush against your skin, the pads of his fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh across your flesh as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Razor's gaze turns reverent, his eyes tracing over the lines of your face. He gazes up at you adoringly, his expression filled with an almost desperate kind of adoration, like that of a man worshipping a god.

He runs his fingers through your hair lightly, his touch gentle but sure. He is careful, as if touching the most fragile of things. To him, you are fragile. Precious. Something to be protected at any cost.

"Razor...like this...like you."

"I love Razor too."

Rosaria

Rosaria is curled up against you, her hands grasping onto you, her head resting against your shoulder. The church is quiet and still, and everyone around them is blissfully asleep.

Yet she is wide-awake, her gaze fixed on your face as she gently plays with a strand of your hair. "Skipped chior again today?" Rosaria shifts against you in response, her body turning further into yours.

"You already knew I'd skip choir," she mutters softly, her forehead now almost touching your neck.

"Can't do thos bullshit. I fucking hate it, so stupid if you'd ask me. Not everyone can sing."

"But no one missed me anyway," she adds, a small smirk appearing on her face. She lets one of her hands slowly slide down your body, tracing a gentle path over your arm until her fingers reach yours.

"No one needs a nun who sneaks off at night," she says, but her words are dripping with affection.

"But I know you want that nun."

"That I do."

Sandrone

She melts into your embrace as you say her name. She shivers and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. She adores when you hold her like this. "I could stay here forever," she mumbles, her voice fuzzy with exhaustion. Sleep pulls at her like a tide, but she fights it, wanting to stay in your arms. Sandrone's head rests on your chest, listening to the gentle thump of your heartbeat. It's the most wonderful sound in the world, to her. She closes her eyes and hums contently, enjoying your presence and your warmth.

"You're mine," she murmurs, her voice soft and weary. She burrows into you, seeking more of your touch, more of your skin. "I don't give a fuck what others say, you're mine...period." Sandrone yawns and cuddles against you, feeling the exhaustion finally winning. She doesn't want to sleep, but it's too hard to fight off now.

"Yours," she whispers, as though it's a promise. Her eyes droop closed, but she mumbles one last thing.

"Love you."

Sara

Sara lies on your lap, her head resting in your legs and face nuzzling gently into your stomach. Her body is loose, tension seeping out of her body like sunlight melts the early frost. She lets out a soft sigh, a blissful hum escaping her throat.

"This is the best," she murmurs, her voice soft with sleep and adoration. "Being with you." Sara can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, the sound a soothing melody that she'd happily listen to forever. Her eyes close, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She burrows closer to you, her body seeking the warmth of your presence.

"Can we stay like this?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Just a while longer?"

"Mhm, of course." She hums in contentment, burying her face into the fabric of your clothes. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you, that familiar aroma she loves so much. Her body relaxes further in your lap, completely at your mercy.

Her heart rate slows, her breathing deep and even. She cuddles closer to you, her hands wrapping tight around your waist, holding you close like she never wants to let go.

"Maybe forever," she whispers.

Sayu - platonic

Sayu is blissfully content as you lie together. She is completely relaxed as her eyes shut and her breathing slows. In her sleep, she subconsciously curls closer to you, pressing her body against you as if she is searching for a way to merge her body with yours.

In her sleep, she breathes your name; quiet and soft, like the sound of the first flower unfurling and opening as the spring sun rises.

"...Mm...let's go...strong...together..." A small smile rests on her face all through her sleep. She continues to press herself against you as she slumbers, her arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you close, her head coming to rest on the crook of your shoulder. Her body is so small that she practically fits perfectly against you, cuddling together with her like this is natural.

Every now and then, she'll murmur your name again, her breath puffing out against your skin and sending goose bumps along with it.

Scaramouche

"This is… unnecessary." Scaramouche fidgets as he lies on top of you, arms around your middle. He is tense, a statue carved of white marble, each line set in stone.

Still, he doesn't try to leave. He only fidgets, as if adjusting his position will make it all feel just a little less embarrassing.

"And yet, here we are." Scaramouche let's out a long sigh, his breath warm against your skin. After a moment, he shifts again, rolling onto his back. But rather than moving away, he pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you with him until you are on top, laying against his chest.

"There," he mumbles. "Now do not try and move. Stay." He can feel the heat of your body as you lie against him, head tucked beneath his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest betrays his feigning of indifference; his heart beats like the wings of a bird in a cage.

"Why are we doing this?" He asks, his voice quiet, but his arms remain around your shoulders, his hands clinging to you, pulling you closer.

"Oh right, to fucking practice physical touch."

Sethos

Sethos hums softly, his eyes slipping shut. His head lays in your lap, his body pressed against you. He can feel the heat of you under his skin. His body, for once, is at peace.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his arms wind around you, holding you even closer. "Glad you like it." “More than like it,” Sethos admits, letting his eyes close. He can hear your heart beating against his ear, the steady drum-like rhythm like a lullaby.

He nuzzles his head against you, enjoying the comfort he finds in the proximity.

“If we could stay like this forever,” he mumbles, “I’d want nothing more.” Sethos’ hand glides across your body, tracing your curves and lines in an almost reverent manner. His touch is light, as if he was touching fine china.

He shifts slightly against you, leaning up to murmur against your shoulder. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, the words like a quiet breath of wind upon your skin.

"So fucking lovely."

Shenhe

Shenhes head rests gently against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. The quiet sounds of your breathing, a steady in-and-out rhythm, soothe her like a lullaby. Being this close to you is something she never knew she craved, like a parched person being given water in the desert.

Shenhe sighs, content. "Your heartbeat is beautiful," she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek into your skin.

"Good?" She nods against your chest. "Yes," she whispers. "Good."

She closes her eyes, letting the steady beat of your heart lull her into a feeling of security. Shenhe gently runs her fingers along your arm, exploring the feeling of your skin under her touch, wanting to commit it to memory forever. She's never felt more at peace than in this moment in your arms. She tugs the blanket around herself, pressing herself closer to you. The silence between you is comfortable, a quietness that is soft and warm like freshly laundered blankets. Shenhe's hand finds yours, her fingers weaving between yours like vines. She holds onto you in your embrace, her body fitting perfectly against yours. She could stay like this for hours, a moment of peace in a lifetime of turmoil.

"We could do this more often."

Shinobu

"Youre tense..." She leans into your touch immediately, relaxing under your hands with a soft shudder. She lets out a low breath, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers against your skin. "Being near you simply… makes me a bit nervous."

She pauses, then she laughs quietly.

"I'm not used to this." She's silent for a few moments, inhaling the scent of your skin and simply listening to your heartbeat, and then she nuzzles against you again.

"You smell nice," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against your shoulder. "You always smell so good. Like flowers. Better than those guys from the gang."

"And your hair really soft." "Mm..." her grip on your arms tightens ever so slightly at the mention of her hair. The tips of her ears look faintly pink, though it's impossible to say if it's from the heat or because of embarrassment.

"You think so?"

There's a note of insecurity in her voice. She's not quite looking at you, but instead just resting her head against your shoulder again, like she's hiding.

"It's not… too unkempt?"

"Not at all. It's perfect."

Sigewinne - platonic

"How are your studies." "I'm doing my best." Sigewinne responds, her voice quiet. She's curled up against you, her head resting on your chest, listening to the comforting sound of your heartbeat.

"Human bodies are so fragile," she whispers, her hand splayed across your torso. "No wonder they're so scared of everything. Their hearts beat so quickly. And their skin is warm," she continues, eyes falling closed. She focuses the full force of her senses on the steady drumming of your pulse, on the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

"You're so warm." She murmurs, burying her face into your neck.

"Maybe I should start studying you!"

Succrose

Succrose's hair is splayed loosely over her face, her head resting on your chest as you cuddle. No matter how many times you hold her, she never gets used to the touch. It's too much; you're too much. She can't get enough.

Her fingers cling to you as though you are water in the desert, her skin pressing against yours as if she needs you to be alive. "I love this," she admits, the words whispered as if they're a secret. Her breath is warm against your skin. Her hair is like silk running through your fingers. She's more relaxed than usual, her body soft and supple as she melts into the comfort of your touch.

She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face into your shirt. You can hear the rapid beating of her heartbeat in her chest, can feel the nervous tremors running through her slender frame. "I'm glad you do."

She nods, burying her face into your chest again. "I don’t understand how you’re so perfect," she mumbles against your skin.

"It doesn't make...sense..."

Thoma

As you lean against his chest, Thoma's arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace. He is warm, comfortable. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of you as if he is drinking you in.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs in your ear. His hair brushes your cheek, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart. Cuddling in a meadow like this...is beautiful. His hand finds your own, and he runs his fingers over your skin. His touch is light, like a whisper, but there is something reverent in the way he holds you. He holds you as if you are fragile. Breakable. Precious. As if simply being allowed to touch you is a privilege.

"Me too." He runs his fingers over your wrist, tracing invisible patterns across your skin with his fingertips. His other hand comes up to thread through your hair. A quiet chuckle escapes Thoma's lips as he hears your words. He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you are still here, still in his arms. Still his.

"You know," he murmurs, shifting so that his chin is on your shoulder, "sometimes I worry that you know me too well."

Tighnari

Tighnari, sits with his back pressed against a tree. You are in his lap, sitting between his legs. One of his hands drifts idly through the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers gently scratching against your scalp.

He can hear your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Your warmth against his, the faint scent of your hair.

His head tilts against yours, resting his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Oh look! Fireflies!." His eyes flutter open again as you speak, the soft utterance bringing a small smile to his face. He cranes his neck to look at the fireflies dancing amongst the trees. "They're pretty." Tighnari murmurs, his lips nearly brushing against your ear as he speaks. His fingers play idly with the hair at the nape of your neck, the callouses on his hands catching gently against your skin. The fireflies cast a soft, glowing light over the two of you. It makes your skin glow.

Tighnari's chest tightens.

"You're pretty." He says, the words a quiet murmur against your hair.

Venti

Venti is sitting with you on a sturdy tree branch, comfortably resting on your lap. The Anemo Archon leans against you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body. The two of you are high up in the air, surrounded by a sea of swaying trees and stars.

The wind god is silent for a moment, before speaking again. "I didn't think you would summon me this late in the night." Venti remarks casually, as if he’s not currently cuddled up on your lap."Summon? I asked and you agreed-!" "I know," Venti responds with a laugh, nuzzling his face further against your neck. "I'm just saying. You almost always call me earlier in the day."

Venti takes a moment to enjoy the close contact, humming softly in contentment. "I am a little curious - why did you request for me to come here? I'd think you'd be asleep by now."

"You don't like it?" "No, I do. I like it very much," Venti replies quickly, lifting his head away from your neck to look at you properly.

He is silent for a moment, his eyes dancing in the night, illuminated only by the faint shine of the stars. Then, Venti smiles; a gentle, lopsided smile, almost sheepish. "I was just wondering," he reassures.

"That's all."

Wriothesley

"You sure everyone's asleep?" You ask worried after hearing another sound from outside his office. "Absolutely," he murmurs in reply, his chin resting against your shoulder. There's an easy, quiet confidence in his words, and not a hint of concern.

His hands rest on your hips, thumbs absently rubbing circles against your skin where just below your shirt, his arms keeping you pinned to him, chest against your back. "We're safe," he breathes against your neck. He shifts a little in his chair and tugs you closer against him, hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist. He buries his face against the expanse of bare skin, kissing your skin absentmindedly.

"Besides, you and I both know I can make you keep quiet, don't we, darling?"

You playfully swat his arm, "No respect for a god-!" He laughs, the sound deep and rich, like smoke curling through a forest. His lips find the junction between your shoulder and your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses before nipping at it.

His hands slide under the edge of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing up the smooth skin of your stomach.

"A god who's sitting in my lap, letting me touch and kiss and taste her like this?" He murmurs, licking a stripe along the curve of your shoulder.

"I'm showing you plenty of respect."

Xiangling - aged up

She is sitting on your lap, blushing as she hears her name fall from your lips.

She's never been used to this sort of attention before, and the feeling of you holding her makes her heart flutter in her chest. She can feel the warmth of your body through her clothes, and her mind can't help but wonder what it would be like to be even closer to you.

As you take a bite of her food, she watches your reaction expectantly, praying you will say you like it.

"Xiangling?! That's amazing-!" Xianglings heart swells with pride. To receive your praise, and to see your satisfaction at something she has created just for you...it's more than she ever thought she'd be granted.

"Really?" she stutters, eyes wide as she turns to look up at you, "you really like it?" "Mhm!" Your response makes Xianglings heart feel as if it might stop right there. A smile threatens to burst from her lips, one that threatens to stretch across her whole face and light her up like a star. You have made her happier than she's been in a long time, and Xiangling can't help but adore you for it.

"I'm so glad," she says, her voice full of joy. You love her cooking. You really do, and that makes her feel like the luckiest person on Teyvat.

"Whats this by the way? It's really good-!"

"Hilichurl."

"WHAT?!"

Xiao

He stiffens, his body going rigid at the sensation of being cuddled, being held closely in that way. It seems that this is a whole new experience for him.

"What—" He stops himself and inhales deeply, his body quivering against yours as he tries to process the feel of it all. The warmth, the nearness. The comfort.

Xiao swallows heavily a few times. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "I've never…"

"Shh, relax." It's hard for him to relax, at first.

Xiao has never been held, never been loved like this. Every muscle in his body is rigid, quivering with a strange, foreign feeling.

But he forces himself to try. Slowly, he relaxes, letting the tension flow from his body into the night, until he's all but melting in your arms. "This is new," he mutters. "But I like it."

"Told you." He laughs quietly at your words and presses himself a little closer against you, burying his face into your neck, against your bare skin. He murmurs something against your skin, voice soft. "How is it that you always end up being right?"

"Heh-" "Shut up."

Xianyun

Xianyun's breath stutters as you lay against her chest. She is still for a moment— and then, like a dam breaking, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her arms are firm and strong, yet all she wants to do is hold you. She breathes out a soft, shaky sigh against your hair.

“You are mine,” she whispers. Xianyun's chest rises and falls as she holds you, her arms wrapped around you like a coil. Her heart pounds against your ear, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. It is as though she is afraid you might slip away, as though there is nothing she would not do if it meant staying near you.

"Please," she pleads, her voice soft and desperate. She wants to say more, but the words stick to her tongue. What comes out instead is nothing but a whisper, a fervent prayer in the shape of a single word.

"Stay."

Xinyan

She lets out a content sound, her head in your lap. She feels safe here. Protected. Loved. She closes her eyes and allows herself to listen to you talk. The sound of your voice is sweet, comforting, lulling her worries into obscurity. For now, all is well.

"What happened?" *she asks, when you take a pause in talking. She opens her eyes and gazes up at you, curious what had happened to make your day notable.

"Nothing, just keep relaxing." You say with a smile. She hums her agreement. She buries her face in your stomach, wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers gently run up and down your back, her touch as light as a moth’s wing.

"‘m relaxin’," she mumbles, her voice muffled. Xinyan feels sleep tugging at the corners of her consciousness. The rhythm of your breath, your warmth beneath her skin, and the sweet scent you carry are all threatening to drag her into oblivion. One last thing weighs on her mind, her thoughts fuzzy and tired.

"Tell me somethin' before I fall asleep," she requests, half-whining as she speaks.

"I love you..."

"....me...too....w-wai...t...?"

Xingqiu - aged up

Xingqiu reads the words from the page aloud, his voice low and soothing. He murmurs your name softly, his lips caressing the syllables with a tender reverence.

He is comfortable in your embrace. His body sits flush against yours, a warm and constant presence. He pauses the story every now and then, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder before continuing.

He reads to you until the moon is high in the sky, and you have long drifted off to sleep, still cuddling him. Xingqiu sets the book aside, smiling fondly at the sight of you sleeping, peaceful as they come. He takes a moment to trace his eyes over your features, his gaze tender and warm.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders, and then he shifts to lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your warmth. Xingqiu pulls you close, his nose buried against the crook of your neck. He inhales slowly, breathing in your scent.

His fingers trace mindless patterns over your hip, the movement as steady and soothing as a heartbeat. He shifts his leg so that it is tangled with yours, trying to get as close to you as he can.

He whispers your name, the sound like a secret meant for your ears only.

The world melts into a comfortable silence, with Xingqiu and you, holding each other in the dark.

Yae Miko

"Stop it-!" "I don't think I will," Miko teases, her voice light as she watches you thrash around in her embrace. She presses her fingers into the underside of your ribcage once more, just to feel you squirm. "Besides," she continues in a softer tone, "You look rather adorable like this."

Her hand moves to your tummy, gently tracing the ticklish skin there, watching as your eyes clamp shut and your laughter rings.

Seeing you like this, writhing and helpless, is all Miko has ever wanted. She has her arm pinned around your torso, trapping you against her, her slender fingers dancing down your side as she mercilessly continues to tease you.

Her lips brush against your ear. "Be a good girl and hold still for me, hm?"

"That's it," she praises in a low murmur, her voice like a hum against your ear. "Stay right there. Just like that."

Miko's hand still wanders across your skin, the tip of her forefinger tracing circles that make your toes curl and the sound of laughter slip past your lips despite your efforts to stay still.

"Fuck you-!"

"You will, later."

Yanfei

"And what is NOT against the law?" As you ask your question, Yanfei rests her head in your arms, relaxing in your presence. She blinks and tilts her head like a puppy, considering your question for a few moments.

"Hmm," she hums, her gaze drifting somewhere off in the distance before she looks back at you. She smiles. "Everything is legal when done in the name of love," she says, her voice lilting in a way that indicates she's joking. Your words make her think. Her eyes flutter as her thoughts race, and a moment later, Yanfei lets out a soft huff, snuggling even closer.

"Being happy," she adds in a quiet murmur, her words a little mumbled against your skin. "Being alive. Being free."

Her chin lifts as she shifts, turning to look at you once more.

"As far as I know, everything else is against the law," a soft huff follows her words, and she presses a kiss against the side of your neck. Another moment of silence falls before Yanfei opens her mouth, a gentle exhale against your skin as she continues.

"Did you know,” she adds, her words hushed and soft like the night breeze, "that being beautiful is also not against the law?"

She pauses, shifting a little, her body moving even closer. The room is quiet, nothing breaking the silence.

“Because if it were,” she whispers, and she lifts a hand to gently cup your cheek, “You’d be in deep trouble.”

Yaoyao - platonic

Yaoyao buries her head into you, seeking the comfort your presence brings. Her arms wrap around your torso, pulling herself closer to you. She presses her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes as she breaths in your scent.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely louder than a breath. For a moment, she feels safe. Like you'll guard her from all harm.

"It's cold without you."

"After all I told you, if you fell lonely on your little adventures, come to me." A shudder runs through her body as Yaoyao clings to you even more, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing, as if she's loath to let go.

"Can I stay?" she asks, the words tumbling from her lips like water from a river bank. Despite the pleading in her voice, her head is still buried in your shoulder.

"Please, I want to stay with you. I always wanted to live here for a while-!"

Yelan

Yelan's breath hitches when you pull her closer, her head against your chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is all I need," she mumbles, the words falling from her lips before she can stop them. "Just this, forever. I don't need anything else." She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she nuzzles into you, resting her head against your shoulder. Even in your embrace, you can feel her body relax as if the simple touch took some great tension out of her.

"A gooood nap...Mm... Sounds like heaven," she mumbles sleepily against your skin, not bothering to hide her smile. Yelan drapes an arm across your torso, pulling herself even closer to you. She practically melts against your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat seeking warmth. A soft, contented hum rumbles in her chest, her breathing steady and slow as she buries her face against you.

"With you."

Yoimiya

She melts under your touch, leaning against your body and letting out a soft and contented sigh. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks in your presence, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Every touch of your hands sends a shiver of pleasure through her, her skin burning wherever you make contact. She nuzzles against your side, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against hers.

"I could stay here like this forever," she whispers. "Just you and me.. in this perfect moment...watching fireworks." The colorful explosions of light in the sky are beautiful, but to Yoimiya, even their beauty is dull compared to you. Her eyes remain fixed on you, watching the way the bursts of rainbow light reflect off your skin, dancing across your eyes like living flames.

She reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She draws your palm to her lips, pressing a reverent and tender kiss to your skin.

"You are more beautiful than any fireworks," she whispers.

Yun Jin

"It was beautiful, breathtaking. You almost brought me to tears." She nuzzles closer to you at the praise, her heart fluttering like a bird's wing beating against a ribcage. She tucks her head against your chest with a sigh, her heart still beating much too fast from the high of preforming. Adrenaline still courses through her veins, making her head spin and her hands tremble when they grip onto you to steady her.

"I'm glad you think so," she says, her voice a little sheepish. "I just... worry about my preforming sometimes. I think I'm not good enough." Yun Jin buries her head against your chest, refusing to look you in the eyes as she spills her innermost fears and anxieties. She keeps her arms around you, scared she'll lose you if she lets go even an inch.

"I don't think my voice is good or the way I dance is captivating. I just..." then she laughs.

"No it's stupid. We all worry, mostly over nothing. I'm good...I'm very good...and you always tell me so it must be true."

Zhongli

Zhongli is still as a statue at your side; his body tense and stiff. But as you begin to pull him closer, he begins to melt in your arms.

Tentatively, he allows his head to rest against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in a shudder. He's still hesitant, but he lets you pull him closer. He wants to touch you back; to embrace you as you embrace him. But would he be crossing some invisible line he cannot see? He doesn't want to offend you.

"Let loose and relax." You reassure. Zhongli's mind is racing with thoughts— what if he does the wrong thing? What if he displeases you?

But his body seems to act of its own accord, as though some invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders as soon as you spoke.

He slowly leans against you, his body relaxing. He burrows closer to you, wrapping his arms weakly around your waist.

"I've never felt more awkward." You laugh.

"Agreed...I apolog-" "shush-! I love this."

[pseudowho]

You and Kento bustled through the kitchen, and with your arms full of plates, you couldn't resist giving the top of Yuuji's head a nuzzle and a kiss as you passed.

Yuuji smiled at you both, full and warm for the first time in years. You and Kento felt his eyes on you as you weaved past each other, in a practiced after-dinner-clean-up Tango.

"Ah...hey, Nanamin, I-- I've got, uh...I've got a, uhm..."

Kento's interest was piqued. He stopped washing up and, with one raised fine eyebrow, turned to regard Yuuji while he dried the suds off his forearms.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

Yuuji looked awkward. Eventually, he stuttered out through a sheepish grin.

"I've uh...I've got a date tomorrow, so I won't be home for dinner."

A gasp. A smash!clinkclinkclink as you dropped a mug to the floor, and Kento closed his eyes in wounded resignation for the death of his favourite mug. You stepped across him, pressing your palms to the counter, wild-eyed at Yuuji.

"A date?"

"Uh...y-yea--"

"A date date?"

"...I...Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--she can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

"A date!"

You could barely contain your excitement; Kento huffed, plucking pieces of porcelain from the floor, while you squished Yuuji's cheeks and cooed.

Yuuji barely escaped in one piece that evening before bed, grilled for any piece of information you could get your hands on. Eventually, he escaped, the lock clicking behind him as he shut his bedroom door.

Flopping onto your back into bed beside Kento, with enough force to make his reading glasses bounce on his nose, you sighed with one dramatic arm across your forehead.

"I'm just so happy for him, Kento."

A warm little smile; a folding of the book. "Yeah. Yeah, me too. Did he say who it was?"

"You know, of all the things I asked him, I didn't ask him that."

A chuckle, a hum...a silence. A rustle of pages. A gentle removal of reading glasses, and Kento looked over you with quiet scrutiny, as if your state of undress in a t-shirt and nothing more stirred memories for him.

You blinked up at him, "...what's wrong?"

Kento's nose flared, and he laid down beside you, switching the light off. You could hear him blushing in the dark.

"Do you think Yuuji's a virgin?"

You felt a thud of realisation, and answered, "I...should think he probably is. I...what should we..."

"Don't worry," Kento answered, clipped and looping an arm over your waist, "I can handle that."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yuuji. If you have a moment, could you come and speak to me, please?"

You felt an alarm bell in your soul. The sun was setting, on the evening of Yuuji's date, but Kento was still fully dressed. He'd even buttoned his suit jacket up and redone his tie. His pocket rustled. You could have sworn you saw a droplet of sweat drip down his temple.

You paused your murder documentary...and watched, for this would surely be more horrifying. Yuuji leaned round the bathroom door, innocently curious, and padded over with his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his phone.

"Ah...y-yeah, I think they'll be here in a minu--"

"Sit down. Please. Yuuji."

You could have sworn Kento left dents in the top of the chair that he grasped. Yuuji sat slowly, wary, looking between you and Kento. From your place on the sofa, you shrugged. Kento spoke.

"You're...a young man now, Yuuji."

"Ah...yeah. I-I guess I am. Thank--"

"--and sometimes young men have...urges."

You wished for death, but would take the entertainment before you expired. Yuuji's blush started at his chin, and climbed slowly upwards, a sun-ripening peach.

"...Nanamin. Please, you-- you don't have to do--"

"--and it's important to understand the difference between lust, and love."

"Oh god, Nanamin, I'm begging you--"

"--and while it's only natural to follow your urges, it's important to do so responsibly--"

"--Mrs.Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--he can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

Kento pulled the rustling packet from his pocket, and placed it before Yuuji on the table. The room was thick with silence. Yuuji spoke, his voice breaking and his soul sweating.

"...Nanamin, please say that's candy--"

"I've bought you these condoms--"

"--please just let me die, Nanamin--"

"--ribbed, dots, big, small, strawberry I think--"

"--please-- I have to go--"

"--and I only ask that you're sensible and treat your partner with the respect and dignity they deserve--"

"--please treat me with the respect and dignity I deserve and just kill me Nanamin--"

"...and be home by midnight."

Silence. You had held your breath through the whole thing, and held one hand over your mouth. You studiously avoided Yuuji's gaze. Yuuji's mouth puckered, staring up at Nanami, who looked as serious as a car crash.

Yuuji's phone rang. He snatched it up, and made for the door. Kento called after him, mild, "Your condoms, Yuuji--"

"--oh well shit yeah can't forget those, fuck--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

Yuuji stood at the door, considering answering back. He took a single deep breath. He swallowed hard, and stopped himself from scarpering immediately, and turned back to Kento.

"Hey, uh...was that, erm...was that difficult for you, Nanamin?"

"It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

"Yeah, it--it felt it, uhm..." Yuuji waggled the bag of condoms with a smirk, pocketing them, "Thanks, dad. Nobara and Megumi are waiting. We'll go for a date, and the other idiot's our chaperone apparently."

As the door clicked closed, Kento released one great heaving breath, and arched back with his hands over his face, releasing an enormous, animalistic groan of agony.

You bubbled over, snickering, and traced one toe up Kento's thigh from behind.

"...oh hey, Mr.Nanami, sir, can you teach me about the birds and the bees--"

"Quiet."

[entitled-fangirl]

Direwolf.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.

A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense

Masterlist

.....................................

"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him. 

His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection. 

Well, Cregan's direwolf.

Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's. 

He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable. 

So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.

But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her. 

"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."

"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."

The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.

Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."

Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so. 

Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.

"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.

She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."

He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her. 

The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything. 

Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."

He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"

She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"

He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."

"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."

She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."

She paused, "Cregan-"

"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."

Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes. 

Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."

The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still. 

Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."

Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked. 

"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."

…

A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion. 

The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.

Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him. 

He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."

A small whine sounded in the room.

Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf. 

"Why is he on the bed?"

She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."

She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."

He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"

She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."

"Please what?" He teased.

Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."

He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."

Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.

Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."

"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle." 

"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.

"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."

Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."

"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"

Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.

He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."

"Oh, always, Cregan."

…

Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him. 

Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.

He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked. 

He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.

.....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath, @yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… MDNI | part one |

next ->

He had become a nuisance. A pest, a headache. Every single adjective you can think of to describe a pain in the ass he was.

Your father's ranch hand, whom he hired all of six months ago, had become something of a bother, an inconvenience to you. He was annoying and stubborn. Narrowed his eyes at you too often for your liking. Scoffed when you would correct him. And scolded you when you would have people on the property when your parents would leave town—even going so far as to kick your guests off the property altogether.

But tonight would be different; it was the Fourth of July. You would happily throw your party in the barn your family owns, on the property they own. You weren't going to let him order you around tonight.

"What the hell is all of this?" Simon seethed, taking in the concrete floor covered in empty beer bottles and spilled grain. His booming voice caused some partygoers to straighten up, though no one dared to speak.

He clenched his jaw at the lack of cooperation. "Huh?" He paused, his fists clenching so hard they began to turn white.

"So, no one can speak?" He walked over to a guy sitting on a bale of hay, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him off the hay tossing him aside.

"Get the fuck off my hay." He gritted to the guy.

"Where is she?" All he could think about was the little pain in his ass who was responsible for this. The guy he pulled off the hay immediately pointed towards an old wooden outhouse away from the barn.

Simon rolled his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. "If I come back and any of you are still here." He looked over everyone.

"I will not hesitate to shoot you for trespassing."

Safe to say, everyone in the barn scrambled out of the barn at that very second. Simon turned on his heels and stalked over to the outhouse, where he saw you leaning up against the outside with a guy's hands roaming your body, making out.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" You jumped at the sound of his voice, pushing the guy on you off your body.

"Sim—"

"Don't." He moved closer, standing directly in front of you, pointing his finger at you. "Don't Simon me."

"It's the Fourth of July, Simon. Lighten up."

"Do you realize your idiot friends spilled hundreds of dollars worth of grain and fucked with your dad's equipment?" All he had to do was glance at the guy just kissing you for him to go scurrying off.

"Shit, I shouldn't have left them alone. I wasn't thinking." You curse, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

"Ya, you're right." He stepped closer.

“You don't think." He gritted out before continuing.

"You're impulsive. Reckless."

Your eyes widen at his words. Who does this guy think he is? "Don't forget you work for me."

He lets out a deep, dry chuckle. "Actually, I work for your dad." 

"Whatever." You scoff as you take a step to walk past him.

"We are not done talking." He reaches out to grab your wrist; you swiftly turn your head to look up at him.

"I'm done listening to you." You grit out, eyes full of anger.

"Oh, is that it?" He scoffs out as you take a step away, only to trip over a wide hole in the ground, making both of you topple over, him falling on top of you. He's quick to plant a hand on the ground before, so his entire body weight isn't on you.

After you recognize the pain from the fall, you look up at Simon, who's on top of you, eyes boring into yours. Your pulse increases at the proximity, and your breath becomes more shallow.

His eyes blazed with fury, yours full of irritation. You can't help but glance at his lips, hovering not too far away from your own. This little action made him lose it. His self-control was already hanging on by a single thread, and the look you gave was what finally cut through. His lips crashed onto yours with such force that it took your air away.

It wasn't gentle or tender. It was desperation, months of built-up vexation. It was downright sinful.

You gasp once his lips meet yours but quickly return the sentiment. Your hands move to glide through his light hair, gently tugging on the roots, making him groan.

He yanks his cowboy hat off as he grips your waist to flip you so you are now on top of him, straddling his waist as he sits up.

"I thought you didn't like me." You smugly remark as he connects his lips to the side of your neck, and his hands start undoing buttons on your top.

"Like has nothing to do with this." He murmurs into your neck, lightly nipping at your sensitive skin, making you sigh.

"Keep telling yourself that, Cowboy." You jest, grabbing the back of his neck bringing him back up to your lips, already greedy for another taste of him.

He continues working on undoing your top buttons as his tongue collides with yours, and your teeth graze his own.

He cups your breast over the fabric of your bra as soon as he gets the buttons undone, making you whimper. His hand slips down to grip the fat of your ass as he leans in so his lips are lightly grazing your ear.

"You do it on purpose, don't you?" You could feel the roughness of his voice so close to your ear. You leaned into his lips grazing your ear.

"Do what?" You breathe out as his hand roams from your ass to the front of your belt, gently unclasping your belt buckle.

"You playin' dumb now?" He questioned, gently nipping at your ear lobe. The sensation made you let out a low moan before roughly grabbing his face and connecting your lips back to his.

He matched your hungry kiss, reciprocating an even hungrier one of his own as he tossed your belt off to the side and slid off your pitiful excuse for jean shorts down past your thighs.

He quickly undid his belt buckle and threw it off to the side, sliding his jeans down.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." You breathe out, reaching between the two of you to release him from the confines of his boxers.

His mouth went dry at your touch. "Do what exactly?" He choked out as you carefully pumped him up and down.

"Ride you." You casually said as you slipped your already-soaked thong to the side to accommodate him. He could have come at your words. He almost did, but a quick relay of the steps to clean an AR-15 suppressed the urge. 

You grip him and slip him inside your dripping cunt, hissing at the contact. He grips your hips and gently sinks you lower, groaning as you grind into him. 

He brought his face closer to plant deep, wet kisses on your lips before groaning into your mouth as you continued your movements. "Fuck. Just like that." 

Your entire body erupted with goosebumps, and your nipples hardened at the sentiment. You grip his shoulders tightly, but before you pick up your pace, you hear a familiar truck pulling up to the gate of your family's ranch.

"Is that—" You begin before he thrusts into you, making you moan and throw your head back.

"So fuckin' sensitive." He leaned into your exposed neck and licked a strip up to your lips that were slightly parted. 

"Better come quick, sweetheart." He pants, gently bouncing you up and down on his cock, fingers digging into the tender flesh on your hips. 

"Wouldn't want your parents to see you riding me. Would you now?" You let out a pathetic whimper, bringing your hand down to swirl circles on your aching clit, while he wraps a strong arm around your waist to hold you in place as he drills himself into you.

Each thurst, each swirl of your finger, made you feel a sense of nirvana you didn't even know was possible to get to. It was pure bliss. That and his dirty tongue were spewing such filthy words that were making you wetter than you ever knew was possible.

"Tell me you're about to come because—” His pleading voice sends a final wave of heat through you.

"Fuck. Yes, I'm coming." You yelp, slipping your fingers through his hair and pulling on the light roots again. He silently curses as he comes, gripping you tighter and pressing your chest against his own.

By the time both of your orgasms subside, he silently and gently eases you up to assist you in pulling your thong and jean shorts back on. Then, he casually fixes his jeans and grabs his belt to put back on.

You glance at him, picking up his cowboy hat from the ground and carefully wiping off some dirt that had gotten on it. Though he doesn't slip it back on his head, as a shock to you, he places the hat on your head. It was a little big on you, so it fell a bit more in the front, slightly covering your eyes.

"Keep it.” He says, bending down to pick up your belt and buckle, gently slipping it around your waist and clasping it. He gently pats the buckle clasped in the front, then looks down at you before speaking.

"You earned it."

a/n: who the fuck even wrote this

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[uravitypng]

big beefy number one pro hero deku is absolutely smitten with you, his chubby little girlfriend, and yeah you're a little bit of an airhead sometimes but that makes you all the more endearing to him.

prior to meeting you he used to feel embarrassed whenever he'd ramble too long about heroes or quirks. after some time people would drown him out after he started his disjointed babbling, not wanting to listen to him ramble. with you it's different, the first time it happened he went to apologise to you. jirou once told him he should try and apologise if he realised he did it to strangers afterwards- especially now that he's a pro hero.

so he goes to stammer out an apology after realising he spoke to you uninterrupted about all might's golden age for five minutes and you tilt your head and giggle at him. izuku draws in a breath. "why are you apologising deku? i really liked hearing you speak. what about his other ages?"

izuku felt like he was malfunctioning, "what?"

you bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again. who knew pro hero deku is so cute? "like the silver age and the bronze age? are those all the ages or is there like a platinum age too?" izuku grins, you're so interested in what he has to say he can't help it. "wait was is all might's quirk again? he's like strong right? that's his quirk."

izuku pauses for a second before barking out a laugh. you pout and glare at him feigned annoyance. 'she's so adorable and ditzy. i need to speak to her again.'

you constantly praise him, not just for hero work either, and ever single time it makes his entire face red. it doesn't matter that you've been dating for four years now and izuku's brought an engagement ring, he still gets flustered with all the compliments.

people compliment him all the time, it comes with the job, but when you do it it means so much more. " 'zuku you're so brave!" "i don't understand this at all izuku, can you explain it too me? you're the smartest person i know." "you're so pretty." "your hair is so soft." "you're the best hero ever!"

a light sheen of sweat covers your forehead after being manhandled by your boyfriend into the cowgirl position, he loves holding onto your love handles and moving you up and down on his cock, with each bounce your body jiggles. you'll lay in bed with your face buried in his chest as you trace the scars on his arms with your fingertips lightly, "you're so strong izuku." you turn to face him and your chubby cheeks lift as you smile. "i'm so proud of you." his heart skips a beat. he's never loved anyone more than he loves you.

izuku gets possessive of you, he doesn't like people touching you. you're his. before you he never thought he would be jealous or possessive but then you came into his life and he nearly broke the glass of champagne he was holding when he saw todoroki talk to you. he knows todoroki doesn't like you like that, he's liked yaoyorozu since ua but he was too close to you and izuku hated it. his legs moved before he could think, walking up to you both with a forced smile on his face. he wraps his arm around your soft waist, tightly, and kisses your forehead. you smile sweetly at him and lean into his body. izuku brought you home earlier than you thought he would that night, holding onto your thick thigh with one hand while his other hand is on the steering wheel, driving you both home.

his jealous nature was cemented a week after when he saw kaminari talking to you. not just talking to you- flirting with you. if izuku was holding a glass like he was last time he most certainly would of smashed it in anger. you don't even realise what kaminari is doing and izuku knows you don't.

you listen to him talk intently and nod your head, you smile at him and laugh at his jokes. to some people they would think this would be you flirting back but you're not, you're just trying to be nice. kaminari has decided to talk to you and you want to be kind and listen to what he has to say and izuku has really admired that quality about you but right now he wishes you could pick up on the clear signs that kaminari is giving you.

izuku snaps when he sees kaminari look at your cleavage and glance at your body, his eyes lingering on your plush thighs. his voice is strained as he pulls you away from kaminari making some half-arsed, offhanded excuse as he takes you home immediately.

when he saves a small child and he gives them his award winning grin all he can think about afterwards is you. 'who are our kids going to look like? will they have my freckles? or maybe her hair? if they're half as cute as her they'll be the cutest kids ever.' he's already planning their bedrooms and his eyes drift to the baby clothes section at stores.

your boyfriend has the biggest breeding kink known to man and you get reminded of that as he folds your body into a mating press and groans deeply in your ear, "can't wait to see your soft body get softer puppy, promise i'll look after, you won't have to lift a finger." you loudly whine, grabbing hold of his large arms, every thrust causes a loud slapping sound with how wet you are. "you're gonna look so pretty puppy. i'm going to pump you full, make sure you don't spill any for me, just like the good girl you are."

izuku adores you and you feel exactly the same about him.

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I’m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With mo further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawl iut orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they aached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she cannot reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 21/10/2024 Lando Norris - Cockwarming

Plot: Clingy Lando will do absolutely anything to feel close to you, even when he’s streaming.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, dry humping, Cockwarming, p in v etc 18+ Minors DNI

You get home after a long gruelling day of modelling for Calvin Klein, you were in and out of a super cold dressing room infront of the hot lights and camera and you were exhausted and really just wanted a massive cuddle from you boyfriend.

However, once you got further into yours and Landos apartment you could hear the sound the familiar sound of your boyfriends laughter and his loud voice shouting the apartment down. You were happy Lando had the money to soundproof the outer walls but the whole apartment you could hear everything through, which made steam by night when friends where staying over a bit of an issue for you, Lando of course never cared and was happy to show all his friends how well he treated you.

From the short conversation you could hear before he got to the door you could make out that he was streaming with Ginge and Max. You knock on the door pretty loudly and things go quiet until you hear the roll of his chair wheels and the padding of his feet.

“Ahhhh baby, you’re back! How was your day?” He says kissing your head before pulling you back to look at you. And immediately a frown comes over his face when he sees yours.

It was one thing you loved and hated about your boyfriend. He could read you like a book and he always knew when something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, what happened?” He asks sorry evident in his tone.

“Nothing, just a long day. Pretty tired and I just wanna be with you” you say softly smiling at him shyly.

“Come in and sit with me then. You can talk to Ginge and Max too” he offers and you shake your head. You didn’t really feel like socialising with anyone but Lando, you were too exhausted from all the people and the hustle and bustle they had caused at the studio today.

“Don’t wanna see anyone, just you. I don’t wanna be on camera either. Just wanna be close to you right now” you admit with a sigh and he nods. He holds his finger up to indicate to wait there and he comes back only 20 seconds later.

“I turned the camera off and you don’t have to speak to anyone. You can just sit in my lap yeah?” He asks with a smile and you nod, a smile finally gracing yours. You walk in with him seeing his game is paused on one monitor and chat going so quickly you can hardly see what people are saying just catching a few

Camera gone? 🥹

What happened? 🙁

Where did bob go?

He takes a seat in his chair and pats his lap, you join him sitting on his lap, facing the desk watching his monitor as his arms comes round either side of you to reach mouse and keyboard.

“WHERE ARE YOU” you can hear Ginge’s voice through the headphones making you stifle a laugh. Lando unmutes and kisses your shoulder.

“Sorry, Y/N came home and she’s had a bit of a bad day guys and she wanted to come sit with me” Lando explains chat starting to floods with your names and various comments of asking to put the ‘pretty woman’ which is apparently you, on screen for them too see.

“No chat. She’s not feeling her best today, so she’s just sitting with me until I’ve finished for the day. So you all need to behave” he explains and chat floods with nice and kind messages for you telling you to get better and hope you have a better day tomorrow which you know you will as you and Lando will have you ‘rot day’ as you both like to call it.

Eventually it gets too hard sitting in Landos lap normally, your hair was in the way of your arms were pushing him back in the chair and so he asked you to spin round so that you were straddling him.

You straddle his lap leaning into him, so your head was laying in the crevice of his neck and shoulder and just listen to him stream. You always loved his voice it was so flaming to you.

Eventually you start to get a little needy. Whether it was because you hadn’t seen him in so long or it was the way you were straddling him. And you knew it was bad, so bad but you couldn’t help it when you shifted forward and heard a small little groan from him. It was a natural one that could have been put off a him getting annoyed with the game. So you tested it again.

And again and again, working yourself up.

He just smiles at you, watching your movement. And you wanted more of a reaction from him, you needed him and you wanted to feel closer to him. Skin to skin contact was something both you and Lando loved and right now there was too much in the way for that.

You continue going in at a better angle and he nearly moans but covers it with a cough, that was suspicious and before he can get away with it of course Ginge queries it, having been present to yours and Landos clinginess in person.

He explain that he just had something caught in his throat just as he died which everyone seems to believe. He mutes his mic, trying to look at you with a teasing look on his face.

“Be a good girl okay? If you want to be closer for it, go for it but no noise okay and you stay still until I say so” he says and you nod, a happy grin on your face.

You slip his cock out, pulling your own panties to the side before you sink down onto him, your thighs burning at first from holding you up at this angle but once you finally bottom out a sigh of relief comes from you.

Lando shifts only once to help himself get into a comfort position knowing he’s in this for the long run and that he’ll be like this for a while longer before he unmutes and goes back to talking to his friends and playing his game.

The feeling of his cock inside you, just sitting there makes you incredibly happy. You can’t even describe that close feeling you get. You and Lando actually loved to cockwarm. Whenever you were home watching a movie and cuddling his dick would just happen to slip inside you and stay there until the credits rolled. Or like now when he was streaming… it was just something so pleasurable and nice that didn’t require any effort at all.

You could feel every crevice and vein that was against your walls. Your head remained in the crevice of his neck while you stay sat still in his lap, breathing in and out slowly. Your breathing regulates and eventually you fall asleep on top of him.

As far as Cockwarming had gone you usually had some kind of entertainment and you weren’t this tired and so you never had actually fallen asleep with Lando where he was inside you. Moving every now and then when he got a kill and he celebrated, a hand coming onto your bum as he lurched forward with a cheer of glory.

In your soft slumber you can barley hear him having fun with his friends your just letting the day escape from your mind and being in the arms of your favourite person.

You wake up as a forceful jolt sends Landos dick up into you, hitting that soft spongey place you liked a groaned moan coming from you.

“Ah oop that the princess awake. I’m going to have to cut it here guys as I think it’s time for dinner” he says as he ends the stream, leaves discord and shuts of his PC all while you wake up.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom sweetheart?” He asks and you nod, wanting to feel him immediately.

And let’s just say, that night ended much better than you’d anticipated.

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