#there’s like one kiss on the cheek and that’s about it in terms of romance

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Love Making

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Go follow her and love her 🫶(pushes all of you to her blog)

I am out of ideas, y‘all. I am so happy you guys love my dumb smut lol 🩷 really thank you! Idk if I‘ll do any more, unless specifically asked. Also, if meru is ok with it ✨

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, oral !

—————

He smothered you with his length.

You got brief respite when he exited, gasping in short bursts.

Silas was caressing your face with both of his hands, holding you in place. His soft thumb pressed lightly into your cheek.

„Good, good~“, he cooed breathily.

In his mind, he was just giving you your nourishment. He didn‘t fully understand why the milking made him feel so lightheaded, why he longed to do it over and over again. But mothers wrote in the baby books that it is a precious bonding ritual, one they never experienced before.

And surely, this was a feeling he hadn‘t experienced before.

Silas let his darling suck his teats every day, but because he was an elf, his milk was stored elsewhere. Of course!

He had a collection of instructional manuals he had consulted (Romance Novels) and they referred to this act as „love making“. What a beautiful term! Silas felt giddy whenever he thought about it. That‘s definitely what the situation in the spring was, too - it all makes sense now!

Letting out a few breathy moans, he felt you lick his tip, as he thrust gently forward. He had prepared you again, giving you long and deep kisses to fully drench you with his aphrodisiac tongue. It was impossible to stop yourself. The way his kisses made you forget yourself, wanting him. You knew now how hard you could come with him just in you. It was annoying to admit, but you wanted more.

You looked up at him and a flush of purple filled his ethereal face.

„K-keep drinking, my precious…“, he huffed. He was holding himself, pointing it at your open lips.

You let your tongue fall out. You could see him gasp inaudibly from arousal at the sight of you. It was kind of fun to tease him. He looked beside himself, whenever he was close.

Your tongue brushed his tip again and he shivered. He was gently holding the back of your head, his fingers laced within your messed up hair. You could feel him push you forward softly.

Without warning you swallowed him as much as you could. Silas yelped at the feeling of you jerking your head forward vigorously. The sounds he made were so pitiful. You couldn’t get that much of him in your throat, but the mere velocity and sudden depth made the elf convulse and shake uncontrollably. He was trying to hold back, but it was futile.

He exploded with a guttural squeal. You felt his seed plummet into your throat and you quickly released your mouth to avoid choking. More overflowed onto your face, the most of it was dripping out of the sides of your mouth though. You swallowed harshly at the load.

Silas was immobile, his arms twitching by his massive side. He didn‘t speak for a while either, so you just sat there in silence with faint sounds of dripping.

Finally, Silas sat up with a flushed face. Dried tears stained his cheeks as his lip quivered.

„Darling… y-you were hungry, weren‘t you?“ he was trying to talk in his melodic voice, but you had taken his ability to be graceful.

You brushed some semen off your chin and stared at him.

„Oh, let me!“, he grabbed a beautiful doily he had been embroidering with donkeys and cows on it. He read babies like barn animals.

He wiped your face clean.

„There! All clean,“ he beamed down at you. Still feeling a bit sticky, you asked if you could go wash your face. He clapped his hands frantically, proud of you, for whatever reason.

Silas‘s semen didn‘t smell like normal cum. It had a strange, soothing scent to it. You stood over the basin and sniffed your hand a few times. What was in his damn bloodstream that made everything about him smell so fucking divine?

In the background, you heard Silas practice some lullaby, poorly.

Evidently, it was time for bed.

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: making out, steaminess, jealousy, tooth-decaying romance, terms of endearment

He takes you with him to a gala to celebrate the opening of a new museum. 

It’s a little overwhelming, showing up on his arm like this. Everyone’s attention has been on you since you stepped inside the venue. There’s no clear-cut title to your relationship. But he doesn’t correct the other guests when they address you as his lady.

You’re not used to the attention. The whispers of how refreshing it is to see him with someone after years of bachelorhood. They talk about who you could be. A model, an actress, a singer. Talk about how you could’ve come to be his girl. The handsome, seemingly cold, and stoic business mogul smiling boyishly with you on his arm. No one’s ever seen him glow like this. You should be so lucky.

It’s flattering, their gossip, but it’s getting to you along with the champagne bubbling in your stomach. You slip out of the banquet hall for some fresh air. Truthfully, you plan to escape to your room upstairs to take off your dress and recharge. You don’t belong amongst these people, and it shows. You stick out like a sore thumb. 

You saw him chatting up a beautiful, statuesque woman on your way out. She kept touching his arm, smiling all pretty, giggling bewitchingly. He wasn’t doing much to stave off her physical display of affection. Must’ve been an old fling. How could you possibly compete with that?

You step into the elevator, heaving a sigh. Suddenly, a large hand slips between the doors, halting them from closing. He eases in beside you, a furrow between his brows as he watches you in your periphery.

“Were you not enjoying yourself?” he asks, breaking up the tense silence that befalls you as the elevator lazily drags itself between the floors. 

You fiddle with your necklace, a nervous chuckle in your throat. “No, no, I was. I just…”

He suddenly spills over you. Blots out the bright lights overhead, filling your vision with only him. He perches his palms on either side of your waist on the rail behind you. Exudes a dizzying warmth and heady scent that makes you feel more inebriated than the bubbly you consumed.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, squished up against the elevator wall. He quirks a brow, wordlessly encouraging you to continue. Studies your face with scarlet eyes smoldering like burning coals, fully aware of his effect on you.

“I—”

“You?”

You stiffen when his fingertips graze your cheek. He sweeps some hair behind your ear, watching your mouth quiver as you struggle to form words. Your gaze falls to his lips. You’ve kissed before. Though there’s no definitive title to your relationship, it stretches beyond that of interviewer and interviewee. Ambitious journalist and prodigious business mogul. Beyond mere acquaintances or friends. 

He’s made it glaringly obvious that he likes you. He’s showered you with gifts and his time. Whispered the sweetest words to you, held you close. It would be nothing to kiss him now. To lay claim to him, spiting the pretty woman who’d been throwing herself at him earlier.

You’re not usually one to initiate. But you call up some courage, fingers wrapping around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. He blinks at you, a little perturbed, lips slightly parted. You pull him to your height to kiss him, trapping a sound of protest in his throat. 

He melts against you, the kiss evolving into something more heated as he anchors you to the wall with his body. His hands find yours, trapping them overhead, fingers tightly wound together. 

He ravages your mouth. Leaves no part of it untouched by his tongue, drawling pretty mewls from you. He groans in response, addicted to the way you taste. To how you feel, so small and pliant against him. How you sound, sighing all content and gasping for air each time your mouths part.

The elevator dings, signaling it’s reached its destination. You’d forgotten you were onboard, lost in the feel of Sylus’ mouth moving against yours. He breaks away reluctantly, desire burning beneath his irises. He studies you for a beat before pulling you out of the elevator. You toddle behind him like a fawn, your heels too tall, legs feeling like jelly.

You vibrate with anticipation as he drags you to your room door. Pushes you up against it, swooping in for another taste of your lips, hand at the crook of your knee, bringing your thigh up to his hip. He swipes your keycard whilst your hands frame his face, and you’re kissing a little more desperately now. Stumbling back, shoved up against the door’s other side once inside your room. 

His hands roam up and down your sides. He notches himself up against you, knee nestled between your thighs. You moan as he pulls away from your mouth, blistering your neck with kisses leading to your collarbones. Instinctively, your fingers find his hair, mussing up his pretty, white coiffure.

His phone rings in his pocket, the sound jarring amid your labored breaths and the rustling of fabric. He tries to ignore it, busy nipping at the junction of your shoulder, palms roving over the plush of your thighs, your hips. Whoever’s calling must have a vendetta against you because they don’t let up. 

With an irritated sigh, he draws away from you. Still strokes over your skin, his cell held between his ear and shoulder as he grates a harsh “What” into the mic.

You stifle a chuckle. He looks so cute like this, lips kiss-swollen and smudged from your lipstick. Cheeks flushed, mottled red. His hair is slightly askew, the collar of his dress shirt wrinkled, and his bowtie loosened. He watches you with a crease to his eyes, cupping your cheek while his thumb teases your bottom lip.

You chase the feel of it, locking eyes as you nip at his fingerpad. His gaze darkens. He wants to kiss you again, but whatever’s taking place on his phone seems to be holding him back.

“On my way,” he sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He inches in for a kiss, this one chaste and guiltless. Fingers smoothing back your hair, he breathes into the space between your mouths, “Forgot I had a speech to give.”

You pout, knowing where this is going, tugging on his jacket like a clingy toddler. “You leaving me?”

He chuckles, the faintest smile canting his lips beneath the low light of the hotel room’s entryway. “Only for a little while. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.” He presses himself fully between your thighs, the seam of his trousers delightfully grazing your inner thigh. “Promise.”

You brush your noses together, lids lowered. “Okay,” you drunkenly nod, ghosting your lips over his.

“Wait for me?” It’s more of a request than a question, but you agree. You’ll always wait for him.

After kissing you one final time, he peels himself away, straightening his tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his tux. You watch him from the slit of your door with a smile before closing it, propping yourself up against it, and sliding down.

With a dreamy sigh in your lungs, you’re a giddy mess as you fling yourself onto your bouncy mattress, kicking and squealing into the pillows like an enamored teen. 

[inuyashaluver]

Hi bestie, woso-vida here to formally request Alexia x Jenni x Reader 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'm thinking (playful) jealousy?? I'm thinking them both arguing who you'll be sitting beside on the bus?? I'm thinking them constantly trying to one up eachother in terms of romance??

Or yknow, whatever you'd like. I'll read everything from you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

three’s a party - alexia putellas, jenni hermoso

alexia putellas x jenni hermoso x reader

description: in which your girlfriends are incredibly jealous of one another when it comes to your attention

warnings: i am not shipping - this is PURE FICTION, polyamory, let's pretend jenni is in barcelona for the sake of this, slight swearing - spanish is in bold italics!

a/n: i got excited to write this i won't lie, HAPPY AUGUST YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!! enjoy, my lovesssss, thank you so much for your support, love! this is so meh

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if there was anything to know about football players, they’re incredibly competitive. they are so competitive that it can sometimes develop into jealousy, envy and even bitterness.

and the two girls that embodied these qualities the most, just so happened to be your girlfriends.

the jealousy was playful most of the time, but sometimes it could really push your buttons.

—

jenni and alexia, your girls. they were obsessed with you. the two spaniards were so obsessed with you in fact, they don’t know how they went through life without you.

in the beginning stages, they were together for a relatively long time, and it was incredibly unexpected when you joined the equation.

the three of you just made sense. it was easy, familiar and just felt so right amongst all of you. it was your own little bubble, the way you all liked it.

it was private, not a secret, with no confirming nor denying when the question came up. you were all happy and that was all that mattered.

you’d now all been together for a little over 3 years and they were probably the most special and fun years of your lives. and within these three years, you learnt how competitive these girls really could be, especially when it came to you. 

—

“this is unbelievable, we are basically late” jenni curses under her breath, walking back and forth past a sleeping you and alexia as she attempted to find all your belongings needed for the day.

you and alexia’s fronts were pressed against each other, your head tucked under her chin, “you can’t sleep all day” jenni points out, much louder this time in attempts to wake you both up.

alexia’s arms were wrapped around you tightly, you were still sleeping against the older girl as alexia drifted in and out of her slumber.

“niñas (kids), we have training” jenni says pointedly, fighting the smile playing at her lips at how cute you both looked in this moment. you slowly stir against alexia, pressing your nose into her neck.

the other girl is fully awake now, her hands on instinct rubbing up and down your back soothingly. she chuckles in your ear tiredly as you curse out jenni.

“no” you grumble, holding onto alexia tightly as she tried to sit up, “yes” jenni mocks with a laugh, her hands on her hips as she watches you from the end of the bed.

“jen, she’s sleeping” alexia coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek repeatedly, you smile at her sleepily, “yeah, jenni” you giggle, letting alexia cup your cheek with one hand and pull you into a sweet kiss, waking you up even more.

jenni gaws at both of you, “no, that’s not fair! why does she get a kiss first?” she frowns, growing angry at seeing alexia smile into your mouth before she slips her tongue in.

you pull back for a moment, pecking her lips quickly, “because she’s in front of me” you grin, that’s when jenni loses it. jenni leaps onto the bed, quickly spinning you around and straddling your hips with hers, a wolfish grin making you chuckle, they were like children when it came to sharing.

“buenos días, mi amor (good morning, my love)” she sings out, winking at you cheekily, you can’t help but laugh at her, returning the greeting.

you look over at alexia next to you who just shrugs, shaking her head amusingly, clearly she wasn’t in the mood to fight over sharing just yet.

she kisses both of your foreheads, moving past both of you to the adjoining bathroom to begin getting ready for training. “it’s my turn” jenni says as she squeezes your cheeks, directing your head to look at her. you breathe out exaggeratingly, “come on then” you puckered up your lips jokingly, though, jenni is jenni. everything is serious.

she wasted no time pressing her lips to yours, making a quick effort to slip her tongue into your mouth and relished in the fact she pulled a hum from the back of your throat. someone was clearly trying to prove a point.

it was a lot easier now in your relationship ever since jenni returned to barcelona, she hated the short time apart when she was in mexico. 

“calm down, hermoso!” you breathe out a laugh, she hops off you with an accomplished smile, holding both your hands to pull you out of bed. “okay, get off me” she says cheekily, pushing you gently into the awaiting arms of alexia, the blonde currently brushing her teeth.

you laugh as alexia pulled you to her with one strong arm around your middle, you hug her back tightly around her waist. 

she smiles down at you, brushing her teeth with her free hand, swaying you gently from side to side, you could honestly fall asleep against her. “ale, tell her to get ready” jenni calls out from the kitchen, making you all a protein shake. 

alexia chuckles again, letting go of you for a second to give you your toothbrush. 

she now hugs you from behind, both of you smiling in the mirror as you look at each other through it. alexia is done first so she takes advantage of it. 

she kisses your shoulder sweetly, loving the way your cheeks filled with pink over her. “my beautiful bebé (baby)” she grins brightly, continuing her trail of kisses from your shoulder to your jaw, making you squirm from the ticklish sensation. 

“did you give jenni a kiss?” she mutters against your temple, absolutely loving to watch you get ready in the morning. “more like a make out” you chuckle, you spot alexia’s eyebrows furrow and that’s when she spins you around, pressing your back into the sink as she smiled at you. 

“then i should have one too” she wastes no time pulling you into a kiss, humming against you happily as your arms wound around her neck to pull her even closer, her hands finding home on your waist. 

“are you joking?” jenni groans, coming behind alexia to pull you both apart, “that’s not fair!” alexia exclaims, pushing jenni away from you as she tried to pull you into another kiss. 

—

situations like that were a daily occurrence, but they only grew tenfold when it came to national camps. the bus was your nightmare, and it wasn’t even an exaggeration. 

“sit in the window seat” alexia tells you, taking your bag from your hands as you all awaited to get on the bus. “ah, she’s sitting with me” jenni points out, pulling on your arm to launch you into her chest. 

you sigh heavily, you knew this would happen. “you said you would sit with me” alexia pouts slightly, gently pulling your other arm. you smile, “my loves, it’s a 20 minute bus ride” already knowing this would turn into a playful argument.

“but 20 minutes is 20 minutes” jenni scoffed, 

“you got to sit next to her on the way there last time!” alexia frowns, her arms crossed over her chest intimidatingly, “i did not! that was you, ale!” jenni defends, staring at alexia. 

you stand of the middle of both of them, clearly unimpressed, you look between both of them with a deadpan expression 

“bebé, who did you sit next to last time?” alexia asks you sweetly, her tone completely changing for you, jenni scoffs a laugh, though smiles at you gently awaiting your response.

“i sat next to jenni” you think, nodding at your response, alexia’s face brightens, looking at jenni smugly, the other girl frowning.

“princesa (princess), why did you tell her?” she groans, though smiles when you look at her in offence. “i’ve had enough of this, sit together, i’m sitting with leila” you tutt, walking over to the smiling girl waiting for you. this was clearly preplanned by you.

“you fucked up” alexia slaps jenni’s arm, “i did not!” jenni scoffs, picking up her back and walking to the bus. they walk past a laughing you and leila, slightly sad they weren’t the ones making you laugh. jenni plops down in the window seat and stares at you longingly, it takes everything to not look at her.

alexia suddenly remembers something, rummaging through her bag and finding one of your favourite protein bars she always kept for you. she smiles, rushing over to you before the bus moves off, tapping your shoulder sheepishly.

you smile at her sweetly, taking it from her appreciatively before pulling her down for a quick kiss, she pinches your cheek softly, winking at you before moving back to her seat.

jenni looks so grumpy when alexia comes back, “sit down” alexia says sternly, squeezing her knee when she was about to get up to go over to you. "that is so unfair" jenni grits out, though leans her thigh to press against alexia's.

they both bicker quietly back and forth before you turn around to wave at them, both of them perk up quickly and return to normal almost like nothing happened a few seconds prior.

—

during training, you three returned to your regular selves. during a small break, your sat with your back against jenni’s front, talking back and forth with misa and irene. you play with one of jenni’s hands, laughing brighting in the conversation with the other girls. 

when alexia plops next to you both, she smiles at you when you make eye contact and you already know she wants to cuddle with you. you turn around and kiss jenni’s cheek, she looks up at you confused, still in conversation. you make your way over to alexia, wrapping your arms around her shoulders from the back, kissing her cheek sweetly.

her hand comes up to hold your arm and she smiles brightly, though a little pink in the cheeks at how quickly you read her mind. “jealous?” you whisper in her ear in your knelt position, she chuckles lowly, hushing you with a pinch to your thigh resting on her side. 

“look how sad she got” misa chuckles, pointing at jenni, jenni makes an effort to get up slightly and flick her on the forehead, moving over to you, kissing you and alexia softly in turn before she got up to get some water. 

“go with her, bebé (baby)” alexia smiles, squeezing your arm reassuringly, you laugh, they really knew each other so well. “what a treat, mi amor (my love) is here!” jenni exclaims, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips repeatedly, you both laugh into the kisses, so childish but really just so cute.

alexia watches you both with a smile, shaking her head fondly as she gets up to walk over to the both of you.

“happy?” alexia questions, jenni nods, giving alexia a kiss before picking her up and running around with her. alexia curses her out harshly, though laughs brightly when she saw you basically in stitches laughing at your girlfriends.

—

“princesa! (princess), look, i’m doing the dishes”, “bebé (baby), look i’m folding the laundry”, they both yell out when you come through the door with breakfast one morning.

“why are you both acting like i told you to do that? we all live here” you laugh, letting alexia help take the groceries and drinks out of your hands. "it is not a competition, i am both of your partners, and so are you" you remind.

“tsk, you should have let me come with you” alexia scolds, bringing you into a quick hug, “you’re so stubborn, hermosa (beautiful)” jenni scolds as well, patting the top of your head affectionately as you sit at the kitchen island.

“because i can do it myself” you roll your eyes, smiling when alexia presses a kiss to your cheek. “you’re around this one too much” jenni says smugly, winking at alexia with a flirty smile.

“and you’re not stubborn?” alexia springs into action, moving her chair closer to yours as jenni looks at you both from the other side of the island. “do not even start on me right now, putellas” jenni laughs, alexia turns to you immediately, “bebé- (baby)”.

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you know the drill - pretend it's you! ily oni

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alexiaputellas: she just always has to come into the hug

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jennihermoso: how funny, i was thinking the same about you!

↳ alexiaputellas: watch it

yourname: my girls!!

↳ alexiaputellas: my girl

↳ jennihermoso: my girlll

↳ marialeonn16: you are all ridiculous xxxx

[galaxyedging]

Dark!Joel Miller x Innocent f!reader

Warnings: Age gap, reader is 20, Joel is in his 60's. Daddy kink. Dub-con.

Summary: Joel helps you understand some things that you've never read before.

Daddy's Princess

Joel may be strict with his rules, but living with him has given you more freedom than you've even had. You can go outside in the land surrounding your small cabin. Before, you only had a small area between the houses of your little town that you were allowed to walk in. There were no trees, no crunch of leaves under your feet. Not like when you get to walk with Joel. You get to read whatever books Joel can bring you. Before, you were only allowed to read books that weren't banned. You came to Joel at nineteen years old and hadn't seen a curse in print before. Those old rules seem so suffocating now, so you don't mind following Joel's, and after all, they are there to keep you safe. 

When Joel isn't there, you stay inside. When people come calling you hide, when the two of you go out, you stay close. Not many infectioned make it this far. People sure still do, and by the time they get here, they are desperate.

Joel had been gone for two nights. The time alone didn't really bother you. The cabin was safe, and it was nice to be alone after growing up with so many other children. No, not other children, you were a woman now. It's still so easy to forget. 

The book in your hands was keeping you company. It was a romance novel, only the second one you'd ever read. They couple had been on such an adventure. On surviving it, they finally had some time alone. They began to kiss, something you'd always wondered about. The only kisses you ever felt were from your mother, on your chubby cheeks when you were small, but she passed so long ago that the memory has faded. Reading on the man ‘rubs his lover's wet heat, preparing her to take the hard evidence of his arousal.’ The words play over in your head as you try to understand them. A familiar tingle starts between your legs. It’s the same one that comes when you watch Joel chop wood. Or when he puts his hands on you to guide you while out walking.

The door to the cabin swings open below your loft. 

“I'm back, Princess.” Joel always refers to you by your nickname, or some other sweet term of endearment. 

In turn he loves to be called Daddy. He tells you it's because he will always care for you unconditionally. 

“Hi, Daddy.” You try to sound normal as your heart races.

Climbing down from your bedroom you try to seem less flustered than you feel. 

Joel notices immediately. Of course he does, you don't survive into your sixties by being dumb in this world.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” He shrugs off his backpack and layers before coming closer to take a look at you.

One of the rules is that you don't lie to Daddy. “I was reading something confusing.”

“Well, why do we read it together and try to straighten out that pretty little head?” Joel's hand on your lower back doesn't help the feeling between your legs as he ushers you to the small sofa in what serves as a living room.

As you try to sit comfortably, Joel retrieves a pair of reading glasses from the side table, sitting back he takes the book from you. He notices the pages are damp with sweat. “What kind of book is this?”

“It's a ro-romance.” You gulp.

“I see.” His voice gives nothing away. “What part is confusing?”

Your shaking hand points to the passage and Joel begins to read. “After a period of kissing that seemed timeless as their tongues explored each other's warm mouths, Drake began rubbing his lover's wet heat, preparing her to take the hard evidence of his arousal.” Joel closes the book and places it on the table along with his glasses. “I see. Well, what part is confusing, Darlin’?”

“All of it. The words, the way they make me feel.” You confess.

“How do they make you feel?” Joel leans against the back of the sofa, waiting patiently for your answer.

“There's a tingle between my legs and in my…” you know you need to be honest so you swallow thickly and press on “...my breasts. I get it when I'm with you sometimes, too.”

“Okay.” Joel is completely calm and unphased by your words. “Would you like me to explain it all to you?”

“Yes, please.” You sigh with relief.

“I need you to lift up your skirt and show me where the tingle is.” Joel shifts forward in his seat and begins to roll his sleeves up.

Even though you trust Joel with all your heart a shyness comes over you. Joel sees your hesitation. “It's okay, Princess. Daddy would never hurt you. This is all perfectly normal and natural.”

Nodding your head you shuffle down on the sofa and bring your feet up. Your skirt falls back off your knees allowing you to show Joel where the tingle is.

“Now, I need you to point for me.” Joel is now down on the floor to get a better view you assume.

You do as you are asked. “Good girl. Now press your finger to where the tingle is.” Again you obey. 

As your finger touches the fabric of your panties you find it damp and warm. “Wet heat.” You breathe as the tingle grows stronger.

“That's right, my smart girl. Now rub your finger around until you find a spot that feels real good. Your finger will have to go between your folds a little but that's fine. The spot should be like a little hard bump.”

At first you are concentrating on Joel's words too hard to feel the change in the tingle until “Oh my!” 

Joel was right about it feeling good. 

“That's it, now try rubbing little circles around that spot.” 

Following Joel's instructions your legs begin to shake as the feeling grows more intense until you have to stop.

“Are you alright?” One of Joel's hands rubs your calf as he speaks and a new sensation like a twitch develops in your wet heat.

“Yes. It was just..a lot.” You try to breathe normally.

Joel chucks. “That's alright. You were getting to the best part. Anyway, do you understand what your wet heat is now?” You nod “The clinical term is a vagina but it has lots of names. Some sweet, like flower. Some vulgar, like pussy or cunt. 

“What do you call it?” You peer down at him curiously.

When he stands you're worried that you have offended him. “Well that depends on the ‘evidence of my arousal’.” His hand comes to cup his groin and you notice that the large bulge there is even larger. “Do you know what this is called?”

You shake your head earnestly. You knew that men and women's bodies were different but you didn't know what men had down there. Only that it was bigger. “This is my penis but I call it my cock. It's gotten bigger because I've been tingling too. We call that tingle arousal. It means when your body wants to have sex or needs to orgasm. An orgasm is what was going to happen to you when it started to feel really, really good.”

You sat quietly for a moment trying to process. “So when I get the tingle when you touch me. That means I want to have sex with you? But I'm not ready to be a mother.”

“Oh, Princess. Sex isn't just for makin’ babies. It's for makin’ people feel real good. Just like you were doin’. Now why don't you slip off your panties and carry on. I promise it will be worth it.” So you do as Joel says. He drops to his knees in front of you again. “Oh, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen. She's so wet. Come on now make her drip for me. Keep rubbin’.”

Wanting to make Joel happy, you do. You keep rubbing little circles until your fingers are soaked, your legs tremble, your eyes flicker open and closed and your body feels pleasure it has never known until…”I can't, Daddy. It feels like there is something coming but it won't.”

“Shhh. Alright. Do you want Daddy’s help?” Joel coos.

“Yes, please.” you take his hand with your free one.

“Just remembered, Daddy always knows best. I always keep you safe as long as you do as you are told.”  He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Coming closer, Joel dips his head towards your pussy and you feel something warm and wet hit it. “It's always good to get as wet as possible.” He comments before the pads of two thick fingers press to that spot and begin to rub up and down.

The pleasure is near blinding. “Daddy. I can't. I…please…please stop.”

“It's for your own good. Just breathe.” 

Your whole body tense as you claw at Joel's wrist. 

“No. Please. Stop. STOP!” you cry as the strange sensation builds.

“Shhh. Shhh. Daddy's got you. Just relax. Come on. Come for me. Come for Daddy.” you have no idea what Joel is asking for until it explodes through you.

The tension gives to waves of pleasure. The tingle convulses inside you. The wetness drips down the crack of your ass. You head swims with a euphoria that you have never known. Your pinned in place by the feeling. You mouth open wide in a silent scream.

“That's it, Princess. Oh, look you're all ready for Daddy.” The convulsions of your pussy are restricted as something enters you. “Oh, fuck.” Joel gritted out.

The unknown pressure begins to feel uncomfortable, painful even.

“Joel?” you wince.

“It's alright, Princess. Daddy just has to take his turn. You got to come, now I have to. You don't want me being it pain do you? That's what happens when a man’s cock gets hard and he can't relieve it. Nearly did myself an injury or two tryin’ not to touch myself when you first got here. Especially that first night with your little dress all wet…” The pain increases as Joel pushes what must be his cock further in. “Oh, fuck, Baby.” Joel's groans of pleasure make you bite your lip. You don't want to spoil it for him. “Your little dress all wet and those perky nipples begging to be sucked. I fucked my fist outside the next day. Ugh.” he grunted as he finally stopped pushing forward. The intrusion was painful but there was a tinge of pleasure in there too.

“Daddy? Will this make me come again?” 

“Oh, Princess. If you let me fuck this tight cunt, I will make you come so fucking hard.” Joel never cussed around you. The sound of it eased the pain in your cunt. 

As soon as you nod, Joel's hands grip your hips and he begins to pull you toward him as his hips surge forward. He repeated the motion over and over a few times. You want to be good for him but he's so big.

“Daddy. I'm sorry. I can't take it. Too big.” Tears flow and your voice cracks.

“You can. You're going to lie back and take it until Daddy blows his load.”

“No. I can't.” you begin to push at his chest. Joel simply pins your hands above your head with one of his.

“You can, Princess. I promise.” his lips find your and his tongue pushes yours apart. Another wave of wetness eases the fullness you feel but it's still too much when Joel starts to piston his hips into you.

“Daddy. No. Stop. Please.” shakey pleas tumble from your lips. 

They only seem to spur Joel on. “Is Daddy's cock too big for his Princess’s virgin cunt? You're wet as anything yet I'm still too much for you. Look at you, begging for me to stop. Tell me you want me to stop.”

“I do, Daddy. You're so big. I can't…” you are crying despite the pleasure building. It's all too much.

“Say it. Say ‘stop’. Beg me.” Joel's hips only increase in speed only stopping when he rams up against something inside you that takes your breath away.

“Stop, Daddy. Please.” you managed to get out.

“Oh, shit. Fuck. Daddy doesn't have to. He could fill this cunt if he wanted. I'm right there. Right up against your cervix. I could breed you. I could keep you here, barefoot, pregnant and just keep milking my cock with this cunt whenever I wanted. You couldn't do a damn thing to stop me. Come on, Princess, Daddy's close. Come for me.”

With all of Joel's talking you hadn't realised how much the pain had shifted to pleasure. This time when Joel strokes you the screams aren't silent. “Oh, God! Oh, Joel! Joel!”

“That's it. Perfect little cunt sucking me in and working me close. You dirty little whore. Fuck!”

Before you can come down from your high, Joel was on his feet. One hand was wrapped around his cock. Your eyes were transfixed. You weren't sure what you expected it to look like but it made you clench. His other hand pulled down your dress to expose your breasts. 

“Perfect tits, too. They'd look even better painted.” Joel's hand moves on his huge cock lightening fast until white fluid shot from in and landed on your breasts. His hand is still moving as his drops to his knees to lick the substance off. Even after it's gone he keeps on licking then sucking your nipples. The tingle builds then breaks when Joel pumps two thick fingers in and out of where his cock just was.

“Joel!” you scream as a final burst of pleasure leaves you boneless and breathless.

Joel’s sturdy weight rests against your chest. “Now, Princess, why don't we read more of your book and see if you need anything else explainin’?”

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart. 

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME 

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment. 

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week. 

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines. 

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other. 

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal. 

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past. 

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past! 

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile. 

YOU: i hate you 

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do. 

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer. 

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms. 

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead. 

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in. 

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.” 

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.” 

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!” 

“Am not!” 

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place. 

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. 

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.” 

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider. 

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream. 

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence. 

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?” 

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?” 

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.” 

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other. 

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week. 

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues. 

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.” 

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line. 

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously. 

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends. 

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?” 

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?” 

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications. 

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius. 

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night? 

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest. 

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now. 

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. 

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come. 

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING. 

Oh.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him. 

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable? 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen. 

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you. 

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” 

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” 

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.” 

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?” 

“It’s for safety.” 

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?” 

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.” 

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.” 

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of. 

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized. 

“We can go helmet shopping another day.” 

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you. 

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that. 

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy. 

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street. 

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again. 

“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?” 

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.” 

“You say that to every girl you bring here?” 

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.  

“Only the prettiest ones.” 

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week. 

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you. 

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him. 

 The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy. 

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his. 

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver. 

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race. 

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” 

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands. 

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch. 

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide. 

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away. 

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.” 

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.” 

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. 

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me? 

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.” 

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?” 

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows. 

“Does it really matter?” 

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking. 

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him. 

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on. 

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse. 

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light. 

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.” 

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away. 

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.” 

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?” 

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?” 

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.” 

“Like you have been?” 

“Burn in Hell.” 

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill. 

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish. 

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen. 

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of. 

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.” 

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends? 

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends? 

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter 

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that. 

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again. 

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.” 

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.” 

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.” 

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist. 

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly. 

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.” 

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce. 

“I did.”

“I believe you.” 

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much. 

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much. 

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.” 

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play. 

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead. 

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song. 

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember. 

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot. 

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you. 

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?” 

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.” 

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?” 

“Maybe.” 

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer. 

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him. 

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly. 

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care. 

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him. 

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up. 

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter. 

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.” 

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter. 

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others. 

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet. 

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply. 

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were. 

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer. 

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.” 

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.” 

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.” 

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time. 

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile. 

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind. 

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing. 

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect. 

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.” 

“I have an answer.” 

“You sound very sure there, big guy.” 

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?” 

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though. 

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness. 

“Yeah. Dating.” 

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye. 

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating. 

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him. 

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it. 

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.” 

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.” 

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed. 

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

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[residenthughes]

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence. 

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair. 

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing. 

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.” 

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation. 

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds. 

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you. 

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan. 

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs. 

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.” 

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars. 

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.” 

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup. 

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 2: nicknames and terms of endearment

thank you to the @bucktommypositivityweek mods for putting this together so quickly! please overlook any spelling/grammar errors...it normally takes me 5-7 business days to catch them all (if even) and I really wanted to write something for this event. Rated: E • 2K • Fluff, Romance, Humour, And some smut at the end.

Of all the things Buck thinks may prove to be a speed bump in his first relationship with a dude, (phrasing he’s still getting ragged for), like who gets to be the big spoon, if he was going to have to start buying his own shampoo (the bottle Natalie left in his shower had entered a critical state of near empty), the whole dick situation, none of them actually turn out to be much of an issue. 

As it happens Tommy is pretty indifferent when it comes to their sleeping arrangements (together, preferably); he offers to drop by the CVS and pick up more shampoo for Buck when he realizes he’s out (are you sure Herbal Essence is really what you want?); and let's just say Buck finds he takes to cock like a duck to water. 

In the end, he’s so busy worrying about whether Tommy would want to be the little spoon on occasion, or if his boyfriend now thinks he doesn’t know how to wash his hair, he completely overlooks one of the most obvious hurdles of them all: pet names. 

And the worst part is that it’s totally a one sided issue. “Sweetheart” slips out of Tommy’s mouth so easy and so smooth, his tone warm like butter sliding around a hot pan, just a little gravelly, especially first thing in the morning and late at night. The word rolls down Buck’s spine like condensation, gaining speed, to pool warm and liquid in the cradle of his hips. Tommy makes it sound so natural: a little cocky, a little, flirty, a little tongue and cheek, like the word was created to be formed by his lips and not the other way around.

Buck tries it out in the mirror one time, it’s clunky and awkward and he embarasses himself too much to keep going. He’d been surprised, maybe even a little underwhelmed (in a good way), by how few differences there really were when it came to dating men vs. women. Sure, he didn’t think any of his previous girlfriends would have been charmed if he tried one of his new grappling moves on them pre-fuck (but he bet he could proabally find a woman who did if he tried hard enough), and the stubble burn on his ass was new but not all that different from eating a girl out one week post bikini wax–the important part was the kisses felt the same, Tommy’s skin didn’t taste any different against Buck’s tongue, and his heartbeat still fluttered high in his throat when Tommy looked at him and smiled or reached out to interlace their fingers. 

The point was, the things that do stand out to him about Tommy: his strength, the way he carries himself, how he’s in equal measures serious and goofy and sarcastic in a way that has Buck bubbling fondness and unable to hold back his grin, makes it difficult for Buck to come up with an enderment he feels encompassess all of that. He’s probably overthinking it (he definitely is), but it wasn’t the first time Tommy had left him reeling and feeling slightly unmoored, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, so he better pull himself up by his bootstraps and get to work.

Buck decides the best way to feel Tommy out was to work it into casual conversation. An experiment of sorts. He’s already got a list of potential options on his phone; he leaves sweetheart off it because it just doesn’t sound right coming out of anyone’s mouth but Tommy’s. 

Tommy’s working in the garage when Buck decides to give his first option a go. The heat spiked around noon, and Tommy’s got a box fan blasting in the corner of the room. He’s still got a massive gray splotch on the center of his back where his shirt is stuck to his skin and Buck’s a little surprised (and disappointed) that hasn’t ditched it yet. 

“Hey honey, it’s smokin’ in here, do you want some water?”

Tommy jerks, bumping his head on the hood of the Charger. Buck winces. The look Tommy shoots over his shoulder is an incredulous one, rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not backing down now. “Honey.”

Tommy raises a brow. “What, are you going to make me a sandwich too? Get me a beer?”

Buck throws his hands in the air because he can, he knows Tommy finds his dramatics charming, the poor sucker. He turns on his heel, a smile eating away at the corner of his mouth. “I was just trying to be nice, but if you’re fine–”

Tommy lunges out and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Buck’s shorts, reeling him back. “Whoa, wait a second. I didn’t go that far…”

Buck is very happy to let himself be dragged into the circle of Tommy’s arms, broad hands slipping into his back pockets. Tommy smells a little funky, like sweat and grease and the spearmint gum he likes to chew when he’s working with his hands, an old habit from quitting nicotine post-military. 

He slips his fingers under the damp cotton at Tommy’s waist, rolling the hem of his shirt up inch by inch. “Well, what do you want then?”

Tommy gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I can think of a few things, but water does sound pretty good right now.”

Buck leans in for another kiss, letting this one linger. “Mmm, alright.”

“What,” Tommy drawls, “No, ‘alright, honey’?”

Buck slaps him hard on the ass, Tommy letting out a full body “oof” a Buck steps out of the circle of his arms. 

“Maybe later if you ask nicely.” Buck wags a finger at him as he walks slowly backwards towards the door to the house. Pretty proud of himself when he doesn’t trip over the first step.

Well, he can scratch that one off the list. 

The next up is babe, which Buck regrets almost immediately. 

“Babe, do you know where my running shoes ended up?” he calls down from the loft, and gets in return: “Where you left them babe, right on top of mine!”

Tommy spends the rest of the day parroting him, “pass the remote, babe–do you need me to pick anything up on my way home, babe--don’t drop the soap, babe–” and Buck thinks it’s best to lay that one to rest before he goes insane. 

It becomes clear that the rest aren’t going to make the cut either and Buck decides to take the opportunity to have some fun with it instead. “Honeybun” makes Tommy snort coffee out his nose; “Gumdrop”, specifically employed in front of Eddie, makes Tommy glow, pleased and a little flustered at being razzed about it by his new friend; “Lover” makes the corners of Tommy’s mouth writhe and his eyes roll and his nose scrunch up like he’s sort of embarrassed by how much he likes that one, (Buck slips that information into his back pocket for later).

They all live within the sliding scale of reactions Buck expects from him: fondness and humor and affection. It’s not until he reaches the end, the one Buck had almost not bothered putting on the list it was so commonplace, that he elicits a reaction that makes him pause. 

Tommy’s in the kitchen, kneading pasta dough into a soft ball, they’re making handmade ravioli to take to a housewarming potluck at Bobby and Athena’s new place, when Buck asks: “Baby, what time are we supposed to be leaving again?” and watches the back of Tommy’s neck flush a vibrant red. Interesting. 

Buck doesn’t draw attention to it. He doesn’t push or tease. He just drops it into their conversations, here and there, not frequently enough to really give Tommy a reason to call him out on it, though Buck finds it telling that he never does. It’s obviously having some effect on him, albeit a silent one: high color rising in Tommy’s cheeks, his eyes casting quickly down and away. 

Buck waits for the right moment to really set the hook and see what he can draw out; it’s just chance that that perfect moment happens to be when they’re naked in bed. 

Tommy’s legs are hooked around his waist and his fingertips are digging white crescents into Buck’s biceps where he’s gripping him like he’s holding on for dear life. His eyes keep circling down to where Buck is spreading him open then back up to catch Buck’s gaze like a closed circuit.

The cling of Tommy’s body is slick and sweet, and he looks up at Buck like Buck's giving him everything he wants and he can’t quite believe how good it is. His eyelids droop like he’s struggling to keep them open and Buck swoops down to capture Tommy’s mouth in a kiss. Tommy moans into it and Buck can feel where his cock is kicking insistently against his stomach, wet and hot to the touch. Buck curls a fist around it, stroking him from base to tip and watches the way his eyelashes flutter and his mouth drops open in silent pleasure. 

Tommy’s other hand slips from Buck’s biceps to his back when Buck dislodges it so he can brace himself on one arm, get a little closer, suck wet kisses into the razor edge of Tommy’s jawline. He slows their rhythm down a little, grinding in with deep swivels of his hips. Tommy’s knees pinch tight at Buck’s sides and he manages to pry his eyes open just enough to sweep his gaze down to where Buck’s stroking him and his rim is stretched nice and slick and pink around Buck’s cock, and back up again. His pupils are blown wide and his hands twitch on Buck’s lower back, slipping down to the meat of his ass, pawing at him, pulling him in–

“You're going to come aren’t you? I can feel it,” he says right in Tommy’s ear. 

“Evan–” Tommy cuts himself off on a moan, his nails dig a little deeper into Buck’s skin, and Buck barely feels it; all of his attention narrowed down to jacking Tommy off and fucking into him at the angle that makes get all tight and twitchy, his muscle tensing up, panting all hot and heavy against Buck’s temple. 

“Common, I want you to,” Buck says, flicking his wrist tight and fast at the head in the way he knows will finish Tommy off quick. “Tommy–Baby–Let me feel it.”

Tommy’s brow crumples and Buck gets to feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his hand and around his cock as Tommy comes undone, slicking his chest with thick, white streaks. 

Buck presses his face into the damp crescent of Tommy’s neck and rabbits his final few strokes into the hot clutch of Tommy’s ass. He can taste the salt on Tommy’s skin as he groans against it, rolling his hips indulgently as his cock softens. 

Tommy strokes his back as he pulls away, arm falling to the side as Buck gets up to ditch the condom. He’s staring up at the pebbly stucco of the bedroom ceiling when Buck returns to bed. “No one’s ever called me that,” he says quietly, contemplatively. 

Buck shuffles closer till he’s pressed up along his side, draping an arm over Tommy’s midsection to anchor himself. Buck finds that hard to believe. He can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want Tommy to be their baby, but he’s glad he’s Buck’s.

“Well, it’s only fair that I’m your first for something too.”

Tommy rolls his head to the side, a dopey smile on his face. He looks fucked stupid and Buck feels unbearably fond about it. 

“Sweet talker,” Tommy accuses softly, hooking two fingers under Buck’s chin and pulling him into a kiss. 

Yeah, Buck thinks, I like the sound of that.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”

Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.

“It’s just hair, Will.”

“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”

“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.

“‘S’not fair.”

“Mhm.“

“Your hair listens to your instructions.”

“Yep.”

“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”

Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”

“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.

“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”

Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.

“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.

Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.

“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.

Will harrumphs.

“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”

“I used gel.”

Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”

“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”

“I bet.”

“And yet!”

“And, yet.”

Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.

Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I like your hair, you know.”

“It’s a stupid mess.”

He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.

“I like the stupid mess.”

“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”

“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.

“Shut up.”

Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.

Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.

“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”

“What,” Will grumbles.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”

“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.

Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”

“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”

“I would not!”

“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”

“I did not!”

“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”

“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”

“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.

Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.

“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”

Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”

Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.

“I never thought you were a freak.”

Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”

“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”

Nico bites his lip. Hard.

“The number never got higher than six.”

“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”

Will sighs.

“You can laugh.”

Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods, you are — a mess.”

“Mhm.”

Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.

“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.

[grimm-writings]

swallow

…ft! sunday x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, spoiler-free, first kiss, a shy sunday practising selfishness

…wc! 823

…notes! i’m obsessed with this nerd and want to give my attempt and writing how i feel he goes about romance (VERY AWKWARDLY). have at thee.

Don’t move.

Do not do anything.  Do not even respond.

It’s the one request Sunday made of you for the moment.  He revealed the fear that he would like to kiss you, but fear of anything unexpected occurring during it throws him off.  You understand; the idea of being vulnerable and under someone’s scrutiny can be extremely nerve wracking.

Thus, this was your solution.  You weren’t to reciprocate, you weren’t to place your hands anywhere, you weren’t to move even a muscle.  Sunday is still slowly coming to terms with being with you, never mind having you as his own.  This is a slow process, and you’re willing to do things at his speed.

Sunday is on his knees, level with you sitting on a chair.  His torso fits between your legs as he apprehensively glances up at you.  You grant him a reassuring smile, and nod at him.

Your eyes flutter shut as the besotted Halovian swallows down his anxieties.

He’s come this far.  It’d be a shame to miss out on you.

Sunday doesn’t dare touch or hold you, at least not yet.  His face approaches yours at a slow speed, as if he himself was slowed down by time.  His lip quivers when your breath fans against his own.

Cautious, Sunday allows himself the will to shut his eyes, lest he cowers and moves away once more.  Xipe help me, he internally scrutinises himself.  He can feel himself shaking.  How pathetic.  If he were more like a prince or some hero from a novel, someone truly worthy of you, he’d have already swept you off your feet.

Yet here he is, frozen stiff at the very idea of touching you.

He knows you’re resisting from encouraging him, reassuring him that it’s okay, he can take his time.  He doesn’t need to hear you to know it.  Your eyes flutter, tempted to open to spare him a glance, make sure he’s okay.

If he’s being quite honest, Sunday feels like he might faint.

Gloved fingers, trembling, push hair away from your face.  Even without looking at you directly, Sunday can imagine where you are, where all your features lay, with such clarity.  Has he memorised you so thoroughly?  He stares more than he thought.

His palm rests on your cheek.  For a moment, he wonders what it’d be like if it were skin-on-skin contact.  His hands, he doesn’t think they’re worthy of holding you so honestly, so purely.  This barrier of fabric is for both of your own sakes.  Sunday isn’t sure if he could bear the thought of being so intimate.

In his mind, he can hear Robin’s laughter– asking in disbelief if he truly is that timid.

It’s as clear as a glass cage, Sunday is utterly hopeless in your presence.

He doesn’t wish harm unto you, and considering his position, that’s a very likely thing.  You are the glass, reflecting back at him.  Shining, gleaming with a light Sunday vies for so ardently.

Your warm breath is like the sun wishing him nothing but pleasure for the hours to come.  He can imagine you withholding the temptation to smile, feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks against your own.

He’s weak.

He’s completely weak for you.

Lips brush against yours, at long last, and Sunday hesitates.  He’s so close, and he still finds himself freezing up again.  How long has it been?  Seconds?  Minutes?  The desire to be so meticulous about a mere kiss…  Losing that sense of control would mean disaster for dear Sunday.

It’s mind-boggling to him how perfectly his lips slot onto yours.  With precision, (practised?  Did he rehearse all this on a pillow or something?  Perish the thought!)  Sunday presses his mouth against your own.

As promised, you don’t move.

You do not do anything.  You do not even respond.

Chaste, pure, controlled.  Sunday has kissed you, as arduous and nail-biting the whole proceeding was.  He pulls away after exactly three seconds, you count, and your eyes flutter open to see him, at the most vulnerable he’s willing to be right now.

You can’t help but smile, resisting the urge to giggle right in Sunday’s face.

“Aeons, you look so stressed!”  You note.  You rub your hand over his clothed arm, that hovers awkwardly in the air after you moved away from where he was holding you.  “With that red face of yours, you nearly look like a swallow!”

Sunday avoids eye contact for now, merely humming a nervous laugh.  “I just… hope it was to your standard. You deserve it.”

You had to hold back all urges you had just to throw your arms around your love and kiss him all over.  Boundaries are there for a reason.  You take his tense hand in yours and squeeze it, bringing it to your chest, just over your heart.

“It was perfect.”

Sunday smiles, golden irises finally daring to meet yours.  “Yes.  I concur.”

[niningtori]

violets are blue: a hanahaki au | oneshot

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi yeonjun x you

summary: you love beomgyu, your best friend, so much it makes you sick. literally. like, sick in the sense that your days are numbered as you try to fight off the hanahaki threatening to kill you every time he breaks your heart with his loving girlfriend, so you decide you'll try getting over him with the help of his girlfriend's friend, yeonjun.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, hanahaki

warnings: lots of clichés, serious illnesses, and mentions of death

word count: 5.2k

notes: surprise! i didn't think i'd get this out just yet but here it is <3 please don't be mean (i'm fragile) and feedback is always appreciated!

it’s a bearable sort of pain, but it’s still painful, nonetheless. bearable is a very loose term, too, because you know if and when things continue as they are, you will no longer be able to write your symptoms off so casually. and as you lean over beomgyu’s toilet and watch purple petals stained with crimson red blood swirling down the drain, you know it won’t be long before your pain crosses from “bearable” to “hellish”. 

still, you manage to flush the evidence of your dying heart and take a good look at yourself in the mirror. your lips are nice and bloody, your makeup nice and smudged. you calmly take out the emergency mouthwash and makeup from your bag and get to work. after you’re finished tidying up, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. with a shaky smile and slightly reddened eyes, you leave his bathroom and prepare for the worst.

and the worst, it is. you just so happen to walk in to beomgyu’s living room while he plants a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek as she giggles like mad. suddenly, your chest hurts even more than it already did and you find it hard to breathe. well, back to the bathroom you go.

-

you wish it were like the stories. you wish you could get some magical surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs — yes, even if it meant forgetting beomgyu. if you were a better person, you would say you’d rather die with your love than forget him; but as you’ve come to find out, you guess you’re not that selfless. actually, with the way things are now, you think it’d be better to forget. but unfortunately for you, there is no such solution in this world. 

as it stands, the only way for you to cure your illness is by finding another love, which you have been too stubborn to try, but as you die a little more and more every day, you realize you have to do something. beomgyu is getting more serious with his girlfriend with every passing day, and even before that, he never once looked at you like anything other than a best friend — which you thought was killing you at the time, in a figurative sense, but now it’s killing you in the most literal of ways and you’re desperate. 

you want to tell yourself that beomgyu needs you, and maybe he does, but he does not need your love the way you need his. the proof of this sentiment being that one of you is, at present, dying for the love of the other, and it’s not him. 

-

it’s hard to hate beomgyu’s girlfriend when she’s so fucking nice, so you stopped trying to hate her long, long ago. in another life, you might even call each other friends. in this one, though, it’s a quiet sort of dance where you neither push nor pull her too hard. if she’s there, you greet her with a smile on your face. if she’s not, you don’t ask about her. it’s a delicate little charade, but one you play the part in flawlessly. beomgyu commends you for being “so cool” with her, but you have no other choice. if you veer too much in one direction or the other, you run the risk of losing him for good. 

so she is, understandably, very surprised when you wait for beomgyu to go to the bathroom before asking her if she has any single friends.

“oh my god, really? i thought you'd never ask!” she exclaims, and you paste on a smile so sweet it’s sickening.

turns out, she has a lot of friends, unlike you, and many of them are, in her words, handsome. she pulls up a picture of a few of them and your eye is caught by one in particular. 

“who’s that one?” you ask, pointing to a black-haired boy with an undercut. 

“that’s yeonjun,” she grins. “oh, i just knew you’d like him. you’re totally his type, too. he’s gonna freak when i set you two up.” 

“what’s going on?” beomgyu cuts, and your short-lived giddiness is shot in the head almost instantly.

“baby, you’ll never believe it. she’s interested in yeonjun,” she declares, still as excited as ever.

beomgyu turns to you with a look you can only describe as odd. you never talk about dating with him. like, ever. you don’t even seem interested in the idea to the point where he very earnestly sat you down one day and asked you if you were asexual, to which you spent a very arduous few hours awkwardly explaining that you are not. honestly? he didn’t really believe it at the time, but he’s beginning to now, if only because you seem so incredibly flustered at the moment. 

“really? that’s great,” he says after a slightly off-putting pause, but thankfully, nobody catches it. “you know, for a second there, i thought you were gonna be our future kids’ single wine aunt forever. i’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there.” god, he doesn't even know how much he hurts you, but he hurts you all the same. he’s spoken about marrying and having children with her, but to think that you fall into the “fun aunt” role in his future with her just makes you feel sick. you’d better pray that this shit with yeonjun goes well, because your lungs are starting to ache just as the thought.

“this is great,” she says, breaking you out of your trance. “how about this: we’ll go on a double date. that sounds fun, right?” 

“actually, i think i’d like to meet him on my own first, if that’s cool with you,” you say. the last thing you need is for the love of your life to be there on your first date with another man. what if things go wrong? or worse, what if things go right? beomgyu can’t be there for that. you can’t do that to poor yeonjun.

she looks disappointed at your words, but beomgyu cheers her up by pinching her cheeks and promising that you’ll all have plenty of chances to go out together if things go well. you try to smile, you really do, but you’re not sure if what comes out looks anything even remotely close to one. luckily, it seems like they’re too absorbed in each other to notice.

-

you haven’t talked much with yeonjun before tonight, opting to meet him in person to see if the chemistry is there before wasting any time with just “talking”. you simply don’t have the time to spare, and yeonjun seems equally as eager to meet you for reasons unknown. so now you sit all dolled up and glammed out at the back of a dimly lit restaurant as you wait to meet the boy you can only pray will save you. he must have no idea how much you need this. 

when you first see him, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. you see beomgyu every day, and he’s the handsomest man in the world to you, but something about yeonjun is different. when he introduces himself and you get to know each other, his charisma charms you in a way you sincerely did not anticipate. he’s funny and goofy, which is just how you like them. you haven’t been on a date in god knows how long, but you’re starting to think that maybe this previously incomprehensibly doomed situation may not be so inescapable after all. that is, until he’s taking you home.

it’s dark outside and he graciously gives you his jacket like the gentleman he is, and you’re walking notably close together on the sidewalk, bodies brushing each other every few steps when he tells you something that just might change your life.

“listen, i really had fun tonight,” he says nervously, and it’s like you can feel the rejection before he even says anything more.

“but to be honest with you, my intentions aren’t exactly pure.” your heart drops. does he just want to sleep with you or something? that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it’s not what you need. you need to love someone and for that someone to love you back so you don’t get sick beyond salvation. the only way to get over beomgyu is by getting serious with someone else.

“then what do you want?” you question feebly. he stops walking and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“i want to fall in love with you, and i want you to fall in love with me. i want us to be together forever. i need it, actually.” he says eerily seriously, and you’re confused for a few moments before it dawns on you. 

“you’re sick, aren’t you?” you ask, and his face hardens for a second before he nods.

“y-yeah, i'm sick. if you don't wanna see me again after this, i understand. i just —”

“it's okay. i am, too,” you say with a small, reassuring smile.

“you too?” he asks, eyes comically wide and pouty lips agape in an “o”. 

“yeah,” you tell him, and he’s quiet for a few moments before he laughs. it’s a cute, pretty little thing, and it makes you join him, too. 

“wow, maybe meeting each other was fate,” he says between giggles.

“maybe,” you reply. and for the first time in a long time, you think you might really make it out of this alive.

-

“and you won’t believe it, but he told me he spent the whole night with her!” beomgyu’s girlfriend says proudly. 

“... what?” he mumbles dazedly. 

“he said he went over to her place and stayed there all night, and on the first date, too!” she babbles. “now, he didn’t tell me what they did, but if i know yeonjun, i bet they —” 

“stop,” he cuts in. he doesn’t know why, but he feels that if he hears one more word about it, something will feel horribly wrong. it already does feel wrong, in a way, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. 

“why? aren’t you happy for them?” she asks confusedly. 

“i… i am. it’s just weird, y’know? she’s like… like a sister to me. nobody wants to hear about their sister’s private life,” he reasons, and she nods in response.

“i guess that makes sense,” she says. “but still, i’m so happy for them. especially him. he’s actually had a rough time, lately. i don’t know why, but he’s been acting kinda weird with me, so i —” 

“you’re here!” beomgyu says as you walk through his front door. he’s been expecting you. since your first date with yeonjun, he’s been eagerly texting you about it. you haven’t responded much, but he’s been chalking it up to how busy you must be with your new, well, whatever yeonjun is to you. he’s excited when he thinks about how he’ll get to see how you two interact with each other tonight since his girlfriend suggested you all hang out together, but part of him feels off about this entire situation. what he told her was the truth: it is weird to see you with someone, but maybe he’s just not used to it. you’ve never been openly attracted to anyone before, so it’s brand new territory to navigate. 

you greet him with a soft smile and not much else, which strikes him as odd, but yeonjun trails in after you, and all other thoughts go out of the window. 

“hey, man! nice to see you. it’s been a while,” he says, and yeonjun reciprocates the same excitement, going in for a side hug. 

beomgyu’s girlfriend goes in for a hug, too, and yeonjun freezes for a bit, but it goes unnoticed by everyone besides you. you look at him with as much reassurance and understanding as you can muster, and he replies with a grateful, shaky smile.

honestly, you weren’t terribly surprised when he told you that the object of his affections was the very person who holds the heart of the object of yours. she’s a bubbly, lively kind of girl, and it’s easy to fall in love with someone like that. if anything, it just makes you think that maybe yeonjun was right when he said meeting each other was fate.

the night is pretty fun, all things considered, and you find yourself not wanting to die while spending time with the loving couple, but that’s only because yeonjun is sitting next to you. when something particularly devastating happens, you grab each other’s hands and squeeze like you’re the other’s only lifeline. in a way, you kind of are. without him, you’d be on a one-way train to certain death, and without you, he’d be the same. 

things are pretty light, though, until beomgyu says he has an announcement to make.

“we’re moving in together!” his girlfriend cheerily cuts in before he can do the honors, and that’s enough to make any hard-earned progress go out the window. you feel your stomach churn and you’re finding it hard to breathe. you look very visibly ill, and while yeonjun is not doing much better, you definitely take it a lot harder.

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you guys!” yeonjun chirps. 

“yeah. sorry, i think i need to go to the bathroom,” you mumble, and yeonjun concernedly looks at you before you subtly shake your head. in that brief look, you have an entire conversation. he asks if you’re alright and if you need him to come with you to spill your guts out, and you tell him you’re not, but you’d rather go alone.

while his girlfriend may not catch it, beomgyu certainly does. that odd, silent conversation that only yeonjun and you seem privy to. the fact that you two seem to have a level of understanding with words unspoken makes him feel suffocated, and there’s an unknown sharpness in his chest. 

he tries to join back in on the banter, but he can’t shake the uncanny feeling he has, so he excuses himself and follows you to the bathroom. 

now, he knows this is really fucking weird to do, so he almost doesn’t do it, but the sound of you retching makes him abandon all consideration of right and wrong. he presses his ear to the door and hears hushed sobs in between hacks, and it makes his eyes widen in horror and concern. 

he’s not sure how much time passes, but he hears the heartbreaking sounds die out, and then he hears the water run and you clearing your throat. he takes the cue to stop pressing against the door, and before long, you step out of the bathroom while looking perfectly put together. you flinch almost imperceptibly when you catch him right outside the door. 

“are you alright?!” he exclaims, but you just nod and begin to push past him, murmuring something about being fine, but that you and yeonjun need to leave because something came up. he didn’t even know you could move so fast, and he finds that he’s borderline chasing you to the living room where his girlfriend and yeonjun look up in surprise at the scene before them.

“do we need to leave?” yeonjun asks carefully.

“yeah,” you say shortly, and you’re booking it out of the door and onto the porch before beomgyu grabs your arm and spins you around to face him. his girlfriend hesitantly follows yeonjun outside and watches the entire ordeal as puzzle pieces begin to fit together in her mind.

“are you alright?!” he repeats, and you just face him with a withering, humbling look.

“i’m okay. i just don’t feel good tonight, but i’ll be alright. congratulations on everything, i’m sorry i can’t stay to celebrate.” and normally that would be enough to throw him off of your scent, but beomgyu remembers your muffled cries, and he won’t be swayed so easily. 

“what’s wrong? no bullshit. just tell me,” he demands in a way that is uncharacteristically solemn, but you can’t answer that. the only way to get him to forget about you is for you to distract him with the person he loves most.

“but your girlfriend —” 

“don't even start. what’s wrong?” he, well, asks isn’t even really the world, is it? there’s no room for negotiation in his tone. 

“i… i’m sick,” is all you can really say. 

“sick how? sick like you need me to take you home?” and he doesn’t really believe his own implication that it’s something so easily fixable, but he has to try. 

“i’m… i’m really sick. sick like i’m dying, sick,” you manage to croak out, and it’s everything he feared and more.

“what’s wrong?! do you need to go to the hospital?!” he panics, and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. this is what you wanted to avoid because he can’t help you. nobody can. 

“baby?” the soft voice of his girlfriend pipes up from behind you. his gaze is torn away from you for just a moment, but that’s enough to make you ache.

“not now!” he snaps before turning his attention back to you, but it’s too late. you feel the sharp stems scratching at your lungs, causing a scorching sort of pain you can’t even put into words. slowly, you begin to cough — choke, really — and beomgyu is helpless to watch as you clutch your chest and hack up a mess of bloodied, tangled flowers. his eyes widen as he takes in the blood seeping from the corners of your mouth. 

“who?” he asks shakily as you finish coughing up the last of the petals, and you know he’s asking who your unrequited love is, but you don’t reply. you can’t reply. 

“who is it?” he asks again with more edge to his voice, but you still can’t muster up the courage to answer him. you could lie like you usually do, but you’re so tired, you just can’t anymore.

“baby?” his girlfriend repeats.

“what?!” he snaps, unable to help himself from losing his temper as he turns to look at her.

“it’s… it’s you,” is all she says, and his scowl drops and morphs into incredulity and dread.

“that's impossible,” he whispers, but one look at you and your twisted expression is enough to erase all doubt. “m-me? listen, you know i love you, but i —” 

“it's alright,” you coax, trying to placate him. even in your darkest moments, you're still putting his feelings first, and the thought alone is suffocating him. “i know. i really, really do. you don’t have to explain it to me.” and your “comforting” smile would be more convincing if it weren't stained red. 

“but you’re sick! you —” 

“i’ll be alright,” you whisper, and he’s at a loss for words at how calm you seem to be. how can you be so resigned? he looks at you — really, truly looks at you — for the first time in god knows how long, and he finally notices how different you are. your frame is lighter, your cheeks are more pronounced, and there are violet bags underneath your bloodshot eyes. how could he have missed so many signs? you’re dying, no way around it, and he was so busy playing house with his girlfriend, he had no idea just how much you were — are — suffering. it’s unforgivable, but he can tell you’ve forgiven him, anyway. how long have you been forgiving him? since the start of his current relationship? or even before that? 

“we should go,” yeonjun cuts in tentatively. you just tearily nod, and before beomgyu can say anything more, you’re in yeonjun’s car and driving away.

-

he calls and texts for days on end, but you don’t respond. at some point, he resolves to come see you in person. the way you looked the last time he saw you haunts him viciously. he just has to see you. he just has to be sure.

but when he shows up at your doorstep, you just look exhausted and even worse for wear. you don’t greet him, even, you just sigh and walk back to your bedroom before plopping down into the bed and looking at him with a look he can only describe as unreadable. 

“i just h-had to make sure you’re okay,” he stammers.

“i’m okay,” you reply gently. “i just need some time.” 

“b-but maybe if i —” 

“it won’t work. the only way out of this is for you to love me back, or for me to get over you. yeonjun is helping me, so it’s going to be alright, i think.”

“what if i —” 

“you can’t make yourself love me, beomgyu,” you say softly, the slightest tinge of a reprimand in your voice. 

“i… i can try,” he whimpers.

“yes, but i don't want you to. you have a girlfriend,” you patiently reply, but your seemingly unshakable patience just makes him more desperate.

“then what do you want me to do? i’m killing you!” he exclaims, and you wince as a sharp pain strikes your temples at the noise. he notices your response, and he just wants to die from the guilt.

“i don’t want you to do anything. that’s why i didn’t tell you.” how could you not want him to do anything? how could you possibly ask that of him? 

“h-how can you say that? how can you just expect me to watch you die?” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks to you for a perfect solution that will never come.

“i’m alright,” you tell him again, but the way you wheeze afterwards suggests otherwise.

he goes to grab you, maybe to pat your back or maybe to hold you, he’s not really sure, but you feebly put your hand up to stop him before he gets too close. it’s an innocent gesture in and of itself, yet it somehow feels like you just smacked him across the face. 

“don’t touch me,” you say, but it’s more like a plea than anything else. “it’ll just hurt me more.” with that, your words devolve into a coughing fit and all he can do is watch as splatters of blood and stems stain the tissue you cough into. he never, not in a million years, thought that his touch would hurt you. it’s supposed to soothe you like nothing else. you know, the way your touch soothes him.

“i think you should go,” you suggest after your coughing has died down. he can see the aftermath of his mere presence etched into the tired lines on your face, and he feels less like a person and more like the scum of the earth. 

-

“what are you thinking about?” a sweet voice says, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. beomgyu is currently supposed to be cooking dinner with his girlfriend, but he’s spending more time spacing out than actually cooking the noodles he’s meant to be stirring.

“n-nothing,” he sputters, but her knit eyebrows and frown let him know he has to elaborate. still, he pretends he doesn’t notice her silent urging and returns to his task. 

he can feel her stare on him as he watches the pot, and it’s not very long before she sighs and says her next words.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” 

“what? n-no! i just —” 

“yes, you are.” and her tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s filled with a sense of knowing. “it’s normal to think about her, you know? she’s dying and —” 

“don’t say that! why would you say that?! she’s not going to die!” he yells, slamming down the fork he was using to stir and turning to face her. he’s visibly shaking with rage — which makes no sense given that he knows, she knows, and even you know that her words are true. 

“she’s going to die,” she repeats. “you need to accept that.”

“how can you expect me to accept that?! you two just expect me to be okay with her fucking dying! well, i’m not!” he cries, tears streaming down his face as his words get louder and louder. 

“... i think you need to take some time to cool down. i’ll stay with my parents, so do what you need to do. when you’re ready, just call me, okay?” she says, and he only sobers up after he hears the front door slam shut.

-

beomgyu stays in an odd sort of purgatory. he’s constantly torn between contacting you and leaving you alone like you so obviously want. he tells himself that you’re his best friend, so of course he wants to see you and comfort you, but it feels much deeper than that. like there’s something unsolved and untouched that he just needs to dig a little deeper to figure out, but as for what that something is, he can’t seem to quite grasp. 

with this in mind, he never, not in a million years, anticipated that you’d be here on his doorstep. but here you are. you look even worse than before, somehow, which he is surprised by seeing as how things with yeonjun seem to be going well if yeonjun’s instagram updates of the both of you mean anything at all. he invites you in and offers you a seat, but you refuse. 

“come on, sit down. you must be tired,” he urges, but you wave your hand. 

“i don’t need to stay here long,” you dismiss, and it hurts his heart. “i just need one thing from you, and i’ll be out of here.”

“you need something from me? sure, anything! w-what is it?” and he sounds so hopeful, so earnest. maybe there’s a way to undo what he’s done. maybe he can help you after all. no matter what it is, he knows he can do it.

“... i need you to reject me,” is all you say, but the words ring in his ears. reject you? how can he reject you when it looks like a breeze could knock you over?

“b-but why?” he stammers, and you sigh.

“i finally figured it out. i just need to hear you tell me that you don’t love me, then i think i’ll be able to fully let you go for good.” usually, you’d have a soft smile on your face in order to comfort him, but your face is blank except for your eyes, which seem more desperate than anything he’s ever seen. but your words confuse him.

“let me go for good?” 

“yeah. i think if i can just hear you say it, i won’t need to see you anymore. i won’t ask for anything else, i just need to hear it from you,” you say determinedly. but he’s stuck on “i won’t need to see you anymore”. what could you possibly mean by that? 

“what do you mean you won't need to see me anymore?” he asks, voice devoid of any ill intent, but filled with genuine confusion.

“i mean, yeonjun doesn’t like me seeing you for obvious reasons, but i told him that i think i’ll be okay after this.” his confusion turns into dread. things that were a mystery to him suddenly make perfect sense.

“i can’t,” he chokes out, and you’re visibly stunned before anger explodes inside of you. 

“you can’t? what the fuck do you mean you can’t? why can’t you?!” you seethe. you’ve done everything for beomgyu, you even almost paid the ultimate price for him just so you wouldn’t have to make him uncomfortable with your feelings. you’re quite literally dying because of him, and he can’t offer up a meager sentence for you?

“i… i can’t say it. please don’t make me say it,” he pleads. “i’ll do anything else — anything, i swear to god!”

“beomgyu, there is nothing else. this is the only way. i’m not asking you for much, just say it, then i’ll be okay.” but he can’t do what you ask of him. not when he’s realized what he just realized. 

“b-but i… i do love you. i’m sorry, i just didn’t realize it until just now, but i do. a-and if you’ll have me, i —” smack! and his pathetic speech is stopped by your hand meeting his cheek. 

“you are so fucking selfish,” you spit, voice low, but vibrating with rage. “more selfish than i will ever be able to understand.” 

“w-what do you —” 

“beomgyu, you have a girlfriend. a girlfriend who loves you. what about her? huh?” you ask, and his previous momentum falters, but you’re not even finished yet. 

“and if she gets sick, are you gonna leave me and tell her you want her instead? you can’t do that, beomgyu. i won’t accept that. i won’t accept your love just because you feel sorry for me,” you declare, voice cracking as thick, hot tears roll down your cheeks. he’s still speechless, so you somehow find it in yourself to continue.

“i’m not doing this with you right now. call your girlfriend, tell her you’re sorry, and tell her she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. and even if i’m gone, don’t you dare tell her what you told me today, okay?” and it’s not really an ask as much as a demand. 

“i can’t do that,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if the ache in your heart comes from the briars encircling it or from how pained he looks.

“i know i’m selfish. i know i’m a bastard. but seeing you with yeonjun, or worse, not seeing you at all? that’ll fucking kill me. i just can’t do it. i don’t want to hurt her, but i don’t want to lie to her. or you. or myself,” he says shakily.

“what are you saying?” you ask. this is not how you anticipated things would go. 

“i’m saying that if you leave me, i’ll be sick,” he says shakily. “j-just the thought of that makes me…” and it’s a surprise to the both of you when he coughs like crazy, and it’s to the horror to the both of you when a pretty, blood-stained violet petal escapes his mouth.

“oh god,” you whisper. “you can’t do this.”

“i can’t help it!” he exclaims. “i didn’t know before, but it’s true. i just didn’t realize it. i’m just — i’m just sorry i didn’t realize it.” 

“beomgyu, it’s going to kill her,” you say, dread evident in your tone.

“i know,” he says tearily. “but it’s you. it’s always been you. we can’t change it.” 

“i can’t do this to her. it’s wrong,” is all you can say. 

“i can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me,” he replies. “w-whatever happens, can we please just figure it out together? i don’t think i can handle another day without you. i think it might really kill me.” he pushes your hair off of your sweaty forehead, and you know as you feel your heart lighten that you have no choice. if not for you, then for him. whatever happens with his girlfriend, you will try your damndest to make sure she doesn't have the same fate as the two of you. 

“okay?” he asks. 

“o-okay,” you tell him, because what else is there to say? 

notes pt. 2: lorddd i know this ending will be polarizing but what can we do... it is what it is :(

permanent taglist: @defnotleee @yaoizee @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @milkandoranges @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs

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[st4rgzer]

THE FIRST TIME matt sturniolo

summary: you come to terms with the use of pet names, finally

genre: fluff

cw!: just kissing

a/n: I have to stop writing fics when I have to go to sleep.

“some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me baby”

I was never really fond of pet names, in fact, every time I heard someone call their partner “bunny” or “baby” i physically felt repulsed, the feeling of intimacy being a cursed subject to me. They never rolled off my tongue as smoothly as others would do so, maybe cause I never heard them much growing up.

My head was placed between his collarbone and his stomach, laid down on the sofa watching as Matt scrolled down his fyp, quietly observing fondly. I rarely craved affection, or asking for it. But with Matt it was kind of like second nature, his hand fit so comfortably in mine, my head in the crook of his neck, like the missing puzzles to a jigsaw I had so yearningly wanted to complete for an eternity.

His hand stroked my hair gently, easing the tension I had built up throughout the busy, busy day i’d had. I hummed peacefully, fluttering my eyes closed, as his fingers treaded lightly against my scalp.

When suddenly he stopped doing so.

“baby why’d you stop?” I mumbled with my eyes half lidded. He looked at me surprised, wide eyed.

“did you just call me baby?” He laughed slightly, sitting up straighter.

“maybe?” I questioned, wincing at the realization that the word “baby” the word I had scribbled out of every romance book cause it killed the mood every time. Had just ever so easily rolled off my tongue, as if i’d said it 100 times prior.

He grinned at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and brushing his nose against my neck before placing a sweet, lingering kiss on my cheek. I was relieved he passed on the subject discreetly instead of having to discuss it like it was a big thing, but weirdly, the pet name hadn’t felt weird coming out my mouth, in fact, it felt natural. Strange how one person can change so much your opinions on vast things, even when you’re so keenly set on it.

“Matt?” He hummed softly. “I think I liked calling you “baby”” I said, stuttering slightly before the last word.

“yeah?” He asked, enthusiastic about me coming to terms with something he loved so dearly. He’d do it way too often, regularly using “baby”, “darling”, “babe” more than my own name, I didn’t complain, it felt right coming from me, it was sweet.

I smiled at my accomplishment to actually be able to do so as well, I loved him, and I wanted to express it with little words too.

a/n: i realized it sounds like that “omg did you call me baby? maybe, is that ok?” song. Also i apologize for this. It’s 11pm.

taglist: @gabbylovesreading @dwntwn-strnlo @oneirophobic @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @lvrsparadise @ifilwtmfc @stvrni0lo @ssturniolo @strniolo

[thevegandarkelf]

Flattery: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

Prompt: Themed Lingerie

Era: Alexandria, pre-Saviors

Word count: 600 words

Warnings: No use of y/n, suggestive themes but no smut

I'm finally dipping my toes into the world of Character x Reader writing. This is my first time writing in second person/x reader format, so please go easy on me or I'll cry. I'm posting this before I stare at it for too long and change my mind.

A massive thank you to @dixons-sunshine for proofreading, helping with translating Daryl's dialogue into Daryl, giving me tips, and encouraging me to do it/post it. I love you sm 🖤

“Daryl? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you looked past your shoulder at him, your new boyfriend’s eyes quickly averting once he realized he’d been caught.

With winter setting in and temperatures beginning to drop in Virginia, the two of you had been sent on a run to a nearby department store, your goal to find coats, boots, blankets, and whatever sort of winter necessities you could get your hands on. Amongst all the cold-weather attire, you’d found a little something hot for yourself.

“Dunno what ya talkin’ ‘bout,” he mumbled, his normal sun-kissed complexion becoming one akin to a fresh tomato.

Your gaze dropped to the material in your hands, your fingers dancing over the satin cups, and a small smirk crossed your lips. You were holding a set of Christmas lingerie—a babydoll style two-piece. The red cups and mesh of the flyaway bodice were bordered with a fluffy white trim that trailed down the center with a red thong to accompany it.

“Ah, I see,” you teased, your cheeks beginning to heat up as you held up the garment, “this why?”

You’d only been together for a few weeks, the farthest you’d gone in terms of anything physically being a heated make-out session with little hand exploration. You’d been itching for things to move further but not wanting to push any boundaries. Daryl was clearly skittish and uncomfortable in the realm of sex and romance. However, unbeknownst to you, he’d been itching for the same.

He pictured the mesh flowing around your hips as you twirled before him and the thong sliding over your thighs and falling to your ankles. His signature small smile appeared as he pictured your eyes glossed over with lust and thought about what every inch of your soft skin felt like in his work-worn hands. He was reveling in this sweet little daydream, and you’d caught him in it.

“It’s ok, Daryl. I’m flattered.” As you walked back to him, you purposely swayed your hips a little extra, drawing the archer’s eyes to them for just a moment. Yours fell to your feet, that sweet heat returning to your cheeks again.

“Flattered?” He sounded surprised by your choice of words, like you couldn’t possibly be flattered by his longing gaze and the lewd thoughts you knew he was having. Despite having finally made your relationship official after months of going in circles, he was confused by sparkle in your eye he’d caught a glimpse of when you first looked back at him.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been…thinking about it too,” you assured, lashes fluttering as you brought your gaze up from the floor to meet his ocean eyes, “hinting at it for a while now. Hasn’t it been kind of obvious?”

The silence from him was loud, deafening as it practically echoing off the white walls. That alone was an answer enough for you.

A sweet giggle emanated from the depths of your chest, the sound like music to your man’s ears. “Okay, maybe not so obvious. I adore you, but you can be incredibly dense sometimes.”

“Grab the coats,” Daryl instructed, clearly flustered as he haphazardly gestured to a box on a nearby table. He was beginning to turn red again, somehow an even darker shade than he had before. He grabbed a box from off the floor and was quickly heading toward the front door. “Talk when we get back.”

“Talk…right…” you mused, a chuckle slipping past your lips as you stowed the lingerie away in your bag, “I’m sure that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

GIF made by me

© thevegandarkelf 2024. I do not consent for my work to be shared, translated, adapted, posted, or copied to this site or any platform without my explicit consent & evidence of said consent.

[fashionteahouse]

Hello, I would like to say that I really like your writing and I apologize if it sounds confusing as I don't speak English that well.

I wanted to know if you could do a Seth x Reader, where she is Sam's innocent younger sister. Everything is going well with Sam approving of the relationship because he thinks it's just an innocent relationship and that Seth and his sister are two young people without any malice. Until one day Sam catches them doing what they shouldn't.

hii thank u sm and no worries ur english is great ! hope you enjoy :)

kiss me more - seth x reader

Sam watched as his little sister was enamored with the attention the boy was giving her.

“Isn’t it cute?” Emily asks him as she watched the scene unfold before them.

“Yeah. Cute.” he says and sticks his hands in his pockets.

You twirled the flower that Seth had given you and you take a sniff.

“Thank you, Seth.” you say.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” he says with a brilliant smile.

You step forward and gift him back something. Sam gasped a little but calms down a bit as the kiss wasn’t provocative or concerning.

A quick peck on the cheek. That was as innocent as it was going to get.

Things had changed since that day. You were more happy to have Seth over. You would come into the kitchen during pack meetings to “get something to drink.”

You and Seth shared a smile at the sight of each other. You loved this feeling he ignited in your veins. Seth loved the feeling of serenity that he felt with you. You both fought to be in each other’s presence.

“I like you a lot. You’re like my best friend.” Seth admits one day as you both lounge in the backyard.

“I like you too. You are my best friend.” you admit back, giggling a bit.

You watch the blush creep onto Seth’s face as he then drops the bomb, “Best friends are the best people to date.”

“I agree.” you say.

It was settled. With a kiss.

Sam walked past the back door and seen a peck on the lips between you two. He was going to say something, but you both didn’t linger on each other’s lips.

“I saw them kissing. It was quick though.” he tells Emily that night.

“Aw. How adorable.” she says as she puts down the book she’s reading in bed.

“So you and Seth?” he asks you the next morning.

“Yes?”

“Dating?” he asks again.

“Yes.”

“Is he making you happy?”

“Yes.” you answer with confidence.

He nods and understands. He leaves it alone at that.

He had to admit, it was adorable. The two young people were very close and in-tune with each other.

He saw the happiness clear on your face. The blush that would come on when Seth’s name rang out.

In a way, he felt like you two were keeping romance alive.

“Can I take Y/N out to eat? I got my allowance today.” Seth asks. Sam noticed the slight nervousness and chuckled a bit.

“You can. Bring her back by 9pm.” Sam says.

Seth nodded with enthusiasm, more than happy to comply with such terms.

As you came in, Sam let Emily dig for details of what you and Seth did.

“He’s so dreamy.” you sapped about.

A knock was heard at the door, you open it since you were the only one home.

You squeal and hug him as he lifted you off the ground a bit. You then take his hand.

“Where’s Sam and Emily?”

“Date night.”

You both snacked on something and you wanted to chill out in your room.

He follows you.

Flopping on your bed, you lean in to kiss him.

“I love your kisses.” Seth says in a hushed tone.

“Me too. Kiss me more.” you say back. He leans forward and captures your lips again and holds it there. Your hand keeps him there by having your hand on the nape of his neck.

You two were drunken off the high of the kisses.

You lay back, smile at him and he leans down, hover over you to lay kisses on your lips.

You tasted a bit of his tongue, you softly moaned at the feeling. Seth felt a tingling sensation when he was over you. You looked at each other, you place your hands on his hips, his hips grind a bit forward and you both sigh into each other’s mouths.

You pull back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.” you whisper. You have him roll over, you straddle him to feel that great sensation again.

You both liked how it felt. He didn’t mean to, but his hand had a mind of its own as he pressed his hand on your soft breast. He quickly retracts his hand.

You place it back.

“It’s okay. Do you…Wanna see?” you ask.

He nods timidly as he looks at you, he didn’t want to say any words to ruin this moment. You smile and he watches as you lift your shirt.

You unclasp your bra and Seth almost drooled at the sight.

“You can touch…If you want.” you whisper.

He let his fingers feel the soft tissue. You close your eyes and enjoyed the feeling.

Soon, hips began to rock forward. You both whispers each other’s name.

“Can you take your shirt off?” he asks while panting a bit. You just take it off.

Seth follows suit with his shirt. You pressed both your chest and lips to his.

Hearing a squeak, you hear a gasp.

Seth’s eyes made your heart pound. You meet where he’s looking and see a seething Sam, your arms cover your chest as you felt busted.

“Put some clothes on!” he roars.

“Sam I’m sorry-“ you start. He turns away, “Seth, get out!” he roars again.

He stomps away, you slip on your shirt. Seth’s heart pounds as he slips his own shirt on. He realized he had to walk past Sam to get through the front door. You hold his hand as he walks down the steps. Sam is by the front door with his arms crossed.

His eyes are narrowed and you felt at that moment, his look could kill.

“You are to never see her again.” Sam says to Seth. Seth hangs his head and you look to Sam, “Sam please-“

“I mean it! End of discussion.” he says with authority.

You had tears in your eyes as you watch Seth walk down the driveway. You ran up the stairs to your room.

Emily tried to calm Sam down, “We can just supervise them next time.”

“They both betrayed my trust. They jumped at the opportunity with us being gone.”

“Im sure they were only curious about each other. They seem to like to like each other a lot.”

“They can like each from a distance.” Sam says and gets up and walks away from the conversation. Emily walked past your room, she heard tears. She knocks.

“Go away!” you say through sniffles.

“It’s Emily.” she says through the door.

“You can come in.” you say softly.

She enters and sits next to the spot you are as you clutch your pillow. Spots of tears were evident on your pillow. Emily rubs your back.

“I will talk to him. Okay?” she says with a soft smile.

“Okay.” you say softly with a nod.

Emily sits there and lets you collect your thoughts. It was hard. Your thoughts were consumed by Seth.

[distantdarlings]

THE SECONDS BEFORE // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 2.2K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - Just before the infamous Battle of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall makes the decision to keep all Slytherin students housed together in the dungeons. The night before the Battle begins, you can’t sleep. You wake a friend to keep your mind occupied. (Romance, Angst if you squint)

+ WARNINGS - Heavy kissing, language, heavy petting, implied sexual material

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

My Love - Sia

-

Your eyes found the ceiling as if waiting for something to happen. Perhaps if you stared long enough, it would burst into swirls of color and light—or maybe it would fold back and reveal the stars that you so desperately wanted to see. You felt like you all had been in the dungeons for years, wasting away. Every time you looked at one of your friends, you felt as if they looked older. Like they'd aged while down here. The odd exhaustion painted bruises beneath their eyes and tore their lips.

You sighed and tapped your fingers on your stomach, attempting to entertain yourself. All of the boys were asleep and there was no way in hell you were going to be joining them anytime soon. Something about this whole situation set your teeth on edge. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that half of the people the castle was currently at extreme odds with were some of your closest friend’s parents and family or that you all weren’t allowed in the dorms, so you hadn’t changed in a day or two, or something else. But you knew you were getting tired of being here. When Professor McGonnagal had suggested using the dungeons to house the Slytherin students until they were sure you all were safe, you thought it sounded smart and would be a good way to keep everyone together and alive for a little while. And it was, it just felt off for a lot of reasons. Nobody but the house elves had been down here in two days. You wanted to know what was going on out there.

You rolled over, tucking your arm beneath your head to remain comfortable. Your eyes found the older boy that slept peacefully beside you. You wondered silently what the boy might be dreaming about and how angry he'd get if you woke him up. There was a pretty large chance considering how the boy felt about sleep, so fifty-fifty?

"Enzo," you whispered gently so as not to startle him. "Enzo, wake up."

When the dark-haired boy did not budge, you resorted to shaking him a bit, hoping the heavy sleeper would wake. You were bored out of your mind and figured that someone should share that boredom with you. If there was one thing anyone knew about Enzo Berkshire, it was that his late-night talks were a world of comfort. His deep, raspy words hit you like a truck, bruising your body. It was an odd feeling with nothing but scratchy phrases and the moon for comfort, but you loved it.

"Enzo!" you hissed, giving him a light slap. At this, the sleeping boy jolted awake. His eyes found yours quickly, giving you a look of disdain. You knew he’d be mad for waking him, but it was too late to go back now.

"Hey, what is it? Are you okay?" Enzo asked under his breath, propping his elbows up behind himself.

You were taken by surprise. You’d honestly more expected Enzo to punch you in the arm rather than ask if you were alright. It wasn't like you were complaining, it was just strange. Something about the domesticated look in his eyes when he was worried about you made your cheeks flush a bit. You’d always had a bit of a thing for Enzo, this much was obvious. Coming to terms with it was the hard part.

"No, I’m fine, Enzo," you whispered, avoiding eye contact. You were a bit embarrassed now. "I just wanted to talk to someone."

"Oh," he exhaled, a tone of relief blowing against your hair. He let his head fall back in a small stretch, his hair tickling the spot between his shoulder blades. You watched the older boy's throat stretch against his flesh and shift as he swallowed a deep breath.

"Did you have a nightmare or something?" he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position and crossing his legs.

"Actually, quite the opposite," you replied, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "I can't sleep."

"Ah, I see," he spoke. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about—I mean, to turn your brain off? Maybe that's what’s keeping you up, your mind's running too much?"

"Maybe," you sighed. You could only bear to glance up at the older boy every once in a while. The way his brown eyes pierced into you and threatened to steal every secret from your brain . . . It was tantalizing. You let out a small huff of air, hoping that Enzo would make better conversation. The silence was deafening and you had nothing to say.

"So . . . do you think Draco and Pansy are fucking?" Enzo asked. You nearly choked.

"What?" you squeaked, your voice sounding prepubescent. Out of all the things he could have said, that was it? "Oh, um, I don't know?"

"Hmm, I didn't mean to spring that on you, I was just wondering what you thought."

"Well, I mean I suppose they could be," you shrugged. You really didn't want to talk about your friends having sex with each other.

"Yeah, I think they are—they're always hanging out with each other, you know?" he said, running a hand through his hair.

"What, friends can't hang out with each other without fucking?" you chuckled lightly.

"That’s not what I’m saying, you know what I mean," he said, pointing at you. "I know you've seen them, they're so touchy-feely with each other."

"So what if they're fucking? There’s nothing wrong with that—"

"I never said there was, I’m simply observing . . . I know what sexual tension looks like," he spoke a bit quieter. You wondered what made him add that little line onto the end. Maybe he was trying to hint at something? Or maybe you were looking too deeply into a casual conversation? It was likely the latter.

More silence ensued, creating even more tension in between you two. It soon became so thick, it was just waiting for one of you to slash it with a knife. You prayed that he would just do something, but you were almost positive he was not interested in you, like you were him. And god knows you weren’t going to make the first move, because what if he truly had no feelings for you? Your friendship would be wrecked and your self-esteem would be down the drain.

"Hey—"

"I like you,” you choked out.

"What?"

You took a deep breath and calmly repeated yourself. "I like you . . . like, a lot, Enzo."

More silence—a different kind that made your head feel all fuzzy. Your eyes were facing the ground so as to avoid him who had been shocked into submission by your words. You wanted to beat your own head in with a broom. What the fuck were you thinking? You had spent your entire life knowing Enzo, swearing you’d never tell him, not unless he said something first. And what did you do? Fucking tell him. Merlin, you were so stupid.

"Every time you sit there and joke around with Theo or Pansy, I feel like I’m suffocating. And I never knew how to tell you that, so I became desperate for your attention, figured that I was too needy, and started ignoring you. I was hoping you'd catch on but you never did, and, Merlin, Enzo, I’ve never wanted someone so fucking badly . . ." you vented, pressing your fingertips into your temples. You had started to feel a bit more confident when the words had started spewing out but now you felt like you were on a stage in front of the world and Enzo’s silence was only making it worse. Why didn't he say something? At least turn you down or punch you or something.

"You want me?" Enzo breathed, his voice cracking under the pressure of a whisper. You glanced up from your lap and looked at the older boy. His eyes were glued to his hands as he seemed to be processing some things.

"Fuck, I need you, En."

His eyes found yours. The dark-haired boy leaned forward, on hands and knees, and crawled ever so slowly over to you. His eyes were trained on yours until they slipped down to your lips. You shuddered as the boy balanced himself on his knees, towering over your small, huddled frame. He slipped his lower body between your legs and pushed the both of you back. He hovered over you, feeling your heavy breaths mix. Your eyes were dilated and half-closed, waiting for the other's touch.

"You need me?" he spoke barely above a whisper, the gravel in his voice sending shivers up the younger's spine. Your head dipped down to let your nose gently bump against his throat. He could feel your breath there, letting it tease his flesh.

"Please," you spoke, the pitch of your voice had an effect on Enzo like no other. He imagined the way his lips would feel on your skin just before he did so. You weren’t sure if the boy above you would live up to the fantasies you’d created in your mind but it seemed impossible for him not to. The boy's inexplicable scent and the way it filled your senses, his gently cracked lips and the way you’d imagine them scratching along your throat and chest. Everything about him made your heart leap into your throat.

He didn't give you a chance to take a breath before trapping your lips with his own. They were skilled and tasted like the orange soda you both had before bed. You closed your eyes at the taste and feeling of the boy over you. He was everything you could have imagined and more. The built arms that balanced on either side of your head and the way his tongue slipped against yours.

"You sure?" he whispered when your lips disconnected for a breather. You nodded, catching his breath with deep exhales.

He reconnected your lips with no regard for your border-line asthmatic symptoms. You placed a hand behind you and pushed yourself into a sitting position, gently backing him onto his knees. He captured your waistband in his hands and tugged you onto your knees as well, loosening the fabric in the process. Nimble fingers tugged on the tie of your sweatpants, lightly brushing against the core of your body. You hissed into his mouth at the feeling, your lips faltering a bit. You could feel him smirking.

He laid the two of you back down, now much more convenient that your pants were loosened. He trapped your lips again, catching the bottom one gently in his teeth. His hand traced your stomach before slipping between your flesh and the waistband of your underwear, slightly rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body. You moaned aloud at the sensation, feeling his free hand slide over your mouth to hush you up. There was a possibility the other boys and students would hear but you didn't care, all you were concerned with was Enzo’s skin moving against yours.

The black-haired boy severed his lips from yours and found comfort with the skin of your throat. The hand stuck beneath your pants and the one on your mouth never once faltered, staying astutely in place. The sounds spilling from your lips and muffled by his hand only tightened his jeans, making it a bit hard to breathe.

He pulled his hand from beneath your waistband. You struggled to catch your breath as his hips lowered down to yours. Your hips bucked up to meet his, his breath hitching in his throat, his lips faltering on your neck. It was your turn now.

You pushed your hands beneath his tee shirt and splayed your fingers against his warm back. The tips of your fingers traced down his spine, your nails catching his skin every once and a while. His lips on your throat never faltered, his tongue brushing against your skin gently.

You traced your hands down the rest of his back and curled them around his hips to the front of his sweatpants. The tips of your fingers trailed lightly over the small growth of hair just beneath the ties. His lips shuddered against your skin as your hand slowly, slowly slid between his pants and skin. His skin was hot and sharp, your fingers cold and soft. Like snow falling gently against his skin, it being like fire and melting it immediately on contact.

“Please, baby,” he begged, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with every pant he took.

The very tip of your finger brushed over his most sensitive area—a whisper of a touch. He choked out a groan into your ear, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling tightly against your scalp.

A shrill scream pierced the pair of your ears. You flinched at the sound, pushing Enzo back as quickly as you could. The two of you stared, wide-eyed and panting.

“The Death-Eaters are here—they’re outside the school grounds!” A young, terrified first-year pushed through the hallway leading into the common-room where everyone slept.

You lept to your feet. Enzo slipped a hand into yours and squeezed tightly.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later,” he joked, his cheeks and lips still flushed. You rolled your eyes but when he looked at you, you both smiled nervously. It would be okay.

[m00nchildwrites]

pairings: female!reader (first person) x Xavier

tags: romance, eventual smut, based on storyline of game but diverges, little angst and feelings, resolved feelings, fluff, hurt/comfort, injury, these two need to just kiss already, use of her/she/you depend on the pov at the time, reader/MC/you is expressed as female and during smut times will use female-at-birth anatomy terms- she/her, first person when written from "your" pov- use of I/my/mine, will have nsfw content mdni- please read with caution, my smut gets ...vivid. Will have content from part of story line, myth cards, and other cards [possibly...probably].

{ch list: 1, 2 , 3(here)}

Chapter 3

The set ended up being even more amazing than I had expected. The movie team had gone all out collecting all of the known historical videos of Lumiere in order to create Xavier’s costume. Sadly, it seemed that Xavier was not the leading actor after all but instead the leading actor’s stunt double. The movie studio wanted to have a real Hunter from the Association perform all of the amazing physical feats. Lumiere was the first Wanderer Hunter, after all, so it was really cool that the Association got to be a part of the film. Xavier’s name would be featured and everything. He would even get to walk the red carpet, which he was less than thrilled about.

He had just finished filming a really cool scene. A building had been demolished, and from the dust and rubble, Xavier had exited with a flourish of his sword, his white Lumiere costume gleaming. “That was awesome,” I grinned up at him after the director released him to have a few minutes until the next scene.

Xavier sighed, shaking his head, “At least one of us is having fun. I don’t get why the Association had to pick me out of all of the Hunter’s we have.” 

I laughed reaching up to pinch one of his pouting cheeks. He was too adorable when he sulked, “Because, you fit the part, have the skills, and you are readily available.”

His pout deepened as he turned to look at me, “What do you mean? I have plenty to do!”

I stepped back, hands on my hips, “Oh yeah? Some secret mission again?” I teased.

He shook his head, “Not secret, but one of the little shrub on my balcony is at risk of being squished. Puffball has been using it as a trampoline. It’s about to die.”

I nodded with feign seriousness, “I see… I guess it can’t be helped. I’ll have to go there now and protect it until you are done here.” I turned to step away when a gloved hand grabbed my wrist.

Xavier looked at me with his wide eyed puppy stare, “You can’t. You need to stay here.”

“Why not?” I shrugged, “You are the one with the role. Not me.”

“Aren’t we partners?,” his pout softened as he looked over my face, “Shouldn’t we work and move together as one?”

My breath hitched. Why did he have to go and say things like that while looking at me like that? My face heated. Flustered, I lifted my phone to snap some pictures of him- a needed distraction from how much he was able to get to me. It was embarrassing, being this affected by my partner, especially when he was obvious about the effect he had over me and the growing feelings I secretly harbored for him.

The click-click-click of the phone shutter had his tender gaze turning to surprise. He stepped closer, a hand bringing down my phone. “You’ve been taking a lot of pictures today,” his head tilted, “What for?”

I flushed again at his proximity. Damn him. He was going to be the death of me. Clearing my throat, I shrugged as he stepped back again, “Why not? It is not every day something this cool happens, right? You look really cool in your Lumiere costume. It would be a shame to not get some mementos of the day, right?” I playfully snapped a few more pictures, laughing as his ears pinken.

“I take what I said earlier…” he hid his mouth behind his hand bashfully, “You’re not here as my partner… You’re just here to enjoy the show.”

I grinned, “Not just to enjoy the show.” I reached out to smooth the blue lapel of his costume. My eyes flicked up to his face as he let out a little whoosh of air. Thinking he was uncomfortable, I flicked a tassel on the suit again, “I am also here to watch and learn.” His head tilted, so I explained, “There was a lot of historical research that went into making Lumiere as accurate as possible.”

Xavier’s mouth turned in the slightest frown, “You are making it seem as though he is old enough to be displayed in a museum.” He eyed me, “You are quite enthusiastic when it comes to this topic, huh?”

“What topic? Lumiere?”

He gave a short nod.

“Of course, I am…” My eyes swept over the rubble of the set, memories triggered and poured out, playing before my eyes like a movie. “I know it seems silly, but… I guess I hope to learn more about the famous, legendary hero while we are here. I know I probably won't ever meet him. And if I did, I likely wouldn’t get answers to the questions I have… I mean, he saved so many people. Even if he did rescue me… I doubt he would remember me. I was just one face among many.”

Xavier’s tone drew my gaze once more as he said with certainty, “I’m sure he remembers.”

I opened my mouth to ask him why, when he quickly added-

“At least, that’s what I think,” the serious look in his eyes was gone in a flash, and in its place, he offered a soft smile and a nod.

I hummed, but let it go. Instead, I changed the direction of our conversation. My mouth quirked upwards slightly, “You know, for how cool all of this really is,” I gestured around us to the movie set, “You don’t seem very interested in any of it. Not even Lumiere. And he is our famous predecessor in the hunter industry. Aren’t you even a little curious about him?” I leaned towards him teasingly.

His cheeks warmed as he averted his gaze, “Not really.”

I blinked in surprise at that, “Wait, really?”

Just then, a crew member approached, “Mr. Xavier, the director, wants you to prepare a super cool and flashy entrance to the next scene. You will be entering by dropping down from the sky. Can you do it?”

“Yeah,” Xavier nodded.

The crew member lit up, “Oh great! I am sure glad the director was able to get a real hunter to play this role, Mr. Xavier! You sure are cool! I will go get the cables ready then!”

Xavier blinked a bit bashful under the excited praise of the crew member, “Oh, actually I don’t really need to the cab-”

I tugged his belt, yanking him closer to me, and pulling his shoulder down so I could whisper in his ear, “Xavier, if you go teleporting and flashing around, you are going to freak these people out. That is not exactly your average ability of a hunter.”

“Ah,” He cleared his throat and nodded at the crew member, “I mean, uh, sure, Thank you.”

When the guy walked away again, I turned back to Xavier and sighed, “I guess you do need your partner on this with you, huh, Wonder boy?”

He flushed deep red, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “Wonder boy? That’s new…”

I tsked, “So is you trying to give civilians heart attacks.” The director called out for everyone to get to their places. I smiled back at Xavier, giving him a thumbs up, “Go get ‘em, Tiger. You’ve got this!”

He sighed, a tortured little sigh, “Fine, fine, but you owe me hotpot tonight.”

I laughed, “Yes, yes, poor you. Being the star is so hard.” I playfully nudged him, “Get going, Wonder boy.” I giggled to myself as a bashful Xavier was fawned over by the makeup crew and set hands. He was such an enigma, but he was one I was very much enjoying getting to figure out.

–

After filming wrapped up for the tenth day, Xavier and I headed over to Philos. I had promised Jeremiah that I would get him some signed photographs of the leading actor. 

“You’ve been looking at those pictures the whole bus ride over here,” Xavier said as we walked from the bus stop to Jeremiah’s flower shop. His lips were slightly pursed as he watched me grinning down at the best image of the lot. It was the lead actor in his Lumiere costume standing in the cool entrance pose that Xavier had made up for the scene. It exuded super, cool hero, and definitely looked like something Lumiere would really do.

I nodded a bit excited, “I just know Jeremiah is gonna love these. I am so impressed by how they turned out. I even got me a copy of this one too.” I said holding up the best image for him to see better.

Xavier ignored the image and focused on my face, “I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of the actor.”

I scoffed, “I’m not. I mean, he is good I guess. But really, it’s the pose you taught that makes the image look so good.”

Xavier’s eyes were sharp watching me closely as he probed, “So if it is not the actor, then is it… Lumiere that has you so excited?”

I felt my face heat up a bit. I hugged the pictures to my chest and shrugged, “Maybe a little. Lumiere is pretty cool. I mean, he is a hero, and in a way, the first hunter. Plus, he has some cool moves. Jeremiah was so excited when he heard about your role. I know he is going to love these.” I looked up and skipped a bit ahead, my hand grabbing the handle, “We are here! I can’t wait! I think Jeremiah might be even more of a Lumiere fan than I am!” I swore I almost thought I heard Xavier grumbling under his breath- 

“Tsk, I doubt that. The traitor.”

- as he held the door open for me, but I brushed it off. He was just a bit grumpy from working so hard today. Nothing a snack, some hotpot, and a good movie tonight wouldn’t fix. “Jeremiah~!” I called out in a sing-song voice as I practically skipped into the shop, excited to show him my spoils.

When Jeremiah first heard that Xavier was playing the stunt role of Lumiere, his entire face had lit up brighter than a kid in a candy store.

“Y/N!” He called from somewhere in the back, “Welcome! I’m in the back!”

I led the way to the back of the shop with Xavier behind me. Jeremiah was coming from the back greenhouse and in the middle of taking off his apron, when we met up near the door leading to his apartment upstairs. He waved us up after him, “Xavier, good to see you too. Come on up, I was just about to grab a quick snack. How does ice cream sound?”

“Perfect! I had promised Xavier a treat for his hard work today,” I sent Xavier a wink over my shoulder.

He chuckled, “This doesn’t count. Jeremiah is giving us the treat. Yours has to come from you.”

I squinted at him as we all took off our shoes inside Jeremiah’s front door, “You’re just trying to get more treats.”

Xavier’s face was completely placid as he replied, “I would never.”

Jeremiah snorted behind my shoulder. I glanced at him amused, but he seemed to see something behind me that made him quickly try to cover his chortling with a cough, “Ah, I‘m going to wash up. Xavier, you know where the kitchen is. Help yourselves!”

I followed Xavier to the kitchen and watched as he dug around in Jeremiah’s freezer. “Hmm… you have to have a good one. There are only a few…” He rummaged as he half talked to himself. 

I hid my grin behind my hand as I sat at the counter’s barstool. Xavier really was adorable when he got so into snacks. …Really, he was adorable all of the time if I was being honest. My mind flashed back to Xavier today on the set. The dynamic entry that he ended up coming up with for the lead actor was so cool. He had ran through it so much the other day for the action shots, and had then had to teach the male lead how to do the poses. Seeing Xavier in coach mode had been weirdly hot. His normally soft expression had been sharper as he observed the actor’s movement and corrected his stance and grip of the sword. 

He was so impressive that he had ended up coaching the lead actor for the filming every day since, and the results were really so much better. Today, the final scene filmed was a fight scene. Xavier’s coaching and choreography of the fight had made it seem like the real Lumiere was on set. The director and lead actor were so happy with us that they had sent high praises to the Academy, which apparently pleased the higher ups. As a reward, we were to be given a nice bonus and a week off after this mission assignment wrapped up, which considering the weird events going on around the Deep Space tunnel that was probably a good thing. But the best part had been watching Xavier in his element teaching. 

I guess being his partner when actually fighting Wanderers, my mind was always so focused on the danger and fight that I didn’t really get to watch him in action that much, but this experience had been a real reminder of how badass and cool my laidback partner really was.

I sighed, propping my head up on my hand. Plus, he looked so damn good in that outfit.

“Y/N.” “Y/N?” “Y/N,” a hand waved in front of my face causing me to snap back to reality with a jolt.

I clutched my chest with a startled gasp, “Holy crap, Xavier! You scared me!”

He stood blinking at me, looking startled himself, ice cream cup in hand. That is until his eyes fell to the stack of pictures my free hand had been absentmindedly tracing. It was the Lumiere signed pictures. His eyes fell to the side as I cleared my throat and pushed the stack of images over on the bar. “You seemed deep in thought…”

“Ah, yeah, I was just-”

“Thinking about Lumiere again?” he asked, his deep blue gaze landing back on me.

His eyes were so, so blue. Gods, he was so pretty. I blinked, “Uh,” I brushed my hair behind my ear, “Yeah, uh, yeah. You caught me. He is just really cool, you know?”

Xavier sighed, before placing one of the ice cream cups infront of me, “Here, this one is lychee. It is a better tasting one. The others are yogurt. They are not as good.”

I eyed the one in his hand and shook my head, pushing it back towards him, “I will take the yogurt then. You worked hard. You earned it.”

He eyed me and then the lychee cup I was offering back to him. He shook his head, “Nope. I like this one.”

“But… you just said-” my mouth fell open as he tore the thing open, took a huge scoop, shoved it in his mouth with a completely straight face, “-it wasn’t good?” 

His brow twitched just the tiniest bit as he slowly pulled the now cleaned spoon from his mouth. He gave a thumbs up, but the tiny twitch gave him away.

I tsked, “Dumby, you should’ve just let me trade.”

“No,” came his muffled by ice cream reply, “It’s good, really. Just cold.”

I rolled my eyes affectionately, and pulled the lid off of mine. I took a scoop and held it out to him, “Fine, but only if you get the first taste.”

He blinked, looking from the spoon to me and then to the spoon again. 

Slowly, he leaned forward, his lips parting. My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t think this through. Fuck. His gaze felt heavy as he let me slip the spoon past his parted lips. He was so damn pretty with his grey-blonde hair falling over his forehead and over his blue-blue eyes that watched me intently as his pink lips closed over my spoon. I nearly whimpered- I swear- when his pink tongue darted out to catch a bit of the treat from his lips as he pulled back. My eyes went from his mouth to his heated gaze and back again.

“Mmm,” he moaned… or at least that’s how my brain interpreted it. And shit was I in trouble, my mind was screaming at me to grab him and kiss him stupid or to find a fast exit out of this situation… or a nearby window from which to jump. My thighs clamped together when his eyes narrowed as I had licked my own lips, wetting them to speak. He had no business looking at anybody with a look like that. Did he even know how very bedroom he looked right now? Fuuuck.

The sound of footsteps approaching made me let out a startled squeak as I jumped, back snapping straight in my seat.

“Opp! Sorry!” Jeremiah called out flashing us both a pleasant smile, “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you! Ah! You found the ice cream!”

“X-Xavier found it,” I mentally cursed myself for stammering. I scooped a bite of the treat and quickly shoved it into my mouth to shut myself up. Oh, I froze, my eyes nearly crossing as I looked at the spoon handle sticking out of my mouth. An indirect kiss. My eyes flicked to Xavier, who was already watching me from the corner of his eye. I almost swore the corner of his lips were tilted upward in a grin.

“Hey! I want a treat too!” Jeremiah joked, “Oomph!” An unopened cup smacked into Jeremiah’s chest, who barely caught it.

I looked back to Xavier, but he looked innocent, leaning against the counter behind him as he ate his treat.

Jeremiah grabbed a spoon before plopping onto the stool next to me. “Oh!” He leaned over the counter, “Are these the pictures?”

“Yeah!” I slid them over to him, “All signed by the leading man himself.”

Jeremiah looked shocked and looked up at Xavier.

“Yeah, the lead actor was really happy to sign them all after how much help Xavier has been,” I spread them all out for him to see. “This one is my favorite. Xavier taught him that pose.”

Jeremiah looked over them with a grin and a thoughtful look, “Hey, these turned out really great! I can see why that one is your favorite. The pose really does look just like something Lumiere would do. They sure were lucky to have Xavier assigned to the job.”

I ignored a huff Xavier let out and nodded, “I know. He is doing an amazing job. You should see him.”

Jeremiah grinned, “Oh, I can imagine it would be something to see.” He pointed to the costume in the biggest picture, “They got the details right.”

“And how would you know that, Jeremey? Lumiere is way before your time,” Xavier asked, his tone sounded tight but when I glanced up at him, he was completely relaxed and eating his ice cream.

I spoke up, “That’s easy. Jeremiah is a member of the Lumiere fan board I am on. They talk about all kinds of things Lumiere. His fighting style, sightings, and his gear. It’s stuff that any Lumiere fan would know.” 

“Yeah, Xavier,” Jeremiah said, “Any Lumiere fan would know it. Still…” he looked over the pictures.

“What is it?” I asked.

He looked a bit more and then shook his head, “I don’t know… Don’t you think that there is someone else that could’ve worn that Lumiere suit better?”

I blinked looking down at the images. I mean, yeah, the actor was not Lumiere… and other than having hair dyed the color, it was a bit too long to be right, and his build wasn’t exactly right. Lumiere had wide shoulders, yes, but his waist narrowed more. “Hmm…” I leaned closer to the images in thought.

“See?” Jeremiah pointed to the biggest picture, “There just seems to be something a bit off, you know? I can’t help thinking someone else would wear it better… someone perhaps that is right in front of- Ack!” 

I jolted back as an empty ice cream cup bounced off of Jeremiah’s forehead and clattered to the counter. Jeremiah rubbed his forehead with a sulk. I blinked at Xavier who looked entirely too innocent with his eyes all wide, “Sorry, my hand slipped.”

I looked back to Jeremiah, who was now eating his ice cream with a sheepishly, “But, who did you mean? Who would look better in that suit?”

“Zorro.”

I blinked looking back at Xavier, “Who?”

He smiled softly at my confusion, “One of Jeremiah’s hobbies is reading novels about knights and phantom thieves.”

Jeremiah gave me a wan smile, “Yeah, Arsène Lupin is my idol.”

Xavier calmly dug into another cup of ice cream as Jeremiah ate his in silent distress.

I was about to pry about the weird tension that had settled in the room when I felt my watch vibrate. “Oh, it’s Jenna. She wants me to return to headquarters for an emergency meeting.”

“A meeting?’ Xavier asked. 

“It is probably related to the weird particle event going on with the Deep Space tunnel lately.” I stood from my barstool and handed my nearly finished ice cream to Xavier, “Looks like you get this one after all.” I turn to Jeremiah, “Thanks for the snacks I hope you like your pictures!” I glanced back at Xavier who was frowning in thought, “Rain check on dinner?”

He nodded, “Yeah, but you can call me when you are done, if it is not too late, maybe we can still watch the movie.”

I agreed. With that, I rushed out of Jeremiah’s apartment and Philos, and headed back to headquarters. Hopefully, whatever was going on wouldn’t take too long. I found that I was looking forward to movie night with Xavier even more than normal now.

-

We did not watch that movie. In fact, other than seeing each other during filming, I had hardly had time to see dinner for myself, let alone get a glimpse of Xavier outside of work. The meeting a few days back had been about the weird fluctuations around the Deepspace tunnel. The “Particle Events” as the media had taken to calling them was only one part of the abnormal activity going on. Wanderers were appearing in larger numbers than before. And there was something strange going on with the weather. While the media and the Association tried to keep the public calm, everyone had taken to calling it the apocalypse. 

At work, Alpha team had been split up into squads and assigned areas of the city to patrol. Sadly, I was not on the same team as Xavier. Weirdly, Xavier was assigned to a team of one. And while he often did solo missions, I couldn’t help but worry about him. It wasn’t like he was not in the city, I knew this because I saw him every day for filming, and yet, we couldn’t be paired up. I knew that Xavier was a hunter on a whole other level, even than the Alpha team I was on in the Special Unit. I knew he had accesses that most other hunters- if any- had, and skills beyond any other hunter… I knew this, but still… I worried.

At the strange storm raged outside, I sighed as I paced the dressing room. We were on set now, and I wanted to spend time with him, watch him work, and all, but he had insisted that there was no need for us both to get rained on. So, I waited. I waited and I thought and I paced.

I could hear some crew people talking about the storm outside. I heard them talk about how they wished that the real Lumiere would come in and fix whatever was going on with the Deepspace tunnel and end this ‘apocalypse’. 

I sighed. 

Just then, the door to the dressing room opened. Xavier trudged in looking completely drenched. Thunder clapped outside as the door shut. He looked adorably miserable, and I couldn’t help a giggle. 

I grabbed a towel for him and smiled teasingly, “Hey, do you remember that stray kitten from our neighborhood… the one that looked like a wet mop?”

“The only kitten I remember is the smug looking one that always seemed to be smirking,” he grabbed the towel I held up, too drenched to be annoyed by my comment. He wiped his face then vigorously dried at his hair. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

I eyed his wet clothes, “That’s not going to help you much.”

“I’m going back into the rain anyway. Should I even bother?” he shrugged.

I tsked, “Let’s worry about that later. You are going to catch a cold.” I pushed at his shoulders until he backed up into the couch, and then gave him a little shove. His knees gave and he plopped onto the couch, “Sit. Don’t move.”

His eyes widened a bit as he looked up at me, wet hair clinging to his forehead in dark clumps, “What are you doing?”

I sat down next to him, one leg curled up under me, “Let’s wipe this dirt off of your face.” I gave him a soft smile, “Otherwise, Lumiere is going to turn into Dirtiere.”

He let out a scoffing huff of a laugh at that, but tilted his head, “What dirt?”

I looked over his face, even drenched with smears of dirt on his cheeks, he was still so handsome. I sighed and gestured vaguely to my face.

He rubbed at his chin, which had no dirt and looked at his gloved hand. He looked up at me, his mouth curling slightly, “Someone’s making things up.”

I huffed rolling my eyes with a grin, “Not there silly.”

He rubbed at his nose and then playfully acted like he rubbed some dirt on mine. He chuckled, “Why does it feel like there isn’t any dirt?”

I couldn’t help but smile at him, “Because you are wiping the wrong spots. There is some on your cheek.”

His brows rose as he sat back and wiped at his cheek. Seeing a bit on his glove, he wiped some more, “Is it gone?”

“Not yet.”

He wiped at it again, but he was just smearing it around. “And now?” 

I giggled, “Even a kitten licking its fur is better than you.”

“Help me then,” his little whine as he huffed and leaned closer had me biting my lip, “I can’t see where the dirt is.” 

He says in a dressing room full of mirrors. I chewed my lip as he watched me patiently waiting. Damn him and his puppy eyes. My hand rose, cupping his cheek. His lashes fluttered to fan across the tops of his cheeks as he tilted his head just barely into my palm. I brushed at the dirt with my thumb, wiping it off.

He glanced back up at me before averting his gaze again, almost bashful, “Yeah, I feel a little better now.” He leaned back a bit.

“You have more on your other cheek,” my voice was soft.

His blue eyes flicked back up to mine, as he rubbed his other cheek, “Will this do?”

I nodded, still biting my lip. “Yeah, but…” I leaned forward and wiped at his decorative ear cuff that has some raindrops on its shiny metal, “It’s wet here too.” The little noise he let out as my thumb grazed his ear sounded downright filthy, and the pink flush that dusted across his cheeks and nose had me freeze for a moment before pulling away. My own face felt warm.

He looked away shyly, rubbing at his ear, “It tickled. I’m not used to wearing this.” 

I smiled softly at him. He looked so cute being all bashful. His Lumiere mask sitting on a stool next to us caught my attention. My curiosity peaked, I grabbed it and smiled teasingly at him as I fiddled with it.

He seemed to catch my intent as the bashful look on his face changed to one of mild alarm, “You-” He leaned away just a hint.

I laughed, “Oh come on, please?” I waved the mask towards him, “I’ve never seen it on you close up. You are always so quick to take the thing off. Let me see you in it, just once?”

“No thanks,” he turned it down quickly, looking adorably shy again.

I eyed him with narrowed eyes before making my move. Leaning forward quickly, I slipped the mask on his face. He seemed to give up halfway through leaning away and instead resolved himself to his fate. I leaned back to take the sight in, and man was it a sight. He looked good. Really good.

“Oh,” I blinked, my brain short circuiting. He wore it much, much better than the lead actor. On the actor, it looked like a costume piece. On Xavier? It looked mysterious… and hot.

“You’re pretty easy to amuse, huh?” His question snapped me back from my thoughts. “Satisfied now?” He asked as he took the mask off.

I was having a hard time finding words. How exactly does one tell their work partner that he was satisfying and awakening a kink you didn’t even know you had? Was mask kinks a thing?... Or was it just Xavier? It wasn’t just that… Xavier, in this outfit, with this mask on… Suddenly Jeremaih’s teasing from a few days ago came back to mind:

Don’t you think that there is someone else that could’ve worn that Lumiere suit better?

Sitting here now, I had to wonder what he was getting at. And why Xavier had acted so strange. The tension that had been in the room…

“Hmm,” he hummed before leaning forward closer to me. 

My eyes snapped to his face. His hand raised to cup my cheek. Did he notice the way my breath hitched? 

If so, he didn’t say, as his thumb brushed my warm cheeks. “You’ve got a bit of dirt.”

My bottom lip quivered as his thumb grazed the corner of my lips. I swallowed.

Seemingly satisfied with himself, he sat back, a small upwards lilt at the corner of his mouth showed that he was completely aware of the effect he was having on me right then. “Done. Now both these two kittens are clean.”

I huffed a laugh at that. Not sure what to make of what had just happened. Eyeing his wet hair, I couldn’t resist tousling it. 

He jostled slightly and grinned, “It feels like there is an earthquake.”

“That’s because it is the end of the world,” I teased back, referencing the craziness that we had been dealing with, and relieved the tension from before was dissipating.

He hummed, “Aren’t you scared?”

“Nope.” I poke his cheek with a grin. “We have Lumiere. He will show up to save the world.”

He frowned slightly at that, “How can you be sure? Even if he does exist, he might have given up on that identity. Maybe he’d rather live a normal life as a citizen and take walks in the sun every day.”

I eyed him, “You seem to know a lot about him.”

“Not really,” he raised his brows underneath his messy hair, “...Are you hoping he will show up?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I usually didn’t press Xavier, but my curiosity won out, “If I say yes, will he appear?”

Silence filled the room as I held Xavier’s gaze. His expression was unreadable until he lowered his eyes and-

Achoo! 

-let out the cutest kitten sneeze ever. 

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing at his nose, “It’s a little cold.”

I giggled, brushing off my suspicions for concern. I reached out to grab the towel around his neck, and set about drying his hair with it, “Here, let’s get you dried up.”

His gaze is soft as he looks up at me as I tend to him.

The loud beeps from our watches made both of us start as an emergency transmission started:

Incoming mission. Incoming mission. Location: No-hunt zone no. 21. Wanderer threat level: A and above. Number: Calculating… Requesting group III to immediately head to the location. Other squads to remain on standby and await further orders.

I sat back on my haunches, “That’s… a lot of wanderers.” For the watches to still be calculating, it did not look good. On the hologram map, a huge cluster of red surrounded the zone. “Even the threat level in the surrounding areas have gone up. The range of the metaflux fluctuations must be expanding… If Alpha Team can’t get this under control, everyone will have to be deployed.”

“It wont come to that.” He points to the denses red grouping, “This no-hunt zone has always had higher fluctuations. The Association can handle it. They have the experience. Even if the scale of attack seems larger, it is only a matter of time until they take care of it. Don’t worry.”

While still doubtful, I nodded at his reassurance and stole a glance at the red light on his watch. “What about you? You haven’t checked your mission alerts. Did you not get one?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“What do you have to do?” After all, he was assigned to his own solo team and would have his own details and orders to attend to.

“I have to act as an acting consultant and not tarnish our reputation as hunters for the Association,” he said, smiling slightly at me, eroding the tense atmosphere completely. 

“You-” he caught me off guard for a moment. It took me a minute to realize that he wasn’t messing with me, and then I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s actually not surprising. It is good for you to have the reminder.”

He got that puppy eyed look again, “When have I ever tarnished-”

“Tarnished is not the right word, but still…” I begin listing things off on my fingers, “There was all the times on set I had to remind you to wait for the cables before performing a stunt, or that time you blew up the microwave in our first dressing room or that protocore replica that the prop artist made… and that time you nearly “flew in” to protect a crew member when they were testing the explosion effects on set yesterday…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “It was just an accident.”

I laughed softly and ruffled his hair, “I know, I am just teasing you, Xavier. You can’t help it, Wonder Boy. Being a hero comes natural to you.”

“I’m not a hero,” His cheeks were red as he averted his gaze.

“No?” I grinned, “Prince Charming then?”

His eyes widened as he looked up at me, his ears going red then. His mouth was set in a frown, “Don’t… don’t called me that.”

My brow raised, “What charming?”

“No,” he shook his head, looking off to the side, “The other one…” 

“Prince?” His frown deepened and his shoulders rose slightly. It was a weird reaction, but I didn’t want to pry and it clearly made him uncomfortable. I hummed, “Alright then. Noted. How about… Knight in Shining Armor?”

The tension left his shoulders, and instead his mouth twitched in a near smile, out of amusement or shyness I couldn’t tell, “How about… just Xavier?”

I dramatically, earning a true smile then, “Fine, I suppose that will do. At least until I think of a new nickname to call you…”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head before he eyed me from the corner of his gaze. My attention had fallen back to the hologram map from my watch. He switched it off, closing the image, “You don’t need to be anxious. Who knows? Maybe all your worries will disappear once the rain stops.”

“Who says I’m worried?” He gave me a look at that. I huffed, “Besides, the rain doesn’t seem like it will be stopping any time soon..”

“But look at the clouds, there aren’t as many,” He gestured out the window just as a particularly bad bit of lightning rolled across the sky.

“I think it is only going to get worse…” I eyed him, “Unless you know something I don’t, Wonder Boy?”

“Just Xavier, remember,” he was wearing a soft amused smile though, “And, well… I’m pretty good at trivia. Astronomy, geography, you name it.”

My eyes narrowed, “Stop changing the subject.” There was a loud bang as lightning hit close by, rattling the glass of the windows, and making me jump with a squeak. In my surprise, I accidentally scratched his wrist with my nails.

He let out a sharp inhale.

My eyes widen, “Shit, Xavier. I’m sorry!” I quickly grab his wrist and turn it over feeling guilty as I see the red line. It didn’t break the skin, but it left a raised welt. I brushed my thumb over it gently, “Dang it. I’m sorry. Did it hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he reassured me.

Guilty, I released his wrist and sat back on the couch watching the storm rage on outside. Raindrops were pelting the glass and I sighed. I wanted to press him, to ask him for answers to the many riddles going around in my head… but at the same time… I didn’t want to push and end up pushing him away. I liked moments like this, spending time with him, occasional soft touches that felt like more, and soft words that made my heart sputter and clench. So, I swallowed my words back and resolved myself to watch the rain blur the lights outside the windows.

Then, in that dimly lit room, Xavier reached out, gently taking my wrist in his hand. There we sat for the rest of the afternoon, watching the rain, waiting for it to stop- for the next shoe to drop- with his large, warm hand holding my wrist, and his thumb rubbing gingerly across the delicate skin there. And in that moment, my questions didn’t matter. The mysteries he kept close to his chest faded away. And I let myself pretend- just for a moment in time- that he felt the same way towards me as I was beginning to feel towards him. And that he was mine.

Whew! This was so long! I wanted to get all of the Lumiere myth in here but it was just TOO long, so the second half will be in the next chapter. I hope you all are enjoy the "rewrite" of the myth card scenes with a more romantic vibe to them. It is weird to say but honestly, for a romance game, Xavier's content is lacking in the main story aspects compared to the other guys due to his calm and often distant persona they have going. Hopefully, I am doing the scene justice here while giving more insight into how "we" feel and adding more moments between us and Xavier.

Not gonna lie. This is fully indulgent for me. Kinda writing it for myself and just bring y'all on the ride.

Did y'all like Zayne and Rafayel's cameos? :) I couldn't resist spending time with my fishie. Also, couldn't help but throw in my own little Xavier & Jeremiah headcanon (read more about it here) with Xavier calling him Jeremy. Expect more of that. I live for it.

And before you ask, yes, there will be smut. I am getting there, I swear.

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[imababblekat]

So Close

@badlywritten-stuff2 ,"i am a sucker for spiderman reader w the turtles so i was hit w a potentially galaxy brain (and. shippy.) idea; the reader and leo are about to have like, a spiderman-esqe kiss where the reader is hanging upside down on their web with only half their face showing (you know the scene-- that's ROMANCE baby!) maybe it's a little farther down the line, in terms of their relationship and it's crept into less platonic and more 'i like you' vibes but still very much leo doesnt know our beloved spidey's identity. then the boyz show up and they're all like "YALL WAS GONNA KISS??" and leo and spidey are like "NUH UH" or something idk! have fun with it i just got the sillies. thank you! i hope youre doing well!"

◌ S,p = Spider Persona ◌

~xXx~

The air felt chill across green pebbled skin, a light rain cascading down from the sky and creating a beautiful wash of colors of the city scape for Leo to gaze upon. Despite being a stickler for always staying together, especially when in the world above his home, the mutant turtle felt he exceptionally needed this moment of peace. Away from the loud bustle of his brothers, away from the grueling training he’d tunnel vision himself into in moments like these, and away from the heavy expectations of being not only the eldest but the leader put upon him.

With a heavy breath through his nose and eyes shut closed, the terrapin in blue had not noticed the quiet pitter patter of feet behind him.

“Looks like someone finally learned to get out and have some fun for once.”

Leonardo nearly jumped out of his shell, but was quick to recover and turned with a glare that quickly dissipated at realizing who his uninvited guest was.

“(S,p), what are you doing here?”, he questioned, trying his best to stop the small flutter in his chest.

Sitting on the ledge of the door that led to the roof they both now occupied, the eyes of the friendly neighborhood (S,p) motioned in a way of how one would quirk a brow.

“Uhm, fighting crime. What are you doing out here? Thought Raph was the one to go soloing about.”

Leo looked down to the city streets below, his face scrunching up at being reminded of one of his latest stressors.

“Nothing, I. . .I just needed some air.”

(S,p) frowned at this. The hunched form, stiff shoulders, and shadows beneath gorgeous blue eyes were only a few tell tales of what Leo was currently going through.

“Hey. . .”

Leo watched as (S,p) hoped down from their perch, walking only a few steps before sitting down on the edge beside him. A gentle hand had come to rest on Leo’s forearm, and even through the miraculous suit they wore, he could still feel the comforting heat of their touch.

“Remember what we talked about?”, (S,p) questioned, looking up into Leo’s cerulean(?) eyes, that of which shyly wished to look away but held firm.

“You can’t keep things bottled up, Leo. It’ll weigh you down till it suffocates you.”

Swallowing a tightness in his throat, said terrapin could no longer hold his best friends gaze, and instead focused on the smaller hand still rested upon him.

“I know. I’m still just not used to this kind of thing.”, he admitted, a dusting across his chilled cheeks in the New York night.

For a brief moment, he wondered if you were cold as well, and could not help the feeling of concern at you becoming sick for being out in such weather trying to comfort him. Though, he knew any attempt at dissuading you would be futile. The more time you and the four brothers had spent together, the closer you and honorable terrapin had grown, no way was he going to get rid of you that easily. Your gentle caringness you were about to display proving as such.

“That’s okay. That’s why I promised to always be here when you needed and were ready.”, you beamingly reminded, taking your other hand to gently cup Leo’s face and direct his focus back to you.

The flutter felt earlier returned once more to Leonardo’s chest, his wrapped hand reaching up to gently lay over the hand that still caressed his face.

How had he become so lucky to meet someone like you? He knew not of your true identity, but Leo still fully believed he could trust you with his life and vice versa. Maybe it was because you were not so normal yourself, but whatever the case may be, you never treated Leo like a freak. Not only that, but you saw more of him then some cold hardass leader. You saw past the wall he built, the façade he wore as his duty placed upon him at such a young age. It wasn’t that Leo disliked being a leader, but it hadn’t been easy on him and he very much felt alone at times. Yet, when you had stumbled into their lives, it was like a ray of sun came to cast out the rays of his lonely mind. You had always cared for him, and you still continued to do so, as he found himself doing for you as well.

There was no one he felt closer to in his whole life but you.

“So, do you feel up for talking? Or do you just wanna hang for a while?”, you quietly asked, tucking one of Leo’s mask tails aside.

With a warming smile, Leo stood, taking your hand he still held and pulling you up gently as well.

“I think I’d just like to hang, if you’re not too busy kicking bad guy butt.”

You giggled, a melody like sound to Leo’s ears as he watched you walk back to the place you once sat perched upon.

“For you? Never busy! I know this cute little roof top café we can hit up. It’s got a little private area the owner set aside for me to take breaks at. Won’t have to worry at all about any surprises.”

Watching you jump up to the higher roof ledge, Leo thought about your proposition. Sitting in a cozy area with calming night rain in New Yorker city, enjoying a nice warm cup of coffee with the one person who could light up a whole room? What could be better?

“That sounds really nice actually. They have any pastries?”, Leo asked, getting ready to follow you up.

“As a matter of fact, they do! Oooh, their honey rolls are just ab-shit!”

Leonardo's heart spiked as he saw you suddenly slip on the wet surface above, and with quick reflexes he lurched forward, ready to catch you in his arms. Unfortunately, your own reflexes had kicked in just in time for you to web your self to the dryer, bottom portion of the ledge, leaving you effectively upside down. Combining both of your quick movements, neither Leo or you had time to stop the momentum of your faces colliding together. Despite being masked, there was no doubt in either of your minds the connection you each felt upon one another's lips. As quick as it had happened it was just as quickly over; Leo stepped back faster than lightning and his face lighting up as red as his brothers mask. As for you, your whole body felt it’s only electricity, spidey senses going awry from the incident.

“I-I’m so sorry!! I was just trying to catch you and-“

“N-no, I should apologize! I’m the one who slipped!”

The air grew thick with silence, as neither you or Leo looked at the other, hearts still racing and emotions on the high end. You were still buzzing, a new feeling you had never felt before coursing through you. It was your spidey sense, that you knew, but it hadn’t been the same as every other time you’ve experienced it. It was warm, soothing, elating, like taking a nap cozied up in bed with the window open to allow for a nice spring breeze.

Taking a chance, you glanced over at Leo, the later still looking to the ground. Not aware of the eyes upon him, Leo slowly had reached up to touch his own lips, a glimmer in his eyes that had not gone unnoticed by you. The sight sent a flutter of your own though your chest, as you thought back on all the special moments that you both had shared.

Almost similarly to Leo, you had felt alone for so long. A hero with abilities never heard of before and no one to learn from. Navigating a new world and taking on responsibilities and hardships you’d never asked for. When you met the ninja turtles though, and found yourself in an ever growing friendship with Leonardo, you suddenly found yourself almost not ever remembering what loneliness felt like.

“Hey, Leo?”

Said terrapin was quick to look your way, feeling the shyness of your gaze as you called for him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you uhm. . .”

Your voice fell to a mumble, your characteristic bravado suddenly gone. Leo chanced stepping forward, and once sure that you were comfortable with him moving into your space he continued closer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Leo felt a new nervousness within him. You both knew it was an accident, but dear god, did you hate him now? Was this going to change things for the worse? The thought of your friendship dwindling caused an ache in Leo’s heart as he worriedly waited for you to repeat yourself. However, the next words you’d speak would be the complete opposite of the turmoil within his mind.

“I-I said. . .do you want to try that again?”

Leo gulped, his eyes behind his blue mask widening.

“What? Kiss?!”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm, but your mask. Are you sure your okay with?”, Leo gestured to his own face, knowing how important your identiy was to you.

You simply nodded, gaze just as soft as the handsome one now mere inches from you.

“You can pull it down part way.”

“Are you sure?”, Leo asked once more, half lidded stare looking into the eyes of your mask, that of which he swore for but a brief second he saw (e,c) orbs.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

That was all that Leonardo needed to hear, his heart now feeling like it would explode just by your simple, but powerful statement. Ever so gently he peeled down your mask, mind a flutter at finally seeing some hint of your true self. This whole action and moment had been elating for you as well, a thrill in your heart at feeling the brush of Leo's hands across your bare skin.

With the ambiance of falling rain, glowing lights of ranging hues, and the warmth of the others breath, the kiss Leo was about to share with you, would be a cherished memory for a life time and more.

“Hey, guy’s! I found him!”

Never had you pulled your mask up so quickly, and never had Leonardo let out such a roaring groan. Foot falls came to a halt as Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo hopped onto the roof top you both occupied.

“What the hell, man?! We’ve been tryin’ to reach you all night!”, Raph glowered throwing his hands up as his brother in blue sent him the sharpest of glares.

“There’s been a Foot Clan robbery, and NYPD needs back up.”, Donnie hurriedly spoke, too focused on one of his gadgets to take notice of the same death glare sent his way.

Ultimately, it was Mikey who had come to read the room, going to give you an excited greeting when he took notice of the bashful look displayed on your mask, Leo’s deep scowl, and the close proximity between you both. The biggest, toothiest of smiles breached the youngest face, but Leo had no time to stop him from speaking out.

“Yooo!! Were you two about to do what I think you were about to do?!”

Raphael and Donnie confusedly looked to Mikey, Leo furiously making motions to get Mikey to shut up.

“What are you talking about, Mikey?”, Raph spat, not in the mood for his antics.

“Oh you knooow~ Leo and (s,p), sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Realization smacked both Raph and Donnie in the face at that moment as they quickly looked between you both, each’s expression brimming with surprise.

“Wait, seriously?! Is that why you weren’t answering your phone?!, Donnie gawked while adjusting his glasses.

“So, like. . .with mask or no mask?”, Raph questioned with a shit eating grin.

Another heavy groan reverberated from Leonardo as his brother huddled together to begin their collective teasing. How was he going to survive this? Cheeks hot with embarrassment as his brother laughed and continued to banter from a distance, Leo turned to apologize to you, only to find you suddenly absent. Leo felt a sudden sadness at your disappearance, but a ping to his phone caught his attention. A text notification, above the many missed calls from his siblings, caught his eyes.

“Meet you dorks at the robbery! Coffee after? Or will you be too busy dying from your brothers torment? ; )”

Leo let out a breathy chuckle, and with a warm grin and even warmer heart, sent a message in return.

“For you? Never busy!”

~xXx~