#these 8k words are their own bubble

[geometricalien]

thank you to everyone who voted in my poll yesterday, but this is not a democracy. the inter(lewd) exists thank you and good night

[v6quewrlds]

❝ love language, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe burrow was made to be a husband. your honeymoon is proof enough that loving you is his love language.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: inspired by a couple of anon requests! another addition to the joe can't shut up when he's in love agenda. no real plot, no real substance. took me a solid month to write this so i tried to incorporate as many reqs as i could <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, excessive usage of husband and wife/mr. and mrs., breeding kink, reader mentions ovulating, massage, cheesy dialogue, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of butt stuff but no actual butt stuff, backshots!!, mirror sex, praise kink if you squint.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x wife!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 8k.

In the bustling backroom of the grand ballroom, you stood tall and radiant, your brown eyes sparkling with a blend of excitement and exhaustion. The scent of your bouquet of baby breaths filled the small space, mingling with the faint aroma of Joe's cologne. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the wedding gown you had spent months choosing.

Joe, dressed sharply in his tuxedo, leaned against the wall with his arms folded, his blue eyes dancing with amusement as he watched you fidget with your dress. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. "You have no idea," you replied, your voice filled with energy. "I've been holding it together for hours, and now all I want to do is kick off these heels and dance like a lunatic."

Joe chuckled, his sarcasm giving way to affection as he stepped closer to you. He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle caress. "Well, Mrs. Burrow," he began, his voice low and teasing, "once we make our grand entrance, the dance floor is all yours."

Your eyes lit up at the sound of your new title, a grin spreading across your face. "And what will Mr. Burrow be doing?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Joe shrugged, his own smile growing. "Probably tripping over my own two feet. You know I'm more of a 'sway and hope nobody notices' kind of dancer."

"Not tonight, Joey." You said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Tonight, you're dancing with me like you mean it."

Joe feigned a dramatic sigh, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. "Fine," he drew out the vowels, rolling his eyes playfully despite the unmistakable grin that was spreading across his face. "But only if you promise not to laugh when I get a few drinks in me."

Your laugh was music to Joe's ears, and he felt his own tension start to unwind. "Deal," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. The kiss was chaste, but it carried the promise of a million more to come, each one more passionate than the last.

The door to the room swung open and in barged a rush of laughter and chatter as your wedding party piled in. "Alright, Mr. & Mrs. Burrow," your wedding planner called out, her voice a mix of hurry and delight. "It's showtime!"

-

"You're up to something," Joe murmured, catching the mischievous glint in your eyes as you sauntered into the hotel room. The evening air clung to your skin, carrying the faint scent of your wedding flowers with you. He was lounging on the plush bed, scrolling through his phone, his muscular form stretched out in the white cotton pajamas that matched your own.

"Me? I'm not up to anything," you retorted, your laughter twinkling in the quiet space. The sight of you made Joe's heart stumble, the way you filled out those pajamas like they were tailored just for you—they were. He knew that look, though. The way you bit your lower lip and your hips swayed just so. You had something on your mind, and it sure as hell wasn't sleep.

Joe set his phone aside, settling deeper into the pillows. "You're smiling too hard for it to be nothing," he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You prowled closer, your smile deepening with the grin that spread across your face. "Maybe I'm just happy to see my husband," you said, your voice a purr that sent a shiver down Joe's spine. "My shiny, new husband."

He knew better.

That glint in your eye was the same one you had before you tackled him into bed back home. Before he could say anything else, you straddled him, your thighs pressing into his hips, palms pressing him into the hotel bedsheets eagerly.

"Your wife is ovulating, Mr. Burrow," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath tickling his neck. Joe couldn't help but laugh, his hands instinctively reaching to grip your waist.

"And that means?" Joe replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your body. Despite his amusement, there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

"It means I want you to do something about it," you said, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. You began to rock your hips against him, the friction making you wetter by the second. Joe's laughter died in his throat, and he stared up at you, his eyes darkening. 

"I know how much you love it when I'm like this," you cooed, your hands sliding under his shirt to trace the contours of his solid upper body.

"Is that so?" Joe said, his voice thick with amusement. He couldn't deny that there was something about you at your most aroused that made his heart skip a beat. It had become a secret little card between the two of you, one that you loved to play when you knew he was at his most susceptible.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Remember that time you said I smell like heaven when I'm ovulating?"

Joe couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. "I might have said something like that," he admitted, his voice a low, playful rumble.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. "Well, heaven's calling," you said, your hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle that made Joe's eyes roll back in his head.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," he groaned, his hands tightening around your waist as you continued her delicate torture.

Your grin grew wider, your brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Is that a 'yes'? You’re not too tired?" you asked, your voice dripping with sweet seduction.

"It's definitely a 'yes', sweetheart. I could never be too tired for you," Joe managed, his breath hitching as your hips continued their mesmerizing dance. He pushed your pajama shorts aside, the gold wedding band glittering against his skin as his fingers moved to reveal your slick folds.

"But you better be quiet," he warned, glancing over at the walls that separated them from your parents' rooms on either side. "I don't think they need to know what we're up to over here."

“It’s our wedding night, baby. I think our parents would hope we'd be having dirty marital sex on our wedding night,” you giggled, the sound light and airy, as you leaned down to kiss him. "They want grandbabies and this is how it happens."

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting like mint and a hint of the champagne you had picked out for the reception. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, until Joe couldn't take it anymore. He flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours, his cock pressing against your heat.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and lust.

"Told you," you said, your voice a smug whisper. You reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling him twitch against your palm. "You always get me like this."

Joe chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with desire. "So it’s not just the multi-million dollar fortune now in your name?" he murmured, kissing you deeply.

"We can't have you waking up the whole floor." He pulled your pajama shorts down before throwing them over his shoulder to discard them. Your laughter was muffled against his neck as he positioned himself between your legs.

He slid into you with a groan, the feeling of your tight warmth around him making him forget about the walls that were a little too thin. Your nails dug into his back as he began to move, slow at first, savoring every inch of you.

"Fuck," you breathed, your eyes squeezed shut. "You feel so good."

Joe's teeth sank into your shoulder to keep his own moans quiet. "You're so wet, baby," he murmured, his voice strained. "So, so wet."

"I can't help it," you panted, your legs wrapping around him. "You looked so good out there, all husband-y and...fuck, Joe, right there."

Joe chuckled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he hit your sweet spot with precision. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. He loved it when you lost control, when you forgot about the world around you and just focused on the pleasure he was giving you.

"I’m so thankful you’re mine," he whispered, his hips driving into you with increasing force. The headboard hit the wall with a muffled thump that made you both giggle, despite the intensity of the moment. You wrapped your arms around Joe's neck, your nails lightly raking his scalp as you pulled him closer, silently begging for more.

Joe's breath was hot against your neck as he murmured, "You're so fucking tight."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but moan a little louder. "Shh," Joe said, a hint of laughter in his voice as he pressed a finger to your lips. "These walls are so thin."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your breath hitched when Joe reached over to grab a pillow. He slammed it over your face, muffling your laughter. "Not helping," you mumbled into the softness.

He threw the pillow aside with a laugh and slid his thumb into your mouth instead, your teeth grazing the pad as you tried to keep your noises down. It was a struggle, especially as he found his rhythm and your moans grew more insistent. The scent of your arousal filled the air, and Joe couldn't resist the urge to bury his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply. It was like a drug, making his cock throb even more.

"So good. My wife’s so tight, squeezing her husband’s cock so well, like she was fuckin' made for it," he groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he held you in place. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your body arching up to meet his every thrust. The quiet room was filled with the slick sounds of skin on skin, your harsh breathing, and the occasional muffled curse.

"You're so...so...oh, fuck, Joey," you managed, your words barely audible around his fingers. Your legs trembled, your body poised on the edge of release.

Joe couldn't hold back his own groans any longer. He knew he was pushing your buttons, and the way you squirmed beneath him was all the encouragement he needed. "I know, baby," he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and lust. "You're close, aren't you?"

You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as Joe picked up the pace. You were close, so close, but he wasn't done with you yet. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slammed into you harshly, his balls slapping against your ass. The sound was obscene, but Joe couldn't bring himself to care. All he could focus on was the feel of your tight pussy clamping down around him, your walls pulsing with each thrust.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked up at Joe with a mix of love and pure desire. "Don't stop," you begged, your voice a breathy whisper. "Please, Joe, don't stop."

"Never," Joe promised, his voice a gruff growl. He thrust deeper, feeling your muscles tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the thought of you coming apart under him was all he needed to fall over the edge. He reached down to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers slipping and sliding in your wetness. "I'm gonna fill this sweet pussy up. Make my wife happy like I vowed. Might even make you a mama." he murmured, his voice low and guttural.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your breath coming in short gasps. The pressure was building, coiling in your stomach, threatening to break free. You nodded, your hips bucking up to meet his. "Please, Joe," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need it."

With a powerful thrust, Joe gave you what you craved. Your eyes snapped open, and you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming. He didn't stop, though, his strokes growing faster and more erratic.

"That's it, baby. Keep squeezing me, just like that. Gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart. Get you all nice and warm with my cum, huh?" Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as you rode the waves of pleasure. 

“Is that what you want?” His words were like gasoline on a fire, sending sparks of arousal through your body. You could feel him thicken inside you, his breaths growing harsher with each thrust. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, your hips moving in time with Joe's. The room was a whirlwind of sensations, the scent of your sex mingling with the faint ocean breeze that slipped through the open balcony doors. The sound of the waves outside seemed to echo the rhythm of your lovemaking, a steady movement building up to a crescendo.

"Oh, Joe," you breathed, your voice strained. "Fuck, yes. Yes."

Your eyes met, and Joe saw the desperation in them, the need for release that mirrored his own. He leaned down, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce kiss as he slammed into you, giving you everything he had. Your nails dug into his back, your body writhing beneath his. And then you were there, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your inner muscles clenching down around his cock in a spasm of pleasure. He spilled over the edge at the same time, filling you with his hot, thick spend. You both froze for a moment, the room silent except for the harsh sounds of your panting.

"Holy shit," Joe breathed, collapsing onto you with a satisfied groan. His chest heaved with each breath, his heart racing in his ears. The feel of you, warm and wet around him, was heavenly. He kissed your neck, your skin salty with a sheen of sweat.

You chuckled, the vibrations traveling through Joe's body. "You're such a romantic," you teased. "Now get off, you're 20 pounds heavier than normal."

"Nah, gotta make sure it all stays inside, you know?" Joe quipped, his voice muffled by your shoulder. He didn't move, enjoying the feeling of your body still quivering with the aftershocks of your climax. You giggled, your breath warm against his neck.

"You're ridiculous," you murmured, your voice still shaky with pleasure. Joe's laughter rumbled against your skin, his body a delicious weight that you didn't want to shift just yet. The two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets, your hearts racing in sync.

"There's no way they didn't hear something," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. You could feel Joe's cock still twitching inside you, the evidence of his release seeping out to wet the bed between your legs.

"Your mom's been talking nonstop about a grandchild. I think she'll appreciate the knowledge that we're working on it right away," Joe replied with a lazy grin, not bothering to move. You playfully slapped his ass, making him yelp.

"Get off, you're crushing me," you giggled, pushing at Joe's shoulder. He chuckled, rolling off you and flopping onto his back. His cock slipped out with a wet sound, and you couldn't help but stare at the mess you had made. You felt a warm trickle of his cum slide out of you and trickle down your thigh.

Joe glanced over and grinned. "Looks like we've got a little cleanup on aisle five," he said, gesturing to the wet spot on the bed.

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease. "You're so annoying," you said, your voice filled with affection. "If you're gonna be into this breeding kink thing, you're gonna have to help clean me up after."

Joe sat up, his chest heaving from the exertion. "Fair enough," he said, tossing the pillow back at you. "Can I lick you clean?" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows, his voice filled with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your gaze betrayed your arousal. "Perv," you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips.

Joe shrugged, unabashed. "What? Is that a yes?" He leaned over to nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the teasing, there was a genuine question in his voice, his breath hot against your skin.

"Not today, playboy," you said, swatting Joe's hand away as he reached for your still-sensitive folds. "But I'll keep it in mind for later."

You slithered out of bed, the dampness between your legs leaving a stain on the sheet. "For now, I'm going to take a shower before your mom starts knocking on the door wondering if we're okay."

Joe watched your retreating form with a lazy smile, his eyes lingering on your round, firm ass as you disappeared into the en suite bathroom. "Without me?" he called after you, pouting as he feigned disappointment in his voice.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, a smile pulling at your lips, he leaped out of bed. His cock was still half-hard as he chased after you, his playfulness evident in every step.

-

You stretched your limbs against the crisp, white villa sheets. You blinked your brown eyes open to the early morning sun peeking through the luxurious curtains, hinting at the promise of a new day. Next to you, Joe lay still, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. His dirty blonde hair was a mess, a heartwarming contrast to his usually meticulous grooming.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the man who was now your husband. Your first days as a married couple had been filled with passion and laughter, and you were eager to start this new chapter of your life together.

Your private plane ride had been nothing short of a dream. The thrilling rush of flying high above the clouds, sipping champagne, and even sneaking away to join the mile-high club in the spacious bathroom.

As you slipped out of bed, the soft carpet whispered a greeting beneath your bare feet. You padded over to the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the breathtaking view of the tropical paradise that stretched out before you. The sea was a canvas of azure, blending into the horizon where the sun had just begun to paint streaks of gold and pink. It was the perfect setting for a honeymoon, and you couldn't have been more grateful for Joe's thoughtful surprise.

As you continued to gaze at the view, you felt Joe's arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Good morning, Mrs. Burrow," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a hint of pride. You giggled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"Good morning, Mr. Burrow," you replied, leaning into his touch. "I can't believe we're actually here." You twisted around in his arms, your smile widening as you met his gaze. Joe's blue eyes sparkled with love as he said, "I know what you mean. I had to pinch myself during the flight to make sure it wasn't just a dream."

"Was that before or after we christened the plane's bathroom?" You quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe chuckled, his arms tightening around you as you shared the intimate memory.

"Before," he said, his voice low and playful. "But I'm sure we can make some more memories today if you're up for it."

You decided to shower together, the warm water cascading over your bodies as you soaped each other up. The sensual act of washing each other had become a morning ritual for you, a gentle reminder of your love and devotion. As you stepped out, Joe couldn't resist smacking your ass playfully, making you yelp in surprise. You shot him a mock glare, which quickly melted into a grin as you grabbed a towel and dried off.

Dressing in your swimwear, you headed down to breakfast. The hotel had laid out a spread that could feed a small army, but you kept it simple: avocado eggs benedict for you and an omelet for him, a side of crispy bacon for you both. You sat by the pool, sipping on tropical smoothies, the gentle sound of the waves in the distance setting the mood for the day ahead. You felt your excitement build as you listened to Joe recount the plans he had made for your day.

Your midday snorkeling adventure was nothing short of magical. The crystal-clear waters revealed a vibrant underwater world of coral reefs and a rainbow of fish. You couldn't help but cling to Joe's arm in amazement as you floated above the aquatic wonderland. His constant, nerdy stream of ocean facts kept you laughing. You held hands underwater, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight that pierced through the surface, a symbolic declaration of your commitment to each other.

-

"You're so sunburnt," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mirth as you traced your finger across Joe's pink shoulder. Your own skin, kissed by the sun, had a warm glow that contrasted with the vibrant, floral-printed sundress that clung deliciously to your curves like a second skin.

Joe groaned dramatically, his fair complexion suffering from the tropical heat more than your naturally darker skin. "You think that's funny?" he shot back, though his smile gave away his playful annoyance.

You had spent the entire day snorkeling in the crystal waters and lounging under the palm trees, and Joe in all his stubbornness had decided against sunscreen, claiming it would be nice to get a "tan" in. Needless to say, the Caribbean sun had been less than kind to his poor, Midwestern pale skin. You had been more fortunate, your skin a beautiful canvas of brown with the hint of a shimmer from your coconut-scented sunscreen.

"It's hilarious, actually," you said, leaning in to kiss his burnt nose. "Come on. We can grab some aloe from the gift shop for your poor, crispy skin."

Joe rolled his eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Oh, the joys of being married to a smartass," he murmured, pulling you closer to his side. Your hand splayed across his chest, ring catching the golden sunlight as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple.

"You love this smart ass," you quipped back, gasping with surprise as Joe's left hand reached down to smooth over the fabric covering your ass.

"I do love this ass," Joe murmured lowly, delivering a full-handed squeeze to each of your cheeks. "No lie."

After retrieving the aloe from the gift shop, you retreated to your luxurious villa. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, romantic light over the plush California king-sized bed and the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the stunning view of the ocean. You carefully applied the cool aloe vera gel to Joe's sun-bitten skin, your gentle touch offering a sweet respite from the sting.

Joe's eyes fluttered shut as you worked your way down his back, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, which had been honed from countless hours in the gym and on the field. He could feel the tension of the day melting away under your touch.

"I'm sorry, baby," you hummed softly as Joe hissed when you reached a particularly tender spot. "I know it stings."

"It's okay," Joe managed through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed. "Guess I'll have to stay out of the sun tomorrow."

You chuckled, your hands continuing their soothing dance across his skin. "I can't imagine that happening. It's so beautiful out there," you said, glancing out at the horizon where the sun was dipping below the waves.

"Just means I get to stay in bed with you all day," Joe murmured, his voice thick with innuendo. He turned his head from his spot on his stomach, looking at you over his shoulder with a smoldering gaze.

Your laughter turned into a knowing smile, and you leaned in to kiss the back of his neck. "Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

Joe's gaze met yours in the reflection of the large, ornate mirror on the opposite wall. "I'm a man who takes his vows seriously," he replied, his voice low and gruff with desire. Your eyes darkened with anticipation as you set the aloe aside, replacing it with a bottle of massage oil. You climbed back onto the bed, straddling his back with the bottle balanced delicately in your hand.

"Let's see if we can make this feel a little better," you said, your tone a mix of sweetness and conspiracy. You began to work the oil into his shoulders, your soft, skilled hands kneading out the knots that had formed from a full day of swimming and sun.

Joe groaned in pleasure, his eyes still locked on yours in the mirror. "You're a miracle worker," he murmured, feeling the heat of the oil and your touch seep into his sore muscles.

You grinned, your eyes glued to his baby blues. "Just doing my wifey duties," you said, your voice dripping with sweetness. You continued to massage him, your hands moving in slow, firm circles that grew increasingly sensual as you worked your way down his back.

Joe felt his body responding to your touch, his muscles relaxing and his skin prickling with goosebumps. "Is this part of the standard honeymoon package?" he managed to ask, his voice strained.

You giggled, your hands sliding lower, dangerously close to the waistband of his swim trunks. "Oh, this is a special upgrade," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear as you leaned forward to press your chest to his back. "Just for my favorite man."

Your thumbs dipped beneath the fabric, tracing the waistline of his trunks and sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He bit his lip, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "What else does this upgrade include?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Well," you began, your hands moving to the back of his trunks, "It's a full-service deal. I'll take care of every inch of you." You tugged the material down, exposing his firm, sun-neglected ass. His skin was tight and pale, practically begging for the warmth of your palms.

With a devilish smirk, you started to massage the oil into his ass, your touch feather-light at first, teasing him with the promise of more. Joe's breath hitched, his body tensing under your touch. You leaned down, your chest brushing against his back as you kissed the top of his shoulder. "Do you like that?" you whispered, your breath hot on his skin.

Joe's only response was a nod, his eyes squeezed shut in focus. You chuckled, your hands growing bolder, kneading his cheeks with a firmness that made him moan. Your fingers danced closer to his crack, and you could feel his arousal growing against your thigh.

"Just keep that finger to yourself, missy," Joe warned playfully, his voice strained with pleasure. Your disappointed groan was like music to his ears, and he felt his cock twitch against the mattress at the sound.

Your response was to give his right cheek a gentle smack, the sound echoing through the room. "One of these days, I'll get what I want," you teased, your hands leaving their spot on his ass to work at his shoulders once more. The warmth from your touch seeped into Joe's bones, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan.

"One of these days," he echoed, his voice thick with desire, "but not today." You knew he was enjoying the anticipation, the buildup of pleasure that you so skillfully crafted. You leaned in closer, your breasts pressing into his back again as you whispered a command into his ear to flip over.

With a groan, Joe obeyed, his cock standing at full attention underneath his swim trunks as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan that lazily spun above you. You took in the sight of your husband, your eyes lingering on the trail of hair that led from his navel to his groin, the faintest dusting of sun freckles across his shoulders, and the way his chest stood proud and firm. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that this man, this powerful, successful man, was all yours.

Straddling his hips, you leaned over to kiss him, your oiled hands sliding over his chest. Your kisses grew more heated, Joe's hands coming up to grip your ass firmly, now his turn to kneed your flesh. You felt his cock throb against your inner thigh and you broke away, breathless. "Someone's eager," you teased, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You have no idea," Joe murmured, his voice breaking with surprise as you playfully pinched his nipples. You straightened your back as you sat up, your crotch slotted perfectly over his erection. Your manicured nails trailed down his stomach, the cool metal of your wedding ring sending goosebumps skittering across his skin. Joe's hands moved to your waist, his thumbs playing with the soft material of your dress. His blue eyes blazed with need as he took in your beauty, the way your tits strained against the fabric, the curve of your hips, the shadow between your thighs that promised heaven.

"You should wear these dresses more often," Joe said, his voice strained as you ground your hips against his. The dresses in question had been a staple to your honeymoon wardrobe, all thin straps and flowing in every color under the rainbow. You leaned back, arching your spine, giving him a better view of your body.

"You like them? Maybe I'll start wearing them to your games," you quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe's grip tightened on your waist, his mind racing with the thought of you in this dress, teasing him in front of the cameras. He could picture your figure amplified on national television as the color commentators declared you as his wife, your new last name rolling off their tongues easily.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Joe chuckled, his thumbs stroking your hips as he fought to keep his cool. "No way are you distracting my focus like that."

You giggled, your hands sliding down to grip the bulge of his dick through the fabric of his trunks. "But you'd love it," you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Imagine every time you looked over at the sidelines and saw me sitting there, you'd know exactly what's waiting for you after the game."

Joe's eyes rolled back in his head as you squeezed him lightly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I don't think I'd be able to play," he managed to murmur, his voice tight with need. "I'd spend the whole game thinking about tearing that dress off you. And I don't think I'd be the only one thinking that."

You laughed, your grip tightening on Joe's cock. "We wouldn't want that," you said, your voice a sweet purr. You sat up straight, your oiled hands sliding down your thighs to rest on Joe's. "But you can take it off me now."

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with lust as he sat up and reached for the hem of the sundress. His eyes were trained on your exposed skin as he tugged the dress up over your head. He threw the thin fabric to the side, leaving you perched pretty on his lap. The ruched, bridal white string bikini you had been wearing underneath the dress contrasted beautifully against your shimmering skin.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice filled with awe. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in the fullness of your breasts, and the way your stomach dipped before flaring out into your hips. You leaned into him, your heart racing as his hands found the strings of your bikini top.

With a swift pull, the fabric gave way and your breasts spilled out, bouncing slightly with the movement. Joe's mouth watered as he reached out, cupping one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened nipple. You gasped, arching into his touch. The coolness of the room washed over your bare skin, making you feel even more exposed and alive.

Joe's eyes never left yours as he leaned in to capture your nipple between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him to your skin. He kissed and nipped at one peak before moving on to the other, his mouth and teeth teasing you until you were squirming in his lap.

Your hips rocked against him, your pussy slick and hot through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. Joe's cock strained against the confines of his trunks, desperate for release. He reached up, his fingers undoing the strings of your bottoms, and with a firm tug, they too gave way. Your body was laid bare before him, your skin glistening with tanning oil and the light sheen of arousal.

"Your turn," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. You pushed at Joe's shoulders, urging him to lie back on the bed. He did so willingly, his cock bobbing free as you slid his trunks down his legs. Your eyes were glued to his cock, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick, veined shaft.

Without a word, Joe lay back on the bed, his cock standing proud and eager against his stomach. You took a moment to appreciate the view, your eyes drinking in every inch of him. He was perfection personified, and you felt a thrill knowing you were the one who got to claim him.

"Let me taste you, sweetheart," Joe whispered, his voice husky with need as he maneuvered your back to fall against the crisp, white sheets. Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn't resist, your legs falling open to give him access to your slick folds. He kissed and nibbled at your inner thighs, his tongue tracing the path to your core as you squirmed with anticipation. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs, gently caressing the skin before moving them to rest on his shoulders, giving him the perfect angle to dive in.

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue parted you, tasting your sweetness. You could feel his breath hot against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. Joe took his time, savoring your flavor, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that made your toes curl. Your grip on the sheets tightened as Joe's tongue swirled around your clit and flattened against your folds, the pressure building until you could hardly stand it.

He knew exactly how to drive you wild. With each flick of his tongue, you felt yourself inch closer to the precipice of ecstasy. "Joe," you breathed weakly, your voice trembling with desire. "I'm gonna come."

He chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. "That's the plan, babe," he murmured, his voice muffled by the wetness of your pussy. He picked up the pace, his tongue dancing and flicking in a way that made your hips buck and your breath hitch. You threw your head back, short, strangled breaths leaving your mouth as your eyes squeezed shut, Joe's mouth worked you into a frenzy.

The room filled with the sound of your moans and the wet, sloppy noises of Joe's enthusiastic indulgence mixing in with your glistening arousal. He was relentless, his tongue probing and lapping until you were sure you couldn't take anymore. You felt your orgasm building, a coil of tension in your belly that grew tighter and tighter with each pass of his tongue.

"Oh god, Joe," you panted, your hips rising to meet his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your pussy against his face. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted on your sweetness. You could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your core, ready to explode.

And then it did. With a moan that echoed through the villa, your body convulsed as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your muscles tightened around Joe's tongue, your juices flooding his mouth as you came harder than you ever had before. Joe groaned in satisfaction, his own arousal reaching new heights as he drank you in. He didn't stop until you were trembling and panting, your body a puddle of boneless bliss beneath him.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you looked down at Joe, your face warm and your chest heaving. "Damn, baby," you breathed, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "I knew you were a munch but that was… wow."

Joe looked up at you with a grin, his face shiny with her arousal. "I was face first in my wife's pussy, couldn't help it," he said, his voice filled with a cocky confidence that made your heart race even faster. He kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of heat and wetness in his wake. When he reached your mouth, you tasted yourself on his lips, a heady mix of salt and sweet that only heightened your desire.

Your kiss grew more intense, your tongues dancing together in a rhythm that mirrored the pulsing need between your legs. Joe reached up, cupping your breasts in his hands, his thumbs playing with your still-sensitive nipples. You moaned into his mouth, your hips lifting to meet his.

"Face the mirror, gonna take you from the back," Joe murmured against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. You eagerly complied, turning to face the mirror and scooting closer to the edge of the bed. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched Joe's reflection, his muscles rippling as he moved behind you.

He slid his hand down your spine, sending shivers through your body, and gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, and you couldn't help but whimper with anticipation. The position was rare for you two, usually reserved for moments when Joe was feeling particularly possessive. Your eyes locked onto his in the mirror, and you watched as he lined himself up, his hand guiding his shaft to your awaiting heat.

With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled you, making you moan out with a mix of pleasure and surprise. The angle was new, and it hit you in just the right way, making your pussy clench around him. Joe groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he took in the sight of his cock disappearing into your wetness. Your body was a work of art, and he couldn't get enough of watching you react to his touch.

He began to move, his hips sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that grew more intense with each stroke. Your breasts bounced with the motion, your hands straining to grip the sheets as you watched Joe's reflection in the mirror. His eyes were hooded with desire, his teeth bared in a feral grimace as he claimed your body.

Your walls stretched around him, your body adjusting to the new sensation of being taken from behind. Your breaths grew shorter, your moans growing louder with each thrust. Joe's grip on your waist tightened, his strokes deep and demanding as he watched you in the mirror. The sight of your face contorted in pleasure, your dark hair splayed across the pillows, and your body writhing under his, only spurred him on.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice low and possessive. You could only nod, your mouth forming silent words as you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations. Joe's hand reached around to find your clit, his thumb pressing down in a steady, insistent rhythm that matched his thrusts.

"Yes, Joey, I fucking love it," you gasped, your eyes watching him move in the mirror. Your voice was a mix of desperation and pleasure, the words barely recognizable through your moans. His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of sensation through your body.

"I'm so lucky to have you," Joe murmured, your eyes glazed with pleasure as Joe's cock filled you completely. His hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingers digging in as he pulled you back into each thrust. The angle was exquisite, hitting all the right spots, and you knew this was going to be one of those moments that would be forever etched into your mind.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," you managed to pant, your body jolting with each impact of his hips slamming into you. Your inner walls quivered around him, your pussy greedily sucking him in deeper.

"I promise I'll spend every day of the rest of our lives making you feel like this," Joe groaned, his words punctuated by his relentless pounding. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the promise of another earth-shattering orgasm just out of reach.

Your eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the connection between you two more intense than ever. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing off the walls as Joe picked up his pace. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more demanding, and you could feel yourself climbing toward the peak.

Suddenly, Joe leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him. The other arm fell forward, caging your body in as his hand settled over yours, fingers intertwined, rings nudging against each other. Your chest collapsed, your nipples tightening as you grazed the coolness of the mattress. He whispered sweet, dirty nothings into your ear, his breath hot and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want to see you come, baby," Joe panted, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Go ahead, baby. Let go for me."

You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core growing stronger with each word. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold back the inevitable. But Joe's touch was too much. He knew just what you needed, and as his thumb circled your clit faster and his cock pounded into you harder, you couldn't resist anymore.

Your body tightened around him, your muscles clenching as you came, your walls pulsing with pleasure. You whimpered his name weakly, your body bucking wildly under his. Joe's eyes watched as you lost control, feeling your pussy grip him as you spilled over the edge. His own orgasm followed close behind, his cum spurting into you with a force that made you both groan.

Your bodies remained connected for a moment, both panting heavily, the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the quiet room. You felt Joe's cock soften inside you, and you leaned back into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of your lovemaking.

"I don't know if I can move," you murmured, your voice shaky with the aftermath of pleasure. Joe chuckled, kissing your shoulder before gently withdrawing and rolling over to your side. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both stared at your reflections in the mirror.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Joe murmured into your ear, his breath still coming in pants as he held you close. Your head rested on his chest, your breathing finally starting to even out. You nodded, a content smile playing on your lips.

"I would hope so, you married me last week. You better love me," you replied, your voice teasing but filled with affection as you cuddled closer to Joe, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart, a reminder of the passion you just shared.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, the sweat cooling on your bodies as the tropical breeze gently caressed your skin. You turned your head, your eyes meeting Joe's in the mirror. His gaze was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stroked your hair.

"I think that's only the second time we've had sex in this bed," Joe said, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You chuckled, your eyes fluttering shut as you nestled into his warmth. "It's not my fault you can't keep it in your pants long enough to make it to the bed, Burrow," you teased, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek.

"What's the point of a villa on a quiet island if we're not going to use every surface?" Joe replied with a smirk, his fingers tracing lazy circles into the skin of your lower back. You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest as you rolled over to face him fully. His cock twitched helplessly as he watched you, the sight of your sated smile and glowing skin making him want you all over again.

But he knew you needed a break. And so, you lay together, your bodies entwined in a mess of limbs and damp sheets. Your hand found its way to his chest, playing with the light dusting of hair that trailed down to his stomach. You traced the path with your fingertip, watching his abs contract with each breath he took.

"What do you think your love language is?" you asked, your voice lazy and content. You traced the contours of Joe's chest with your finger, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Joe smiled, his hand moving downward to squeeze your ass playfully. "I'd say my love language is definitely making you happy, especially when it involves me fucking you just the way you like it," he said, his voice filled with pride. You snorted, swatting his chest lightly. "Okay, in all seriousness, I think it's quality time. Nothing makes me happier than being close to you."

Your expression softened, your eyes shining with affection. "Mine's definitely words of affirmation," you murmured, your hand sliding up to caress his cheek. "I love it when you tell me how much you love me, how beautiful I am, how you chose me."

Joe leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll never run out of ways to tell you that," he promised, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I guess I like that too. Hearing that I'm doing right by you. That you're happy. That I'm enough."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his vulnerable admission. "You are," you said, your voice firm. "More than enough. And I'll never get tired of telling you that." You leaned in to kiss him softly, the sweetness of the moment lingering between the two of you as your bodies settled.

"You wanna know something cool?" Joe hummed, pulling away from the kiss with a playful grin. You hummed in question, your eyes beginning to hood from the sleepiness that was slowly creeping in. "I'm your husband," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

"I'm aware," you said with a roll of your eyes, though the smile on your face gave away the joy you felt at the reminder. "But you know what's even cooler than that?"

"What's cooler than being your husband?" Joe asked, his grin widening as he propped himself up on an elbow. His eyes searched yours, eager to hear your response.

"Cooler than that?" you teased, your voice playful. "I'm your wife. That's pretty cool."

Joe chuckled, his hand sliding up to squeeze your hand. "I guess it's a tie then," he conceded. Your smile grew as you watched the love dance in Joe's eyes, feeling it deep in your soul. You were married, and it was still so surreal. The last week had been a whirlwind of emotions, but this moment right here, with Joe's arms around you and the sound of your mingled breaths, was pure bliss.

The room was quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you. You snuggled impossibly closer to Joe, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. He was your home, your sanctuary, and you never wanted to leave this tropical paradise.

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[jarofstyles]

Merlot

Hello my lovely ducklings. I promised a good age gap DILF sorta thing and I’m here to hand ‘em over. He’s getting some silver at the temples and she’s loving every second of it. Let me know what you think 🍷

Check out our Patreon for early access to the second part and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 8k

Warnings- age gap, dilfrry, smut, oral (m + f receiving) unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl), exhibitionism, daddy kink if you squint, and all the fun stuff.

“I hate to ask this cliche question, and it absolutely pains me to ask in such an uncouth way- but do you come here often?” Peeking over the rim of the glass, amber liquid brushed his top lip and the ice cubs clanked as the smoky liquor hit his tongue.

God knew what he was doing- the girl in front of him looked too young for him, but she had struck up the conversation first. Commenting on his silver lion’s head ring and asking where he’d gotten it, wide eyed and eager as she looked up at him with that pretty pout and mascara coated lashes. Perhaps it was the crippling loneliness of divorce, maybe it was the hint of a buzz of his second drink, or even a hint of desperation that had him continuing the conversation with the younger woman as she took the bar stool in front of him- but she seemed receptive. Leaning into the conversation and keeping eye contact, she played into him.

"Cliches can be cute sometimes." She laughed as she placed her own glass down, now empty. "I don't, no. I'm not one for the whole going out thing. Not anymore. I was in uni, but I think as soon as you graduate they take away your tolerance card." Rolling her eyes playfully she felt a lick of satisfaction in getting a chuckle out of him. "And what about you? Do you like to come to bars with overpriced drinks to talk to random people who decide to invade your bubble to ask where your pretty jewelry is from?"

"Well, I can't say I make a habit of it, but sometimes a man needs to escape the responsibilities of reality- and as much as I adore my pets, I think they’re tiring of hearing my voice.” He shook his head as he flexed his fingers, looking back down at the conversation starter. Pretty eyes met his own. It had been so long since he felt flustered but she had done a pretty good job at making him feel a little off kilter in the best way. A break from the mundane.

“I’ll have to agree with you on them revoking your tolerance once you exit uni. Though I will say it’s a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t terribly into partying in my last year, considering I’d started getting awful hangovers. Almost like s’bad for you, or something.” He teased, leaning against the bar top. It was clear that they’d shifted closer to each other through their conversation and he tried to not get his hopes up, but he sort of did feel like she was giving him… those sort of eyes. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends, though.”

“You’re not.” She said simply, looking up at him. Usually, facial hair wasn’t something she considered much at all. Not many around her wore it, but she had to say the longer she looked at him, the more she liked it. It was just… masculine. Rugged, in a way, but he kept it groomed. This man was interesting all around, with pretty rings and a deep raspy voice, seafoam eyes and a little tiny gray streak starting near his temple. God, that was hot. “I’m plenty happy talking to you.”

His heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those eyes sparkling with something he hoped was interest, but at the very least looked like genuine intrigue. Nothing about their encounter led to her feeling otherwise. It was a nice change, feeling the ease of a conversation flow even if he stumbled on words when he accidentally looked down at her lips.

Fuck it.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I’m glad t’hear that. You're very easy to talk to." he said, his voice low and warm. The risk was there, initiating a bit of touch, but he had fo test to waters. See where this was headed. Was she looking for a safe haven? A reliable guy who didn’t look like a creep (hopefully), someone to buy her drinks as she pitied the older man at the bar, or… was this headed the direction the heat in his belly desperately wanted.

“Am I?” Her head tilted slightly, smile slightly shy but making no effort to move from where his fingers hovered slightly. “I do get told I have problems knowing when to shut up and let things be quiet, so I suppose that tracks. It can be nice in conversations.” Especially when he had seemed slightly apprehensive of her at first and now warmed up. “You’ve got a nice voice. It’s nice to talk to you.”

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep talking, then." He said softly, his voice growing even warmer as he leaned in closer, his eyes flicking back down to her lips briefly before returning to her eyes.

“I agree.”

Y/N could be considered bold at times, but she liked that he was showing some effort- some interest. It was give and take, push and pull, a fun little game as she was given a perfect chance when someone else approached the bar top from behind Harry. “Oop- come ‘ere.’ She laughed, gently tugging him in as her ankle hooked around the back of his knee to tug him into her. “Someone’s tryn’ to make an order.”

Now he was closer than she had anticipated, stood between her thighs as she sat on the barstool with her leg wrapped around his. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get in your space.” The girl could feel his body heat. Fuck, he smelled so good. None of that… the familiar cheap colognes and aftershaves she was used to, not was it overpowering. Harry smelled expensive and spicy with some sort of leathery vanilla and she had to wonder what it was. "You smell really good..."

"No, no, it's fine..." He said softly, his voice trailing off as he looked down at her, their faces inches apart. He didn't move away, instead, he leaned in even closer, his hand resting on her knee. “Thank you.” The heat felt a little overwhelming in his cheeks. Pathetic to be a grown man blushing over such a simple compliment but he was so close to her now, body head radiating off of her and she smelled equally as good. “Um, so do you.”

He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. It was a unique blend of floral notes, with a hint of citrus and a sweet, vanilla-like undertone. It was feminine, youthful, and intoxicating. Sweet and fresh. It didn’t choke him in floral and musk like the women who had been after him since his signature had barely dried on his divorce papers, but something that he vaguely remembered from his own days around her age. Perhaps that was a sign he should back off, but he couldn’t. He felt himself getting lost in the scent, his head spinning slightly as he continued to breathe her in.

His hand on her knee nearly burned but she relished in the feeling, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled slightly at him. It was her first time attempting something like this. Older men were always a thing for her, a desire, but never one she felt bold enough to go for. Now, though, she wondered why she had waited. The feeling in her stomach and the delicate way she felt under his touch was something that had her nearly giddy.

“I like the mustache.” She pointed to it. “It’s a mature look. In a good way.” Of course she didn’t want to offend him, make him feel like she was calling him old. “Guys I’m around usually can’t pull it off. But you do.” Braving a touch, she let her fingers run over his jaw and felt a slight bit of scruff. “Are y’gonna go for a full beard? Or no?”

"Maybe..." Harry murmured, leaning into her touch. "Depends on how well it's received..." The joke was cracked softly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as she touched his face. He let his hand slide a little higher up on her thigh, squeezing gently. "Thank you for the compliment though. Was hoping it wouldn’t be a bad thing cause I noticed y’looking at it.”

“Mm, I was. It’s nice.” Sexy. Her eyes felt heavy as she watched his lips curl in a slight smile. “ I’m assuming that there’s no missus at home?” She asked lightly. “You don’t seem like a cheater, Harry.” It was a tease, but he didn’t wear a ring on his ring finger. Usually she never gave men the benefit of the doubt but selfishly, she wanted to be right so she wouldn’t feel guilty about imagining her inner thighs raw from beard burn later tonight.

"No missus." He confirmed, his thumb rubbing small circles on her thigh as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Just me, and the office. I've been too busy to think about dating, let alone finding someone serious." He admitted honestly, his gaze lingering on her face. "I mean, I was married. Briefly." He said, his expression growing slightly somber. "But that's over now. It didn't work out." He shrugged, trying to downplay it, even though the divorce had been messy and painful. "What about you? Boyfriend at home?"

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She frowned. It wasn’t something she’d pry on because she could see it bothered him a bit, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Nor that she didn’t feel bad. “I’m single, thank god. My last boyfriend was a complete prick.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Cheated on me a few times on a boys holiday. Was stupid enough to post with other girls and think people wouldn’t send it to me just because he hid stories from me. but it was a relief, anyways.” It sounded cold, callous maybe, but it was the truth. “It’s just me now as I figure out what to do.”’

"He sounds like an idiot." He grumbled, his hand tightening lightly on her thigh. "You're too good for that." He paused, his eyes flicking over her features. "What do you mean, figure out what to do? Like, with life?"

“Yeah. Career wise mostly. I think I want to do writing but it’s been hard to tell lately. I do that part time and then work at a cafe as a waitress and pick up shifts when I need the money. I’m tired all the time so it’s taking me longer to simply sit down and figure out 100% what I want to do but, that’s life.” She shrugged. “So I get suckered into going out to bars with my coworkers and getting a buzz so I go up to a handsome man and demand to know where his ring is from, so it suppose it isn’t all bad.”

"Writing, huh?" There was intrigue in his voice as he took in her answer. The compliment wasn’t lost on him, and it fueled that bolder part of him that wanted to break out. "Like, books, or journalism? I happen to be in publishing, so if that’s something you’d like to walk about we can…." He trailed off, his thumb continuing to rub soothing patterns on her thigh. "It’s not the easiest thing to break into but you’ve got a lot going for you. I’d be willing to help you if you feel ready.” . That was a genuine offer, regardless if he got laid… but he still felt that the way she was looking at him had an undertone

"You should come by my office sometime, if you want." He offered, his voice low. "I mean, if you're interested in publishing. We could... talk shop. Or something." He added, his hand slowly creeping higher up her thigh as he spoke.

“Or something?” She grinned widely. “Are you making a pass at me, handsome stranger Harry?” Her fingers stroked down his jaw towards his neck, messing with the collar of his shirt.

"I mean, m’being serious about helping you but… Maybe a bit of flirting is happening." He whispered, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. "I mean, you did ask where my ring was..." He pointed out softly, his hand now resting high up on her thigh, fingers spread wide, said ring gleaming in the low light. "And I haven't exactly been getting much action since the divorce..."

Eyes fell down to his hand and back up to his face, ever so slightly spreading her legs more to allow him to step closer between them. The heel of her shoe gently ran over his calf, biting lightly on her lower lip as she tried to keep the smile off her face. “And is that the only thing you want from me?”

Harry's breath hitched as she spread her legs, his heart racing at the subtle gesture. His hand tightened ever so slightly on her thigh, his fingers digging in just a bit as he leaned in closer. "No," He admitted quietly, his voice husky. "But it's a good start."

“Tell me.” She slipped her hand down to let them curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve never been with an older man before, Harry. Are you all just as shitty as the younger ones? Or are you better?”

Harry's eyes darkened as she slipped her hand under his shirt, the rough pad of her fingers against his skin making him shiver. "I'm better." He said confidently, his voice deep and rumbling. "I know what I want, and I know how to treat a woman."

The man’s hand tightened on her flesh as she let out a breathy sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "With respect," He said simply. "With kindness and attention. I open doors, I pull out chairs, I make sure they're comfortable and cared for. And in bed…" There was a pause, a slight smirk on his face as he averted his gaze for a single moment.

“In bed?” She echoed, looking up at him expectantly. “Don’t keep me on edge here. I’m dying to know.”

Harry smirked at her, his hand moving higher up her thigh, stopping right at the hem of her panties. His knuckles could feel how humid she was, no denying she was wet. It was hard to keep focused, but he had to. "Well, Y/N… I make sure they're satisfied," He said, his voice low and sultry. "I take my time, I pay attention to their body, I explore and learn what makes them tick."

“So you won’t just cum and roll over and fall asleep?” She hummed, her other hand running under his blazer and over his back. “Because I’m real tired of giving it my all and barely getting a subpar orgasm out of it. It’s why I was trying to be celibate for a while…”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Not on my watch," He said, his thumb brushing against her panties. "I'll make sure you're thoroughly satisfied, multiple times if needed. I'll hold you close, kiss you, tell you how beautiful you are, while I make love to you."

“Ooo… he makes love..” She cooed, giggling lightly before leaning into whisper the next words to him. Was this an older man thing? Or a literature person sort of thing? Waxing poetically about the things he could provide, it all sounded amazing. But she had to know. “But can you fuck? Can you make me feel it for days, bruise my ass, get me so wet I ruin your sheets?”

Harry groaned quietly her words, his thumb pressing against her panties, feeling how soaked they were. "Fuck, yes." He growled under his breath, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "I can be rough, I can be gentle, I can do whatever the hell you want. All y’have to do is ask."

Y/N let out a shuddering breath as his thumb brushed over her clit through her panties, looking to the side as she attempted to see if anyone was paying attention- but considering how crowded it was tonight, no one was paying them much mind. “So you’ll take me back to your place and make me cum? That’s what I want.”

Harry nodded, his thumb rubbing against her. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'll take you back to my place and make you cum so hard you'll see stars. And then I'll keep going, as long as you want, until you can't take it anymore."

“God.” The girl’s head rolled toward and thumped on his shoulder, feeling him chuckle as he rolled his thumb over her swollen clit. The lacy scrap of material she considered panties did little to hide how slick she was, the older man having plenty of fun playing with her as she turned her head and nipped her teeth into his throat.

Harry let out a low hiss at the sharp little bite, his hand still pressing against her clit through her panties. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text message before putting it back in his pocket.

“W-What are you doing?” She murmured, slowly pressing her lips to his skin and staining it with her lipstick. He was casual about playing with her, acting like stroking her clit was second nature as his other hand adjusted the straps of her dress back up from where they’d begun to droop.

Harry smirked as she inquired, his thumb still making small circles against her clit. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "I'm sending a message to my housekeeper, to make sure the bed is prepared for when we get back to my place."

“God, M’gonna suck your dick so good.” She sighed, a tipsy giggle leaving her throat. “It’s big. I knew it was when I came over here but… shit, I’m gonna feel it for days.”

Harry grinned as she grumbled against his neck, his hand leaving her panties to grip her hip possessively. "You're going to love it, baby. I'm going to stretch your little mouth wide, and you're going to take every inch like a good girl." He crooned low in his throat. “But you need to get that pretty ass up and come t’the car with me. My driver is here.”

——-

Y/N let out a squeal of delight as Harry tossed her into his bed. His Californian King with a canopy, four postered, hand craved fucking bed frame, his shirt unbuttoned, belt undone and jacket on the floor. Her dress was over her hips and she wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten here, but what she was sure of was the fact that she really did like kissing him. “Kiss me.” She demanded, grabbing his scruffy face as he crawled up the bed and hovered over top of her.

Harry chuckled at her demanding tone, his mustache brushing against her lips as he obliged her request. He kissed her deeply, his hand wrapping around her jaw to pull her close. As they made out, he let go only momentarily to reach down and grab her dress, yanking it up over her head and tossing it carelessly aside.

That left her in just the pathetic excuse of lace panties, as she had forgone the bra for the sake of the dress, and there was no complaints on his end. Her hand pushed at the shoulder of his shirt, trying to get it off of him. “Want you closer.” She mumbled, leaning into him with a mewl as he pulled back to do as she asked. It was erotic and hot and she was surprised by the amount of tattoos he had, but god, did she want to see more of him.

Harry grinned, feeling her warm hands pushing at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing her to pull it off of him. His tattoos were extensive, covering most of his arms, chest, and back. Inquisitive hands ran over her sides, marveling at her form compared to his own build.

The man bent down and started to place kisses along her collarbone and up her neck. His rough hands squeezed her sides gently, thumbs brushing along her ribs. He continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, his facial hair tickling her sensitive skin. He whispered, "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby."

She did as asked, eyes fluttering shut as she could feel him through his trousers. Of course, she’d been right. The man’s cock was big like she had expected, and it was thick. Throbbing against her through the fabric, her mouth watered slightly as she rubbed herself against him, fingers finding his hair as he made his way down her throat. “Fuck, it’s been so long.” The slight scratching of the facial hair only made her feel more sensitive, like she was on a live wire. It was decided that she definitely liked it now.

Harry groaned at her words, the sound coming out more like a rumble from his chest. He continued to kiss and nip at her throat as she ground herself against him. His hands squeezed and gripped her ass, encouraging her movements. "God, you feel so damn good, and m’not even inside you yet."

Harry paused for a moment, looking up at her with a heated gaze. "You're so precious, so sweet... I've never been with anyone like you before." His voice was gruff, filled with desire. He ran his hands up her sides, marveling at her smooth skin. The curves, the indents, all of it was new and exciting.

“No?” She asked softly. “I’ve never been with an older man either. Kinda like it.” There was no hesitation in admitting it. “Was your ex wife not good to you, Harry?”

Harry's expression darkened briefly at the mention of his ex-wife. "She wasn't... attentive. And she certainly never looked at me the way you are now." He buried his face in her neck once more, kissing and nuzzling her skin.

“No?” It was astounding. “I don’t know how. If I had a man like you…” She let out a breathy laugh. “You’d have to pry me off of you. you are so attractive, so sweet… Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be all over you, all the time.” It wasn’t something she could really understand. She barely knew the guy but she liked what she saw, and she liked it a lot.

Harry's heart swelled with pride at her words. He felt his ego growing a bit, having this beautiful young woman fawn over him. "I think she was always more interested in the status and prestige that came with being married to me, rather than actually being in love with me." It wasn’t something he liked to think about but in this instance he felt okay with it. If it hadn't ended, he wouldn’t end up here.

His lips continued to kiss and caress Y/N, his hands roaming over her curves almost in awe of what he had his hands on. It wasn’t what he had expected. People watching at the bar was his goal, really. He had one night stands a few times but he didn’t necessarily want this to be a one time sorta of thing. Not when she smelled this good and her lips tasted like cherry wine. He wanted to know what books she liked just as much as he wanted to know how she looked when she came. "But now I have you in my bed, and you're looking at me like I'm the most desirable man you've ever seen, so I think m’doing okay." He crooned, nipping at her neck.

“Because you are.” The girl purred. “All man and power in the best way. Not socially, but in what you are. You exude it.” Her cunt rubbed against him, making her eyes lull. “I knew you’d have a big dick. Knew it just walking up, how you stood. I wanted it inside of me.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble. "Is that right? You wanted me inside you from the moment you saw me?" His hands gripped her backside firmly, spreading her cheeks as she ground against him. "Well, you're going to get it, baby."

“Mmm… I want it now.”

Y/N nearly whimpered as he pulled away but quickly shut up as she watched him stand up, hands working the button of his trousers. It took her seconds to lift up and get on her knees in front of him, shooing his hands away to take over. it had been months since she’d given head and while she wasn’t a normal lover of it, she had been dying to get her hands on him.

Harry watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she pushed his hands away and undid his pants herself. He bit his lower lip as she slowly revealed what she'd been craving. "You don't have to do that, baby." He said hoarsely, knowing full well that he wanted her to- but he wouldn’t make her. It would be more than okay if he focused on her. He got off on giving, and that’s what he focused on.

“Need to.” She gave him a look as she slowly tugged the zipper down, guiding his trousers down before palming him over his briefs. “Fuck, I’m gonna be full of this.”

Harry let out a low moan at her grip and the words that followed. The image of her full and well used was enough to send any red-blooded man to their knees, but he just stood there in front of her, letting her take control, letting her give him pleasure. He watched as she pulled his boxers down, freeing his length. His hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He could see the lust in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but sigh again at the sight of her.

His thick, veined shaft jutted out proudly from a trimmed thatch of dark hair. The head was a dark, angry red and already glistening with precome. The older man let out a sharp breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly starting to stroke him. He watched intently as she gripped his cock, sliding it over the sensitive length, causing it to pulse in her grip.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as she watched his control come undone. Her eyes were locked onto him, watching his cock pulse and throb in her hand. She could feel it grow harder with each stroke, leaning herself down and sticking out her tongue for a taste.

The sensation of her tapping tongue against the tip of his cock made him shudder, watching the precum string from his slit to the pad of her pink tongue. He looked down at her, seeing the hot promise in her eyes- this was going to be good and he knew it. She slowly began to slide the head of his cock back and forth between her lips, teasing it with her tongue.

Y/N wasn’t one to call any cock pretty, but she would dare to say it for him. Harry’s cock was appealing in the way most others hadn’t been. Maybe part of it was her overwhelming attraction to him in general, but she felt even more eager to make him feel good than she had with anyone else in the past. “I want to take it in my throat. I can do it, I promise. Jus’ need your help.” Her plea was finished with a kiss to the tip before opening her mouth, looking up at him to let him take over.

He guided her head forward gently, encouraging her to take more of him into her mouth. "Relax your jaw, baby, you can take it." He coaxed softly, his voice laced with desire. As Y/N did as he asked, Harry felt his cock slide deeper into her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched around his girth, pushing in slowly before he felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He could feel her nose pressing against his pubic bone as she struggled to take him all in. “Shh, sweetheart. Just gotta get it wet for me, show me what you can do.”

He held her head steady, his hands gently gripping her hair as he started to slowly thrust his hips. The sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth filled the room, along with the occasional gagging noise as she struggled to accommodate his size.

"You're doing so well, baby," Harry praised, his voice low and gravelly. "Look at you, takin’ it like a good girl. You're gonna make me come so hard today, aren’t you, sweetheart? Just like that, that's it- relax that throat for me..."

As Harry continued to talk to her, his sweet words and praise, Y/N's eyes began to water from the effort of taking him so deep. She gagged a few times, her hands coming up to his thighs for support, but she refused to pull away for longer than a few seconds to catch her breath.

Her cheeks hollowed and her jaw ached, but she was determined to take him all in. Harry's hands moved to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, fucking her mouth with more urgency. "That's it, baby. You're making me so hard... S’been so long... Been ages since anyone’s made me feel like this..." Harry's voice trailed off into a low moan as Y/N finally managed to take him all in, her nose pressing against his lower abdomen. “Tha’s it, right there- fucks sake.”

Harry's hips began to thrust involuntarily, fucking her mouth with shallow pumps as he held the back of her head, still buried deep in her throat. He released the grip, trying to urge her off- but she didn’t want to. "Fuck... you’ve got t’pull off, sweetheart..." he groaned, his breathing heavy and erratic. “Need t’fuck you.” Y/N whimpered around his thickness, her eyes watering as she shook her head slightly, indicating that she wasn't ready to give up yet. She wanted to taste him, to drink him down like he had with her. Harry's grip tightened in her hair, his voice strained.

"Babe...you've gotta-you've got to... please," Harry begged, his voice cracking as she continued to suck him off, her head bobbing and nose brushing his thatch of hair, making his eyes clench shut. "If you don't stop now, M’gonna, fuck...I'm gonna cum in your mouth..."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping his thighs tightly as she continued to suck him enthusiastically, eager to taste him. Harry's breathing became rapid and shallow, his fingers tightening in her hair as he struggled to hold back. "Y/N, last chance...I'm-"

The girl moaned as she felt him stiffen, his hips bucking forward as he finally gave in and let go, filling her mouth with his warm release. Watching his face fall in ecstasy, it was going to be worth the soreness tomorrow. She struggled to swallow it all, some of it dripping out of her mouth and down her chin. Harry's knuckles were white from gripping her hair so tightly, his body trembling as he came deep in her mouth. The sight of her swallowing him down was almost too much for him to handle, and he had to close his eyes and focus on not passing out. It truly had been a long fucking time.

As Harry finished cumming, Y/N eagerly cleaned his sensitive prick with her tongue, licking and sucking until he was completely clean. She ran her tongue along the veins and underneath the head, making him shudder and pull back. "Too sensitive...God, you're so good at that." he praised breathlessly. There was slight disbelief in there too, a slight tingling in his thighs as he looked at her as she pressed sloppy kisses to his hip bone. Mascara smeared under her eyes and lipstick a faded smeared mess, he wondered how he had gotten this lucky.

Harry needed a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intense orgasm. He looked down at Y/N, her messy appearance only making her more adorable to him. "You know what would be perfect right now?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

“What?” Her voice croaked, feeling his thumb brushed away some of the tears on her cheek that had fallen from the gagging.

"Letting me get a taste of that pussy I've been fantasizing about." Harry suggested, his eyes still lingering on her messy and sated appearance as he pulled her up and pushed her to lay back down on the bed. “S’my turn now. Spread those perfect legs and let me see that cunt.”

Y/N obediently spread her legs wide, letting Harry see her dripping wet pussy. He let out a low groan at the sight as he got on his knees, his thumbs spreading her lips apart to reveal her slick folds. He buried his face between her thighs, inhaling her scent deeply before diving in and licking her from asshole to clit. There was no wasting any time or pretending to be shy about a single thing.

A started squeak left her mouth as her head popped up, hands gripping his head as he dove right in with little hesitation. Harry hadn’t seemed like the type to have any reservations in taking what he wanted, and it was being proven by how his tongue slid over her most sensitive parts.

He continued to eat her out with reckless abandon, his tongue fucking her pussy as if it belonged to him. Her breathing was heavy as he sucked on her clit, nibbling at it gently before returning to lap at her folds. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks wide to give himself better access to her tight hole. He wanted to have it all. “S’this okay, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N hadn’t really had anyone touch her there before but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been curious and self explored. It was always something she wanted to play around with and it felt exciting, handing herself over to the man like that.

Harry grinned mischievously against her wet flesh, his hands spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper. He pushed his thumb against her hole, slowly sliding it inside as he continued to lap at her cunt. “You taste so good, sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice muffled by her flesh.

He added a second finger to her ass, scissoring them apart slowly as he tongue fucked her pussy. Y/N's legs started to shake as the dual stimulation became too much. She gripped his hair tightly, her back arching off the bed as she let out a high pitched whine. "Ah!"

Y/N's fingers tightened painfully in Harry's hair, her knuckles turning pale as she tried to stay grounded while the pleasure consumed her. His tongue was spearing into her soaking wet hole over and over, curling up to rub against that spot inside her that made her see stars. And his fingers… god, those hands.

His fingers were stretching her asshole, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking deep into her tight heat. He scissored them further apart, popping her open wider as he fingered her ass. Y/N's legs shook violently, her whole body trembling as she felt herself on the verge of a massive orgasm.

"Harry...it's...too- please..." She babbled, unable to form a full sentence as he continued to stuff her holes. It had never been like this before, no one had even come close. He ignored her pleas, instead burying his face deeper and pumping his fingers faster. She felt so stuffed, so full, the pressure mounting inside her unbearably.

He felt her whole body stiffen, her pussy fluttering on his tongue as she cried out. She gushed against his mouth as she came, the feeling so intense and overwhelming that the waves of pleasure forced her to collapse against him.

Harry worked her through it as she trembled and whimpered with pleasure, his fingers still buried in her ass and his tongue still buried in her pussy. He felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he'd reduced this beautiful young woman to a whimpering, shaking mess. It was not only an ego boost from what had been lacking for a while now, but he liked seeing how she reacted to him. He alone had done it.

Harry slowly lifted his head, wiping her from his face as he grinned wickedly at Y/N. "You taste even better when you're coming apart for me, sweetheart." He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with her. "And you’re tight everywhere, hm?”

Y/N stared at Harry, her eyes glazed over and pupils dilated from the intense high she was still riding down from. Her mouth was slightly parted, breath hitching as she watched him clean her off his hands. A soft blush spread across her cheeks, embarrassed yet turned on by his bold actions.

"H-Harry...that was...I've never...I mean...no one's ever..." She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence even still.

He chuckled darkly, enjoying how flustered she was. "No one's ever played with your pretty little hole before?"

“No.” Her face felt hot as he grinned up at her. He seemed more than pleased and it made her feel good to know he was happy but still, she had the slight embarrassment that only came with the territory.

"Well, consider that box checked then." He said smugly, crawling back up her body to kiss her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, the musky flavor a testament to what he'd just done to her.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as he continued to ravage her mouth. She mewled into the kiss, arching up against him as she felt his hard length pressing into her stomach. "Does my pretty girl want more?"

“Mhm.” She nipped his lip. “Want you inside of me.” Was she still sensitive from her orgasm? yes. But she had been desperate to get him inside of her since she’d first spoken to him. “Do you- are you clean?”

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against her cheek. "I'm always clean, sweetheart. I get checked regularly and I'm very particular about who I share my dick with." He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze before releasing them, reaching over to his pants to his back pocket to grab his wallet.

“I-“ Her hand reached for his wrist. “I don’t wanna use one.” The words laid in the humid air for a moment. It was risky, sure, as any sort of unprotected anything was, but she didn’t want anything in between them. “I want t’feel you inside of me…”

He groaned at her words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Christ, doll. You're gonna be the death of me." Leaning down to kiss her again, his tongue traced over her bottom lip before slipping inside her mouth. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, causing her to shiver in anticipation. His hands made their way under her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin.

“Can I push in, baby?” He asked with a low tone, his lips tracing her collarbone. At her nod, he wasted little time. Poor thing hadn’t been fucked right before, and he would happily give her a proper experience. Reaching down between them, he positioned himself at her entrance. With one slow thrust, he entered her fully, feeling the warmth and tightness of her around him. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he buried the tip inside of her. “Fuck, thank you.”

He groaned as he pushed into her, feeling the way her body welcomed him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust and letting himself feel the depth of her wet heat around him. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

Being with a younger woman was different for him, but maybe it was just her- he realized as he moved inside of her. It was like being with a whole new sense of being, one who was full of energy and life. Everything about her was so fresh and vibrant, from her tight little pussy to her perfect tits and gorgeous face.

He continued to thrust into her, feeling the way her walls tightened around him. His hands moved down from her breasts, over her soft stomach and to her hips, exploring whenever he could.

His movements were slower, each thrust deliberate and measured. He wanted to savor the feel of her, the way her body yielded to his. He was drawn to watch her face, loving the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open as he filled her. "Look at me," he murmured. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. "Good girl, like t’see those pretty eyes." The man sighed, unable to resist praising her. He continued to thrust into her slowly, each movement filled with lust and desire.

“Fuck.” She kept her eyes on him as her hands ran over his hot shoulderbaldes, keeping that contact as he dipped all the way back home as deep as he could. Her mouth fell open and a high pitched noise left her throat without her permission, brows furrowed. “It’s never been that d-deep.”

He grinned at her, loving the way her inexperience made her react to him. "That's because no one's ever taken the time to stretch you out right." He leaned down to kiss her neck, his hips continuing to move in slow, deep thrusts.

“Where the fuck have you been, then?” She laughed breathlessly, letting her eyes fall back closed as he kept the thrusts slow and deep, relishing every inch he took. her body was lax and hot, his for the taking. Right now she felt like he could do anything and she would welcome it. “Are all older guys like this, or is it j-just you?”

He chuckled darkly against her neck, "There's a reason why women often prefer older men, doll- but M’gonna say for greeds sake, s’just me." He suckled at her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs and push them back farther, opening her up even more to his slow, deep thrusts.

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth fell open and he welcomed it, sliding his tongue back inside her mouth and humming at the taste of her against him. The fact there was not a single barrier, albeit risky for the first time fucking, made it even hotter.

His movements became gentler, his hands caressing her skin instead of gripping it. "You like that?" he murmured against her lips, his hips rolling into hers instead of thrusting. "You like knowing that there's nothing between us?" He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a heated gaze. "I want you to look at me when I ask you something," he said, his voice low and commanding as he took her eyes. "Are you on any birth control?"

“Y-Yeah. Uh-huh.” Her eyes wide, she looked up at him hazily as she wrapped her legs further around his hips. “Don’t pull out when you cum. Please- I know m’crazy, but I need… need it.” Y/N knew she was insane for it, but their connection was so strong, every thrust inside of her, hitting places she didn’t know existed prior to this… she needed it.

His expression softened, a coo leaving his mouth as he nodded at her. How precious. "Alright, sweetheart. I promise I won't pull out." A dumb decision on his part too considering they’d just met but in the midst of it all, it was all he wanted to do. His hips began to move again, his pace quickening as he felt the heat of her around him. "You're going to take it all then, aren't you?"

“Yeah.” She mewled. From the sounds and feel alone she knew she was making a mess on his cock, but she had a feeling he was enjoying it every time he snuck a glance between them. “Take everything you give me, Daddy.” It was a risk, but she wanted to see what he’d do.

His face contorted with pleasure, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching. "Good girl…" he hissed, his voice low and gravelly. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her with more need, his movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to make me cum, doll."

“Cum.” She begged. “Cum in me. Then fuck it into me. Please.” Her nails dragged over his toned back as she clung to him, his bed creaking as he fucked into her welcoming, wet pussy.

He let out a primal grunt and slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot, thick cum. He held himself inside her, his hips jerking as he pumped his load deep into her cunt. "Fuck, baby... I'm going to fucking fill you up."

But he wasn’t done. Not in the slightest.

With his cum still pouring into her, he reached under her and grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide apart. Observing the mess he made, he fixed his fingers on her clit as he fucked the cum into her just like she asked. “I gave you what you wanted, darling. Give me what I need too, mm?” His lips brushed her cheek, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. She just needed a little extra, and he was more than happy to provide.

Y/N squirmed slightly as she felt it creep up on her faster than she could anticipate. The pulse of his cock as it dribbled the last of his cum inside of her, the feel of his facial hair brushing her tender skin and his fingertips rubbing quick circles over her clit, it was impossible to keep from holding back. Heat boiled in her stomach as she tried to tell him, but it came on quicker than she could speak.

A broken moan left her lips as her body shook under him, eyes burning with tears of pleasure as he fucked her messy cunt and continued the circles until she pushed his hand away, grabbing his face and kissing him far more messily than she would have done in any other capacity- but this felt right. Fucked out and wobbly, melting into the bed as he slowly stopped the thrusts and stayed buried in her.

“Mm- baby. Sweetheart…” he pulled back to look at her. “You alright? Tell me how you’re feelin’.” He needed to check in on her, make sure she was feeling properly taken care of. Just by the look of it alone he had a feeling she felt that way, but he wanted to hear it from her pretty lips.

“I’m so good.” She grinned, drunk with the pleasure as she looked up at the handsome man. He was everything that she had dreamt about when she woke up sticky between her thighs. Aged like a fine wine.

“Can we go again?”

[five-bi-five-mind]

PLEASE MAKE SUGAR MOMMY!WANDA. It can be when she already left Westview and is now living a lonely life alone missing her children. Then there goes new neighbor R who just left home and is struggling financially OMG!

I loved every single one of your Wanda fics and I'll never shut up about it 👀

Everything Again

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff & fem!Reader

Genre: Smut & Dark-ish fic

Words: 8K+

Summary: Wanda has nothing in her life that brings her joy once she let go of Westview, but then she meets you. She makes sure to be everything you want and need, and you’re all she needs… for a while. But what happens when some of her wants from Westview come creeping back? Can Wanda suppress it or will she do whatever it takes to have everything she wants again?

Warnings: light stalking, not the healthiest relationship, Wanda is controlling, toxic!Wanda, mind manipulation, top!Wanda, bottom!R, rough sex, magic strap-on, slight breeding kink, degradation, magic restraints, light choking, slight dubcon, maybe possibly unknown risk of pregnancy but no actual pregnancy.

A/N: I hate this title but I couldn't think of a better one... Anyways I kinda took a dark turn with this request that's my bad. Enjoy folks!

When Wanda saw you, she knew she had to have you. It was like the stars aligned all of a sudden and a splash of color came into her bleak world for once since leaving Westview. She’d been wandering all over since that… incident. All she felt for months was this horrible, nagging, hollowness and she had no idea how to solve it. Part of her wondered if she filled this void with something to at least stave off the boredom, maybe it would be better. But so far, her only method of occupying her time was figuring out the scope of her power. And every time she dabbled with that it just felt like the hole inside her ripped open even deeper. 

She had made her way to a small college town when she bumped into you. Or, more accurately, when you smacked into her, your eyes glued to your phone at the time. When your body collided with Wanda’s she felt anger bubble inside her for a moment and that familiar tingle at her fingertips as she decided how she might act in response to your inconsideration.  But when your panicked eyes looked up at hers, suddenly it was like the fuse inside her was doused with ice cold water. 

Wanda couldn’t help but smirk at your immediate apologetic response once you realized you were now fully pressed against an utter stranger. At the time, you were so panicked over the email you had just received that you forgot to look up. But when you felt strong hands bracing your elbows as you hit another person’s body like hitting a brick wall, it brought you crashing into reality. The guilt and embarrassment you felt were burning on your cheeks, but the eyes that met yours were only angry for a brief moment. After yours locked with hers they shifted from anger to surprise and then, curiously enough for the both of you, to intrigue. 

“I– I am so sorry,” you sputtered as you attempted to take a step back. Key word there was attempted. To your confusion, the woman in front of you didn’t seem to want to let go. 

It surprised Wanda too, but not in a bad way. The moment she heard your voice things lit up even more. That splash of color turned into a sea and she didn’t want to let go just yet. Her hands wrapped tighter around your elbows and for a moment she didn’t even care that it could possibly startle you. She just knew that for some odd reason, having you, this wide-eyed, terrified random girl she bumped into on the street, was bringing part of her back to life in a way. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda still didn’t let go. If anything, she pulled you ever so slightly closer as she swore she could feel your heartbeat like crazy against her own chest.  

“Oh, um, yes.” You again attempted to take a step back. “Thank you, um…”

“Wanda,” she replied and finally dropped her hold on you. It didn’t go unseen– the disappointed frown she had for a moment as you took a wide step back. 

“Wanda,” you echoed. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve watched where I was going. Are you alright?” Your head tilted and your eyebrows scrunched as you asked her that and Wanda was taken aback for a moment that you even thought to ask. It had been so long since she was asked anything if she were being honest.

“What made you so distracted?” Wanda ignored your question and chose to ask one of her own. She didn’t even know you, but she realized she suddenly wanted to learn everything about you, starting with what had you so wrapped up in a tiny screen that you ran straight into another human being. 

“Oh…” Your eyes dropped to the ground and Wanda took note of the way you shuffled nervously in front of her. “Um, nothing just– It wasn’t something that should’ve distracted me like that. I’m sorry for running into you.” You were trying to go at this point. The way this stranger was looking at you had you anxious and you had no idea why. The fact that she was also asking you this rather than just going on her own way also made you feel self-conscious and scrutinized by the woman before you. 

Wanda just blinked back at you, the frown on her face showing yet again for a moment. Your eyes searched hers and the confusion in them grew. Did this total stranger really want to know your business? If you were to say it out loud to her, surely you would seem pathetic. But she still stood, waiting for you to answer what was so important that you completely missed the person standing still as you walked right into her.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I got an email about my funding. I’m a– Or I guess was a student here. My funding got pulled. No funding means no grad school… So I have to figure that out, I guess.” 

There was a moment of silence as Wanda just stared down at you. Her facial expression was impossible to read for a moment. It was pensive, almost neutral and you waited for any sort of response to her. 

“I’ll figure it out,” you continued for whatever reason. Trying to fill the silence as Wanda just kept staring. “There’s other programs, other schools. I can apply again.”

“I’m sure it will all work out,” Wanda finally said. She put her hand on your shoulder for a moment, trailing it over you as she finally began to walk past you. When her hand left you and she went her own way, you just stood there stunned. 

You thought that encounter with her would plague your mind for days, but as if a switch had flipped suddenly that strangeness that was filling your mind faded into nothing.

—---------------------------------

That encounter may have left you utterly confused, but to Wanda it made things so clear. She finally had a plan, something to do. She was wandering aimlessly since Westview with nothing to fill the time. She had said she would find her children again in some dimension, somewhere, but for she had no real leads. She was losing hope, she was spiraling– That is until you bumped into her.

The gears in Wanda’s mind began to turn the minute you confessed to why you were so distracted that fateful day. And ever since then, she was going to put a plan into motion. First, she had to learn just a little bit more about you. But it wouldn’t do if you suddenly left the place she had found you in, so she tweaked some things. Starting with an anonymous donation to your department (of which she found quite quickly from just a few days of watching you) so that they might be able to fund their graduate students– Specifically you– and that you might be able to stay and continue your research and studies while she worked on a way to draw you closer to her. 

After a few weeks of watching you, she quickly learned that despite her donation, they didn’t give you enough funding to comfortably live on. You ran from job to job when you weren’t on campus studying and Wanda quickly decided, if you were to be her new fixation, then having multiple jobs would not do. You had her undivided attention, so now she wanted the majority of yours. She decided you could have your studies, but the rest of you… The rest of you she was going to make hers. 

It only took her a few more weeks after watching you carefully to approach you again. One thing about her new powers was that, rather than captivating a whole town like she did with Westview, she could easily– and with a lot less catastrophic damage– erase a small part of people’s memories. Namely, their memory that Wanda even existed in the first place. It wasn’t possible for the whole world to forget her, but a small college town she definitely could handle. Just another reason to keep you inside this town and not let you wander much further. With her handle on this new aspect of her own power, she took it one step further with you, erasing the very first day you two met. That day would always replay in Wanda’s mind, but she knew it confused and frightened you and she needed to paint herself in the best light possible when she finally approached you face-to-face again.

It was quite easy to approach you this time too. She posed as a professor in your own university. She twisted and turned the minds of the university until it was as if she had been there a long time. An established part of a university department outside of your own. She knew your schedule too, so she knew that you would always sit at the corner of the university coffee shop for about an hour in between classes. That’s where she finally approached you– or, to be more accurate, she made you approach her.

She almost felt bad about it, but at the same time she knew it would be her way in. She knew your eyes would be buried in a book as you walked to your usual spot and she used that moment to use an invisible force to trip you. And, like the knight in shining armor she wanted to appear to you as, she swooped in front of you and caught you skillfully. 

The first look you gave her was back on your face this time too. The panic and embarrassment that burned in your cheeks as you looked up at your savior was evident on your face. Wanda gave you the best, charming smile she could muster, but if you were being honest it made you feel almost as if you were a fly that landed right in a spider’s web. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda said the same line to you and you nodded, immediately trying to apologize like last time. 

Wanda knew by now that this was your personality. You were shy and anxious, but also patient and kind. All the things that were the opposite of how she considered herself and all the things that had her captivated by you. 

“Yeah, I– I’m good,” you again tried to step back and this time Wanda let you. “I’m so sorry! Thank you for catching me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wanda chuckled as her hands fell to her sides. “What are you reading? Must be interesting.” The crooked smile she gave you was what finally drew you in. It was charming and warm and the way her eyes sparkled had you wanting to see more. When Wanda took in the wide, curious eyes looking back at her she knew she had you. 

And that was really all it took for her to wrap you up in her web and never let you go.

—------------------------------------------------

In the following months things happened rather quickly. After the day you had officially met Wanda, you saw her way more often. She would always sit near you at the coffee shop, or bump into you on other parts of campus, until finally you two established a date. And from that date things happened even quicker. It was like you blinked and suddenly your whole life was wrapped up in Wanda’s. You quickly said goodbye to your rundown, tiny apartment and moved into Wanda’s extravagant house right outside of town. Instead of taking the city bus to and from campus, she was driving you whenever and wherever you needed to go. There was now a lot more free time in your life to focus on both your studies and this new relationship you found yourself in with Wanda, as she had insisted you quit your job. That she would take care of every single one of your wants and needs. And how could you say no to that? Although, it was all a little too fast for your comfort, if you were being honest, but at the same time it was Wanda… You couldn’t picture your life without her from the very moment you met her and she made it clear that she intended for you to never find out what it would be like without her in it. 

She took care of you, she took care of everything. You needed only to focus on two things: her and school. Wanda loved the passion you had for studying, so she let you keep one thing outside of her. But she was still near, even if you weren’t aware. She was always near. 

But as months stretched on and her attachment to you became even stronger, things shifted a bit. She was feeling… anxious. The life she had back in Westview began to pop up in her mind again and she felt that hole inside her chest once more– The one that you had filled when she first saw you. There was only one part of her Westview life that kept running through her mind though. It wasn’t Vision. No, it was never Vision. Not when she had you. You were a brighter light in her life than Vision ever had been. A deeper love that felt soft and gentle, even if she had orchestrated a lot of events in order to make the two of you happen. 

Vision wasn’t what kept her up lately. It was her boys. There were dreams of them, flashes of them in her daily life. It was almost as if the more she loved you, the more she missed them. You had healed this wound, but in the nights that you wrapped your arms around her and fell asleep, she felt that familiar tug she had in Westview– the one that longed for a family. A life of peace and completeness. That made the wound feel fresh again. 

So Wanda began to withdraw. She wasn’t going to let you go, but for now, as she contemplated these feelings and how to fix them, she needed time and distance. Each time you smiled at her, each time you kissed her, that tug in the pit of her stomach felt stronger and stronger. The longing grew– The thought of recreating a Westview with you was tempting. But she knew how well that worked out last time. 

Late at night when this longing grew particularly strong, Wanda would sneak away when you were fast asleep to contemplate her options. She had hoped that you wouldn’t notice her withdrawal, but when your whole world was Wanda… How could you not? 

As these days of dealing with a withdrawn Wanda stretched on, you were getting restless. Something was clearly bothering Wanda and it was causing a rise of anxiety in you. At first you tried to approach it gently, but Wanda iced you out. The problem grew and Wanda warned you not to poke at it, but you couldn’t just leave it be. 

With your life being filled with Wanda now– Her withdrawing left you painfully lonely. So you began pushing unspoken limits Wanda set for you. Fights started and time and time again Wanda would shut you down. 

The more she did so, the more it felt she was putting you on the shelf. Like you were her little play thing and she was bored of you. There was an ache in you that you didn’t quite understand and the more confusion she left you with the closer you were to being utterly done. How you could even live without Wanda, you weren’t sure, but you were almost a little tempted to figure it out. 

There was no way you could ever leave Wanda, though. You didn’t want to, even if she was withdrawn, you still loved her deeply. But you wanted attention, acknowledgement, anything. 

Unfortunately for you, the only way you knew how to get that was to push her buttons more and more each day. 

You had no idea what was going through Wanda’s mind, but she had been particularly aggravated lately. What you didn’t know was that Wanda was stuck in trying to find the solution to the feelings that were plaguing her. She had played with an idea, but knew that in order to do so she would out her true nature and risk the memories she took from you to come flooding back. What would you do then, if you remembered who Wanda was? Her name was all over the news and the whole world knew she had fallen far from where she was when she helped the avengers. That was so long ago to Wanda. It was a different time, a different her. One that didn’t know her potential and didn’t know her own heart until she finally found all the pieces. 

The problem was, she’s never had all those pieces all at the same time. She wanted you and her boys. She wanted the picture perfect family that she had in Westview, but she wanted it with you this time. She wanted you as her little housewife and mother of her twins. In the past week she had been engrossed in ways to make that happen. She had a theory that if she tried to create her children again it would be the same children she once had. All she needed was to share her DNA in some way with you and a little bit of magic to add to that. Then, all would be right in her eyes if she had them in this way. For whatever reason, she felt that that was the true way the universe was meant to be. If she built this family with you, then it would never be taken from her ever again. The tricky part was actually creating them with you in a way that didn’t have you questioning how it was even scientifically possible. That would have you questioning a lot about who she is and what she could do. And she didn’t want to ruin what she established with you just yet. Even if the more you pushed at her the more she was tempted to say let go of her control.

She knew you were getting fed up with it too and the more you pushed her the more she contemplated letting her resolve slip. She tried her best to keep you at arms length while she tried to figure out her predicament. But she was feeling stuck with no alternative other than to reveal herself and what she could do. She kept going in circles to feel less stuck, but the more stuck she felt with this problem the angrier she was. And unfortunately, the angrier she was the easier it was for you to push her buttons. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, it only took one final push for her to actually snap. When you thought of Wanda breaking, you thought it would mean she would be forced to talk to you. Never did you expect the outcome of your plans that night. 

Your classmates had invited you out for drinks and, since you met Wanda, your answer was usually no. But tonight things were different. Wanda was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn’t pick you on campus. She was kind enough to warn you to take an Uber and she would pay, but you were still angry about it. So when you were invited out, you said yes. 

Saying anything other than no would’ve already irritated Wanda. Even a maybe. She didn’t like the idea of you going out to bars, especially without her. Usually if you wanted to do something with anyone else you’d at least ask her and she would be nearby to make sure you were safe and no one was tempted to take advantage of the time she was allowing them to have alone with you. But this time, you weren’t even going to ask. You were just going to go. Something you hadn’t done since before Wanda.

You knew what you were doing. It was all entirely intentional. Right down to the outfit you picked and the way you walked past Wanda, making just enough noise to get some of her attention. Even if she didn’t look up at you.

“Where are you going?” Wanda asked as she flipped a page of a strange book she was reading.

“Out,” you muttered. Even if Wanda wasn’t looking at you, you wanted your tone to register that you were rolling your eyes at her. The fact that she didn’t even look up just pissed you off even more. 

“I’m not planning to leave the house tonight.” She still wasn’t looking at you and that just made your hands ball into fists as you got more and more offended by her lack of attention. 

“I know,” you scoffed. “I don’t have to go everywhere with you.”

Suddenly, an eerie silence filled the room. You watched Wanda’s face as she kept her eyes glued to the book she was reading. There was a slight change in it, a tightening of her jaw, but she still didn’t look at you. 

“You know that’s not how this works,” Wanda’s response was calm, but you could tell you were starting to get to her. Never had you been defiant to her. She gave you everything you wanted and you did whatever she asked. There was an unspoken rule to go where Wanda goes, be where she wants you and an even deeper unspoken rule to not question or defy any of the other arrangements you two have made. But tonight, as you watched her jaw clench and unclench and realized you were getting under her skin, you decided to push more. 

“So?” You shrugged and that silent uncomfortable feeling in the room felt like it intensified the very second you uttered that one word. “I don’t see the harm in going out just for one night on my own.”

Wanda’s eyes slowly slid from her book to your face the moment you uttered the phrase on your own. That definitely wasn’t something you should’ve said to her. There was an understanding that anything you did “on your own” was something that Wanda would be nearby for. What you were asking for was a night completely away from Wanda, and it was breaking the biggest unspoken rule she had for you. This was new waters you were treading, but you were so sick of her lack of interest that you didn’t care. Any attention from her was a change from whatever was happening now. 

“You’re not going,” she ordered as she snapped her book shut and stood up. 

You just snorted at that, anger boiling in your blood as you stood your ground. “Why not? You seem preoccupied with just about anything other than me. What’s the harm?”

She was right in front of you now, her jaw was clenching and unclenching like it had before, but this time you looked down for a brief second and noticed her fists were doing the same. Still, though, you wanted to keep pushing. 

“With you dressed like that,” Wanda warned, “I think you know exactly what harm it could do.” You knew what you were doing when you got dressed. A tight, cropped shirt and even tighter short shorts to match. It was something meant to catch the eye of others and definitely something you knew would get an extra rise out of Wanda to add to that. What you didn’t know was what exactly Wanda meant. She was already picturing in her mind the droves of people who would come trying to pick you up at whatever trashy bar you decided to go to. And when she pictured people trying to touch what was hers, she also pictured all the ways in which she could make them suffer so much as daring to think they could have you. 

You were playing with fire and on some level you knew that, but something in you couldn’t stop pushing her buttons. Even if you didn’t know what exactly you were getting into, even if you didn’t know to the full extent how possessive Wanda could be of you and how much of a monster she was capable of being when provoked. 

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” You shrugged again and Wanda’s eye twitched as you kept challenging her resolve. “At least someone will appreciate it.”

If you thought the tension was bad when Wanda stood up, now it was suffocating you. Wanda just stared back at you, her eyes burning with anger. In fact, she looked so angry you swore you saw a red flash in her eyes.  For a moment, you kind of just stood there, waiting for Wanda to respond, but on her part she was trying to calm the possessive rage that you just caused to boil over inside of her. 

Part of her wanted to force you to your knees and have you beg forgiveness for defying her like this. You hadn’t even done anything yet, but just the idea and threat of disobeying her wishes had her furious. She was so close to figuring out how to have everything she wanted and now of all times you were trying to defy her? Trying to let a pathetic stranger swoop in on you at some dive bar when you know you’re hers? No, this was unacceptable to her. Never have you done anything other than be good for her. The way you so easily obeyed her is a small part of what drew her to you in the first place. And she did realize she had been neglectful, but couldn’t you see it was for your own good? For the good of the family Wanda was trying to rebuild with you? The more she had you the more she wanted. She had you completely already, that was true, but she wanted you in a way she wasn’t sure you were ready for. In a way that would show you exactly who Wanda really was. 

So in order to find a solution to the raging beast inside of her that wanted to claim you and have her family back, she thought it was best to withdraw.Clearly she over calculated and now here she was. But as you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, daring her with your eyes to do something, suddenly that’s when all her control just snapped. You felt the shift too, even if you didn’t understand it. It was like the calm before the storm. Wanda took a sharp, deep breath through her nose before exhaling and taking a step into your personal space. 

“Okay,” Wanda growled. “That’s about enough.” In a blink of the eye you were thrown over her shoulder. The way you yelped as you felt yourself hoisted off the ground echoed through the room. You knew Wanda was strong, but you didn’t know she was that strong. She had you thrown over her shoulder like it was nothing. Your hands grasped at her shirt, terrified she would drop you at any moment, but it was as if she had no struggle at all. 

“Wanda, what the fuck?” You cried as she walked towards the bedroom. With a grunt, you landed hard on the mattress. You couldn’t even begin to sit up before she was already on the bed with her legs on either side of your waist, essentially pinning you down onto the bed with her body.

“Language,” she hissed as she started to pull her own shirt off before immediately reaching for yours. 

“How did you- What- When did you get so strong?” You couldn’t collect your thoughts. They were scrambled up by the display of sheer strength and also maybe a little bit by the fact that Wanda was sitting on top of you without a shirt. 

“You wanted attention and now you’re questioning how I give it to you?” Wanda’s voice was dripping with irritation as she began to yank both your own shirt and bra off of you. 

“I– No, but…” You were now naked from the waist up beneath Wanda. Her eyebrow arched as you struggled to find your words. You definitely knew your little stunt would piss her off, but you didn’t expect this outcome. 

“Now tell me,” Wanda’s nails began dragging down your chest as she spoke, “why would you want anyone else’s attention, when I’m all that you need?” Her nails dug down a little harder as they reached your stomach and you hissed at the slight sting of the red marks they left behind.

“Tell me,” Wanda ordered again as her hands made their way back up to your chest. “I give you everything you could possibly want.” The way she was palming at them was rough, but still it had you squirming underneath her. “So why,” she took your nipples between her fingers and pinched just a little harder than she usually would, causing a slight pain as she spoke, “would you ever think about anyone else?”

You winced as she palmed at you even harder, but you couldn’t help the flood of shame at the arousal it sent straight to your core. The way she was handling you, like an object— like something to be owned— was new. Sure she could be intense when she touched you, but she was never intentionally rough like she was being right now. She never purposely caused any kind of pain, even if right now it was mild and (to your surprise) enjoyable. 

“It– it wasn’t like that!” You were stumbling over your words as you began to feel Wanda grind down into you. It wasn’t slight or subtle, the way she was moving her hips. She was pressing your body harder into the mattress as she dragged herself against you from where she was straddling your waist. 

“Hm, then what was it like?” Wanda’s tone was degrading. She was practically seething on top of you as she spoke. “Because to me it sounded like my little toy wanted someone else to play with her?” 

“I–” You couldn’t stop the wince at her harsh words. She had called you that before, but still there was a loving inflection in her voice when she did in the past. This tone she had now, the way she said, it was filled with nothing but rage. “Wanda, I don’t want anyone else. No– No, I… I just wanted you to-“ 

“Oh look at that,” Wanda interrupted, her tone utterly condescending. “Now you’re trying to cover your tracks.” You watched curiously as one of Wanda’s hands left your body. “I thought you understood when we started that you’re mine. I can’t have a single ounce of doubt in your mind about that fact. Now I need to remind you of who you belong to. Who owns you.” She hissed that word and your eyes widened as you watched her fingers twist and twirl in the air, a red glow following them as they moved. In a blink the rest of your clothes just vanished. Your eyes widened for a moment as you stared up at Wanda. But then, in another flash of red you felt your hands fly up and pin themselves above your head. No matter the struggle, you felt a constant, unwavering invisible force hold your wrists in place. 

“Wanda, what— how did you do that?” Your eyes shifted from above you, then to her fingers and finally to her face. Now you definitely noticed the matching red swirl in her irises. 

“I think it’s time I properly taught you just how important it is for you to be good, so that we can have everything we want.” If she heard your question she was clearly ignoring it. Your mind was racing trying to keep up with what was going on top of you. Her words definitely confused you too, but you didn’t get the chance to question them again. 

Wanda looked down for a moment and saw the look in your eyes before rolling her own and pressing her glowing fingers to your temple. In a split second you suddenly realized exactly who she was. Your heart raced and you gulped, but oddly you weren’t as terrified as you were just shocked. 

The Wanda Maximoff was on top of you telling you that you belonged to her. You should be running and screaming for help, or at least attempting to. All the news headlines and stories flooded your memory and you knew exactly how they painted her. She could end you in a second; you should be afraid. But for some reason, you weren’t. Instead, seeing this powerful woman on top of you and thinking back to all the times she told you she loved you, that she would take care of you, that she wanted only you. Knowing the truth, it stunned you, but not in a bad way. 

“Are you scared?” Wanda’s tone was still the same, taunting and demeaning as it was before. Only this time, you saw a little beyond that. There was a seriousness there. A curiosity of what your reaction was. Wanda thought if you reacted badly she could just go back to how it was. Wipe your mind of her existence entirely yet again, restart with you, and enjoy the dynamic you two had again. Was it a healthy plan? No. She would have to start from scratch again. Get you to fall for her once more. But Wanda’s obsession with you has gone far beyond the point of return. She would do what was necessary.

As if to purposely test your limits, Wanda reached for your throat, pressing ever so slightly. “Are you?” She repeated as she leaned down to look you in the eye.

You swallowed hard for a second, already feeling the slight strain on your throat as you did. “No,” you breathed out lowly. You weren’t at all. You realized all you wanted was her attention and finally she was giving it to you. Was this secret that kept her so withdrawn lately? “No, Wanda, I’m not.” 

You were nervous, but you weren’t scared. No matter what Wanda was before, no matter what she has become now, you were hers from the moment you crashed into her. A memory that was returned to you. If she hadn’t wiped that one, you would’ve still been drawn to her and fallen for her just as hard as you did when she was posing as a professor. 

Wanda knew your acceptance was true and took your answer for what it was. This moment right now opened so many doors for her. The void she had been feeling, it could finally be fixed in the way she wanted to fix it. Things in her life were falling into place. As Wanda sat atop of you she finally— for the first time in her entire existence —felt like she was winning. Not once did she ever feel so powerful until this very moment.

“Now that you know the truth…” Wanda trailed off in a low voice. She was thinking aloud more than she was talking to you. Her eyes stayed locked with yours but you could tell she was pondering something. When you saw the now familiar swirl of red in her eyes you began to question what Wanda has in store for you. 

“Do you love me?” Wanda now spoke directly to you. Her eyes were still glowing red as her hand finally relaxed against your throat.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly. Wanda’s face melted at your admission. The harsh, contemplative look she was wearing shifted into a soft smile finally. It was perhaps the first time in weeks she gave you a glimpse of her softness and you reveled in it. 

But after just a split second it was replaced with a bigger smile, one that gave you that feeling of being prey caught in a trap again. It was a feeling you weren’t unfamiliar with. And, if you were being honest, you enjoyed the thrill you got from seeing it. “We’re going to try something,” Wanda purred as she sat back up, but remained on top of you. “Something that we’ll both thoroughly enjoy.” 

You looked at her with curious eyes, squirming underneath her only slightly as she shifted and began to move between your legs. 

“It will give us both what we’ve been wanting,” Wanda continued as she now knelt between your legs, holding them open for her as she spoke. Her eyes raked down your body, from your flushed cheeks all the way down to the wetness that dripped from your thighs. She couldn’t help the satisfied hum at the sight, thinking this might be a lot easier of a task than she thought it would be. 

With another swirl of red in her eyes and a matching red shimmer around her twirling fingers, you followed her eyes down as the rest of her clothes disappeared and something materialized. Wanda’s smile grew as something you couldn’t fully see appeared between her legs.

You strained your neck up as best you could from the pillow, but with your arms still pinned above your head it was difficult. You caught what looked like shimmering, deep red straps resting around her waist and could only imagine what those led to. 

When Wanda leaned forward and you felt a cool, silicon tip pushing between your folds, your suspicions were confirmed. The contact made the both of you shiver, and as you felt Wanda run the toy slowly from your entrance to your clit and back down, you could see her taking sharp, deep breaths.

“This is going to be… incredible,” Wanda practically hissed. “I’ll be able to feel everything, to feel every part of you when I make you cum.”

Wanda hadn’t even begun fucking you and the idea of it turned you on so much you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from your lips in a response. 

“And then,” Wanda lined the tip up as she spoke, “I’m going to fill you with my cum and hopefully it will work.” With that she pushed forward and you both took a sharp breath at the feeling. 

Wanda eased in as slowly as she could while fighting her every instinct to just ram into you and fuck you until she felt you fall apart. But she knew that at least for the start of this, she should go slow. This was, after all, the first time she’s fucked you using her magic. It was the first time she’s fucked you using something this big too. For all she knew, you’ve only ever had experience with her fingers. She didn’t want to break you— not completely. But as her cock sank into you inch by inch she was beginning to slip.

“God this feels better than I imagined,” Wanda hissed as she bottomed out inside you. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?” 

Your teeth were digging into your lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying out from the sheer feeling of being so full. To have Wanda fill your pussy in a way she never has before, it was taking all your willpower not to turn into a moaning, whining mess before she even really began to fuck you.

Wanda’s hips were currently completely pressed between your legs and you were taking her so surprisingly well. You were tight, but the way you squeezed Wanda’s magic strap was delicious. There was a pause for a moment— just a brief second for you to adjust to the size of her toy. But it was all she could manage to give you. The sensation of actually feeling you in this way had her head swimming and she needed more. 

She pulled the toy out slowly, so much so that only the tip stayed inside you. Her chest was already heaving as she looked down at you. The way her eyes were filled with hunger made you shiver as you looked back up at her, restrained, helpless, and thirsty for more. Your legs spread open for her even more without her prompting you and she groaned at the sight before her. Your wetness smeared on the parts of the toy that she could see, your arms still pinned over your head. It was all too much. She couldn’t help what she did next. Her hips snapped suddenly and her cock pushed deep into you. 

The cry you let out echoed through the room and Wanda swore she’s never heard a prettier sound. Her hips pulled back again until just the tip was left in you. Again she snapped them forward hard, making your eyes screw shut as you cried her name. 

“Fuck, if I knew it would feel like this…” Wanda groaned as she began to pump inside you at a brutal pace. Her hands were on your thighs, nails digging into your skin as she kept your legs spread open. Your hands were balled into fists above your head as she fucked you. You couldn’t stop the moans and cries that fell from your lips even if you wanted to. 

As Wanda kept fucking you, she fell forward, her entire body pressed against yours, as her lips captured your own. You whimpered into the kiss as her tongue filled your mouth much in the same aggressive way as the way she was currently fucking the toy into you. 

Wanda’s hands still had a hold of your thighs as she hoisted your legs over her waist, giving her a better angle to fuck the toy into you. You struggled to keep up with the way Wanda was licking into your mouth and biting at your lips. Her cock was hitting a spot inside of you, you didn’t even know would feel as good as it did. Your knuckles were turning white as your whole body began to shake from the sheer pleasure she was giving you. Even though you felt as if your whole body was on the brink of exploding, Wanda just kept going.

When Wanda began to moan more and more against your own mouth, you knew neither of you would last much longer. Wanda couldn’t keep kissing you anymore, and instead buried her head in the nape of your neck as she hoisted your legs higher onto her hips and fucked you even deeper. Your eyes had rolled back and cries of Wanda’s name fell from your lips nonstop as she picked up her pace.

“I can feel how close you are,” Wanda groaned as she pumped particularly harder into you. “But you’re going to wait. I want you to cum when I do.”

All you could do was whine in response as the sensation of her fucking you made it impossible for you to let out any coherent words. 

“You’re going to look so pretty,” she moaned against your neck, “filled up with my cum… and even prettier after.” Wanda’s movements were becoming erratic as she spoke. The words hardly registered to you as she kept fucking you harder and faster. 

“You wanna cum, baby?” Wanda purred in your ear. You nodded desperately, your whole body trembling as you continued to take her. Her teeth grazed against the most sensitive part of your neck as she felt you nod and she could feel her own body tremble from how close she was. “Then come with me,” she ordered. Her hips pumped harder into you and after a moment you felt a sudden warm rush of fluids inside you. The sound of moans filled the air even louder than before and you weren’t sure if they were coming from you or her. 

The moment you felt her cum inside you, you followed after. Your body arched off the bed and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Wanda’s forehead was pressed to your bare chest as she came. The way your pussy tightened around her magic cock was intoxicating. Neither of you had felt so good in your entire lives and Wanda made a mental note to fuck you like this often. 

When she felt your body finally collapse against the mattress she did the same against you. You realized quickly that your wrists no longer felt restrained, but you kept them above your head either way. Too exhausted to even lift them yet. 

“That was…” you couldn’t find the words. You had never felt so amazing on so many different levels than you did tonight. Your body felt spent and sensitive, but all you wanted was more. More of that, more of Wanda, more of everything she had to offer now that you knew who Wanda was. 

“Yeah,” Wanda didn’t need to hear you finish your sentence to know she was feeling the same way you were. Her head rested on your chest, listening to your heartbeat begin to slow as you came down from the high Wanda gave you. 

“Can we… do it like that more?” Your face was flushed as you asked. 

Wanda lifted her head and gave you a beaming smile. To anyone else it would be dazzling, but curiously, to you it gave you that feeling again— the one where you were nothing but a sheep caught in a wolf’s clutches. 

“Of course we can, baby,” Wanda purred as she looked up at you. “As many times as it takes.” 

The word choice was odd. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at the woman on your chest. Her eyes were dark as she looked back up at you and something about the way her fingers traced up and down your stomach made you shudder. 

“As many times as it takes?” You echoed Wanda’s words back to her as a question, but she just gave a small hum of agreement as she placed a few kisses on your skin. 

“Until I have everything that I want again.” Her voice was low suddenly, almost threatening. You looked down at her eyes and saw how they darkened as she continued to trace her fingers against your body. “And nobody will take it from me again.”

Her words felt like a threat to an invisible entity. You knew it wasn’t directed towards you, you had no idea the source. But you knew she was serious, even if you didn’t quite understand why. Her words felt as much as a threat to someone as they did a direct promise to you. 

As Wanda laid on your chest and recovered some of her strength she thought about how she was one step closer. She could have her perfect family; her happiness. She didn’t need to control a whole town, she didn’t even necessarily need to control you. Once you did understand, she knew you would be accepting. Shocked, maybe, but ultimately accepting and even happy to build the dream Wanda had. She would have her boys, she would recreate them again with you. And then it would be the four of you, forever. 

For your part, you didn’t know what Wanda meant exactly. It wouldn’t be until later that evening, when Wanda decided you recovered enough to go again, that you put the pieces together and realized exactly how magic Wanda’s new toy was. She was right in her assumption of your reaction, shocked but accepting. Just like the good girl she knew you would be. Whatever Wanda wanted, you decided you would give it to her, knowing she would do the same. Wanda was one step closer to her happiness and it finally felt as if she was building it on solid foundations. There would be no one to take you from her, no one to stop her from building a life again with you. And there was a silent, chilling understanding between the two of you that if anyone were to ever threaten her happiness again… they would not get very far.

Taglist: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natashamaximoff69 @natashasilverfox @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @noahrex @simpforlizzie @taivantaylor @mrsmothermaximoff @storiesofsvu

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[mononijikayu]

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather. 

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him. 

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant. 

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing. 

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru? 

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round. 

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know.  “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile. 

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. ���If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you. 

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out. 

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern. 

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay?  I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

 “You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3

Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!

I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 

You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 

“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 

“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 

“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 

“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 

“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.

Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 

“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.

“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 

“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 

Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 

“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 

“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 

Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 

“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 

Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 

“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 

“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 

You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 

“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 

You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 

“Remember your tea.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Part Two

Summary: Penelope hosts a brunch, Derek tells Spencer not to force you to talk to him. You make a new friend with a client, they convince you to go to the brunch.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: comfort, angst

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, regret of past decisions, Penelope playing match maker

Word count: 8k

a/n: Spencer and you finally talk!!!

main masterlist prologue part one part three part four

You’ve been avoiding every time Derek invites you to go out with the BAU team since the embarrassing incident at the bar. Each time you decline, you can hear the disappointment in his voice, but the anxiety bubbling up in your chest whenever you think about seeing Spencer again is enough to keep you from saying yes. The embarrassment of that night still haunts you, and every time Derek mentions the team, you feel your heart squeeze with panic. 

To keep your mind off everything, you throw yourself into your work, accepting new clients and piling on extra projects. You stay late at the office, ensuring your schedule is so packed that you don’t have time to think about anything but deadlines, designs, and color schemes. It’s easier to focus on creating beautiful spaces for other people than it is to deal with the mess inside your own head. 

Meanwhile, Spencer is struggling. Ever since that night at the bar, the memory of you running out haunts him. He keeps replaying the look on Derek’s face, the way you bolted the second he walked in, and it twists his gut with guilt. But it’s not just that moment—he’s also haunted by the memory of how he left you all those years ago, how he slipped out of your bed without a word, too scared to stay and too ashamed to face you. The weight of those two moments presses down on him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Spencer's work starts to suffer. During cases, he’s distracted, zoning out during briefings and losing his train of thought mid-sentence. Hotch notices first, his brows knitting with concern as he watches Spencer fumble through his notes during a meeting. JJ, too, picks up on the change, her subtle glances in his direction filled with quiet worry. They don’t push him—yet—but Spencer knows they’re watching, waiting for him to say something. But he doesn’t. He just keeps burying it, trying to push it all down.

Spencer also finds himself trying to be around Derek more often, finding excuses to stop by his desk or catch him after work. He never outright asks about you, but it’s clear that’s why he’s hovering. Whenever Derek casually mentions having seen you, Spencer’s eyes light up, a flicker of hope in the midst of his guilt. But Derek’s updates are always brief, never giving away too much. He knows you’re still hurting, and he’s not about to let Spencer think everything is fine when it’s not.

Spencer hovered near Derek's desk, tapping his fingers nervously on the edge as Derek typed away at his computer. The bullpen was quiet for once, just the low hum of conversation in the background. Spencer cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything right away, trying to come up with something that didn’t sound too obvious.

“Hey, uh, Derek,” Spencer started, his voice a little too casual. “You have any plans this weekend?”

Derek didn’t even look up, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what this was about, but he played along. “Yeah, got a few things going on,” he replied, his fingers still tapping at the keys. “Why, you got something in mind, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around the room as if he wasn’t really sure what to say next. “No, I just... thought maybe we could grab a drink or something.” He paused for a beat. “Or, you know, if you’re hanging out with anyone else...?”

Derek chuckled softly, finally glancing up at Spencer with a knowing look. “Anyone else, huh?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You mean, like Y/N?”

Spencer’s face flushed immediately, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I mean... I wasn’t... just curious,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact.

Derek sighed, leaning forward on his desk and crossing his arms. “Look, man, she won’t just magically want to see you. You know that, right?”

Spencer’s face fell, the small flicker of hope that had sparked just moments ago snuffed out. He swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I just... I guess I wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

After a long silence, Derek finally spoke up again. “Look, man,” he said, his voice a little gentler now. “You can’t keep hovering around me, hoping I’ll tell you she’s suddenly okay with everything. It’s gonna take time. And you’ve got to give her space.”

Spencer exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he whispered. 

Derek gave him a small nod, watching as Spencer turned to leave, his shoulders slumped under the weight of everything left unsaid. But just before Spencer walked away, Derek called after him.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his tone a little softer now. “For what it’s worth... I think she’ll come around. But you’ve gotta be patient. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”

Spencer looked back at Derek, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes again, but this time tempered with the understanding that it might take more time than he’d like. “Thanks, Derek,” he said quietly, before turning and walking back to his desk, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

At this point, the rest of the team is fully aware of why you keep declining their invitations and why Spencer’s been so off lately. Penelope, in particular, can’t stand seeing anyone so miserable. After hearing about your history with Spencer from Derek, she’s taken it upon herself to figure out how to fix this mess. Penelope’s always been a sucker for a happy ending, and she refuses to believe that this is how your story should end.

So, she starts plotting. She ropes Derek into her schemes, convincing him that if anyone can get you two to reconcile, it’s them. Derek, though hesitant at first, agrees. He knows you, and he knows Spencer, and as much as he wants to stay out of it, he also wants both of his friends to be happy. 

Penelope sat at her desk, typing furiously away, when Derek walked up, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching her with a raised brow.

"Alright, Penelope, spill it," Derek said, voice low with suspicion. "What are you up to?"

Penelope’s fingers paused on the keyboard as she slowly turned to face him, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I have no idea what you mean,” she said sweetly, though her eyes betrayed her scheming.

Derek sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, don’t play dumb with me. I know you too well. You’ve been up to something ever since that mess at the bar.”

She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m plotting just a little, but it's for the greater good.” She sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “I mean, you want Y/N and Spencer to make up, don’t you?”

Derek hesitated, running a hand over his head. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want that, but... you’ve met Y/N. She’s not going to be happy if we force them together.”

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “Pish posh! I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply creating a situation where fate can do its thing.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Picture this: we invite Y/N to one of my brunches, or maybe to your next team gathering, and oh! Surprise! Spencer’s there. They bump into each other, sparks fly, and—boom! Reconciliation.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Penelope's eyes widened in exaggerated innocence. “Of course not. But it’s better than both of them moping around like lovesick teenagers.”

Derek sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mama, I want them to figure it out, but Y/N’s... she’s been through a lot. I don’t want to push her too hard. If she finds out we’ve been scheming, she’s going to be pissed. You have no idea how stubborn she can be.”

Penelope leaned forward, placing her hands flat on her desk. “Which is exactly why we need to be subtle about this, my sexy, sculpted cupid. We’re not going to push them. We’re just going to nudge them in the right direction. And if it doesn’t work? Then we back off. But I refuse to sit by and watch Spencer be miserable, and know she’s miserable too, when we could help.”

Derek looked down at her, his jaw tightening as he considered it. “And what if Y/N doesn’t want to see him? She hasn’t exactly been jumping at the chance to hang out with the team since that night.”

Penelope shrugged, giving him a hopeful smile. “Then we let it be. But Derek, what if this is the closure they both need? Or better yet, another chance? We owe it to them to try.”

Derek groaned, knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. “Alright, fine. But if this backfires, Garcia, you’re taking the blame.”

Penelope grinned triumphantly, clapping her hands together. “Trust me, Hot Stuff, it won’t backfire. This is going to work.”

Derek shook his head, laughing under his breath as he turned to leave. “You better be right.”

Penelope’s voice followed him as he walked out. “Oh, I’m always right when it comes to matters of the heart, Derek Morgan. Just wait and see!” 

Derek muttered under his breath, “We’ll see about that.” But deep down, he couldn’t help but hope she was right.

Their plan starts simple—just trying to get you both in the same room again, even if it’s by accident. As the wheels of their plan start turning, both you and Spencer remain blissfully unaware of their scheming. You’re too busy drowning in work, and Spencer’s too tangled up in his own guilt to notice the subtle nudges Penelope and Derek are starting to orchestrate. 

—

The lunchtime crowd hummed quietly around you as you sat across from Derek at your favorite corner table. The restaurant had always been your go-to, a cozy, familiar space where you could relax and enjoy the food without worrying about the outside world. Today, though, you were feeling anything but relaxed. Derek was giving you that look—the one that said he was about to bring up something you’d been trying to avoid.

“So,” Derek began, cutting into his sandwich, his voice casual, but his eyes watching you carefully. “Penelope’s throwing one of her infamous brunches this weekend. Thought you might want to come.”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. “I don’t know, Derek. I’ve been really busy with work, and—”

Derek held up a hand, interrupting you gently. “I know, I know. You’ve been taking on a lot of new projects lately.” He paused, his tone softening. “But you’ve been avoiding hanging out with the team since... well, you know.”

Your heart tensed a little, but you quickly pushed the feeling away, forcing a smile as you sipped your drink. “I’m just not ready to jump back into all that. It’s been nice keeping my head down and staying focused.”

Derek leaned forward, his eyes full of understanding but also a hint of concern. “I get it, sugar. I’m not saying you should force yourself into anything. But maybe... maybe it’s time to let yourself have a little fun again. No pressure, just brunch with some really cool people. Penelope’s dying to see you again, and so is the rest of the team.”

You hesitated, your fingers tapping lightly against the rim of your glass. The thought of seeing everyone again made your stomach twist. But what if Spencer was there? What if you had to see him? You weren’t sure if you could handle that yet.

“Is Spencer going to be there?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Derek paused, his fork hovering over his plate. He looked at you thoughtfully before answering, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to overwhelm you. “Honestly? Probably not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Probably?”

Derek shrugged, setting his fork down. “I haven’t heard anything about him coming, and knowing Spencer, he’s been pretty distracted lately. I doubt he’ll make it. But... even if he did, it wouldn’t be about him. It’d be about you. Hanging out with people who really want to get to know you better.”

You bit your lip, torn between wanting to stay in your bubble and knowing Derek was right. You’d been keeping yourself so busy with work that you hadn’t given yourself much time to just... exist outside of it. And as much as you hated to admit it, you really did like hanging out with Derek and Penelope and the rest of the team. 

But there was still that nagging worry—what if seeing them all again just brought back memories of Spencer? Of what happened at the bar, and everything that came before it?

Derek seemed to sense your hesitation, and he reached across the table, placing his hand on yours. “Hey, you’re not gonna be alone in this, alright? We’ve got your back. And if it gets weird or uncomfortable, we’ll bail. No questions asked.”

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity there, the way he genuinely wanted to help you move past this. And honestly, maybe he was right. You couldn’t keep avoiding the world forever. Eventually, you’d have to face things—even the parts that hurt.

After a long moment, you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Alright,” you said, though your voice still held a trace of uncertainty. “I’ll think about it.”

Derek grinned, clearly pleased with your response, even if it wasn’t a solid yes just yet. “That’s all I’m asking, sweetheart. Just think about it.”

You smiled, though your mind was still turning over the idea. It wasn’t a decision you were ready to make just yet, but the fact that you were even considering it felt like a step in the right direction.

—

Derek found Spencer sitting at his desk, flipping through a stack of papers, though it was clear his mind was miles away. His usual hyper-focused energy was absent, replaced by an air of distracted tension that had been hanging over him for weeks now. Derek knew it wasn’t just the cases that had Spencer like this. It was you.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Derek said casually as he leaned against the side of Spencer’s desk, crossing his arms. Spencer looked up, startled out of his thoughts, blinking rapidly as if he hadn’t even noticed Derek approach.

“Oh, hey,” Spencer replied, a faint smile flickering on his lips. “What’s up?”

Derek didn’t waste any time. He leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the rest of the team. “Listen, man, I wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”

Spencer sat up a little straighter, already sensing that this wasn’t just a casual conversation. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, weighing his words carefully. “Y/N might be coming to Penelope’s brunch this weekend,” he said, watching Spencer’s reaction closely.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he processed the news. “She is?” His voice was quiet, a mixture of hope and nerves in his tone.

“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” Derek continued, his tone more serious now. “You’ve gotta give her space, man. Let her come to you when she’s ready. She’s not gonna want you chasing after her or trying to force a conversation. If she shows up, it’s a big deal for her.”

Spencer gave Derek a sharp look. "I'm not a child, Morgan. I can handle this."

Derek nodded, lowering his hands. "Fair enough. I wouldn’t expect you to. Just... give her the space she needs, alright?"

Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Understood. I know I messed up, and I’ll give her space. But I’m not going to act like she doesn't exist. I care about her too much for that."

Derek gave him a small, encouraging smile. "That’s all I’m asking, man. Just be ready when the time’s right." With a final pat on Spencer’s shoulder, Derek straightened up. “See you at brunch, man. Just... take it easy.”

Spencer watched as Derek walked away, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on his chest. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But for your sake, he was willing to wait.

—

On your most recent job, you quickly hit it off with Austin, the person you’re helping redesign their living space. They’re warm, funny, and easy to talk to, and the two of you click almost immediately. 

After finishing up the day’s discussion on design plans, Austin smiles and offers, “How about a cup of coffee before you head out? I make a mean brew.”

Grateful for the break and their company, you nod. “I’d love that.”

Austin heads to the kitchen, and you follow, feeling like you’ve made a new friend as much as a professional connection.

As you sit in the newly remodeled kitchen with Austin, the atmosphere feels warm and cozy. The soft glow of sunlight through the windows highlights the potted plants neatly arranged on the shelves, while the scent of fresh coffee fills the air. Austin hands you a mug, their smile easy and comforting as you settle into a chair.

You and Austin chat aimlessly for a while, exchanging stories and making easy, lighthearted conversation. The topics flow naturally—favorite movies, travel dreams, and funny stories from work. Eventually, the conversation shifts when Austin starts gushing about their partner, eyes lighting up as they tell you about the recent proposal and how they’re working to finish the house before their partner officially moves to Virginia.

“So, they proposed right there in the park,” Austin says with a dreamy grin. “I swear, I didn’t even see it coming. I was still thinking about what we were going to have for lunch, and then bam, ring in my face!”

You smile, warmed by their excitement. “That’s amazing. It sounds perfect.”

“It was,” Austin beams, looking star-eyed thinking about their fiance. Then, they turn to you with a curious glint in their eye. “Okay, so spill. Anyone tickling your fancy lately? I don’t see a ring.” They gesture to your bare hand with a teasing grin.

You laugh lightly, rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly as you sigh. “Yeah, maybe, well, no. There’s this... guy. But it’s complicated.”

Austin’s grin widens as they lean in, clearly intrigued. “Complicated, huh? Oh, now you have to tell me. What’s the tea?”

You take a breath, then dive into the story. You don't name names—you never know who’s going to know Spencer now—but you tell Austin about the guy from your past who broke your heart, the one who ghosted after everything. You explain how, years later, he's suddenly back in your life, and how seeing him has stirred up all those old feelings again, leaving you confused and unsure of what to do.

Austin listens intently, nodding as you talk. "That sounds rough," they say softly when you finish. "It’s totally valid to feel hurt, and it’s understandable if you don’t want to rush back into anything."

"Yeah, thank you—but... it’s been years. Shouldn’t I be over it by now?" you ask, feeling the familiar frustration rise in your chest. "I’ve been ignoring him, avoiding anything or anyone that might bring him back into my life, but now I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing."

Austin leans back, resting their mug on the table. "It’s not about how long it’s been; it’s about how it affected you. It’s okay to still feel hurt. But maybe... hearing him out could give you some closure. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him or let him back into your life, but it might help you move forward."

You bite your lip, considering their words. "I don’t know if I can face him. What if he just makes things worse?"

Austin smiles, their expression soft but encouraging. "Only you know what you need. But remember, this isn’t about him. It’s about you. What do you need to feel at peace with all this? If hearing him out helps, then maybe it’s worth considering. If not, that’s okay too. Just make sure you’re doing what’s best for you, not what’s easiest."

Their words settle over you like a comforting blanket, making you feel understood. Austin seems to have a way of turning serious conversations into lighthearted moments, and you’re grateful for it.

"Plus," Austin adds with a grin, "if it goes badly, you can always stage a dramatic exit at the brunch. I’m talking about flipping tables and storming out—full soap opera style."

You laugh, the weight of the situation lifting just a bit. "You know, that might actually make it worth going."

"Exactly!" Austin beams. "But seriously, I think you should go. If nothing else, you'll get some great brunch food, and maybe—just maybe—you'll get the closure you're looking for. Worst case, you can leave and we’ll plan the perfect revenge."

Feeling more confident with their support, you finally nod. "Alright, I’ll go to the brunch."

Austin claps their hands together excitedly. "Good! And I’ll be here, ready to hear all the details afterward."

With that, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing, the heavy weight of indecision lightening with each joke and bit of encouragement. Austin’s easygoing nature and advice give you the nudge you need to face the upcoming brunch—and Spencer.

—

That night, as Spencer lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind began to wander, slipping into the memories of a time he hadn’t let himself revisit in years—college, the late nights in the library, the quiet moments spent with you. 

He could still remember the first time he saw you on campus, walking across the quad with your head down, focused on a book you were balancing in your arms. You hadn’t noticed him then, but he had noticed you—how could he not? The way you carried yourself, the quiet confidence in your demeanor. At first, he admired you from a distance, his heart catching whenever you passed by in a hallway or sat near him in the library. You had no idea, and he was too shy to ever approach you.

Then came the nights in the library, when fate—or maybe just a shared dedication to studying—brought you together. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above, the rustle of pages being turned, and the way your pens would scratch in unison over notebook paper as you both worked. He remembered how, over time, you grew comfortable with each other’s presence, exchanging little smiles, shared inside jokes, and eventually conversations that lasted longer than either of you planned.

There was one night, in particular, that stuck in his memory—a night when you two had stayed so late that the library lights started to dim, signaling closing time. The campus was quiet as you both walked out together, the cool air brushing against your faces. You had laughed about something, your eyes lighting up in the moonlight, and Spencer remembered how his heart had fluttered in that moment, wondering how someone could make him feel so at ease. He never thought he’d get to know you, let alone be someone you’d spend your nights with, even if just for studying.

And then came the night that changed everything. The night you had invited him over after finals, and things became more than just studying. He hadn’t expected it, didn’t even dare to imagine it, but when it happened, it felt... perfect. 

You had fallen asleep on his chest that night, your soft breaths a rhythm against his skin. He remembered lying there, tracing small patterns on your back, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his. It should have been the best night of his life—and in many ways, it was—but his mind, his insecurities, had taken over. He remembered thinking that you were too good for him, that someone like you wouldn’t want to stick around for someone like him. And that fear, that crushing fear of losing you, had driven him to leave.

Spencer swallowed hard as the guilt washed over him again. He had been so lovesick, so desperate to protect himself from the inevitable heartbreak he assumed would come. But in doing so, he had created a heartbreak that had lasted for years—for both of you.

Now, on the eve of seeing you again, the weight of it all pressed down on his chest like a heavy stone. The regret was unbearable, but so was the longing—the memory of your laughter, your smile, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Spencer felt a deep ache in his chest, his heart pounding with the knowledge that he might never get the chance to tell you how much you had meant to him, how much you still did.

He had been infatuated with you all those years ago, and now, he realized, that feeling had never truly gone away.

Unable to sleep, Spencer tossed and turned, his mind refusing to quiet. Every memory, every regret, kept replaying on a loop. With a sigh of frustration, he finally threw the covers off and dragged himself out of bed, padding down the hall toward his office. 

He knew it was pointless, but something inside him—maybe it was curiosity, maybe guilt—compelled him to open his laptop. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before they moved almost automatically, typing your name into the search bar.

Within seconds, your business page appeared. Spencer hesitated before clicking, his heart racing, his palms suddenly clammy. It felt intrusive, like peeking into a part of your life he no longer had the right to know about, but he couldn’t stop himself.

As the page loaded, his eyes immediately went to the gallery of your work—beautiful, thoughtfully designed interiors that gave him a glance into you, your mind. He scrolled through the images slowly, taking in the details. The colors, the arrangements, the way you made spaces feel both warm and elegant. He had always known you were talented, but seeing the breadth of your work now, years later in a professional sense and not just sketches for class, filled him with a sense of pride. 

And then he saw it—your headshot, nestled at the top of the page alongside your name and title. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the picture. There you were, smiling, your eyes bright, your expression so familiar it made his heart ache.

Spencer leaned closer to the screen, his gaze fixating on the details of your face. He studied every line, every angle, as if trying to memorize you all over again. It had been so long since he’d seen you up close, but here, on this screen, you felt so near and yet so far. 

His fingers grazed the edge of the trackpad, hesitant, before he clicked on the image, enlarging it until it filled the screen. He stared, lost in the sight of you—how much you had grown, how much you had changed, but still so much the same. The emotions welled up inside him, a mixture of longing and regret, so intense he could hardly breathe.

He had left you, walked away when he was too afraid to face what he felt, and now, all these years later, here you were, thriving in a world he no longer shared with you. Spencer wondered if you had moved on, if you had someone else in your life now, someone who appreciated all the beauty and warmth you brought into the world.

But even more than that, he wondered if you would ever forgive him.

Spencer stared at your picture until the screen blurred, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness—he knew that much. But as he sat there, in the silence of his office, staring at the face he had missed for so long, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, you would give him the chance to try.

—

You showed up to Penelope’s place early, just as promised, with Derek by your side. He immediately went to help her hang up string lights while you and Penelope stayed together, fussing over the final touches. The atmosphere was lively and fun, and you were glad you came today.

When you entered her kitchen, Penelope lit up. "Oh my God! Look at you! I am in love with your outfit!" she exclaimed, her hands clapping together in excitement. You grinned, feeling the compliment ease some of your nerves.

“You’re one to talk,” you gestured towards her own colorful ensemble, the vibrant red and playful green perfectly matching her quirky style. “You look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine—one that I desperately need a subscription to."

Penelope twirled dramatically, her beret perched at the perfect angle, making the charm bracelet on her wrist dangle and jingle. "Stop it, we’re just the most fashionable duo, aren’t we?" She winked at you before handing you a mimosa. "Okay, now drink up. We've got some brunch magic to make happen."

As you sipped the bubbly drink, you couldn’t help but feel the knot of anxiety loosen in your chest. You and Penelope moved around the kitchen, arranging pastries and fruit trays, talking about everything except the one thing you knew was still looming in the background—Spencer. But for now, with the lights twinkling outside, the mimosas in hand, and Penelope by your side, you allowed yourself to feel a small sense of peace.

As the morning drifted into late brunch hour, the doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of the first guests. You exchanged a quick, encouraging glance with Penelope before taking another sip of your mimosa, the fizz tickling your nose as you set the glass down.

“I’ll get it!” Penelope sang, already halfway to the door. You watched from the kitchen as she swung it open with her signature flair. “Elle! JJ! Look at you gorgeous queens!”

Elle was the first to step inside, her calm confidence radiating as she gave Penelope a warm hug. “You’re too much,” Elle smirked, though you could see the affection in her eyes as she gave Penelope a squeeze. 

JJ, all smiles, followed closely behind, her sunny personality lighting up the room the second she entered. “Garcia!” she exclaimed, leaning in for her own hug. “This place looks amazing, as usual.” She cast a quick glance around the room, taking in the string lights, the vibrant color scheme, and of course, the immaculate spread of food that had been lovingly arranged.

Penelope didn’t miss a beat. “Girls, you remember Y/N!” she called over, practically skipping as she gestured towards you. “She’s my stylish new partner-in-crime today.”

Elle and JJ turned toward you with warm, inviting smiles. JJ was the first to step forward, her kindness evident in her expression. “Y/N! Of course we remember. I’m glad you’re here!” She opened her arms for a quick, friendly hug, which you returned, grateful for her easygoing energy.

Elle followed suit, her smile softer but no less welcoming. “Good to see you again,” she said, giving you a nod of approval as she took in your outfit. “You’re definitely keeping up with Penelope in the style department.”

You laughed lightly, feeling the tension start to ease as you hugged Elle too. “I had to step up my game, knowing she’d outshine all of us,” you joked, throwing a playful glance at Penelope, who was already bouncing back towards the food to check on the platters.

Derek, meanwhile, appeared from the other side of the room, finishing up with the string lights. He clapped his hands together, grinning as he walked over. “Ladies! Looks like we’re in for quite the brunch.”

JJ raised her glass in response, smiling. “Cheers to that. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a proper get-together.”

Elle nodded in agreement. “Let’s hope the food tastes as good as it smells. You and Penelope outdid yourselves this time.”

Penelope shot her a cheeky grin. “Oh, honey, just wait until you taste it. Y/N’s been helping too—she’s a natural!”

You felt a small flush creep into your cheeks at the compliment, but the easy laughter and casual conversation swirling around you made it hard to feel too self-conscious. It was starting to feel like maybe this day wouldn’t be as nerve-wracking as you’d feared.

Next to arrive, in a much more subdued manner, were Hotch and Haley. Hotch entered with his usual calm presence, while Haley smiled warmly, her arm linked with his. She radiated a gentle energy that put you at ease immediately. As they approached, Hotch offered a small nod of greeting, his serious demeanor softened just slightly by the casual setting.

“Penelope, this place looks amazing,” Haley said, her voice filled with admiration as she took in the setup. “It’s so cozy and beautiful.”

Penelope beamed, twirling slightly as she accepted the compliment. “Why, thank you! Y/N helped with all the setup. We’re a dynamic duo today,” she said, sending you a proud wink.

Haley turned her attention to you, her smile genuine as she extended her hand. “Y/N, it’s great to meet you. I’m Aaron’s wife, Haley. Penelope mentioned you have an eye for design, and I can definitely see it.”

You shook her hand, grateful for her easy manner. “Thank you, Haley. I’m glad you like it. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Hotch gave you a polite smile as well. “Good to see you, Y/N,” he said simply, his voice carrying its usual quiet authority but without the edge it often had in more formal settings.

“It’s good to see you too, Hotch,” you replied, matching his composed tone.

The group began to chat casually, the energy shifting to a more relaxed rhythm with Haley’s calm presence balancing Penelope’s excitable nature. You found yourself blending in more easily than you expected, the unease you felt earlier starting to fade away as the conversation flowed naturally.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that, so far, everything was going smoothly. The brunch was shaping up to be a success, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment without worrying about what—or who—might come next.

But then, just as you were starting to relax, there was a knock at the door. The sound sent a jolt of anxiety through you, your breath catching in your throat as the lighthearted atmosphere suddenly shifted. You choked on a breath, your fingers tightening around your glass. 

Derek, noticing the slight change in your expression, patted your shoulder reassuringly before heading to the door. He swung it open with his usual confident ease, his grin widening as he greeted the new arrivals.

“Gideon! Reid!” Derek’s voice was full of his usual warmth, but when your eyes caught sight of Spencer standing just behind Gideon, your pulse spiked.

Gideon stepped inside first, laughing as he shook Derek’s hand. “You know how much Spencer hates driving. He practically begged me to pick him up,” he joked, casting a sideways glance at Spencer, who was lingering just outside the doorway.

Spencer offered a small, awkward smile, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket as he gave Derek a polite nod. "Yeah, driving... not my favorite thing."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw Spencer—looking the same, yet different. His hair was longer, his expression a little more weathered. He seemed hesitant, as if unsure of his place in the room, but when his eyes quickly scanned the space and landed on you, they widened ever so slightly.

Derek caught the momentary tension between you and Spencer, his jaw tightening subtly. He turned to the rest of the group, his tone trying to smooth over the sudden shift in energy. “Alright, everybody, make room for these two. Brunch is waiting to be devoured.”

Penelope quickly stepped forward to greet Gideon and Spencer with an exuberant smile, acting oblivious to the quiet storm brewing between you and the man now standing only a few feet away.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe, and turned away, praying no one could see the turmoil swirling in your chest.

Gideon, ever the perceptive one, glanced around the room, his eyes briefly scanning each face before they settled on you. He tilted his head slightly, the hint of a curious smile playing on his lips. Without missing a beat, he broke away from the small group forming near the entrance and made his way over to you.

“Hello,” Gideon greeted you warmly, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jason Gideon.”

You blinked, momentarily startled by the direct introduction, but quickly reached out to shake his hand. "Y/N," you replied with a polite smile, though your voice wavered slightly, the nerves still simmering beneath the surface. "It’s nice to meet you."

Gideon’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he studied you for a moment, seeming to pick up on the tension you were trying so hard to conceal. “Derek speaks highly of you,” he added kindly, his tone gentle, as if sensing that you needed a little bit of reassurance.

Your stomach twisted, but you nodded in response. “He’s a good friend,” you said, glancing in Derek’s direction for a split second before focusing back on Gideon. 

The conversation had inadvertently drawn Spencer's attention. From the corner of your eye, you could see him turn slightly, his gaze shifting from Gideon to you. His posture stiffened, and though he remained rooted to his spot near the door, his eyes were now locked on you, a flicker of recognition passing through them.

There it was—the moment you had been dreading. You didn’t have to look directly at him to feel the weight of his gaze on you. Spencer, standing just a few feet away, realizing that you were here.

Gideon seemed to notice too. He glanced over his shoulder toward Spencer before turning back to you, his expression a little softer now, as if understanding something unspoken.

“Well,” Gideon said after a brief pause, “it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gave you a final smile before turning to rejoin the others, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and the unmistakable feeling of Spencer’s eyes still on you.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid, but now there was no escaping it. You made brief eye contact, nodding in acknowledgement as Spencer gave you one of his infamous tight lipped smiles. 

Spencer stood frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat the moment Gideon’s conversation with you drew his attention. The sight of you—standing there, laughing politely at something Gideon said—was like a punch to the gut. He had been preparing himself for this, trying to steel his nerves, but nothing could’ve braced him for the actual moment of seeing you again.

You looked incredible, more radiant than he remembered, and the sight of you stirred up everything he had been trying to push down. The memories flooded back—the long nights in the library, the gentle teasing, the way your hand had felt in his, and the soft sound of your laugh. You should say something, he told himself. But his feet remained firmly planted on the floor, rooted in the swirl of emotions tightening his chest. 

Spencer felt a wave of heat rush over him. You looked so good—better than he’d ever allowed himself to imagine in the countless nights he’d lain awake thinking of you. That plaid dress you wore, the way it cinched at your waist, how your hair framed your face perfectly—every detail made him dizzy. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to focus, but all he could do was stare. 

God, what am I supposed to say? You hadn’t looked at him again since the brief glance. The thought gnawed at him. Does she hate me? Is she angry? Does she even care that I’m here?

His mind spiraled deeper, the insecurity choking him like a vice. Every possible scenario played out in his head: You turning around, glaring at him with the bitterness you were more than entitled to feel; you ignoring him completely, dismissing him as though he didn’t matter. Both options made him feel sick. 

I don’t deserve to talk to her, he thought miserably. 

But he wanted to. He wanted so badly to close the space between you, to say something, anything that might take back the years of silence and cowardice. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, his mind screaming at him to move, to walk over, to apologize, to finally make things right. But Spencer stayed where he was, staring at you like a man drowning, desperately reaching for the surface, for something to anchor him—but unable to find it.

You shifted slightly, turning in his direction for just a second. Your eyes flickered toward him once more. The briefest glance, and then you quickly looked away.

It was enough to make his heart drop.

She can’t even look at me.

Spencer clenched his jaw, the painful mix of regret and longing clawing at his insides. He could hear Derek’s words echoing in his head—give her space, let her come to you on her terms. But the problem was, he wasn’t sure he could wait anymore. How could he, when just seeing you from across the room was this overwhelming?

He stood there, drowning in his own thoughts, desperate to say something, to do something that would fix it all. But he couldn’t. Not yet. And it was tearing him apart.

As the brunch carried on, Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even though he was seated far enough that any chance of a conversation seemed impossible. You were right there, at the opposite end of the table, laughing, talking, and enjoying yourself with everyone else. Each time you laughed, it felt like a tug on his heart, reminding him of what you two had shared all those years ago.

The way you joked with Derek so easily, the way your banter flowed naturally—Spencer couldn’t help but feel that pang of jealousy creep in. It was irrational, but he couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, you had moved on with Derek. He tried to shake the thought, knowing how close you and Derek were as friends, but the insecurity was there nonetheless, gnawing at him.

Maybe that’s why Derek doesn’t want me to push things, Spencer thought bitterly, feeling the weight of his suspicions grow. Maybe he wants her for himself.

Spencer’s hands tightened around his glass, the icy chill of his now cold tea doing nothing to cool the heat rising in his chest. He knew he was being ridiculous, but the thought wouldn’t leave him. It stuck in his mind, festering as he watched Derek’s casual affection toward you. It didn’t help that you smiled at Derek the way you used to smile at him. 

When you excused yourself to make more tea, Spencer’s mind was spinning too much to stay seated. He couldn’t let the jealousy take control, but it was too late; it had already wrapped around his thoughts, suffocating any sense of logic. Before he realized it, his legs had carried him from the table, following you into the kitchen.

The moment you walked into the cozy kitchen that you'd helped Penelope prepare, the warm smell of the tea leaves filled the air. The clink of teacups and the sound of water boiling were the only things breaking the quiet of the room. You didn’t notice Spencer following you at first, too caught up in refilling the teapot and enjoying the brief solitude from the table’s conversations.

Spencer hesitated at the entrance to the kitchen, watching you from behind as you moved gracefully between the counter and the kettle. His heart was pounding, the thoughts racing in his mind, torn between his guilt over the past and the irrational jealousy clouding his judgment.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but thick with everything he was holding back. “Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of his voice, surprised to see him standing there, clearly not expecting this moment. The tension between you two was palpable, hanging in the air like a weight neither of you was ready to address.

"Spencer," you acknowledged softly, your hands still on the teapot as you stared at him. The awkwardness was undeniable, but there was something else too—years of unspoken words, regrets, and emotions neither of you had faced.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped further into the kitchen. "I... I just wanted to—um, I need more tea," he said, fumbling for words, clearly not sure how to approach the conversation.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, surprised that was all he said but pleasantly relieved at the simplicity of it. "I can make you a cup if you want."

Your offer seemed to melt some of the tension in Spencer’s demeanor. His expression softened as he realized you were still the same kind person he’d fallen for all those years ago. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

You nodded, reaching for the teapot. "Milk and sugar? Honey?"

He let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, all of it, please. I like it sweet."

“I know,” you mumbled, the words slipping out naturally. You’d seen Spencer drink his overly sugary coffee so many times back in college, his sweet tooth no secret to you.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, fidgeting with his hair as he tried to keep the conversation light. "Do you still drink coffee? Or is it all tea now?"

You shrugged, pouring the tea into his cup. “I do both. No need for all that caffeine today.” You laughed softly. “For work, though? That definitely requires coffee.”

Spencer smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "Yeah, I get that. My body’s probably made up of pure coffee by now," he joked, happy he’d chosen to stick with casual conversation rather than diving into the deep, painful history between you two again. 

Maybe Derek was right—maybe you would come to him when you were ready. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his heart sank. Derek. He remembered the way you laughed with him, how easily you’d fallen into a rhythm with him at the table. 

The jealousy he’d managed to suppress earlier crept back in, though he did his best to push it down again. You were being kind, and he didn’t want to ruin this moment. But still, the thought lingered—was Derek the one holding you back from wanting to talk to him?

But you’d already turned around, catching the pensive look on Spencer’s face. "Everything alright?" you asked, a little concerned by the way his expression had shifted.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, looking up at you with a soft, almost hesitant smile. "So, uh, you and Derek, huh?"

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cup as he mumbled, “How long have you guys been... seeing each other?”

You burst out laughing, surprising him. "Me and Derek? No, no, no," you said, waving your hands dismissively as you continued to chuckle. "He’s my best friend. That’s all."

“Oh," he nodded, clearly unsure. "I just thought—”

But you cut him off before he could finish, handing him his tea with a small smile. “Tea’s ready. Here.” Your voice was soft but awkward as you backed out of the kitchen. “See you out there.”

With that, you made your way back to the brunch party, leaving Spencer standing in the kitchen, processing what had just happened. 

That was the end of your conversation for the day, but it was enough for him. Spencer’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. 

He could work with this.

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

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[sadnymi]

「 ✦ One of your girls .✦ 」

[Theodore Nott x reader]

Summary: Theodore Nott was the love of my life, the one I'd trade my whole world for. But this summer, I yearned for a different role in his life, even if it meant becoming just one of his girls

Warning:fluff,angst,smut, oral (f!received), fingering, lying about virginity,(+18)

Words:8k

In this world of labels there are , "good boys" and "bad boys," Theodore Nott existed in a category all his own. like devil in disguise, but manlier. And definitely hotter by like a thousand degrees .

As I stood there, captivated by his interaction with a Gryffindor girl, two stark realizations crashed over me. First, I desperately needed to refine my Marauder mischief skills. And More importantly, I needed to bridge the chasm between myself and Theodore. This summer, I wouldn't just be his little sister's best friend; I craved a different role in his life.

Lana's voice, sharp and cutting through my reverie, jolted me back to reality. "Y/N, are you with me?"

"Forgive me, my thoughts wandered," I muttered, composing myself with practiced neutrality.

“I was just saying, I really want Dad to approve this environmental camp," she continued, her enthusiasm undeterred.

"Absolutely," I agreed, forcing a smile. "Those Larus birds undeniably deserve all the protection we can offer." However, my gaze remained tethered to Theodore and his seemingly animated conversation with the Gryffindor girl.

"Right?" Lana beamed. "Perhaps Theo or Christian could help us sway Father?" Lana suggested hopefully.

"An excellent suggestion," I managed, a barbed comment forming on my tongue.

Perhaps your brother would engage in more productive activities than fraternizing with the Gryffindor girl. But I swallowed the retort.

"Christian can be a bit overprotective, bless his heart," Lana began, "but I do believe the 'puppy-dog eyes' technique, as he calls it, might work on Theo," Lana mused cheerfully.believe

A pang of curiosity shot through me. Could this "puppy eyes" technique be effective on Theo as well? I stifled the urge to inquire.

As if sensing my scrutiny, I almost choked on a gasp when he turned, our eyes locking for a beat too long. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he resumed his conversation with the Gryffindor girl. My mind conjured elaborate – and disturbing – daydreams of her demise.

"Are you alright?" Lana's voice held a hint of worry.

"Perfect," I muttered, the word a lie heavy on my tongue. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of my escalating jealousy.

"Then let's proceed," she declared, taking my hand in hers.

The world became a blur as we walked, the proximity to Theo and his unwelcome companion amplifying my agitation. My pulse pounded in my ears, a relentless drumbeat against the backdrop of muted classroom sounds.

Finally, we passed them. Still, Theo's gaze lingered on me, a silent connection that sent a wave of heat through my body. Just as abruptly, , Then in a move that stole the breath from my lungs, the Gryffindor girl cupped Theodore's jaw, pulling him down for a rough, aggressive kiss. I averted my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“ EWWW “ Lana muttered, mirroring my own disgust.

“Perhaps," I ventured, my voice tight with unspoken emotions, "you should utilize those puppy dog eyes sooner before he gets distracted again “

Potions became a blurry mess of bubbling cauldrons and swirling fumes. Snape's usual scathing commentary faded into the background, as my mind replayed the scene on loop: Theo, his lips locked with the Gryffindor girl, a stranger who somehow managed to snag his attention. Her triumphant smirk as she pulled away felt branded onto my eyelids.

Jealousy gnawed at me like a rogue Flobberworm. Every stolen glance his way felt like a betrayal, a secret message only I could decipher. Was this what Lana meant by "puppy eyes"? Because right now, all I wanted to do was unleash my inner dragon and set the damn girl ablaze.

The Great Hall echoed with the boisterous chatter of lunchtime. As I joined my friends at the Slytherin table, a familiar warmth washed over me – camaraderie, yes, but something more potent simmered beneath the surface. My stolen glance at Theo, however, sent a jolt of conflicting emotions. He was already there, his dark eyes locked on mine for a lingering moment before he averted his gaze.

A playful tug on my braid brought me back to reality. Lana, a mischievous glint in her eyes, was trying to get me out of my misery that she can’t quite understand what gets me into

Mattheo, being his usual blunt self, decided to stir up some trouble, "Just want to make sure the rumors are true. Did our little Y/N break Cedric Diggory's heart?"he said, causing Theo's gaze to intensify on me, igniting a mix of excitement and nervousness within me.

"Sorry, what?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, y/n, we can see that you're at that age for those kinds of things. What puberty did to you can't go unnoticed,"

My cheeks burned a furious red. The air crackled with tension as Blaise's words hung in the air.

Before I could retort, a cold fury replaced Theo's usual nonchalance. "Shut the hell up, Zabini, before I make you."

His sharp tone silenced the table. I stole a glance at him, he looked relaxed despite his tone , his eyes locked in a silent battle with Blaise. And that was well- very awkward

Matteo, unfazed by Theo's outburst, pressed on. "Back to the broken heart thing, did you really ditch a date with Diggory?"

My cheeks burned under the scrutiny of the table. "It wasn't like that, he understood," I stammered, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "I just said I had to study."

Lana, oblivious to my boiling frustration, jumped in. "No, no, she's just being humble! Cedric was head over heels! He was moping around for days after she said no, his heart practically shattered. Still he can't seem to take his eyes off her today."

I shot her a glare that could curdle milk, but she just winked back, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Why'd you turn him down, then?" Blaise pressed, his amusement evident.

Theo, however, surprised everyone. "She's still too young for that," he muttered. Really? The audacity! My hand twitched, a silent promise of violence aimed at his handsome but infuriating face.

My temper flared. "First of all," I stated, fixing him with a hard stare, "I'm only a year younger than you. Second, I said no because it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I already have feelings for someone else."

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

"You never told me that!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

"No," I said, trying to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. My gaze locked with Theo's, daring him to look away. "I was planning on telling you… tonight."

"Who is this mystery man?" Matteo leaned forward, his tone laced with curiosity. "Do we know him?"

"No, you don't," I lied smoothly, a flicker of defiance sparking in my chest. "He graduated."

A wave of disappointment washed over Blaise's face. "Oooh, Y/N, you sneaky minx! Who knew you had that in you?"

The Hogwarts Express rumbled to a halt, signaling the end of the semester and the glorious (or dreaded, depending on who you asked) freedom of summer. Bidding farewell to Lana, whose eyes held a knowing glint that made me sweat, I trudged off the train, eager to reach the familiar comfort of my own home.

Living just two houses away from Theo and Lana meant constant proximity, which could be either a blessing or a curse depending on how things unfolded. The lie about a mysterious older boyfriend sat heavy in my stomach. It was a desperate attempt to buy myself some breathing room, a chance to navigate the confusing maze of emotions swirling within me.

The oppressive heat of summer hung heavy in the air, mirroring the nervous knot in my stomach. Lana's father had finally approved the conservation camp, and while I was happy for her, a pang of disappointment shot through me. That meant less time to figure things out with Theo.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a summer dress – the kind that hugged my curves perfectly and left a trail of cool air on my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the two houses separating our homes and knocked on Theo's door. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was I even doing here?

The door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Finch, the Nott family housekeeper, her face etched with surprise. "Miss Y/N? What a surprise! Mr. Theo is the only one home, I'm afraid. Miss Lana's still out."

My cheeks flushed crimson. This was not the grand entrance I'd envisioned. "Oh!" I feigned surprise. "Goodness, how forgetful of me. I just realized I left something in Lana's room. Terribly sorry to bother you, Mrs. Finch."

The housekeeper's expression softened. "No trouble at all, dear. Just head on up, third door on the right."

With a mumbled thank you, I practically sprinted up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest. This impulsive, poorly-planned visit was already spiraling out of control. Would he see through my flimsy excuse? Most importantly, what was I going to say to him once I was alone with him under the guise of borrowing something from Lana?

The familiar chaos of Lana's room swam before my eyes. Clothes littered the floor, forgotten textbooks sat precariously on the desk,I don’t know why she insisted that no one else but her clean her room when she barley do it

"Are you lost?"

The sound of Theo's voice cut through the mental fog. I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic hummingbird. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

And then, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, a slow, deliberate sweep that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. Merlin's beard, I wanted to be on my knees (respectfully, of course). That summer dress, the impulsive visit - everything suddenly felt like a terrible, wonderful mistake.

"N-no," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, just came to… borrow something from Lana." The lie tasted like ashes in my mouth, but I couldn't bring myself to confess my real motive. Not yet, anyway.

Theo pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer. The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the summer heat. "Is that right?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His eye held an unreadable depth that made my breath hitch.

"Yes," I managed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "She mentioned a book on… Larus migration patterns? I thought I might borrow it for some summer reading."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Larus migration patterns, huh? Sounds like a fascinating read for a summer day."

His words were laced with a double meaning, and a blush crept up my cheeks. Was he teasing me? Did he suspect my real reason for being here?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. My carefully constructed plan was falling apart faster than a poorly brewed Amortentia potion. But before I could stammer out another excuse, Theo surprised me with a soft chuckle.

"Well," he drawled, his voice softer now, "since Lana's not here, perhaps I could help you find the book."

The breath caught in my throat. Here I was, caught red-handed (or rather, red-dressed), and yet, Theo's amusement was oddly disarming. His casual demeanor didn't quite match the intensity I'd glimpsed in his eyes moments ago.

"Really?" I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper. The air crackled between us, charged with a sudden shift in energy.

A slow smirk played on his lips. "Yeah, why not? Did you want someone else to help you, maybe?"

He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the room. I instinctively leaned back, my back hitting the wall with a soft thud. A thrill shot through me as his eyes lingered on my face, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"He's not here, though," he drawled, the amusement leaving his voice. "So bad."

Confusion clouded my mind. "He?" I stammered.

Theo's brows furrowed. "Oh, your older, hot crush? That's what you said, right? So you're here all dressed up and making excuses for nothing." The smile that had been playing on his lips vanished completely.

A wave of panic washed over me. "Are you kidding me?" I blurted out, unable to contain my frustration. Heat crept up my cheeks. "Are you that blind?" just then I realized the depth of my mistake. He thought my crush was Christopher, his own brother!

He was close now, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hands braced themselves on either side of my face, caging me in. My breath caught in my throat.

"Trapped?" he murmured, his voice a low growl.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. Theo's expression was a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. Thankfully, he didn't pull away.

"It's not Christopher," I whispered, my eyes darted drawn to the tempting curve of his lips.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, his voice husky.

I couldn't hold back any longer. This was it. With a surge of desperation, I cupped his face with one hand, the other finding its way to the back of his neck and I kissed him.

It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. I was kissing Theo it wasn’t a dream , feeling the heat and intensity of the moment wash over me. My lips on his, our breaths mingling, it was my first kiss, but that fact faded into insignificance. He was the only thing that mattered.

Panic briefly gripped me when he didn't immediately respond to the kiss. I pulled away, searching his eyes for any sign of reciprocation, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling me closer, lifting me effortlessly until my legs were wrapped around his waist. His kiss this time was harder, more urgent, our bodies pressed against the wall as he devoured my lips.

It was a hungry kiss, filled with raw desire and longing. I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure that surged through me. As his tongue sought entry, I responded eagerly, my hand finding its way to his shoulder, the other tangling in his hair. It felt intoxicatingly good, every touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

He didn't stop, his kisses growing more intense, more mind-blowing with each passing second. I felt myself teetering on the edge of something powerful, something I had never experienced before.

When he finally pulled away, our lips still touching, he whispered, "We shouldn't do that." I leaned in, wanting more, desperate to recapture the fire he had ignited within me. But this time, he stopped me with a gentle hand on my cheek.

"We shouldn't," he repeated, his words laced with a battle between desire and control.

" You ... don’t want this?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, before claiming my lips once more in a kiss that left me breathless and wanting more.

He kept kissing me, then his lips dipped lower, trailing a path of fire down my neck. Each touch ignited a new spark within me, a desperate need for more. But just as quickly, he pulled away, his hand clamping over my mouth the moment a moan escaped my lips.

He released me with a ragged breath, fingers brushing my lips – a touch that felt both accidental and deliberate. "Don't fucking let me do that again," he growled, his expression unreadable.

"Theo..." My voice trembled, a choked whisper lost in the deafening silence.

"Don't," he cut me off, his voice laced with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine.

I ignored him, the dam of my emotions threatening to burst. "No, Theo, I do like you so much! No, I think I love–"

He slammed his hand down on the nearest surface, the sharp crack echoing through the room. "Stop talking! Stop fucking talking and get out!"

My heart plummeted to my stomach. I stared at him, disbelief etching lines on my face. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't the answer I'd envisioned.

"I said, get out!" he roared, his voice raw with something akin to despair.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Fear, a primal and cold sensation, gripped me. I couldn't stay there, not with that look in his eyes. Tears blurring my vision, I turned and fled. I ran blindly out of the room, my feet pounding against the wooden floorboards. I didn't stop until I was out of the house, gasping for breath on the front porch steps. My legs felt like jelly, my vision obscured by a torrent of tears.

After four days of crying in my room, watching romcoms, and indulging in ice cream, I had practically shut myself off from the outside world. Ignoring calls and messages, I had no intention of leaving my room anytime soon.

But then, my phone started ringing, and the name that flashed on the screen caught my attention – Blaise Zabini. Why was he calling me? I debated whether to answer or not, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively.

"Hello, beautiful lady. What are you doing tonight?" Blaise's smooth voice flowed through the phone, surprising me.

"Did you mistake my number for someone else?" I asked, slightly bewildered.

Blaise chuckled. "No, Y/N, I'm calling you. There's a party tonight, and you should come."

I couldn't believe it. Blaise inviting me to a party? It seemed surreal, especially considering how distant I had been lately. "Is this some kind of dare?" I half-jokingly asked, recalling how Lana and I had once begged to be included in their circle last year.

"No, of course not. Lana is away at camp, and I figured you must be bored. Plus, you're old enough now. So, are you coming?" Blaise explained.

I was shocked but managed to say, "Yes."

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said confidently.

"Um, what should I wear?" I asked, feeling a bit out of my depth.

"Something hot for sure," Blaise replied, causing my mouth to drop open. Surely, there must be more to it than just small talk and an unexpected invitation.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling a bit more alive than I had in days. The prospect of going out, even to a party, was both daunting and oddly exciting. I made my way to the bathroom, deciding that a hot shower would do wonders for my mood.

The water cascaded down my skin, washing away some of the heaviness that had settled over me. I washed my hair, taking extra care to make it look presentable. After all, Blaise had mentioned something about looking hot, and I wanted to at least make an effort.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my options. My wardrobe seemed to mock me with its array of dresses, each one a reminder of happier times. But tonight was different. I wanted to feel good, even if just for a few hours.

My eyes settled on a vibrant off-shoulder red dress, short enough to be playful yet elegant. It had been a while since I'd worn something so bold, but tonight felt like the perfect occasion. Slipping into the dress, I couldn't help but admire how it hugged my curves in all the right places.

With my hair styled in loose waves cascading down my shoulders, I turned to my makeup. Opting for a subtle smokey eye and a bold red lip to match the dress, I added a touch of highlighter to give my skin a healthy glow.

Just as I finished applying the last stroke of mascara, my phone rang again. It was Blaise, letting me know that he was waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed out.

A slow smirk spread across Blaise's face as he took in my entire outfit. "Damn, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping a cool octave. "You look goodness. Tonight, you're not just breaking hearts, you're shattering them."

"Thanks," I managed, trying to project an air of confidence I wasn't entirely sure I possessed.

The drive to the bar was a blur of conversation and upbeat music. Blaise gave me a heads-up that this was a different scene than the usual hangouts Lana and I frequented. No sticky floors or questionable punch here. This place oozed sophistication with a healthy dose of trendy vibes.

The closer we got, the bigger the butterflies became. "Just a heads-up," Blaise said casually, "Theo's gonna be there."

My eyes widened like headlights caught on high beams. "Why are you telling me this?" I blurted, my voice shaky.

Blaise held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa there, little firecracker. Easy now. Listen, I know what happened," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

He paused, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You've got two choices tonight," he continued, his voice low and serious. "Option one: Go in there, drown your sorrows in overpriced cocktails, and cry yourself to sleep like you have been for the past week. Option two: You walk in that door, head held high, and have the best damn night of your life. Show him what a colossal mistake he made. But more importantly, have fun. Forget Theo for the night. You deserve it."

My initial suspicion flared. How did Blaise know about Theo? Did Theo tell everyone, maybe even paint some twisted narrative of what happened? The worst-case scenario played in my head: everyone knowing I'd forced myself on him. I pushed those thoughts down, refusing to let them take root.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Oh, the nerve! Here I am, trying to be the ever-so-charming host, and you accuse me of… niceness?" He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Honestly, Y/N, I'm deeply wounded."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. It felt good, a welcome change from the constant ache in my chest. As we pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot, I spotted a familiar face – the Gryffindor girl from school, the one with a permanent case of RBF.

Suddenly, the prospect of a night out filled with new faces and zero Theo drama seemed a whole lot more appealing.

"Alright," I announced, a determined glint in my eyes. "Going inside and having fun sounds way better."

Blaise's smirk widened. "Now you're talking," he said, finally pulling the car to a stop. "Let's do this."

We pushed through the heavy bar doors, the sudden wave of loud music and flashing lights hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes squinted against the assault, struggling to adjust to the dim, pulsing atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled alcohol, and something vaguely floral that I couldn't quite identify.

Then I saw it.

Bodies. Everywhere bodies. Couples intertwined on couches, limbs tangled in a way that left little to the imagination. People grinding against each other on the dance floor, clothes barely clinging to their sweaty forms. My mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" I shrieked, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. "Did you invite me to an orgy ?"

Blaise chuckled, his earlier cool persona replaced by something a little more… suggestive. "Not quite, sweetheart," he drawled. "But if you're interested, I know a guy…"

Blaise winked, then turned his attention to a group of women across the room. My stomach churned. Had he brought me here just to ditch me?

"Where are you going?" I demanded, grabbing his arm before he could slink away.

He looked back at me, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You wouldn't want to know, sweetheart. Trust me." Before I could argue, he was weaving his way through the crowd, leaving me stranded in a sea of strangers.

Panic clawed at my throat. I was completely out of my element, suffocated by the throbbing music and the overt displays of affection. Trying to navigate the throng of people felt like trying to walk through a mosh pit. Elbows jabbed, drinks sloshed, and muttered curses collided with the music. Every step forward felt like a battle.

Just when I was on the verge of tears, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I snapped my head towards the source of the sound, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. There, standing a few feet away, was Cedric Diggory, a friendly face from Hogwarts. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed, practically throwing myself at him. He caught me with a smile, a steady presence in the swirling chaos.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I came with Blaise, but… well, he kinda ditched me."

Cedric's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Don't worry about him," he said reassuringly. "I can take you home if you want."

The offer was tempting, a safe haven from the overwhelming sensory overload. But then my gaze fell across the crowded room, landing on Theo. He was… well, making out with someone. Not just anyone, but two someones. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving feverishly between two very enthusiastic girls.

The sight of him sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt coursing through me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to set the whole place on fire. But instead, I did something completely unexpected.

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "Do you want to dance?"

A slow smile spread across my face as Cedric offered his hand. Relief momentarily eclipsed the anger simmering beneath the surface. He led me onto the dance floor, his touch light and hesitant on my waist. Compared to Theo's rough possessiveness, it felt… foreign.

"Theodora Nott," I muttered under my breath, the name a bitter curse on my tongue. Every fiber of my being ached to tear my gaze away from Theo.

Cedric's breath tickled my ear as he spoke, but my mind was elsewhere. Then, our eyes met. Theo's. His face contorted in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, like he'd seen a ghost.

Theo seemed momentarily speechless, his jaw clenched tight. Then, in a move that surprised even me, he shoved the two girls aside, their confused faces momentarily forgotten. He barged his way through the crowd, a determined scowl on his face.

"Diggory," he spat, his voice laced with venom.

"Nott," Cedric replied, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"Think I can take this from here?" Theo said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Thanks for keeping Y/N company."

Cedric glanced between us, a hesitant frown creasing his brow. Knowing I needed to act fast, I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face.

"It's alright, Cedric," I chirped, my voice dripping with fake sincerity. "Theo's here now, and you know, practically like a brother to me."

Theo's jaw clenched tight, his anger barely contained. It fueled a fire within me, a perverse satisfaction at seeing him squirm. Cedric, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, simply nodded and melted back into the crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, I reached out and lightly touched Theo's arm. "Hello, brother," I purred, the word laced with mockery. "Enjoying yourself?"

He swatted my hand away, his voice tight with irritation. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Dancing, drinking, you know ," I replied, my voice light and carefree. "Hopefully getting some… you know, without having to share." I couldn't resist adding a pointed jab at his earlier display of affection.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That's not the right answer, Y/N."

"Oh, so now you're the authority on what's right and wrong?" I scoffed. "Just get lost and let me enjoy my night."

"Not happening," he growled, stepping closer. For a fleeting moment, I swear his eyes flickered to my lips, sending a tremor of something unexpected through me.

"Not happening," he countered, his eyes flickering towards my lips for a fleeting moment.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. "So you get to have fun, but I can't? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were having a blast with your little… (here I paused, searching for the perfect comedic insult) …buffet." I forced a smile, pushing myself away from him in a playful, yet firm, manner.

He didn't get a chance to retort before a gasp escaped my lips. A clumsy dancer, fueled by who-knows-what concoction, careened into me, spilling the entirety of his drink down my dress. The scarlet fabric clung to my body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Theo let out a frustrated curse under his breath. "Damn it, Y/N, and your damn stubborn red dresses ," he muttered, before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. His gaze darted around frantically, before settling on a nearby staircase.

The world spun a little faster as Theo pulled me through the crowd, his grip tight on my arm. We navigated through bodies and flashing lights, finally ending up near a darkened stairway leading upwards. He pushed open a door, revealing a large, beautifully furnished room – a stark contrast to the party raging outside.

"Stay here," he instructed, his voice low and urgent.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his bossiness but strangely comforted by his protectiveness.My mind was still reeling from the sudden alcohol shower, my thoughts fuzzy and disconnected.

Theo's presence alone was overwhelming. All the anger, hurt, and confusion I'd been feeling seemed to coalesce into a potent cocktail of emotions. My mind, however, wasn't processing things clearly. The red dress clinging to my body, the sting of Theo's earlier words, the memory of seeing him with those girls – it all swirled together in a chaotic mess.

Ignoring the instruction to stay put, I crossed the room and locked the door with a satisfying click. Grasping the hem of the ruined dress, I ripped it upwards in one swift motion. There, standing before a giant mirror, was me in all my red lace glory – bra and panties matching the ruined dress.

Theo stepped in, a black t-shirt clutched in his hand. His gaze locked with mine, a slow burn spreading across his face. He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the shocking red lace bra and matching panties that were now my only attire.

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the music fading into a distant hum. The air crackled with a tension that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he finally managed, his voice rough with a mix of concern and something else – something deeper.

The question snapped me out of my haze. A defiant chuckle escaped my lips. "Not a single Shot," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady as I walked towards him.

The t-shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes were fixed on me, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. I stopped just inches from him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his face just inches from mine. The heat of his body radiated against mine, intensifying the buzz in my head.

"We don't have to be in love," I slurred, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A part of me knew this was insane, But another part just craved his attention, his touch.

All I craved was his attention, his touch.

"I just wanna be… one of your girls tonight," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down my spine as the reality of my words hit me. Was I really saying this? But then I remembered Theo with those other girls, the way they would whisper about him at school, the way they boasted about their "experiences" with him.

Suddenly, a strange sense of defiance mixed with a simmering desire fueled my next words. "I want what you give them," I confessed, my eyes locked on his. "The kind of thing they brag about to their friends for years."

He reached out, a single finger brushing against my cheek. My breath hitched at the contact.

"Give me tough love don’t hold back," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Push me, choke me. Show me what it's like to be… yours even if it’s just for a night ." My voice dropped even lower. "Anything," I whispered, "just don't pretend you don't want me."

My words hung heavy in the air, the audacity of them making my cheeks burn. But before I could even think about backtracking, Theo surged forward, scooping me up into his arms. A gasp escaped my lips as he pulled me close, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over me.

He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pulled me close. My hands instinctively found purchase on his broad shoulders, the heat radiating through his shirt setting my skin alight.

"That's wrong," he rasped, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine.

"It's not," I insisted, the defiance laced with a desperate plea.

He didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me. It was a hard kiss, desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to erase everything that had come between us. My body melted against his, all thoughts fleeing my mind except for the fierce press of his lips against mine.

He carried me across the room, depositing me onto a large table. pulled away after what felt like an eternity, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a tremor through me. He pushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his eyes searching mine. "I'd hold onto something, if I were you." he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness that both terrified and excited me.

My fingers brushed against his face, his warm breath ghosting over my lips as he leaned down.

His hand moved down my body, a slow, deliberate caress that sent shivers erupting across my skin. His fingers grazed my thighs, a light touch that somehow managed to ignite a fire within me. My breath hitched, a moan escaping my lips as desire battled with the remnants of reason.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a husky whisper against my sensitive skin. "Choose a word," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded numbly, unsure if I would even be able to speak if I needed to.

"Red," I managed to whisper, my voice laced with desire as his lips trailed along my neck, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me.

"Fucking red again," he muttered, his lips pressing against my skin with a hunger that ignited a fire within me. I arched my neck, offering him more access, more of me.

"You use this if it gets too much, understood?" he said, his voice commanding. I nodded eagerly.

He continued to kiss my jaw and neck with an intensity that left me breathless. My hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer. When he bit down on a sensitive spot on my neck, I couldn't contain a scream of pleasure.

His hand cupped my core through my panties, and I instinctively gripped his shoulder, my body responding to his touch. I had never experienced anything like this before, but I couldn't admit that to him.

"Have you done anything like this before?" he asked, his breath hot against my earlobe. I moaned softly as I lied, nodding in response.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of sensations.

He parted my legs forcefully and held my jaw in his hand, locking eyes with mine. "You did?" he questioned, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

I nodded again, unable to speak as desire coursed through me.

"He's dead, whoever he is," he declared, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers slipped inside my panties, and I gasped at the sudden intimacy, my body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Theo," I managed to gasp out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yes, baby?" he responds, his voice deep and husky. The way he says "baby" sends shivers down my spine. It feels too good, too right, felt like a sweet caress to my soul.

"You can do whatever you want to me," i whispered, my fingers tracing his jawline. "Anything."

He responds by parting my lips with his finger leaning down to take my lower lips into his kiss. It's so soft, so gentle, that I feel like I've been transported to heaven. His tongue enters my mouth at the same time he touches my clit, and I moan.

He rubs my clit in gentle circles, and I hold onto his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin. He pulls away from the kiss, my lips are still on his, and I moan into his mouth. His tongue continues to explore mine as his fingers work their magic.

"Oh Merlin," I cry out, and he smiles against my cheek.

"Not Merlin, baby, but me," he whispered against my cheek, his touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. He added a finger inside me, and I cried out, my back arching with pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. You sure you've done this before?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. I've done this before, in my dreams, with him. I bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, and he looks displeased with that.

"Keep making those sounds, I love the sound of your voice," he says, and I do it again. He stops kissing me” you did that again and i stop, understood? “ I nodded immediately.

He’s not done yet. He pushed my bra strap down, placing kisses along the exposed skin.

His fingers start to move faster, as he kissed me, swallowing all my moans. He adds another finger, and I scream, my back arching again.

I bite my lips without even noticing and he slowed his movements I hold onto his hand fast, afraid he'll stop.

"Please don't stop, I'll be good, I promise," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck, say it again," his gaze intense with desire.

"I'll be good, Theo," I repeated, my voice a desperate plea.

He moves his fingers faster in response, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars. He keeps hitting it, over and over again, while circling my clit.

"I'm going to--" I try to say, but I can't finish my sentence. Pleasure consumes me, and I scream his name. He plays with my hair, pushing my tears and hair away from my face.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his words pushing me over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm."So sweet, so good."

He watched me with intense desire as I came, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "And so fucking hot," he added as he looked at me while experiencing his own release.

“you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me,” he murmured, placing soft kisses on my neck

I breathed heavily as he pulled his hands from me, bringing his fingers to his mouth and savoring my cum. "You taste so sweet, baby," he murmured, his gaze locked on mine.

He cupped my face, placing soft kisses on my lips, again and again. "So sweet, so angelic,"

With a gentle touch, he lifted me from the table, carrying me softly and placing me on the bed. His face was close to mine, his nose brushing against mine, and he kissed me deeply. I moaned as he opened my bra clips, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my jawline, then my collarbone.

He traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body until he reached my breasts. I closed my eyes as he put a soft kiss on them, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Eyes on me, baby. Don't shut them," he commanded, and I nodded, my breath heavy. I looked at him, my love for him overwhelming.

With each lick and kiss, I moaned louder, the pleasure building with every touch, and I arched my back, my fingers gripping the sheets.

With a final lick, he traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body. He kissed my stomach and looked up at me, his gaze intense.

He parted my legs, the sight of him between them is my idea of heaven. I nodded, and he pulled my panties down.

As he pulled my panties down, I felt a rush of shyness,"You will keep them open," he said, and I nodded again , my breath hitching.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs. I couldn't resist running my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it from his face.

"You want rough love, you say?" he stated, using my own words against me.

"Yes," I moaned, my mouth gasping as I felt his mouth on my wet pussy.

"And you keep listening to what those girls say?" he asked.

"Yes, and it hurts," I managed to say.

"So I have to make up for it then, baby, don't you think?" he asked,

He didn't waste time. His tongue explored my folds, and it felt strange but in a good way. He licked and sucked, and I felt like I might explode.

He kept doing it, for what felt like an eternity. He kept my legs open, and my back ached. I cried heavily, it was the best thing I had ever felt. I could feel my body already over the edge.

"Don't cum," he said, and I shook my head. He continued eating me out, so much. I could feel his fingers inside me, and I screamed again.

"Please," I begged, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he was giving me.

"You cum, and it's over," he warned, his finger entering me gently.

I held onto his shoulder tightly, my body teetering on the edge. "Say the word, and I'll stop," he offered.

But I couldn't bring myself to say it. "No," I managed to whisper, my voice filled with need and desire.

His tongue flicked my clit, and I felt my orgasm building. I screamed his name, and he kept going, pushing me further and further over the edge. I screamed again, and again, and again. I couldn't take it anymore, and I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.

He looked up at me, his lips glistening with my juices.

I was still trying to catch my breath from what just happened as Theo's words registered in my mind. "You are a virgin," he said, and I shook my head fast, trying to dispel the shock.

"No, no, I'm not. The boys I've been with before weren't experienced," I managed to say, feeling a rush of embarrassment at my slip of words. Why did I say "boys"?

Theo's gaze held fire as he processed my words. "Boys?" he repeated, his voice tinged with something I couldn't quite decipher.

I immediately felt the need to defend myself. "You don't think I'm attractive enough to be with more than one boy in my life?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my tone.

"Quite the opposite," he assured me, but his expression remained serious. "I want to know who dared and did that," he added, his eyes searching mine.

I bit my lip nervously, realizing the implications of what I had unintentionally revealed. Boys were afraid to pursue Lana because of Theo's reputation, but the way he reacted made me wonder if he wasn't threatening the boys for just getting close to lana .

"You can't just control who I can be with, Theo," I said, surprised at my own boldness.

"I think I can," he asserted firmly.

I took a breath, trying to calm the tension that crackled between us. "I won't mind," I said softly, my voice pleading. "I would do anything to please you. I would do anything you ask me to."

"Stop talking like that, y/n," he ordered, his tone strained.

"Okay," I acquiesced, sensing that I had crossed a line.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

I reached out and touched his hand that was on my face, trying to ease the tension. I smiled while kissing his hand, then surprised both of us by putting one of his fingers inside my mouth and sucking on it gently.

"You are going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I need you, Theo, all of you, even just for the night, please," I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

"Don't cry, unless it's from the pleasure I give you," he said, brushing away my tears gently.

I propped myself up on my elbow to get closer to him, craving his touch and his reassurance. He kissed me again, and in that moment, I felt like I could live in this bliss forever.

He reached for a condom, and I tried not to show my nerves as he prepared himself. His size was daunting, and I couldn't help but wonder how it would fit inside me. My head hit the pillow again as he spread my legs, his hardness teasing my entrance.

He entered me slowly, and I cried out as the pain shot through me, tears streaming down my face. "You are a fucking virgin," he exclaimed, his own frustration evident.

"It's not a fucking game, y/n," he continued, his tone softer but still edged with tension.

"I'm sorry, please do something," I pleaded, feeling overwhelmed.

He wiped my tears away, his features softening. "Fuck, baby, don't cry. It will get better, I promise. Just relax," he reassured me, his voice soothing.

"Breathe, it's just me," he added, placing kisses on my forehead and then my cheek.

"I think... I think you can move now, please," I managed to say, trying to regain my composure.

He held my face in his hand while the other supported him as he moved slowly, allowing me to adjust to him. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure and the connection between us.

"You want fast, I can take it," I said, unsure if I was ready but wanting to prove myself to him.

"It's not a competition, y/n. You don't have to prove anything, baby,"

"The girls you've been with, they must have..." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"They didn't matter. You do," he said, surprising both of us with his confession.

He settled into a rhythm that felt perfect, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations. His thrusts ranged from slow and tender to fast and intense, driving me wild with pleasure.

"Talk to me," he urged, and I struggled to form coherent sentences amidst the pleasure.

"It feels... good," I managed to say, my words coming out in fragmented breaths.

"Yeah?" he questioned, and I nodded, unable to articulate just how amazing it felt.

He increased his pace, and I arched my back, meeting his movements eagerly. "What about this?" he asked, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Do it again," I begged, wanting more of him, more of this intense pleasure.

He obliged, and the pleasure intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. I moaned and cried out his name, lost in the sensations that only he could evoke.

He thrust a few more times, then finally reached his own peak, his body collapsing slightly against mine as we both caught our breaths.

After a moment, he pulled out and disposed of the condom, then lay beside me.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I was afraid to talk afraid to ruin what we just had, My hand hovered in the air, reaching for his face, but Theo stopped me, his grip surprisingly tight on my wrist.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the backdrop of my racing thoughts. Please, no. Not the cold shoulder again.

" The- Theo," I whispered, my voice trembling, but he pushed my hand away before I could say more. His sudden change left me feeling lost and vulnerable, like I had done something terribly wrong.

"You… sore?" he finally spoke, his voice strained.

I blinked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The Theo who had been making love to me just minutes ago seemed to have vanished. This was the cold, distant Theo I knew all too well.

"A little," I managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

"Then get dressed," he said curtly. "I'm taking you home. Your big night is over." his words cutting through me like knives. I tried to speak, to explain, but he silenced me with a stern command. "Not a word, y/n. Not a fucking word."

He got out of bed and started putting on his clothes, tossing a t-shirt and his jacket in my direction. As he grabbed my phone and things, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. It was as if everything we had shared meant nothing to him.

As shaky legs carried me to my feet, I pulled on the clothes, tears blurring my vision. A choked sob escaped my lips, and another, and another.

"Congratulations, Y/N," I whispered to myself, my voice raw with emotion. "You're officially one of his girls."

"Congratulations, y/n. You’re officially one of the girls," he remarked, his words cutting deep into my already wounded heart.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Part2

[vashs-turtleneck]

Desperate.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ only)

Summary: What happens after Vash almost loses you. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Word Count: .8k CW: smut, pwp, slightly rough sex, penetrative sex, angst, crying AN: wrote most of this while I was at work ehehe so it's not really proofread

Desperate!Vash, whose heart sinks deep into the pit of his stomach whenever you get hurt or put yourself in the line of danger. A bullet flying past your head, barely missing your temple. He sees it coming, his sharp eyes watching its trajectory, yet he's not fast enough, he's not strong enough, and the only reason you're still alive is by sheer dumb luck. A little to the left, a little higher, and it would have been over, the flame of you permanently extinguished, his heart hammering away in his chest at the realization that he almost just watched you die. His hold on you is always a bit tighter after these moments, clinging to you and keeping you in his line of sight at all times. You won't get hurt. Not again. Whatever it takes, he'll keep you safe. 

Desperate!Vash, who pushes you against the nearest surface as soon as the door to your shared room is closed, pulling you closer and away from prying eyes, taking your mouth in a feverish kiss that threatens to crash your teeth together every time your lips meet. His strong body presses your back into the wooden door, caging you against him. You're exactly where he wants you, exactly where he can see you. Wrapped up in his arms, encased between the door and his broken body, you're safe. 

Desperate!Vash, who lifts you by your hips, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his tapered waist. He presses your back against the closest wall, his hands pulling at you– at your clothes, at your hair, at your hips– needing you closer. However close, it's not close enough. He can't be asked to take it slow, not right now, as he hurriedly unbuttons your pants and pulls them down to your knees. He tears your underwear off, leaving it to dangle loosely between the two of you before he's already shoving two long and dexterous fingers inside you. It's quick, sloppy, his fingers pumping harshly into that sweet spot inside you that has your body quaking until his hand is dripping in your arousal.

Desperate!Vash, who fumbles with his own pants, shaky hands making him struggle with his belt and zipper. He can't get them off fast enough. Just like your own pants, he doesn't bother himself with taking them off completely. He pushes them down just far enough to free himself, his cock springing from the confines of his boxers, groaning as he feels himself throbbing in the cold air.

His hands grip you, calloused palms spreading your delicate flesh as he presses the tip of himself to your entrance, a brief warning before pushing forward and completely sheathing himself in you with one sharp roll of his hips, pulling the breath from your lungs. He hisses through gritted teeth, your body barely prepped enough to accommodate the sheer girth of him. He stifles your cries of pain and pleasure with his lips, swallowing your sounds before pulling back and leaning against the side of your head. He brokenly whispers his sweet apologies, heartbreakingly chanting “I’m sorry” over and over again like a hopeless prayer as he begins swaying his hips and slamming you down onto his cock with a frenzied, almost angry rhythm that has your nails digging into the fabric of his crimson jacket.

Desperate!Vash, who knows he's not giving you the tenderness you deserve, and the guilt is enough to eat him whole, yet he can't stop. His body feels like it's burning, crumbling under the weight of knowing that he almost lost you, overwhelming his better judgment. He needs to remind himself– you're with him, you're here, you're safe, you're alive. His actions are primal, his body moving on pure instinct, the pain and guilt he keeps buried deep bubbling up. He shoves the bottom of his shirt into his mouth, teeth clenching into the fabric, holding it up to make sure nothing gets in the way of the frenetic rhythm of his cock sinking into you, and giving you a tantalizing view of the quick undulations of his lower half.

Desperate!Vash, who lets his head fall to your shoulder when he cums, sobbing into the divot of your collarbone, whimpering his apologies and praises, how much he loves you, how much he needs you. He can't live without you, and yet he'll be the reason he loses you. The crushing weight of reality floods him to the core, crippling his body with fear and grief. His arms tighten their hold on you, wishing that he didn't ever have to let you go, that another day didn't have to come so that he could never have to risk losing you.

Desperate!Vash, who only knows what his life was before you, what it is with you, and he prays to a God he doesn't believe in every time he's faced with the reality that one day, should he be cursed to live so long, there will be a time after you.

divider.

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 6

Summary: Andy’s

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, Scott Huffman, mentions of Suede’s bee stings, cute and sweet Ransom, self esteem issues, oral sex (F receiving), body worship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers @firefly-graphics

Lifting up Suede’s hand, you kiss over his welts and swollen skin. He had finally gone to sleep a little bit ago, and now you get to fully look over his pitiful body. Eyes puffy, nearly swollen shut, while welts dot over his exposed skin in a grotesque painful looking way. Putting his arm down, you glance over at Audrey who is nodding off to sleep. Lifting up her hand where a pretty pink bandage now resides to kiss her sting as well. She was a trooper through it all.

“Mommy, I’m sleepy,” she groans, looking up at you. You know how tired she is, her eyes tell you everything. She looks towards Andy, and then at you. He has been amazing. Calm, and rational, while you’ve been a ball of emotions. “Can Andy hold me like you are Suede so I can sleep?”

It hadn’t ever occurred to you how much Andy stepped back more with Audrey. Not because he didn’t like her or wasn’t comfortable, but because she has a voice, and she has a great relationship with her father. So instead of forcing, Andy waits on her. “If it’s okay with him, why don’t you ask?”

“Andy,” she sleepily says looking at him. He already leans back in the chair, but waits for her to actually ask him, “Can you hold me, so I can sleep?”

“Of course, princess,” you hold her hand, so she can jump off the exam table, and she wobbles one time before she gets to Andy, and he picks up your abnormally small daughter, and lets her koala on him, using his shoulder as a resting spot for her head. It’s nearly instantly her breathing changes.

“Thank you,” you sigh, wiping tears from your eyes. You thought you loved Andy, but seeing him in dad mode makes you love him more. It still shocks you just how much you do love him in this state, “Not just for that, but today. All of it. It was a good day, until it wasn’t.”

“Were you aware of his allergy to bees?” You shake your head no, and tears steadily stream down your cheeks. It is just another thing to add to his growing list. Food allergies were terrifying, but you still had ways to control them. Bees are something you can't. You can’t keep him inside, locked up in a bubble.

“Honey,” Andy coos, trying to soothe you from afar, and you shake your head in frustration. Wiping away the saline trails that stain your face.

“No, being a mother is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I love it. But seeing him like this, and how he was earlier; Andy, I could have lost him.”

“But we didn’t,” a new round of never ending tears flow freely, and he doesn’t even realize what those two letters mean to you. We. You didn’t have to do this alone. You didn’t have to sit here with Suede, while Scott took Audrey home. You didn’t have to carry all this emotion and responsibility alone.

“Seeing him like that never gets easier.”

“How many times have you had to use the EpiPen?”

“That was just the second time. But it was somehow worse. It happened so fast, and I could see him straining to breathe, and he just couldn’t. And he was just looking up at me, so scared, and in so much pain. Seventeen times,” you lament. “He was stung seventeen times. And everything was rushing around us, and all I could see was my baby unable to just breathe. Allergies suck.”

“Fuck allergies,” you snort out a laughter as you brush back Suede’s curls. Even swollen, he is one of the most beautiful babies you’ve ever seen. Him and Audrey tied. Everyone thinks their own children are beautiful, but you just know, you have the most beautiful babies ever.

Andy stands abruptly when the door opens, followed by the doctor. Audrey never stirs, and he holds her tighter. It was such a fluid motion, like he was meant to be a father. Standing at attention for any news. “Alright, Mr. And Mrs. Huffman,” Andy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. The doctor thought the kids were his, and that’s all he cares about. Even if the last name annoyed him.

“I think it’s safe to say that Suede is allergic to bees for now. Here’s a prescription for a new EpiPen, and we’ve got him scheduled for a visit with his allergist. He needs to be tested again,” you assumed that was coming, and you dread it.

“Is there a possibility he isn’t allergic and it was because of the amount of stings?” Out of the corner of your eyes you see Andy slowly rub over Audrey’s back. Whether it was to keep her asleep or his own anxiety, you’re not sure, but in a weird way it soothes you.

The doctor sighs, “It’s possible of course, but you still need to go to the allergist. Other than that, he’s fine. He’ll probably need to do a sinus wash, give him his antihistamine, monitor him, but other than that, he’s free to go,” you nod. Overwhelmed, and exhausted yourself. Scooting to the edge of the exam table before Andy steps over, holding out his hand.

“Mrs. Huffman, I see you look defeated, and you shouldn’t be. He’s a strong boy, and you reacted quickly. You did everything that you could to prevent anything terrible. Don’t beat yourself up. Your son is a happy healthy boy because of how you two are raising him,” Andy beams. Standing up straighter, but then he looks at you, softening his smile as he helps you off the table. “Suede deserves lots of rest, and may I suggest mango sorbet?”

“We’ll keep that in mind, doctor. Thank you,” his words lift so much pressure off your back. Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe the way you feel. Exhaustion laces through every fiber of your body as you and Andy walk out of the ER. His hand firmly planted on the small of your back.

“I should have said that he’s a happy healthy boy because of the way that you have been raising him. Your kids are incredible because of you,” you hate crying. Despise it. And today you have cried so much! “Hey,” you look at Andy as he places Audrey in her seat. Taking so much care, so he doesn’t wake her up, “Can you let me shoulder some of this burden?”

Placing your baby boy in his seat, you peer at Andy from across the car, and nod your head. Clearing your throat, “As long as you let me carry some of your burdens.”

“Doe, I’ve never kept any secrets from you. You know all about my life, my family, and you still want me in yours and their life. But yes, if it gets too hard, we can be each other’s support,” for the first time since you heard Suede’s pained cries, and Audrey’s shrill screams, you smile. This is a difficult situation, but knowing you’re not alone as you trudge through this uncharted territory helps. Things don’t feel so heavy.

Settling into the car, Andy grabs your hand in his own quickly, while you lay up against his shoulder. Just breathing, and just listening to them. All of them. Including Andy.

“Auds, what cha doing?” Andy places another dish in the dishwasher, while Audrey sticks her tongue out, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She sits up on her knees with her face so close to the paper. “Audrey, you’re going to hurt your eyes,” and she sits back a bit more, and looks up at Andy.

“Who is the ban-if again?” Her head twists to the side, looking like a puppy as Andy throws a towel on the counter, walking towards the dinner table. He looks down at the picture Audrey has been coloring, and bites his tongue.

“This is the judge. That is the defense attorney, and this is you, the prosecutor. But what is the ban-if? I can’t remember.”

“Bailiff,” Andy says softly, reaching for his own crayon. He draws a person, and Audrey looks up at him smiling. “Do you remember what they do?”

“Umm,” he tries to make sense of this. Tries to figure out why a four year old is drawing parts of a courtroom for fun when she should be actually playing. Or coloring My Little Ponies or something. Anything but this. “That’s the one that is like a police officer? And they can take criminals back to jail?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones that keep the courtroom safe. Why are you doing this?”

Her brow furrows while she starts drawing figures in the jury box. Pausing to count each one, and Andy lets out a long breath, “Daddy said I’m going to be a lawyer, so I need to know these things,” she stops again, poking a finger at each figure, drawing in two more. “Twelve.”

Audrey leans back in her chair, looking up at Andy, “Can I have an applesauce pack?” Finally something normal for a child. He gets up out of his seat, and returns with two pouches. One for him, and one for her. She only eats one squeeze before she stares at her drawing. “Did Suede almost die?”

“No,” he answers without hesitation. Not almost. He could have, but everyone did what they needed to do.

“He looked purple though,” Andy’s fingers drum over the kitchen table, trying to think of a way to answer her questions. Questions that you might refuse to answer. “I tell Taylor that Suede can’t have walnuts or eggs because he’ll die, but can he really?”

“Yes, he can. But that’s why we carry those pens with us. They’re the safety measure until we get him to the hospital. As long as we’re careful…”

“How does…no. I mean, is he going to always look like that now?” Her face crinkles up a bit, “He was cuter before.”

“The swelling will go down. I’m sure it’ll look different for a few days, but it won’t stay that way. Are you okay? You know you can talk to your mom, me, even your dad about this whenever you want,” she looks back down at her drawing, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not okay?”

“I’m okay, but daddy don’t like to talk about this, and it makes mommy sad.”

“I’ll always listen. Mommy will, too. Even if it makes her sad,” he sees a slight grin edge up on her face before he settles back into his chair, and she picks up a different crayon. He couldn’t stop what’s already been done, so might add to it, “Where does the witness sit during cross examination?”

Her body wiggles around excitedly, drawing a square next to the judge, and then a little figure, “Good job, sweetheart,” he says, flicking his head towards the door before he jogs off to answer the knock. “Evening, Scott.”

“Where’s my son?” he pushes past Andy, and into the foyer, walking down the hall, and deeper in the house. Looking around the living room when he doesn’t see Suede. “And my daughter?”

“Audrey is doing courtroom homework in the dining room, and Suede is getting a bath in the big tub,” he flicks his eyes towards the dining room, before returning to Andy. “Audrey’s fine. I think you should check on Suede.”

Scott rolls his eyes before walking towards his old bedroom. Glancing towards the open closet, and his jaw tightens. Andy’s clothes were all in the closet. In the hamper. A different bed. He barely knocks on the door to the bathroom before opening it, and Suede looks at you before standing up in the tub, and trying to give you a hug. You softly run your hand up and down his back, keeping your movements slow. Careful not to be harsh on his welts.

Scott scans over Suede’s body before leaning back on the bathroom counter, and Suede gives him a little smile, realizing he wasn’t there to take him from you. You keep humming the song you had been humming before Suede squats back down, and falls into the water with a laugh.

“How is he?” It’s one of the first times you’ve ever felt like Scott has sounded concerned for Suede. “How many stings? My god. Buddy, you okay?”

“Chess. Mama. Na Na,” his few words turn to gibberish, and Scott pinches the bridge of his nose.

“He’s got to go back to the allergist, and get pricked again,” your hand skims the warm water. Trying to relax Suede, but relax yourself more. The ability to see all his stings hurt you so much.

“I think it’s safe to say that he’s allergic to bees. How many stings?”

Suede’s hand reaches towards yours before he stands, and creates a slide down the back of the tub. Giggling before doing it again. “You know I don’t like when he does that in my house.”

“Seventeen times,” you try to change the subject. Suede rarely took a bath in the big tub. And as soon as you caught Scott fucking the babysitter, his rules for your children having fun didn’t apply anymore. “Audrey was stung once.”

“Is she okay?” Keeping your eyes on your baby, you roll your eyes, but nod.

“Yes. They got the stinger out, and gave her a pink unicorn bandage. There’s a little bit of swelling, but it’s her left hand, so she can still hold a crayon.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being condescending or not,” not towards your daughter, but towards his priorities.

“And neither can I,” everything you said was the truth, and under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have cared for his concern. But here sits his son with seventeen stings, welts, swollen, wet coughs, and a snotty nose, and he’s worried about one sting. “His face turned purple again.”

“And how long did it take you to get to him?” Even though his words are calm, they cut deeply. Watching Suede now, you realize this evening could have ended very differently in a matter of seconds.

“It didn’t take long, but his airways had been sealed shut.”

“Seventeen goddamn times,” he says your name, and tears instantly flood your vision. “What the hell were you doing when our baby was stung that many times?”

“I was closer than you were.”

“Because it was your weekend. I would have never…”

“I didn’t know he was allergic to bees!” You shout, causing Suede to flinch. You take a deep breath, continuing the conversation softer, “Do you think I want my children to be stung? For them to feel any pain? Especially when it comes to their lives?” Suede whispers ‘Mama,’ standing up in the water, and he leans against you. “Do not put this on me, and act like it was my fault, I already feel guilty enough as it is.”

“You should!” Your eyes squeeze shut. Inhale. Exhale. You slowly open your eyes and look at Suede when you pick him up out of the tub without a towel. Holding him on your hip as you grab the towel next to Scott, and he grabs your wrist, “You’re being negligent since he came into your life.”

“Careful with your words, Scott. Because you purposefully let that woman bring a cat into my house, knowing our son was allergic,” you jerk your hand away from him, and bring the towel with you. Getting into the bedroom when you maneuver it around Suede’s body. “You do not get to put this on me. Just today your fiancé was telling us how Suede would like apples with walnuts on it.”

“That’s different!”

“How?” You shout. Actually raising your voice, and then pull the towel covered Suede closer against your body, while you snuggle him. “How is that different?”

“Because she didn’t actually do it! You’re the one that was stupid enough to take your eyes off our kids, probably to make out with Andy fucking Barber!”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Andy’s presence is enormous as he steps into the doorframe. Hands on his hips, and his voice so calm, and yet demanding. It’s easy to see why he is feared in the courtroom. How everyone knows he will be a judge one day. “You’re not coming into our home and talking like that in front of the kids.”

“Take a look at the deed, you prick,” Scott spins on his heels stopping in front of Andy, “There is no ‘our’ with you. There’s not even ‘our’ with me. There’s one person’s name on that deed, and it’s not hers. You want to know the reason why she’s still living here?”

“Because she’s got your children. You wouldn’t want her and the kids to be homeless now, would you?” Scott and Andy silently stare at one another. “I would have given her the house, too, Scott. It’s what good men do, right?”

“I’m still going for sole custody. This incident will be recorded. I’ve already gotten a copy of his ER discharge papers,” Andy’s eyes go ablaze with every disgusting word he says.

“No! Scott, don’t you dare! You don’t even want him. You let her bring a cat into his home! That was intentional,” you hold Suede even tighter, and Andy raises his hand slightly, keeping his eyes on your soon to be ex husband.

“Scott, you’re going to quit threatening my girlfriend.”

“My wife,” Scott gives him an evil smirk.

“That you cheated on,” Scott blinks quickly, looking away for a split second, “I should probably look at the prenup agreement, huh? You’re going to quit with your idle threats, you’re not going to push for sole custody. You’re going to carry on with the agreement that was settled in mediation, and when we find a house, you can have this place back since you’re the only one on the deed.”

“We’re still married. You know I can have something to say about you living here,” you wish he would. You wish that he would say something. Pig.

“You got as much to say as she does with Taylor living with you. For the past three months, if I recall. That is when her apartment lease was up, and it wasn’t renewed. Now, I’m guessing since she hasn’t signed anywhere else, and you added another person to your own rental agreement, that she officially lives with you. So let’s quit going tit for tat, Scott because I got you beat. Whatever happened in the past, is the past. Currently we’re all trying to make sure that kids are happy and healthy. Suede is happy, and despite an added allergy, he’s healthy. Audrey is happy, despite her drawing a courtroom for fun,” Andy will continue to bring this up because it disgusts him. She should be playing with Barbie dolls.

“This isn’t over,” Scott grunts before shoving past Andy’s shoulder. He stops to look towards the dining room before walking to the front door, leaving with a slam, and not a word to Audrey, and you gracefully fall to the floor. Clinging to and rocking Suede.

Exhausted.

Mentally exhausted.

Andy reaches on the bed, handing you Suede’s pajamas and cream. Sitting on the edge of the bed quietly as you put a diaper on him. Rubbing the cream into all of his stings. Slipping those pajamas on before lifting him up and holding him so tightly, and still he says nothing. He stares out into space.

“Suedey, you want to go get sissy so we can get everyone in bed?”

“Chess,” he runs off, and you spin to look at Andy. He’s the only reason you’re upright at this moment. He has been your strength.

“Would you tell me if I overstep my bounds?” You get to your knees, crawling in between his thighs before laying on his lap. Extending both arms around his waist, and just hug him. “This is too sweet, but you’re not answering.”

“Yes, babe, I’d tell you. You know you’re the only person that’s ever taken up for me,” Andy gives your back scritches. Sighing as his body relaxes. Going limp almost at your calming touch, “You didn’t have to go so hard on him with the house, but I loved it.”

“And he doesn’t have to kick you when you’re down. What are you two doing?” You don’t move, just smile at the kids being able to see you and Andy love each other. It takes two point five seconds before they run, and crash into your back. “Do not get all silly, it’s bedtime,” they’re happy. They’re happy despite the chaos and hurt of the day. Giggling and having fun. Seeing true love between the adults in the house. A family in every sense of the word.

“Since…since Suedey is sleeping in here, can I sleep in here, too?” Andy looks at you, and you look at him, and without saying a word, and barely either of your faces changing, you know the answer. You give her a nod and she runs, struggling to get into the bed.

Suede’s eyes already get heavy, his antihistamine kicking in. Audrey understood that her brother is going to sleep on your chest all night, while you hardly sleep. A paranoia of his breathing stopping, so you need to watch his body rise and fall with his oxygen intake.

“How about a movie?” Audrey asks, motoring her lips and blowing a raspberry. She’s extra cute when she thinks she’s being sly.

“One movie. Lights completely out,” you tell her, crawling into the bed with Audrey. “Andy?” It isn't hesitation in his eyes as much as it’s observing. Smiling as Audrey leans over on your stomach. Wiggling around to get comfortable, and then reaches for her brother’s hand. “You okay?”

His eyes are so glossy, and you want to hold him so tightly. He didn’t have a family growing up. Didn’t have a present mother, father was in prison, didn’t have siblings, and you knew how much he wanted moments like this. “I’m fine,” Andy opts to keep his shirt, and pajama bottoms on. You get it, but you do love his topless suggles.

“Is there room for me?” He asks lifting his edge of the bed’s covers up.

“Chess, Na Na! Hewe!”

“You hold mommy’s hand.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Andy leans over, giving you a quick peck to your temple, causing an uproar of sleepy laughter, and he weaves his fingers in yours. His other hand grabs the remote. “I say we watch Winnie the Pooh,” both kids nod, giggling again.

“Next time can Ann come to our slumber party?”

“Where is he going to sleep, baby?”

Audrey shrugs, sitting up in the bed to look on the floor, “There’s room for him to sleep down there,” you shush her. Already she was getting too excited about Ann visiting. Ransom would never sleep on the floor, but she didn’t have to know it. She settles back in between you and Andy, and you glimpse her edging a little closer to him. Finally, sticking her foot out, so she can touch him, too.

Touch is a way she shows her comfort. Before Suede was born, if she slept in the bed with you and Scott, she’d lay diagonally between the two of you. Hands on you, feet on him. It feels right. Like they’ve always belonged to him. To you and him.

Today has been exhausting, but this is the way you would want it to end. Suede’s rattling breathing on your chest, Audrey snuggled next to you, a hand holding Suede’s and a foot on Andy’s waist. She’s making sure she touches everyone. And the man that you know is without a doubt your soulmate. Your mate. Your best friend. And the man you are going to marry, once the divorce is over. But there’s a part of you that also believes you could maybe give him a child. It’s what he deserves.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, and he pulses his hand around yours.

“Get a couple hours of sleep. I’ll watch his breathing,” you thank him again, but you can’t sleep. Not like that. You're sure he’s fine, but a mother will forever worry. But tonight, the worry isn’t as bad because you have your entire world in one bed.

“Uhh!” Suede stops his playing in the middle of the floor. His eyes big and wide as he stares at you, and then at Andy. “Hewe!”

“I’ll get it!” Audrey runs towards the door with you close behind. Going as fast as her short little legs will carry her, and Suede is right behind. She slings the door open, gasping as she stares at the tall man, “Uncle Ann!”

“Uncle?” Ransom asks confused.

“Ann!”

“Ran, what are you doing here?” He brings his hands out from behind his back, shrugging as he holds out two gift bags, too expertly decorated, and you give him an odd look. “What are you doing?”

“One, two!” Audrey shouts. Jumping up and down, and getting the same reaction from Suede. “There’s two, that’s for me and Suedey!”

“It is. Can I come in?” You step aside, waiting for Ransom to enter before closing the door, “Where’s your less than desirable boyfriend?”

“I heard that,” Andy steps out of the kitchen, extending a hand to his colleague, and Ransom shakes his head no. “I was cleaning up after lunch,” Ransom grimaces, “Doe made lunch, I cleaned up. And then for dinner we’re ordering out.”

“Indian!”

“Chess!” as if in response Andy smiles wide, noticing the presents, and both kids chasing Ransom’s arms that keep lifting the bags up. You have kept both kids out of ‘school’ until Suede fully heals. Needing to see what his new allergies are before you let him out of your sight. Audrey wanted to stay with her brother, much to Scott’s chagrin.

“Me?” Suede asks, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Yes, one is for you.”

“Let’s clean up the living room, and take everything back to the playroom room first,” the kids groan, but head into the living room, “Keep him here, until we’re done. It’s a mess,” Andy watches the three of you leave with the biggest smile on his face.

“So you made this thing social media official. Profile pictures changed to a family photo. I’m sure Scotty is going to love that,” Andy rolls his eyes playfully, starting to walk away, and Ransom chuckles. “Cute fingernail polish.”

“Audrey got bored during Suede and Doe’s nap. I’m taking it off before tomorrow. What’s in the bag?” Ransom shrugs with a smile walking down the hall before stopping. “Thought you were going to be cocky, but didn’t know where you were going.”

“Listen, I don’t get sappy, and I’m not going to start right now, but you suit this life. Maybe not in this dump of a house, but with her, the kids, maybe more kids,” his eyebrows raise and fall a few times, and Andy gets the biggest grin, “You’re already trying aren’t you? Before the divorce is finalized, that’s risky.”

“I know. I know. Her doctor and Scott really did a number to her self esteem with another pregnancy. But I am hopeful, and I enjoy the practice,” he turns around quickly, causing Suede to flinch before he giggles, screaming back down the hallway and into the living room, “I think he’s telling us they’ve cleaned, and he wants to see what the present is. And if it’s expensive, she’s going to complain.”

“Then I suppose I’ll hear her complain,” gesturing down the hall, Ransom lets Andy lead him into the living room where Suede and Audrey sit cross legged in the floor. Practically buzzing with excitement, and trying not to make grabby hands. Looking at their mom and then at Ransom. “I don’t know why you’re waiting on me.”

That is all it takes for Audrey and Suede to reach for the bags, pulling out the perfectly stuffed tissue paper. Audrey squeals as she holds up an iPad box, and your head immediately jerks towards Ransom, and Suede giggles, pulling out his own. “Ransom!”

“What, they’re minis. And, they have their own data, so they can call you whenever they want.”

“I can call from upstairs?” You shake your head no, and Audrey pouts a bit. “Why not?”

“You can if it’s important, but these will be kept up at night. You’re not going to sit and play with them all day. You’ll have to earn time on it,” you never want your kids to be addicted to media.

“Can we take it to daddy’s and I can call you there?” You glance towards Ransom who gives you a warm smile, nodding. “And we won’t even have to ask to FaceTime you!”

“Chess!” Suede takes his box over to Andy, crawling in his lap, and he gives it a tap. “Pease, Na Na.”

“Doe, I think they earned this. And it would be a nice opportunity for the future,” there is so much more to these than either of the men are making it. It’ll be an issue with their father. But to have the ability to call them whenever they’re at Scott’s would be a huge relief. You can only answer with a nod, motioning Audrey to let you help her open the box. Whispering a thank you to Ransom.

Relief warms your body. It could be just for the moment, Scott may not let them use the iPads, but right now, you have an ease when you didn’t realize it was something that bothered you. Now that Suede has at least one more allergy to deal with, you just know nobody watches him quite like you do. Even his father. Even Andy. And that’s something you have to deal with in your own time.

Andy nods his goodbye to the judge, collecting all his things, and tries to keep his eyes on his task. It was a trial with Scott. Andy had thankfully remained calm and collected, while Scott was losing grip on the trial. Taking things far too personally. The Neanderthal part of Andy wants to lash out at Scott, wants to tell him to grow up. The little man with a big issue.

Halfway through the trial, and a warning from the judge, Andy realized that Scott never thought you would move on. Thought that you would be there waiting on him for when he and Taylor inevitably split up. A man that wants to belittle a woman, just so he can weasel himself back in, but he didn’t know you. Cheating was always your ‘I’m done and never going back’ moment. And why anyone would want to cheat on you, the perfect woman, is beyond him.

He grabs up his briefcase, heading towards the door, and finally free from him and today. He is almost gone, “At least I got her best years,” Andy stops immediately. Contemplating how he wants to deal with this. How he wants to address Scott’s demeaning comment. During his thought process Scott walks past Andy, brushing roughly against his shoulder.

“Is there a problem?” Scott spins around, shaking his head no. Thankfully the courtroom has cleared out, but Andy is so tired of these mind games. The threats. The disgusting behavior. The low blowing comments. He’s hitting a peak that he knows he’s going to have to address. “Honestly, what’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” he acts as if to move, and then stops, “You really don’t need her drama. You’re a good looking man, and have younger women vying for your attention. You could have a woman without baggage, and one who can still give you a child,” Andy’s teeth clench just as hard as his fists. “Think about it. Your own children with your last name. And besides, you know, everything is tighter.”

“You’re a pig, and that is the least of the things I can say. You called your own children baggage, and the only drama in her life is you. You want to say you got the best years, and you didn’t. I got all her firsts, and I’m going to have all her lasts, and you’re going to be a sad pathetic lonely man. Do you get that? Clearly you do, and that’s why you’re so bitter. You were a placeholder in her life, one that gave her the two best things you could, and you don’t even realize it. You had it all. Everything, and you threw it away for a woman that’s barely a woman, and when she’s bored, she will leave you. And if I ever hear you say another thing about my future wife…”

“What?” Scott interrupts, and Andy smiles, resuming his walking. Let Scott ponder the things that Andy could do if he wanted to. Let him sit and think about all the things Andy could do to ruin him, while he gets to go home to you. He isn’t waiting, a new house will need to be found. Scott is pushing too many boundaries, and being shameless about it. Tonight, he just wants you to feel all the ways that he is better, and the ways you are better with him. How perfect you truly are.

Andy watches you from the bed. His book laying on his stomach, and his eyes flit over your entire body. For one, he just loves to look at you. He loves seeing how even though you and your body have changed, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his life. You’re immaculate. Perfect. He just hates he missed so many years of getting to absorb you.

Another reason he watches, you seem tense. There’s an off-ness about you this evening that he can’t put his fingers on. Coupled with the words from Scott earlier today, it bothers him. You peer at yourself longer in the mirror than you normally do. You turn your body to the side, your eyes looking up and down your body. Do you not see what he sees? Do you not realize how amazing he finds your body? How every bit of the added curves are something that he wants to kiss.

You look into the mirror, and it’s like your face falls. You don’t see you like he sees you. You don’t understand the goddess that he gets to be in the presence of every day. Every fucking day he gets to be in your orbit, and he’s thankful, but you’re looking at yourself like you hate what you see. Even as a teenager you didn’t have this much self esteem issues, and he wonders what Scott has ever said to you to make you doubt your beauty, despite your flaws.

You turn to look at him, and quickly your vision falls to the vanity in front of you, twiddling your fingers on your gown. Andy places a bookmark in his book, laying it down on the nightstand before walking into the bathroom with you. Standing behind you, while his hands trace down the sides of your body. Circling his arms around your front before he pulls you into him.

His nose inhales your newly bathed scent. Slowly making his way higher before nipping at your jaw. “Doe, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, and one hand moves to your breasts, the other trailing further south. “Andy,” his brow furrows as he looks at your reflection. That sounds like a plea for him to stop. “Why are you with me?”

Sighing, he rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands stop, but they don’t leave their spots. Andy only looks at your reflection, “Because I love you.”

“Why?” If he could get away with it, he might kill Scott. You are a woman that is now going to question his motives because of Scott. He knows that Scott choosing Taylor hurt more than your ego, but these feelings are deeper, coming from a place of Scott words.

“You’re my best friend. You are the strongest woman I know. You make me laugh, smile, get excited to come here, and one day I’ll be going home to our family. I love seeing you be a mother, and how fiercely you love your kids,” your waterline fills with tears. No one has ever told you they love how you are a mother. It was just something that was expected of you. But hearing it from him is nearly painful. A pain that reverberates through your body because you believe him, and his words are strong. It’s a love that is so powerful it stings and overwhelms.

“You’re a damn good cook. And I love watching you in this element. I love watching you move on top of me in the mornings. Your whispered moans as you use me. I love watching you sleep. You don’t have to be doing anything, and still I love it.”

“That sounds so creepy,” you manage to huff out a laugh, and wipe away stray tears.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, but your beauty is more than your looks,” his words turn into moans as he kisses your body. Slowly taking your nightgown off you, and your hands immediately cover your stomach in shame. Everything in here with all the lights and the mirror is intimidating.

Andy sinks to his knees as he descends further down. Leaning around your body as he kisses on your arms, using his hands to pull your arms off your body, and he ghosts his lips over your belly. Saying your name like a sweet prayer with every tender touch of his lips.

“I will spend everyday worshiping you, and reminding you how perfect you are for me as long as you do the same. I will lift you up from the depths of whatever pit that Scott left you in because I need you. I love you. And I will give us a baby,” waterfalls of tears pour down your cheeks and still his lips linger. Going lower, and lower before kissing your covered core.

“I’m not giving up on you, on us, on expanding our family because Audrey and Suede are part of my family. I get all of you. Every bit of it, and I’ve always wanted it. I’ll take you in any shape or form because it’s you I want. I want to grow old with you. I want to sit on our porch in rockers, and watch our grandchildren play. You are what I’ve always wanted,” you whimper as he licks a strip up the gusset of your panties. Hooking his fingers in the elastic before pulling them slowly down your body.

He smiles at your exposed core. Desperately moaning at the sight of you even though you don’t have a thigh gap or you’re thicker than when you first were together. Despite your older age, he still stares at you like you’re a work of art. His look has never changed. His tongue roams through your split, and you spread your legs further apart. Stepping back to give him more room, and he moves to your front, sitting on the floor, while he desperately eats your cunt.

Pulling you nearly over him, and his hands roam over your naked body. His hands working you over. Loving you wordlessly. Using his hands to show he wanted your body in this form, and any form you gave him. Scott tried so many times to ruin you. Mentioned how it wouldn’t be long before Andy wanders, too because you wanted too much. And there would never be a man that holds up to your standards. Except, here he is, sitting on the floor, feasting on you like a five star dinner.

“Watch yourself,” he pants, staring up at you, and you glance down confused. “I want you to see just how amazing you look when I make you come. When I taste you, and make you moan, watch,” his face buries back into your warmth, but he keeps his eyes on you. He kneads and tweaks your nipples, and you grind over his mouth. Trying to watch yourself despite the embarrassment until the pleasure becomes too much. Watching while you enjoy the way he makes you feel.

“Andy,” he pinches your nipples harder. Rolling them in his fingers, while you let out the most beautiful mewl. Too loud, so he stops. “Andrew Barber!”

Andy maneuvers himself out of the floor, and gets right in your face as his thick hand rubs off the slick on his beard. His hands grab the hemline of his shirt, and he pulls it off his body, and then pulls down his boxers. “You’re too loud, and will wake up the kids.”

“But it feels too good,” whining because why is he a god in a man’s body? Why is sex on legs? Able to make your pussy throb, and cry for him.

“Pouting is going to get you nowhere,” he steps behind you, pressing a hand in between your shoulder blades, and adds pressure. Leaning you forward before gathering your slick on the crown of his cock. “But I will fuck you, while I cover your mouth. I’m going to make you stare at yourself, while I pump you full of cum, and breed you like a bitch in heat,” your mouth falls open, and you start to say something but he lays a hand on your mouth, and in one thrust, his cock stretches you wide open.

Yipping when he slides all the way home, “You talk too much. Just enjoy the ride,” that hand on your mouth never moves, but he grips your hip tight as he crashes into you over and over again. “See how your eyes get all glossy and wide because I’m fucking you? How your body moves every time that I fill this cunt like no one else ever has. That’s because you were made for me. You are mine. All mine, and I will fuck you until you swell with me. Our other babies are going to fawn over you. They’re going to be so excited to see their mama happy and full.”

You preen. Your back bows, but you’re watching him. He’s so sexy when he’s slightly angry. When his only determination is giving you what you want, his baby. It’s all so much. Overwhelming. You feel everything, see everything, “Keep your eyes on you,” you try, but he’s too beautiful. “Doe! On you!”

He spears into with so much force that you see stars, and watch yourself. He’s so rough, and yet, your body takes him. Takes every thick, hard inch of him. You were meant for him. You were meant solely for him. To give him a family that he’s always wanted. The new tears in your eyes are something else entirely, they’re the realization that you were for Andy. Good enough for him. Enough for him! The perfect man you could ever imagine, you were enough. And it is addictive. You’ve always been addicted to him. Always longed for him.

You tug at his arm, and his hand moves to your neck. “I’m good enough,” you plead, trying to keep your voice quiet. “I’m good enough for you.”

“You’ve always been good enough,” this isn’t love making. This is fucking, and fucking hard. It’s claiming you. It’s possessive. It’s demanding. It’s what you need. “You’ve always been mine. And you will always be mine,” he grunts, and crashes his mouth into yours. Aggressive, and nearly cruel, and you love it. You love when this side of Andy comes out. When you are the only one that sees that darker side that lurks just below the surface. He saves himself losing his cool on you.

Something pissed him off today, and your pussy suffers in pleasure. Your body tightens. Keeling as you start to lose the ability to stand, letting his hands hold you up. He gives each nipple a hard squeeze, and you scream into his mouth. Swallowing every aggravated grunt. Losing the function to be human as pleasure soaks over you like a warm blanket.

Andy’s hands slap on your belly and in one hard, pounding, deep thrust he shoots his load into your belly, and you feel it expand to take every drop. Your walls flutter, milking every bit, while he pants into your mouth. Pulling off your lips, he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “I promise you, Doe, I will fuck a baby in you. And I will never stop trying. It will happen. And you can look that doctor in the eyes, and tell him that he was wrong. You’re mine, and I will see you pregnant. I will have every experience with you.”

“I believe you,” panting, he pulls his softening cock out of you, but a hand covers your mound. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping it in there, while I walk you to the bed. And then I’m going to watch myself, leak out of your hole, and I’m fingering it back in there. This is the one. You’ll see. This is it. This is our baby.”

“I hope so, but if it’s not, can you fuck me like that again?” Waddling back into the bedroom he pushes you onto the bed, and then he’s back in between your legs, covering your hole again. “Do you need a front row seat?”

“Yes,” you giggle, and Andy smiles, kissing a line from one side of your pelvis to the other. “It’s so sexy to know I’m in there. And I’m controlling it. And it’s sexy to see you push it out. It’s sexy to watch you swallow it after it’s been in you. It’s sexy to see me drying on your skin.”

You run your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him, “Andy, I want to see you watch me leak of you,” that mouth quirks up, and he moves his hand. Staring at you like this was a blockbuster movie, and you push it out. His breathing hitches as thick rivers of him spill out of you.

Instead of immediately pushing it back in, Andy gathers some on his finger. He lifts his hand, and starts writing across your pussy. My god, he looks like a teenage boy, smiling mischievously. His finger moving over you sweetly despite being covered in cum, “What are you spelling?”

“You can’t tell?”

“I felt an ‘A’.”

“Andy’s,” he chuckles again, before looking at your gaping hole. “This is the best thing. Your pussy is a mess,” and he slides the rest back in. Pumping his fingers into your wet heat a few times. “You slut. Are you getting off on this?”

“Mhmm. Make me come on your cum, daddy.”

“Such a slut,” he didn’t want this to last. He wants you to come, so he can make you clean him off. He pulls out all the stops. Curling his fingers, adding a third one, and you’re already lifting off the bed. Already leaking. So wet. Squelches echo into the bedroom, and it’s the best lullaby. “My personal slut.”

Your orgasm comes way too fast as the calluses of his fingers massage that special spot. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into you, and just before you moan too loudly, you cover your mouth, letting your body reach that perfect height when everything falls down. Clenching your eyes closed, and when you open them, Andy is hovering over you with messy fingers.

“Open up,” you obey, and he holds out his fingers for you to suck every bit of your essences off him. Moaning just as much as he is. “That’s the one, Doe. I just fucked a baby in you. I just know it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cocks up an eyebrow, and your eyes get so heavy, “Because this,” you lay both hands on your belly. So sleepy. “This is Andy’s.”

“Damn right it is. Go to sleep, little deer. I’ll clean everything up, and unlock the door, okay?” You smile, and nod. Letting beautiful dreams of unknown children, and your two oldest run around in a big backyard. What a dream. What a beautiful dream.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28

[tonyspank]

HEART RACING

Warnings: 8k+ words, bad writing, kissing, relationship started from a bet, slightly ooc vada (idk?) reader has she/her pronouns, ur best friends is kinda a dick ig

A/N: this was highly inspired by shes all that + i'm still kinda on my break, sorry if it seems like im ignoring asks

Summary: You take on a bet from your best friend, but what happens when you start regretting your decision.

"I'm so excited." Jordan, your childhood best friend says, smiling at you. You narrow your eyes at the brunette boy, adjusting your bookbag strap that was slipping off your shoulder. "I wonder what dish your mom is going to make this time." He adds on, that goofy smile of his never leaves his face.

"Yeah." You mumble, trying to hide your nerves about the upcoming break. "Yeah, I hope it's something delicious," you reply, forcing a smile. Jordan reads you like a book, tilting his head before letting out a soft laugh.

"Don't tell me you're worried about your parents bothering you about having a girlfriend." You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows, as your eyes stay attached to the trail in front of you.

"It's just... this happens every holiday! Oh, Y/N, where's your girlfriend? Oh, Y/N! Who's the lucky girl?" You mock your parents before letting out a sigh and stopping your walk to face Jordan.

"Why can't I just be single and enjoy my high school experience without constantly being questioned about my love life?" you vent, frustration evident in your voice. Jordan raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "To be fair, you haven't brought a girl home since freshman year. And you're now a senior. Did you see how happy they were?"

You roll your eyes at Jordan, "What about Ana? I brought her home." Jordan chuckles, shaking his head. "Ana doesn't count. You faked a relationship, and your parents read right through it. They know you too well."

You sigh, memories of that awkward dinner with Ana and your parents flooding back. "Yeah, that was a disaster. I guess I just wanted to avoid the constant interrogation for a while."  Jordan smirks. "Maybe it's time you actually find someone worth bringing home."

"Yeah, sure. It wouldn't be hard to, I just need someone to be able to play the part. My parents do not care who I date whatsoever, just as long as I'm dating them." You tell him, scratching your eyebrow.

Jordan raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You wanna bet on it?" You raise an eyebrow in response, curious about what Jordan has in mind. "What kind of bet are we talking about here?"

"I pick the girl, and you have to bring her home to meet your parents on Christmas," Jordan says, a smirk playing on his lips. "And if you succeed, I'll do your math homework for the rest of the year."

You eye Jordan before holding out your hand. "Deal." Jordan's smile widens as he shakes your hand. "Let's go find your lover."  You laugh, following Jordan as the two of you start scanning the school for potential candidates.

"What about her?" You ask Jordan, nodding your head in the direction of a girl blowing bubbles. Jordan glances over at the girl blowing bubbles and raises an eyebrow. "Hmm, she seems carefree and fun-loving. Definitely a possibility," he teases. "But no!"

You continue searching, your eyes landing on a girl sitting alone in the library, engrossed in a book. "What about her?" you suggest to Jordan, pointing her out. Jordan observes her for a moment before responding, "Too boring."

"Ohhh, maybe her!" Jordan laughs loudly, pointing at a girl picking out her wedgie. You chuckle at Jordan's suggestion, but quickly shake your head. "I don't think so," you say, trying to stifle your laughter. "Let's keep looking."

"Hey! I'm the one picking here. I have the go-to." You shake your head. "Then pick."

Just as you say that a girl trips on her own shoelaces and stumbles forward, nearly falling face-first, Jordan bursts into laughter. "I think we have a winner!" You look over at the girl, who searches around to see if anyone has seen her embarrassing moment. She quickly regains her composure and brushes off the incident, pretending like nothing happened.

"Vada Cavell?" You yell at Jordan, "You've gotta be joking, man." Jordan chuckles and shrugs. "Hey, you said to pick. And she definitely caught my attention with that little stumble." You roll your eyes, not convinced that this is the best choice for your fake partner.

"Look. Ugly, bad personality, a bit on the smelly side, I can handle." You glance back at Vada, sighing.

"But I draw the line at someone who can't even walk without tripping over their own feet," you say, exasperated. Jordan laughs again, defending his choice. "A bet is a bet!" You open your mouth to argue again, but Jordan beats you.

"Hey, if I were you, I wouldn't be wasting my time. Because according to my calculations, you only have about four weeks to turn her into your perfect fake partner before Christmas. And if Vada Cavell is going to be that somebody, you've pretty much got your work cut off for you. "

You sigh and reluctantly agree, knowing that you can't back out of the bet now. You walk over to Vada Cavell, who is sitting with a blonde-haired girl at a table, engrossed in her phone.

"Hi, Vada. You got a second?" You ask, trying to sound casual as you approach her. Vada looks up from her phone with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Mia, the blonde-haired girl, drops her jaw at the sight of you. You send her a small smile.

"Hi, Mia. I saw your soccer video on Instagram. "It was really impressive," you compliment, trying to make small talk. Vada raises an eyebrow, while Mia blushes. "You watch my videos?"

"You don't play soccer." Vada states matter-of-factly, glaring at her best friend. Mia looks sheepish, realizing your mistake. "Oh, sorry." You tell Mia who quickly brushes off the comment with a dismissive wave.

"So, Vada, listen," you begin, trying to redirect the conversation. "I was wondering maybe if you wanna..." Vada quickly stands up, interrupting you. "Let's go, Mia."

Mia gives you an apologetic smile before following Vada, leaving you feeling slightly embarrassed and rejected. You sigh, realizing that your attempt to ask Vada out didn't go as planned. "...embarrass me horribly in front of all these people?" You finish trailing off to yourself. You look back at Jordan, who's bending over, trying to stop himself from laughing so hard.

With a tight-lipped smile, you send him the finger, knowing that he's enjoying your embarrassment a little too much.

-

This was a bet, and you needed to win it. It wasn't like you were failing any of your classes, but you were tired of all the math homework Mr. Smith kept assigning. Plus, you'd love to see the defeated look on Jordan's face after Vada, and you successfully convinced your parents you found yourself a girlfriend.

In order to win this bet, you had to text Mia through Instagram direct messages and ask her where you could find Vada after school. Mia sent you a screenshot of Vada's Find My Phone, showing her location in a downtown park. You knew this was your chance to prove Jordan wrong and finally have some peace from Mr. Smith's math assignments.

Vada's eyes widen as she sees you walking closer to her, regardless, you send her your charming smile, which she doesn't reciprocate. "You know stalking is illegal in all 50 states, right?" Vada says, her voice laced with caution.

You quickly assure her that you were just trying to find her so you could talk. "I apologize if it seemed like stalking, but I genuinely wanted to have a conversation with you," you explain, hoping to ease her concerns.

"I'm not smart." Vada admits her eyes never leave yours. "What?" You breathe out a laugh, confused. "What? You think that I can tutor you or something?" Vada continues, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. "You're probably thinking, Oh, there's Vada, she dresses like a hippie—"

"Vada."

"—Barely has any friends."

"Vada."

"—She must at least be smart." You cut her off gently, placing a hand on her arm. "Vada, I have the fourth highest GPA in our grade." Vada looks at you with surprise evident in her eyes. "Really?" she asks, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes, really," you reply reassuringly. "It's true." You slightly jump at the sudden voice. Turning around, you see Vada's other best friend, Nick, sitting a few feet away.

"So what do you want? Is this some sort of dork outreach program?" Vada asks, rolling her eyes. "No, Vada," you say calmly, trying to hide your frustration. "I just wanted to hang out."

Vada raises an eyebrow, skeptical of your intentions. "Just hang out? With us?" she questions, her tone still laced with doubt. You nod, hoping to convince her that you genuinely want to enjoy their company. "Yeah, I thought it would be fun to get to know some new people," you explain, hoping she'll give you a chance.

"Sure, me and Vada were about to go to this stand-up comedy club. You can have my ticket if you want." Nick shrugs, ignoring the confused glare from his best friend.

Vada looks at Nick in surprise, clearly not expecting him to offer his ticket. "Really? You're giving up your ticket for her?" she asks, very confused. Nick shrugs again, flashing a grin while he holds out his ticket for you.

You take the ticket with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Nick. Are you sure? I could just buy my own if you want to go too." Nick shakes his head, "Nah, I've gotta go study for my presentation anyway." His phone chimes right after, and he quickly checks it, confirming his need to leave.

"Well, have fun at the club! Let me know how it goes," he says before hurriedly walking away. You watch him go, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity about why he would give up his ticket for you.

You send Vada a smile, "I guess I'm your plus one tonight." Vada narrows her eyes at you, still confused about why you, one of the most popular students in school, is so fascinated with her. "I'm still confused about why you're putting on this act. Are you trying to impress someone, or is there another reason behind it?"

You furrow your eyebrows, letting out a small laugh. "Are you always this skeptical? I assure you, there's no ulterior motive. I simply wanted to enjoy your company and spend the evening with you." Vada's expression softens slightly, but she still seems hesitant.

"Well, we should get going." Vada mumbles, brushing a small strand of hair behind her ear.

You follow Vada down the slightly busy streets, neon lights illuminating the sidewalks as people bustle by. You can't help but notice Vada's occasional glances in your direction, her guarded demeanor slowly melting away.

"I like your jewelry." It's unique and really suits your style," you comment, trying to ease the tension. Vada's face lights up with a genuine smile as she thanks you for the compliment.

"Do you always wear that letterman jacket? You look like you came straight out of a 90s movie." Vada says, laughing softly. "Oh, are you going to be an act too for this stand-up comedy thing?" You ask, joking.

"But, yeah, it's kind of my signature look," you reply with a chuckle. "I've always been drawn to that vintage aesthetic." Vada nods, her curiosity evident as she asks, "So, what other things inspire your style?"

"I don't know... I normally thrift a lot of my clothes," you admit. "Whether it's someone's old band t-shirt or their grandpa's old sweater, I love finding unique pieces. I also take inspiration from old photographs and films, especially from the 60s and 70s."

Vada smiles, clearly intrigued by your explanation. "I'm not a huge fashion before myself, but I don't know, I just like to be comfortable." You glance down at Vada's baggy attire, noticing the loose-fitting jeans and oversized hoodie.

"I totally get that," you reply. "Comfort is definitely important, and there's no right or wrong way to express yourself through fashion. It's all about finding what makes you feel good." Vada nods in agreement, playing with the drawstring on her hoodie.

-

There's an awkward silence as the comedian fails to deliver the punchline of his joke. Vada laughs in her own hand, trying not to be too loud. You can't help but smile as you glance at the shorter girl, confused. You lean into her ear, "I'm so confused. How was that funny?"

Vada chuckles and whispers back, "It wasn't. It was funny how no one was laughing." You glance around the room before laughing a bit yourself. She was right. Seeing the confused looks on everyone's faces made the situation even more amusing. It was as if the entire audience collectively missed the punchline.

You begin laughing even harder, unable to contain your amusement. The more you think about it, the funnier it becomes. Vada joins in on your laughter, hiding her face behind her hand as tears of laughter stream down her face.

"Why are you laughing, huh? You think it's easy to stand up here and try and do something you love?" The male comedian asks you, obviously upset that you're laughing at his expense. You quickly compose yourself, glancing at Vada, whose eyes are wide as she smiles, trying not to laugh again.

You raise your hand, trying to apologize for the misunderstanding, but the comedian interrupts you. "Well, if you think it's so easy, why don't you come up here and give it a shot?" he challenges, pointing towards the stage.

You shake your head with a tiny smile on your lips. "Come on, come up here." You squint your eyes as a light begins to shine on you from the stage. The audience starts cheering and encouraging you to take the comedian's challenge.

You look at Vada, "Go!" She says this, smiling as she pushes you from your seat. Reluctantly, you take a deep breath and make your way towards the stage, your heart beating in your chest. The comedian hands you the microphone with a smug look on his face.

Your shaky hands take the microphone, "Uh..." Your voice trembles as you try to gather your thoughts. You glance at an audience member who has a gutair strapped around their shoulder, and a lightbulb goes off in your head. "I'm not a comedian, but I can try and entertain you all another way."

With a nervous smile, you motion towards the audience member with the guitar, saying, "Can I borrow that for a second?" The audience member hesitates for a moment, but then nods and hands you the guitar. You place the microphone on its stand before stepping forward and strumming a few chords to test the sound.

"Something bad is bout' to happen to me. Why I feel this way, I don't know, baby." You sing with a raspy voice, closing your eyes and letting the music take over.

The crowd falls silent, captivated by the raw emotion in your performance. Vada is shocked, her eyes widening as she watches you on stage. She had no idea you could sing.

"I think of her so much it drives me crazy. I just don't want her to leave me."

You continue to sing Steve Lacy's iconic lyrics, pouring your heart out on stage. You hit the high notes, sending chills down the spines of everyone in the audience. This was much better than the comedy act they were just witnessing.

When you finish the song, Vada's the first one standing up and clapping, with others soon following. You open your eyes to see the crowd on their feet, their applause echoing through the venue. The look of surprise and admiration on Vada's face is priceless, and you can't help but smile broadly.

You push open the door to leave the club and are immediately greeted by a rush of cool night air. "That was so awesome! Just like...going up there and performing in front of all those people, it's such a rush," you exclaim, your eyes still shining with excitement.

Vada nods, her dimples deepening as she grins. "I never expected you to be such a natural on stage. It's like you were born to perform," she says, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

The two of you stop walking as you reach the edge of the sidewalk, taking a moment to catch your breath and let the adrenaline settle. The city lights twinkle above you, casting a magical glow on the vibrant streets below.

You glance over to Vada, and she glances back at you with a faint smile playing on her lips. "You hungry?" You ask, gesturing towards a nearby food truck. The tantalizing aroma of sizzling street food fills the air, making your stomach growl in response. Vada's eyes light up at the suggestion, and she nods eagerly, her excitement matching your own.

-

Vada smiles, her hair blowing in the wind due to the drop-top on your convertible. It's been three weeks since the comedy club, but the memory of that night still brings a smile to your face. The chemistry between you and Vada is undeniable, and you can't help but wonder what other adventures await the two of you.

Kali Uchis blasts through your speakers, filling the car with her soulful melodies. The warm sun kisses your skin as you drive along the scenic coastal road, creating the perfect backdrop for a carefree summer day.

You catch a glimpse of Vada through the side mirror, her hair blowing in the wind, and a contagious laugh escaping her lips. The connection between you two feels effortless, as if you've known each other for years.

"I just wanna get high with my lover!" Vada sings along to the lyrics, and you join in, "Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo!"

Vada leans in closer to you, kissing your cheek gently while she sings more of the lyrics. "Kiss, kiss! Looking dolly, I think I might go out tonight. I just wanna ride get high in the moonlight."

The song proceeds to play, and your singing becomes more enthusiastic, matching Vada's energy. You both dance and laugh, completely lost in the moment. Soon, you both arrive at the beach, your phone ringing as you step outside the car.

"Hello?" You answer the phone and hear Jordan's voice on the other end. "Y/N! Where are you? I just stopped by your house, and you weren't there. I wanted to hang out tonight."

Vada waits patiently for you to end the phone call, holding all of your stuff in her hands.

"Oh, I'm uh...I'm not home right now." You mumble into the phone, scratching your nose. "Well, no shit. Where are you?"

"I'm actually at the beach with Vada," you reply, glancing at Vada, who raises an eyebrow curiously. "But maybe we can hang out tomorrow." You can basically hear the grin on Jordan's face.

"The beach, huh? You and Vada have been hanging out nearly every damn day. Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this bet, Y/LN." You chuckle and respond, "Goodbye, Jordan."

You quickly end the call, sending Vada a smile. You take the items from her hands, thankful for her help. As you start setting up your spot on the beach, Vada asks, "So, what did Jordan want?"

"To bother me," you reply with a dismissive wave. "He's always trying to pry into my business." Vada raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but respects your privacy and doesn't press further. A part of you feels bad for becoming friends with Vada under such circumstances. She was a chill and easygoing person, and you found yourself truly enjoying yourself around her.

You couldn't help but wonder if you should tell her about the bet going on between you and Jordan or if you should just end the friendship altogether. It was a difficult decision to make, as you didn't want to risk losing the connection you had with Vada, but at the same time, keeping such a secret felt dishonest.

"Hey, where's the pump for this?" Vada asks, holding up the beach ball you packed with the rest of the beach gear. You smile, grateful for the distraction from your internal dilemma, and point her in the direction of the pump, except it's not there.

"Oh, shit." You frantically search through the beach bag, realizing that you must have forgotten to pack the pump. "Here, I'll just blow into it." You offer, trying to come up with a quick solution. However, as you start blowing into the beach ball, you quickly realize that it's going to take a lot more effort than you anticipated.

You feel yourself getting lightheaded as you continue to blow into the beach ball, desperately trying to inflate it. Vada giggles at your struggle, you send her a playful glare, but her laughter only encourages you to keep going.

"What if we take turns?" Vada suggests, hoping to alleviate some of the strain on you. You gratefully agree, handing her the faintly inflated beach ball. You expect her to wipe off the ball since your mouth was in fact directly on it, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Your heart begins racing. You basically just shared a kiss with Vada, even if it was through a beach ball. The thought of it sends a rush of excitement through your veins.

Vada hands you the ball back, slightly out of breath. You smile, hesitating for a moment before placing your lips on the ball again. After a while, the ball is fully inflated, and you both start tossing it back and forth, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"Don't let it drop!" Vada yells out, her laughter echoing across the beach. You run as fast as you can, determined to keep the ball in the air. The sand squishes between your toes as you dive to smack it back into the air. The sound of the ball hitting your palm fills the air, creating a rhythmic pattern that matches the beat of your racing heart.

"God, do you play volleyball?" Vada asks, her eyes widening with excitement. You shake your head, catching your breath, and reply, "No, but I guess I could give it a try!"

You smack the ball a bit too hard, and it flies over Vada's head, landing in the sand behind her. She turns around, a playful grin on her face, and says, "I'm definitely not getting that." You chuckle, running over to retrieve the ball. Before you can, someone kicks it away, sending it rolling further down the beach.

"The fuck—" you stop yourself, looking up and noticing Jordan. Jordan, with a mischievous smirk on his face, shrugs and says, "Oops, my bad! Thought I'd give you a challenge."

"What are you doing here?" you ask, slightly annoyed by Jordan's interference. He chuckles and replies, "Just enjoying the beach with my friends."

You look behind him, noticing he's brought company—some of your friends and other people you've hung around with before. They wave at you, smiling and clearly excited to see you. Jordan adds, "We thought it would be fun to have a little gathering here. Hope you don't mind."

You narrow your eyes at your best friend. "You're an asshole. You're only doing this because I told you I was hanging out with Vada here." Jordan raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Come on, don't be like that. It's just a coincidence that you're both here too."

You let out a sigh, realizing that Jordan's actions were most likely intentional. Despite feeling annoyed, you decide to put aside your frustration and make the best of the situation. "Alright, fine. Now go get my beach ball."

Jordan smirks, clearly enjoying the power he holds over you. "Sure thing, but only if you promise to introduce me to Vada later." You roll your eyes, knowing that Jordan's ulterior motives are far from innocent.

You walk over to Vada, plopping down beside her on her towel. She looks up at you with a smile, unaware of the tension between you and Jordan. "Sorry about that. He just invited himself...and everyone else."

Vada smiles, shaking her head. "It's okay. If we're going to be friends, I'd have to meet your other friends anyway." You chuckle, relieved that Vada doesn't seem bothered by Jordan's presence.

You begin unbuttoning your shirt, feeling a bit hot in it, leaving you in your white tank top. Vada glances over at you, her eyes lingering for a moment before she looks away, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Jordan walks over and throws the beach ball, obviously aiming to hit your face. You quickly catch it, sending your best friend a glare. Jordan lets out a silly laugh, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Vada raises an eyebrow at Jordan's antics, but her smile remains intact as she watches the interaction between the two of you.

"Someone has the guns out." Austin, another one of your friends says, walking toward the group with a mischievous grin. You roll your eyes at his comment, playfully flexing your muscles in response.

"You mean these?" You flex your biceps, exaggerating the muscles for comedic effect. Austin chuckles and nods, teasingly adding, "Yeah, those tiny peashooters." You playfully throw the ball at him, pretending to be offended by his remark.

"Alright, stop showing off in front of the pretty lady." Jordan teases, winking at Vada. Vada's face breaks into confusion, as she wonders if Jordan's comment was meant as a compliment or a joke. She looks at Austin for clarification, who shrugs and smirks, leaving her even more uncertain about the situation.

"Let's play a full game of volleyball," Austin suggests, picking up the beachball that had been thrown at him. Vada eagerly agrees, grateful for the distraction from the awkward tension between Jordan and herself.

You all split into two teams, with Vada and Jordan on one side and Austin and you on the other. Jordan serves the ball with a powerful swing, causing Austin to dive to the sand to make a save.

"Stop trying so hard, bitch!" Austin yells at Jordan with a smile on his lips. Jordan laughs, brushing off the comment with a playful smirk. The friendly banter between them lightens the atmosphere, allowing everyone to relax and enjoy the game even more.

Mid-game, Vada takes off her slightly baggy shirt, which she tied with a knot at the front, revealing her bikini. You notice Jordan staring at Vada, his eyes lingering on her, causing jealousy to rise within you.

You smack the ball against Jordan's head, catching him off guard and breaking his gaze. He glares at you, earning a shrug, as you innocently raise your hands in defense. "You had a bug on your head."

-

You're dropping Vada off at her house after the game when she turns to you with a smile. "Thanks for saving me from Jordan's ogling," she says, playfully nudging your arm. "I owe you one."

You smile, blushing a bit. "You saw that?" You ask, your eye's widening slightly. Vada chuckles and nods, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, I definitely saw that. You were like my personal superhero swooping in to save the day."

"Well, I couldn't let him make you uncomfortable," you reply, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "I'm always here to look out for you." Vada's smile widens, and she leans in closer. You glance behind her and say, "I could walk you to the door.

Vada blinks and looks at you, her expression softening. "Sure." You quickly get out of the car, making your way to Vada's side. Shoving your hands in your pockets to hide your nerves, you match Vada's pace as you both walk towards her front door. The night air is cool, but the warmth of Vada's presence makes it feel comforting.

"If you want, we could hang out tomorrow?" You ask, hoping to spend more time with Vada. Before she could respond, her front door flies open. A short figure emerges from the doorway, causing both you and Vada to pause. It's Vada's younger sister who greets you with a friendly smile.

"Hey, guys! What are you up to?" she asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Oh my god, Amelia." Vada exclaims, clearly annoyed with her younger sister's interruption. Amelia shrugs innocently, not realizing the impact of her sudden appearance. Vada takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before addressing the situation.

"Mom! Vada brought a lesbian home!" Amelia shouts, slightly turning her head towards her mother, who is in the next room.

Everyone freezes, unsure of how to react to Amelia's unexpected announcement. Vada's face turns red with embarrassment while you thin out your lips, confused and a bit amused.

Vada's mouth drops. "I am so sorry." She says to you, her voice filled with genuine remorse. You shrug her off while Amelia gasps. "Oh, are you not a lesbian?"

You chuckle, "Um...I do like girls." Before Amelia could press you for more information, Vada's mom appears in the doorway. "What's going on here?" she asks, her voice laced with worry. Vada quickly explains the situation, hoping to diffuse any potential tension.

"I was just dropping Vada off from the beach," you also add, trying to ease any concerns. "We were just having a casual conversation, nothing serious." Vada's mom looks relieved and nods understandingly.

"Well, as long as everyone is okay," she says with a smile. You exchange a grateful glance with Vada, grateful for her mom's understanding.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Vada's mom offers, wanting to extend her gratitude for your honesty and reassure you that everything is alright. You glance at Vada, who stares at her mom with a shocked expression. "That would be really nice," you respond, feeling touched by Vada's mom's kindness.

Dinner was fun. Amelia had no filter, which made everything hilarious and entertaining. She shared funny and embarrassing stories of Vada, which Vada tries to interrupt with playful protests. Despite the initial shock, Vada soon joins in on the laughter, realizing that her sister's antics brought out a huge and genuine smile on your face.

There were also serious moments during dinner where Vada's parents questioned you about your future plans and aspirations. They were genuinely interested in your goals and offered advice and support. It was refreshing to have such meaningful conversations with Vada's family, making you feel like a valued member of their circle.

You throw yourself on Vada's bed, falling face first onto the soft pillows. Vada plops on top of your back, laughing at your dramatic entrance. She soon rolls off of you, and you lay on your back, gazing up at the ceiling.

Vada was such a breath of fresh air in your life. Her carefree spirit is infectious, and you can't help but feel happy every single time you're around her.

She has a way of making even the simplest moments feel special, and her laughter is like music to your ears. Being friends with Vada has brought so much joy and light into your life, and you can't imagine what it would be like without her.

Fuck this bet, you think to yourself. Vada's friendship is worth so much more than any silly wager.

"You look deep in thought." Vada's voice interrupts your contemplation, pulling you back to the present moment.  "What's on your mind?" she asks, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You turn your head towards Vada, a small smile forming on your lips. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have you as a friend," you say sincerely. "Your friendship means the world to me."

"You're so sappy." Vada mumbles, laughing softly. You break out into a smile. "I'm pouring my heart out here, c'mon!" You tease playfully, putting on an Italian accent.

Vada rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her amusement. "That was one of the worst Italian accents I've ever heard," she says, chuckling. "But...you mean a lot to me too."

You feel a warm rush of affection as Vada's words sink in. "I'm glad to hear that," you reply, licking your lips. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you both bask in the genuine connection and shared vulnerability. Your eyes never leave each other, as if speaking a language that only the two of you understand.

"Is that all?" Vada breaks the silence. "Or is there something else you want to say?"

"Be my girlfriend?" Vada's eyes widen with surprise, and she stares at you.  She takes a moment to process your words before responding, "Okay."

-

"I'm even more excited than I was." Jordan smiles, "I can't believe you got away with that." You shake your head at your best friend, an eye roll following.

"No, seriously. You asked her to be your girlfriend, it's barely been a month, and you didn't even kiss her after? Shits crazy."

You put the last plate on the table, "Shut the fuck up, Jordan."

Jordan chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it. But seriously, man, you might've won this bet. Still gotta get the parents approval, though."

You let out a sigh, saying, "Maybe we should drop this bet, man." Jordan raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "Are you getting cold feet already? Come on, don't tell me you're chickening out now."

You shoot him a glare but can't help but feel a twinge of doubt. "It's just... I don't want to risk ruining our friendship over some stupid bet." Jordan starts to smirk. "Oh shit, you actually caught feeling for her? You can't be serious."

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off Jordan's teasing. "So, what? She's a nice girl, and I don't want to mess things up with this stupid bet about her."

Jordan chuckles, bringing his fist to his mouth. "I can't believe you're actually considering backing out because of a little crush. You've never been one to shy away from a challenge before."

He sighs, adding to his argument. "How about this? If your parents go for it, we'll drop the bet. But if they don't, you have to tell her it was a bet and apologize for any hurt feelings. It's only fair to give her the truth and a chance to decide if she still wants to pursue a relationship with you."

"Fine." You mutter, leaving the room with a heavy sigh.

Vada arrives at your doorstep, a nervous smile on her face. She seems unaware of the bet that has been made and the doubts that have been plaguing you. As you open the door, you can't help but wonder if this could be the start of something real or if it's all just a game that will eventually come crashing down.

You bring Vada into a hug, mumbling into her ear, "I'm glad you're here." Vada returns the hug, sighing contentedly. You pull away, looking into her eyes.

"My dad is in the kitchen." Vada nods, hearing Bad Bunny blaring from the speakers. "Where's your mom?" You begin walking toward the kitchen, "She's in the living room, finishing up the tree. I'll introduce you to her later. Let's go say hi to my dad first." Vada smiles and follows you, playing with her ring as you lead the way.

"Una dominicana que es uva bombón!" Your dad shouts, singing the lyrics. Jordan joins in, singing the next line. "Uva, uva bombón!" You facepalm, shaking your head at their silliness. Vada giggles, clearly amused by their antics.

"Dad!" You shout, trying to regain their attention. "We have a guest here, remember?" Your dad and Jordan finally notice Vada standing there, and their faces light up with surprise and excitement. "Oh wow, who do we have here?" your dad asks, extending his hand towards Vada.

"This is Vada, my girlfriend." You introduce Vada with a smile. Vada returns the gesture, shaking your dad's hand warmly. "Girlfriend? Am I dreaming?" your dad exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I never thought I'd see the day! It's great to finally meet you, Vada."

You sigh at your father. "Es bonita, mija." You clear your throat, blushing a bit. "Suficiente papá." Your dad chuckles and playfully nudges you. "No need to be shy. I'm just happy to see you happy." Vada smiles warmly at both of you, grateful for the warm welcome.

Your mom walks in, her eyes widening with surprise as she takes in the scene. "Well, well, well," she says with a smirk. "Looks like someone finally found themselves a catch." You roll your eyes at your mom's teasing, but deep down, you appreciate her support and acceptance.

Vada begins talking to your parents while you excuse yourself to speak to Jordan. "Looks like I won the bet." You say with a playful smile, feeling a sense of triumph. Jordan chuckles and shakes his head, admitting defeat.

"Jordan, Y/N, come help me bring out the food." Your mom calls out, breaking the playful banter between you and Jordan. You both exchange amused glances before making your way to help her, Vada also joins, eager to lend a hand.

Jordan is the last to leave the kitchen, hearing your parents talk about Vada. "Crees que es otro truco?" Your dad asks your mom. Jordan leans against the kitchen counter, listening intently to your parents' conversation about Vada. He raises an eyebrow, curious about their suspicions.

"No lo sé, cariño. Parece genuino, no crees?" Your dad shrugs at your mother's question, contemplating the authenticity of Vada's intentions. Jordan rushes out to the dining room, catching you staring at Vada like a lovesick puppy.

"Y/N." Jordan calls out your name, interrupting your daydreaming and bringing you back to reality. You hum, nodding your head at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You nod and follow Jordan to a quieter corner of the room.

"I heard your parents talking about how they think this is a trick." He begins to smirk, "Maybe this bet may be mine anyways." You roll your eyes, tired of this stupid bet.

"Whatever bro. I just wanna eat and enjoy dinner without any drama." Jordan chuckles, his smirk fading slightly. "Come on, Y/N. You know it's all in good fun. Besides, it's not like Vada and you are actually gonna last." You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he's getting at.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, leaning in closer to Jordan. "Are you trying to say that Vada and I don't have a real connection?" Jordan shrugs, a sneaky glint in his eyes. "I'm just saying, Y/N, relationships at our age rarely go the distance. But hey, prove me wrong."

You scoff at him, "Sure...whatever you say. Don't be shocked when Vada and I prove you wrong and end up together for the long haul." Jordan raises an eyebrow, his sneaky glint fading slightly. "Well, I guess time will tell," he concedes, a hint of doubt in his voice.

When dinner ends, everyone begins to clean up and put away the dishes. "Have you seen my AirPods anywhere?" you ask Jordan, hoping he might have seen them. "You left them in my car like an entire month ago."

You roll your eyes and playfully nudge him. "Seriously? You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?" Jordan chuckles and shrugs. "I guess I wanted to see how long it would take for you to realize they were missing."

"You're a dickhead."

"Language!" From the kitchen, your mom scolds, reminding you to watch your language. You sheepishly apologize and snatch Jordan's keys from him. He glares at you, pulling at his phone that began ringing in his pocket.

"Wanna get some air?" You ask Vada, gesturing towards the open front door. Vada nods, following behind you as you step outside. "Your parents are nice. They're pretty chill, and your mom is honestly like drop-dead gorgeous."

You chuckle. "Do I have to compete with my mom for your attention now?" Vada laughs and playfully nudges you. "Nah, don't worry. You're more than enough for me."

You walk to Jordan's car, leaning against it as you wait for Vada to join you. "Wanna sit in the car?" You suggest, knowing that it might be more comfortable than standing outside. Vada considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure, why not? It's a bit chilly out here." You both settle into the car, leaning back in the back leather seats.

Silence falls between you as you take in the peacefulness of the moment.

You look over at Vada, a soft smile playing on your lips. Vada turns her head to you before sitting up in her seat, leaning forward slightly. Her eyes fall to your lips, staring at them intently.

Without thinking, she leans in closer, capturing your lips with a gentle yet passionate kiss. The warmth of her touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself lost in the moment, forgetting about the chilly weather outside.

The kiss begins to deepen as Vada's hands slide up to cup your face, pulling you even closer. You find yourself melting against her lips, savoring the taste of her soft, sweet breath.

You pull away, breathless and hot, your heart racing as you lock eyes with Vada. "Can I turn on the A/C?" You mutter to the freckled-faced girl. Vada chuckles but nods regardless.

You put the key in the ignition and start the car, the engine purring to life. The cool air from the A/C quickly fills the car, providing a refreshing contrast to the heated moment that just transpired.

You bring Vada into another kiss, more passionate and urgent than before. The intensity between you both grows as you explore each other's mouths, losing yourselves in the heat of the moment. Your hand is tangled in Vada's hair, pulling her closer to you if that were possible.

"Y/N's still doing that bet with Vada?" You recognize that voice, it was Austin. You pull away from Vada, your eyes falling on Jordan's car screen, confirming he was on the phone with Austin. It must've connected to the car automatically, allowing Austin's voice to fill the car.

You quickly release Vada and feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you. You exchange a nervous glance with Vada, hoping Austin doesn't go in detail about the bet you've been participating in.

"It's silly, really. This all started because she didn't wanna do her math homework? So she decided to start dating baby Adam Sandler and introduce her to her parents? That's pretty fucked up. If I were Vada, I'd be pissed."

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart. The weight of Austin's words hangs heavy in the air. You hope that Vada understands that it was all just a silly game and that she won't hold it against you.

"Is he serious? A bet? Am I a bet to you?" You feel a knot forming in your stomach as Vada's voice trembles with hurt and disbelief. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and you quickly shake your head, desperately trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

"Am I a fucking bet to you?" Vada's voice cracks with anger, and tears well up in her eyes. The pain in her words cuts deep, leaving you speechless and filled with regret. You reach out to touch her arm, hoping to convey your sincerity and remorse, but the damage may already be done.

Vada pushes away your arm, opening the car door and slamming it shut behind her. Her actions speak louder than words, and you watch helplessly as she walks away, leaving you to grapple with the consequences of your thoughtless words.

Jordan rushes to the driver's side of the door, out of breath. "Did she hear?" Jordan asks, panting as he rests his hand on the car door. The worry in his eyes mirrors your own as you shake your head, uncertain of how to fix the mess you've made. "She did."

-

It's been two days, and you've called Vada's phone and sent multiple texts, but there's been no response. The silence only amplifies your guilt and regret as you desperately hope for a chance to apologize and make things right.

You decide to call her house phone, surprised when someone answers. "Mrs. Cavell?" You ask on the phone, hoping to speak with Vada's mother. "It's Amelia, asshole. Don't call again."

You're bewildered by the harsh response from Amelia. You never expected her to be so angry and hostile toward you. "Amelia, please. Just put your sister on the phone."

You plead, hoping to reason with Amelia and convince her to let you speak with Vada. However, Amelia's voice remains firm and cold as she refuses your request, leaving you feeling even more desperate and regretful.

"If I buy you $100 worth of slime supplies, will you let me talk to Vada?" you offer, trying to find a compromise. But Amelia's response is immediate and resolute, "No amount of slime supplies will change my mind. Don't contact us again."

"Fine! $200!" you exclaim, desperation creeping into your voice. Amelia stays silent for a moment, finally giving in. "Our parents are out. If you come over, you have ten minutes to speak to her." Relief washes over you as Amelia finally agrees to let you talk to Vada, even if it means spending more money.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you quickly make plans to rush over to their house within the given time frame, hoping that this opportunity will help mend the strained relationship between you and Vada.

You burst through Vada's room, and she jumps up in surprise, her eyes widening as she takes in your unexpected presence. "I'm on limited time by your sister, so I have to make this quick."

You take a deep breath, walking closer to Vada. "I made that bet before I met you, Vada. And spending time with you made me realize that winning that bet was not what was important anymore. What matters to me now is repairing our relationship and showing you how much you mean to me."

Vada's expression softens as she listens, her guard slowly starting to come down. "I never wanted to hurt you, Vada. I want us to start fresh and build something real together."

"What was it for anyway? I mean, what did you end up losing?" Vada asks, her curiosity piqued. You take another step closer before continuing. "I lost a lot of things, Vada. I lost your trust, our connection, and the chance to truly be there for you. But what I gained was the realization that you are the most important person in my life and the one girl that my parents truly approve of."

Vada stands up, playing with the bottom of her shirt. She looks down for a moment, deep in thought, before finally meeting your gaze. "Don't make me sing again." You jokingly mutter, looking down at the shorter girl.

Vada's eyes widen, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "No, not this time," she says playfully. "But I do expect you to make it up to me in some other way."

You smile, leaning down and lifting Vada's chin with your finger. Vada glances at your lips before looking back up into your eyes. You smirk before closing the distance between you, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.

Your worries fade away, drowning in the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage. Vada's arms wrap around your neck, pulling you closer, and you can't help but let out a content sigh against her lips.

As you pull away, Vada's cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and she bites her lip, opening her mouth to speak but is interrupted. "Ten minutes is up. Where's my $200?" Amelia says from Vada's door, holding out her hand expectantly.

Vada pulls away from you, confused. "What is she talking about?" You clear your throat. "I might've...um...made a deal with Amelia so she could let me talk to you."

Vada's eyes widen in surprise as she processes your words. "You paid her to see me?" she asks, laughing. You smile sheepishly, "Well, I wanted to make sure I had a chance to talk to you without any interruptions. It was worth every penny."

Vada's laughter fills the room as she playfully nudges your shoulder, "You're ridiculous, but I'm glad you did."

[vivalas-vega]

Flygirl / Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

this idea came to me suddenly and I could not sleep until I wrote it. I really intended for this to be short and sweet but it took on a life of it’s own lol hope you enjoy!

flygirl / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 8k

warnings: fluffy jake, swearing, probably a lot of fighter jet/flying inaccuracies, oral (f recieving), unprotected p-in-v (pls be safe)

summary: Whiskey is the Dagger Squad’s favorite bartender, and Hangman’s best friend... when he decides to take her flying long repressed feelings bubble to the surface.

Classic rock filtered through the jukebox nestled away in the corner, mixing harmoniously with the chatter of patrons scattered throughout the Hard Deck, all looking to unwind after a long day on the nearby Naval base. You stood behind the bar, fixing drinks and bobbing your head along to whatever tune was playing, pretending to be riveted by the story the old-timer was telling you. Your eyes skimmed the room, landing on your favorite group of pilots gathered around their usual spot at the pool table and you didn’t even notice the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. They’d all filtered in a few months ago, having witnessed some old friends reuniting, new friends forming bonds, and a particular pair who seemed to be at odds but you knew better. You saw right through the two of them and knew once the pissing contest had run its course they’d be just as close as the rest of them. 

You were an unofficial member of the Dagger Squad, having been their favorite bartender and earning a call sign of your own based upon your drink of choice, and they were the only group for whom you’d willingly go to your place of work on a night off. Your sights set on the tall blonde, hanging off to the side watching Rooster and Phoenix battle it out, and it wasn’t long before he noticed and was in motion, your senses overwhelmed by that southern drawl and the scent of his cologne. “Just the bartender I was hopin’ to see.” 

“Hangman,” you greeted, trying not to smile as you prepared a gin and tonic for the mousy brunette now ogling the pilot who was only focused on your hands as you quickly mixed the drink. You set it before the girl who slowly went back to her friends, chuckling as she nearly tripped over her own feet in an attempt to keep her eyes on him for as long as possible, “she’s cute, you should go after her.” 

“Who?” He mused, eyes boring into your own as he flashed his famous smirk and you just shook your head, pouring his drink into a tumbler and handing it to him before he even had a chance to order. “Not the whiskey I was hoping for,” he angled, referencing the callsign he’d bestowed upon you.

“You simply couldn’t handle it, Hangman,” you teased, wiping the bar down and raising an eyebrow at him. “You said you wanted to see me?”

“Mmhm, Maverick has granted me a favor,” he stated, watching as you slipped your apron off and tossed it under the bar, pouring your own drink before hopping over and following Hangman to your group of friends.

“And what might that favor be?” You knew better than to fall into any of his traps, but the setup of this one had your curiosity piqued.

“Well, we were all talking and we thought it was a damn shame our newest member has her own callsign, but has never been up in a fighter jet.” Your brows furrowed as you processed the implication of what he’d said, eyes shooting to Phoenix, then Rooster, looking for any hint of him yanking your chain.

“You’ve heard all our stories but have never experienced it, it was actually my idea,” Phoenix supplied and you gave her an exasperated look. Sure, they made what they did sound cool as hell and you loved how passionate they were about their line of work but you preferred your feet firmly planted on the earth below you, not whizzing around the skies.

“And, seeing as I saved Mav and Rooster’s life, I had a favor to cash in. Secured a two-seater and a spot on the runway at nine am tomorrow morning… so maybe make that your only drink tonight.” Hangman eyed the amber liquid in your glass. 

“I’m not getting in a jet with you, Bagman,” you replied simply, earning a snort from Rooster. 

He couldn’t hide his shock, “you don’t want to fly with the best pilot in the Navy?”

“Oh, so Maverick is taking me up? You should really work on your delivery, you had me confused for a moment.” Rooster let out a full laugh now, enjoying as you so easily worked him up.

“No, you’ll be flying with me. I thought you would be excited,” his tone was playful but you sighed as you heard the undertone of hurt. 

“Flying is just not my thing,” you tried to save yourself but the looks of your friends made you realize you weren’t getting out of this. You should have been excited, even touched that they so badly wanted to share this part of their lives with you, to clue you in on the most important thing to them but in reality all you felt was a pit of anxiety. Especially because it was Jake Seresin you’d be flying with. You trusted him implicitly, on the ground, but in the sky? Well, you’d heard the stories of the cocky pilot, keen on taking risks and pulling out dangerous maneuvers even when the situation didn’t necessarily call for it. It was enough to make you shudder from your safe spot behind the bar, and you were perfectly fine with not completely being in the loop whenever they talked about their time in the air. 

“Whiskey, you’re going to love it, I promise.” Phoenix reassured, looping her arm through yours, the other wrapping around your waist. You leaned against her and sighed, mind running with all the what if’s. What if this was the one time there was a malfunction with his engine, what if this was the one time he didn’t stick the landing, what if this was the one time he can’t fly his way out of a bird strike, what if- “I can literally hear the grinding of gears in your brain, Mav wouldn’t have said yes if he knew you wouldn’t be safe.” Phoenix broke you out of your spiral with a new tactic to calm your nerves, placing a kiss to your cheek and going back to her pool game.

“Wait no, come back I think she’s still anxious,” Hangman called after her, having enjoyed the moment of affection between you two but all he got was two middle fingers. You checked the time on your watch, realizing the night was winding down and you glanced at Penny who waved you off, conveying that you were fine to leave for the evening. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Hangman said to you softly, encouraging you to finish your drink and before you knew it he was taking your glass to the bar and grabbing your bag from Penny.

“If she comes off that jet with even a hair out of place, Hangman…” You could hear her warn and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry Pen, you won’t even have the chance to kill me… there’s more than enough people on base that will do it for you.” He wasn’t wrong, you’d become a bit of a fixture to all of the Naval officers in the area, much like Penny had. You were there almost every night, fixing them drinks and offering a listening ear, whether they needed to decompress after a stressful day or boast over a victory and you wouldn’t have changed it for anything. You loved being at the Hard Deck, Penny paid you far more than she should and she encouraged you to follow your passions, indulging any one of your whims with nothing but love and support. 

“You’ll be fine, you know. He cares about you more than anything, he’s not going to be reckless with you.” Rooster all but whispered into your ear as you hugged goodbye and it actually eased some of the tension that had your body rigid. He felt the change and smiled as he pulled away, a little smug to know he was the one that calmed the racing thoughts. “And if you change your mind, I’m sure I could sweet talk Mav into letting me take you.” He joked and you just shook your head with a small laugh, smiling up at Jake as his hand rested on the small of your back.

“So you two can run out of fuel above the Pacific?” He jabbed and you just waved your hand between the two of them.

“Not this argument again,” you sighed as you remembered the first night you’d met them all, and their little stand-off by the pool table. Jake’s hand was feather light on your back as he guided you out of the bar and into the cool night air, sliding his jacket over your shoulders just as he always did.

“You know, we do this every night, you’d think you’d remember a jacket.” 

“Hoes don’t get cold.” You mumbled, wrapping it around your frame and he barked out a laugh. The silence was comfortable as you started the short walk along the beach to your bungalow, an old family home passed down not too far from the bar. You two had been doing this ever since you met, Jake knew you could take care of yourself but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see for himself that you’d made it home safe, and after one night of forgetting to text him once you did he made it his personal mission to be your escort. You’d protested, saying something about being strong and independent, but in reality you loved it. Out here you saw a completely different side of him. He wasn’t Hangman, he was just Jake. 

“Why did you ask Mav if you could take me flying?” You finally asked, breaking the silence. It was so soft he almost didn’t catch it over the sound of the waves lapping against the shore a few yards away.

“Phoenix had a point, you’re a part of the squad and have to listen to all our stories, only seems fair to let you experience it for yourself.” He supplied the same answer from earlier in the night through tight lips and you narrowed your eyes as you looked up at him knowing he wasn’t giving you the full truth. Sure, it was a reason, but it wasn’t the reason.

“Wanna try that again?” You asked, climbing up the stairs of your back porch and settling into the creaky porch swing just as you always did, patting the spot beside you.

He was silent for a moment, swaying the two of you as he sat down, carefully considering his next words but sighing as he knew there wasn’t really anything he could get past you. “I’d honestly been thinking about it before Phoenix brought it up… she just gave me the perfect excuse to finally do something about it. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person that actually knows me, but you’re missing this huge part and I don’t know… I kind of just wanted to share that with you.” Your breath caught at his vulnerability. You did know him better than anyone, your short walks on the beach that turned into long conversations on that very porch swing into the wee hours of the morning created a bond you didn’t have with any of the other aviators. Somewhere deep down you’d known the two of you were dancing around something  much bigger than friendship but you’d both never admit it to yourselves or anyone else for fear of wrecking what you already had. They’d all been on North Island for much longer than you anticipated, and it seemed it would stay that way for a little while longer, but the thought of them all being whisked away from you, especially him, sent a sharp pang through your heart every time it crossed your mind and you’d never jeopardize your moments on the porch swing for something that may not pan out. 

“You don’t actually have to if you don’t want to… I probably shouldn’t have sprung it on you in front of everyone, I just-” he started, seeing you deep in thought and suddenly getting self conscious, a feeling so foreign to him he couldn’t stand it.

“No, Jake I’m really touched you even want to take me flying… I know how much it means to you. I’m just a little scared, I mean I’ve heard all of your stories, and Rooster’s and Phoenix's and I just don’t understand how you guys do that every day.”

“Darlin’, all that scary stuff  happens on missions. We’re just going on a little joy ride, no enemies lurking around or SAM’s to watch out for. Just you, me and the open sky.” He promised.

“It’s not even that, I…” you trailed off, knowing it was unfair to keep yourself guarded and not share what you were really scared of when he’d been so open with you, but something was stopping you from taking the plunge.

“Tell me,” he encouraged softly, his hand taking up residence on your thigh and rubbing reassuringly. 

“I’m scared that I’m going to understand,” you admitted and he looked at you a little confused but waited for you to gather your thoughts enough to continue. “It really terrifies me, you know? What you all do… you rowdy pilots came into my bar and my life hasn’t been the same since, you guys are my family and I hate knowing that any one of these days you could get called away and never make your way back home to me. I’m scared that once I get up there with you I’m going to understand why you all love it so much and then I’m not even going to be able to be mad at you when something goes wrong.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He was sure his heart had broken wide open hearing your confession, hearing that this had been a fear of yours for longer than he knew. “We’re all going to be just fine, I don’t know if you know this or not but… Dagger Squad is pretty badass.” He said with a small smirk, trying to lift the mood.

“Maverick and Rooster almost died.” Your voice was small and he wasn’t sure how to combat this one. You were right, they did almost die and it was your voice that pushed him to fly after them, your voice that overruled every fiber of his being that was trained to take orders, your voice that got him a slap on the wrist for doing just the opposite. Sure, despite his icy exterior he’d grown a soft spot for Rooster, but more than that he just wasn’t sure he could ever look you in the eye again if he had to come home and tell you they hadn’t made it, that he didn’t do anything to help.

“But they didn’t. We’re an official squadron now, and we’re always going to have each other’s backs. No one on this team is dying until we’re all old and gray, and if for whatever reason something does happen, well… maybe then at least you’ll have the comfort of understanding. Understanding why we do it, and why we’re all okay with the risks.” 

You nodded, “I am excited to fly with you, Jake. I kind of just wish you all had chosen different passions,” you said half-heartedly.

“Well sweetheart, then none of us would have ever walked into your bar.” He pulled you into his side, placing a reassuring kiss on your temple and you sat like that for a while, just enjoying the silence and feeling a little better that you’d told him your fears, about the one thing that often kept you up at night. He eventually tugged you up after you let out a loud yawn, pulling out his keys and unlocking your door with the spare you’d given him a while ago… engraved lovingly with ‘Dagger Spare’, a teasing prod to his position within that mission all those months ago. “Let's get you to sleep, you’ve got an exciting day ahead of you.” 

He waited on the edge of your bed while you got ready, his own mind swirling as he reflected on what you’d told him. Sure, he knew you’d probably be disappointed if anything happened to them on a mission but he was hung up on your emphasis on him making his way home to you. Of course he flirted with you relentlessly, how could he not? He had decided a while ago you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and not just physically, though his mind, and eyes, did wander. You weaseled your way into his heart about a minute after he met you, in awe of how you handled the busiest night in the bar on your own, still finding the time to banter with him and challenge him like you’d known him your whole life. But despite it all, he would never cross that boundary, never intentionally push you too far with his remarks for fear of messing up a friendship with the only person he’d ever fully trusted.

“You can stay, if you want.” You mumbled, emerging from the bathroom in an oversized Navy shirt abandoned long ago by Jake after a group beach day at your house, and your hair tied up in a bun. Truth be told, it was one of his favorite comfy shirts, but he just didn’t have the heart to ask you for it back when you wore it so much better.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he said, standing and pulling back the covers for you to slip into bed. You smiled softly as you settled in, watching as he propped himself up with a hand on your headboard to look down at you, “have something I need to grab before I blow your mind tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” Sleep was tugging at the corners of your mind and Jake committed the scene before him to memory, you looking up at him through tired eyes, his shirt riding up your exposed thighs. He tugged the blankets over you before the sight pushed him to do something reckless. 

“Mmhm,” he replied nonchalantly before grabbing your phone, setting an alarm and plugging it in for you. “Meet me on base at 8, have some safety stuff to go over with you before I can take you up.” 

You nodded, pulling the blankets under your chin and snuggling further into bed. “Thank you, Jake.”

“What for, sweetheart?” 

“For being you.” Your eyes were closed now and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before you were asleep. He couldn’t help but smile, ducking down to brush your hair out of your face and place a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, honey.” 

-----

The morning air sent a chill up your spine as you rolled down your window and passed your ID to the Naval officer at the guardhouse just outside the base, verifying you were in fact given clearance for the day. He waved you through and you felt the nerves begin to settle deep within your stomach as you found an empty parking spot. You stepped out of the car, adjusting your tank top as you looked down and wondered for the tenth time this morning if yoga pants and a thin tank were an appropriate choice for the day's activities. You felt you looked more ready for a run than flying around in a multi-million dollar fighter jet but you just weren’t sure what was appropriate.

You tapped the temporary key card you’d been given at the doors entrance, easily navigating your way through base to the hanger. This wasn’t the first time you’d been here, having been added to several of the pilots' visitors lists at various times to sit in on training per their request, or to watch them teach a new round of Top Gun students a flight maneuver on the radar. Your heart warmed as you remembered just how badly they wanted you to be a part of all of this with them, as much as you could, sharing the pieces they were able to.

“There she is!” Bob said excitedly, making his way to you as you walked out into the open air of the hangar to wrap you in a bear hug.

“Hey Bobby,” you greeted, ruffling his hair and walking with him as he rambled on about how excited he was for you to fly. “Oh wow, whole team is here for this.” You said, approaching the group a little nervously.

“Of course we are, we’ll be watching on the radar the whole time and listening in,” Mav reassured you. Your eyes darted around, looking for your favorite pilot but you didn’t see him anywhere.

“He’s just grabbing something,” Phoenix said, noting your confusion. “Meanwhile, I’ve been tasked with suiting you up.” She tugged you off to the side as everyone else lapsed back into conversation. She grabbed the flight suit that had been draped over a nearby table, watching you slip off your shoes and helping you step into it. 

“Aw, I’m Natasha Trace for the day,” you said as she zipped you in, noticing her name patch and smiling. 

“Actually, no you’re not.” She smirked, ripping the patch off and tucking it into her pocket. Hangman finally made an appearance and as you rejoined the group you noticed he had a helmet tucked under his arm and he invaded your space to smooth a new patch onto the now empty space of velcro on your chest. 

“You made me a name patch?” You asked, fingers ghosting over your name in dark green embroidery, Whiskey just underneath it. You couldn’t help but feel a little emotional that he’d gone through all of this for you, and it turned into a lot emotional when he revealed the helmet, complete with your callsign just like everyone else's. “You did not.” 

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I meant it, you’re a part of this team.” He smiled down at you, reassuringly squeezing your shoulders. Phoenix snapped a quick photo of you holding up your helmet, saying it was just about the cutest thing she’d ever seen before all of the pilots filtered back inside to watch the radar. He guided you past his own jet, smiling as you looked up at his name in big letters on the side, to the jet he’d be borrowing for the day. “How you feelin’?”

“A little more nervous, feels a lot more real now than it did last night.” You admitted, and he noticed the slight tremble in your hands before taking them in his own.

“It’s going to be just fine, once we get up there you’ll forget why you were even nervous.” He reassured, strapping you into all the necessary gear and securing your parachute pack to your back. He helped you climb up the steps, holding your hand as you stepped into the jet and sat in the backseat. He began pointing out everything in front of you, all the little buttons and where you could see them on the radar, explaining that this was Bob’s domain in the jet. 

“Do I have to do anything?” You asked, feeling overwhelmed taking in everything before you.

He shook his head, “not at all, none of this has anything to do with the actual flying, it’s for weapons control on a mission and making sure we keep in contact with the base.” You nodded, feeling a little relieved you weren’t going to be given any kind of task. “Now, this is the important part, sweetheart, you see these loops right here?” He asked, pointing between your feet, “these are for if we need to punch out.”

“If we need to punch out?” You asked, your eyes widening.

“We won’t need to, but I need you to know where they are. If I tell you to eject, you need to do it the second I tell you to, and you need to pull up on these loops with everything you have, alright?” He asked, eyes looking intensely into yours, looking for confirmation you understood and you nodded. “And this right here,” he gestured to a string attached to something he’d strapped you into earlier, “is connected to your parachute. As soon as you’re clear of the jet pull this and it will deploy and make sure you land safely. You don’t worry about the rest, I’ll take care of it when we’re on the ground.”

“But, all of this is hypothetical right?” You asked, suddenly envisioning having to blast yourself out of the jet and parachute down to safety.

“All hypothetical, darlin’, this is just a fun little ride, but you’ve gotta know the basics.” He reassured, placing a warm hand over your own. 

“Putting a lot of trust in you here, Jake,” you exhaled nervously.

“And I don’t take that lightly.” He squeezed your hand, “I’ll be taking you to the old training area we used for the last mission, minus all of the crazy maneuvers and stress. Just easy flying, and a few little tricks.” You nodded, feeling reassured that you weren’t going very far. He began strapping you in and you grunted as he pulled roughly, making sure everything was tight before tapping the helmet in your lap, signaling you to put it on. “This is your mask,” he said, clipping it into your helmet, “it’s got your mic in it so you and I can communicate when it’s a little loud in here, as well as so all our looky-loos can hear us.” Before you knew it you were ready to go, and Jake was hopping into the front seat, getting himself situated.

“Ready, darlin’?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” You peered around the seat, watching as he pressed various buttons, completely unsure of what he was doing but soon you felt the engine roar to life underneath you and the nervous pit in your stomach Jake had settled just moments ago returned.

“Hangman to range control, takeoff prechecks complete, how do you read?”

“Loud and clear, you are clear to taxi.” Surely enough you began to move, slowly pulling out of the hangar and navigating to the runway.

“You remember what I said, Hangman?” Mav’s voice rang in your ears.

“Couldn’t forget it, sir.” He confirmed and had you not been more nervous you would have questioned it, but all you were focused on was not throwing up. Jake began going back and forth with the tower, confirming all sorts of things that sounded like a foreign language to you, until it didn’t.

“Hangman, you are cleared for take off.” 

“Here we go, sweetheart.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you wished more than anything you could actually see him instead of the outline of his shoulders in front of you, seeing his bright green eyes might give you just a shred of comfort. He pressed a few more buttons, and suddenly you were gaining speed down the runway faster than you would have ever anticipated. 

“Holy shit,” you muttered, muscles tensing as you lifted off the ground, soaring into the sky and watching as everything below you grew rather small. You quickly rose in altitude, and you blinked rapidly, internally repeating over and over again that Jake would never put you in danger even though the sheer incline of the jet had you questioning everything.

“How you doing back there?” He asked, as if he could sense your tension.

“Oh you know, totally fine and normal.” You laughed nervously.

“We’ll level out in a second, just gotta reach the hard deck.”

“Not my preferred hard deck…” you muttered and you heard him laugh in front of you. True to his word, the plane leveled out and you relaxed a little, feeling brave enough to look at the world below you. You tilted slightly to the right, turning as you circled around the base and increased speed as you assumed you were now on the designated flight path. 

“We’ll reach the training area in about 5 minutes where the weather is cloudless and warm, in the meantime please keep your tray table locked and upright and enjoy the ride.” Jake joked and it further eased you, the tension leaving your muscles just as quickly as it had settled.

“That actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” You mused, watching as the ocean slowly faded into the distance and taking in the tan and rocky terrain below. 

“See, told you, sweetheart. Take off and landing is the roughest part and even then it’s not so scary.” It fell silent as you continued to look around you, and even more so than earlier you wished you could see his face, you were almost certain he’d have a look of calm content and you wanted so badly to see that part of him. The part that was at home up here, but you’d decided this was more than enough. “Alright sweetheart, you see that ridge ahead? We’re going up and over, weight of gravity will be going against us a little but nothing too crazy, you’ll just feel a little pressure.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You teased.

“That’s Lieutenant, Whiskey.” You heard Mav correct in your ears and you laughed, forgetting they could all hear you for a moment. Just as he’d promised, you quickly overtook the ridge and gasped a little as you felt the weight pulling you back in your seat and winding you before you surged forward in your seat.

“You okay?” He asked, and honestly? You were more than okay. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you regained your breath and you couldn’t help but smile as exactly what you feared had happened. You understood. “Whiskey?” He prompted when you were silent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, Jake. More than good.” He knew that tone in your voice like the back of his hand and a grin erupted across his features, a giddy feeling rising in his chest knowing you were now enjoying this. 

“And there we have it, she’s officially a flygirl.” You heard Rooster in your ears and you laughed, loving that even though you were flying with Jake, you still had everyone by your side. 

“Take your mask off for a second,” you heard Jake say and you did as you were told, pulling it off and letting it dangle to the side.

“No fair, I wanna hear!” Phoenix said and you giggled, interest piqued at what he didn’t want them to hear.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

“This is fucking incredible, Jake. I’m not even in control and I feel like I can do anything. I get why you love this so much.”

“I wanted you to experience this, but more than that I wanted you to experience this with me. This is everything, sweetheart. Everything I need, and everything I want right here in this plane with me.” He said and your heart skipped a beat at his confession, “I just wanted you to know that, you can put your mask back on.” You did slowly, mind reeling with what he’d told you. Everything he wants?

“Hey, Whiskey?” You heard Bob as he pulled you from your thoughts and your head cocked, affirming with a ‘yeah’ that you’d heard him. “Wanna do something cool?” 

You laughed, “sure, why not?”

“Alright, on your radar, third button from the right will switch you to a terrain map, can you do that?” 

“Are you sure you want me pressing buttons back here, Bob?” You asked hesitantly, but pressed it anyway.

“You can’t hurt anything back there, once you do that do you see the joystick to your left with a red button underneath?”

“Mmhm,” you confirmed, fingers ghosting over the hard plastic.

“That right there is controlling your laser, move that around until you find a target below you, once you have it hit the red button and it’ll lock it in.” You did as you were told, hearing a tone sound in the cabin as you locked onto a tree just ahead. “There you go, you just secured a target for your other teammates to swoop in and hit.” The tone stopped as Jake passed the target and you smiled to yourself.

“Careful Bob, I might just steal your position as Phoenix's backseater.” You joked.

“I’ll start figuring out how to make that happen.” Phoenix teased, and while she was no longer pressing the mic button you were sure Bob was protesting back on base. 

“Alright my little WSO, do you trust me?” Jake asked and any nerves you’d once felt were gone, and just as he promised you weren’t sure why you were nervous in the first place.

“Yes.” You were sure and confident, and Jake’s chest swelled knowing there wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in your reply. Before you knew it you were on your side, zipping through the air as Jake pulled out all the stops for you, veering from side to side as you couldn’t stop the giggles falling from your lips, and he decided right then and there he would never stop trying to get you to laugh like that. 

He whipped up and over, making you gasp as you clearly saw the ground through the canopy, “Jake, we’re upside down.” You said, an obvious observation and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, yes we are sweetheart,” he chuckled, flipping you back over and continuing to show you his favorite flying tricks, you laughing like a little kid the whole time. You fully and wholly understood with your whole being why Jake chose this path, why they all did. Zipping through the air and maneuvering in ways that shouldn’t have even been possible flooded your veins with the most euphoric feeling, leaving you dizzy with excitement.

“God, this is amazing. You are amazing, Jake.” You said breathless as he righted the plane after a barrel roll. 

“You think you’ve had enough?” He asked, sidestepping the way you’d breathed out the compliment. 

“Never, but we can head back.” You answered, knowing you couldn’t stay out here forever. He turned the plane, going back the way you’d come over the now familiar terrain, adrenaline still flowing through you leaving a stupid grin on your face. 

“Ah shit, what the fuck birds are those?” You heard Jake ask with a sigh, flicking buttons before you jerked suddenly, “Hangman to control, breaching the hard deck to avoid a bird strike.”

“Confirmed.” Your altitude dropped rapidly, Jake clearly ignoring warning bells that sounded as you dipped lower than you thought you would, him expertly maneuvering the rocky hills not as far below you as they once were. The tension slowly rolled back in, now knowing these were not fun tricks he was pulling out but ones to keep you both safe. He narrowly avoided clipping into the side of a ridge, and you tried to keep your reactions to yourself as he whizzed through the canyon. 

“Get out of the canyon, Hangman.” Rooster sounded in your ears, making your heart rate accelerate knowing that you weren’t the only one concerned.

“Working on it, bird boy.” He shot back, and sure enough you were back above the ridges like nothing had ever happened. “Whiskey, you okay back there?” 

“Mmhm, never better.” You replied a little shakily.

“Congratulations, you just survived your first bird strike.” The flight back to base seemed shorter than it took to get there, and before you knew it you were touching down on the tarmac, engine coming to a low rumble as you taxied back into the hangar. You felt like you were buzzing as the canopy lifted and Jake quickly detached himself of all his gear to be at your side and help you out. “Are the reviews in?” He asked a little hesitantly, knowing you might be shaken after your unexpected trip through the canyon.

“Jake I- I mean, that was…” you trailed off, not having the words to describe what you were feeling, watching as his brow furrowed above you, carefully loosening all of your straps. You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, or being high above the earth giving you a new perspective but suddenly everything looked different. Felt different. His previous words rattled around your mind and it felt like something had clicked into place. He pulled the helmet off your head, his hand coming to smooth down your hair and he just couldn’t decipher the look on your face, gazing up at him with wild eyes. He gave you a little tug as he undid the last of your safety harness and when he went to pull away you gripped the collar of his flight suit, keeping him right where you wanted him. “Jake…” you trailed off, eyes searching those pools of green you could never get enough of. Your hand moved from his flight suit, fingers grazing along his neck as you settled on his jaw, holding him in your hands and you felt him clench beneath your fingers. He had no idea what you were doing but hell if he was going to do anything to stop you, eyes almost challenging you to make your next move and you pushed yourself forward, lips brushing against his. 

It was all he needed to push you back into your seat, kissing you with the hunger of a man starved. You moaned softly against him as his hand rested at the back of your head, gripping gently at the base and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing against yours. Somewhere in the back of your head you heard voices approaching but you didn’t have it in you to care, desperate to taste more of him.

“Hey flygirl, how are you- oh my.” Rooster stopped in his tracks as he saw what was going on just above them and awkwardly cleared his throat as Jake pulled away, lips swollen and a shit-eating grin taking over his features. “I take it you enjoyed yourself.” Your cheeks flushed, taking Jake’s hand as he helped you out of the jet, legs feeling like jelly as you all but stumbled down the steps. 

You cleared your throat, “yes, I very much enjoyed myself.” Looking up at Jake the grin hadn’t worn off and you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the adrenaline begin to wear off as you adjusted to being back on solid ground.

“Knew you’d love it.” Phoenix said, giving you a not-so-subtle thumbs up. The rest of the group now felt a little uncomfortable, not surprised but also not fully expecting what they’d walked in on and muttered some congratulations on your first flight and mentioning they’d meet you at the bar later before leaving you and Jake alone in the hangar. The tension in the air was palpable and you avoided his eyes, neither of you knowing quite what to say. 

“Sweetheart, no wrong answer here,” he started after a few moments, “was that an ‘I’m hopped up on adrenaline’ kiss or something else?” You pondered your options. You could cop out and say it was the adrenaline, move on and pretend it had never happened, effectively preserving your friendship and ensuring you’d never lose him, or… or you could admit what it was. Admit that you were fooling yourself into thinking you were just friends with Jake Seresin, admit that in the dead of night and the solitude of your bedroom your mind did wander, did wonder what it would be like if you just crossed that boundary and let your feelings for him rush in. 

“It wasn’t the adrenaline.” You finally said, looking up to meet his eyes and you saw the relief roll over him like a wave.

“Thank god.” He pulled you close and kissed you again, leaving you just as dizzy as you’d been thousands of feet in the air. 

“Hey, Jake?” You asked, pulling away with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Mmhm?”

“Take me home.”

-----

It was a clash of tongues and teeth as you stumbled your way through your house, Jake’s hands rough and exploring as he tried to commit the feeling of you beneath him to memory. Leaving a trail of clothes in your wake, he pushed you backwards into the bed a little harder than he intended and you giggled as your back hit the mattress, his kisses along your jaw much more tender than the previous action. His thigh slotted between yours as he leaned his weight into you, the pressure against your core coaxing a whine from your lips. He removed himself from your jaw, leg pushing up to give you more friction as he looked down at you as if you’d hung all the stars in the sky and the intensity of his gaze had you struggling to regain your breath. 

“So beautiful,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his fingers ghosted along your cheekbone before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek, then your lips as he continued his worship all the way down your exposed body, gently biting into the flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue as he went. He stopped just between your thighs, carefully kneeling at the edge of the bed and pulling you down to meet his face, taking his time kissing and sucking the soft skin just around where you wanted him the most. You writhed beneath him, desperate for something, anything, as he continued his dizzying assault on your senses. His eyes flicked up to your own, asking silently for permission as his fingers slipped under the lacy band of your underwear and you nodded, suddenly feeling nervous at being so exposed to him, already so desperate before he’d fully touched you. 

The discarded scrap of fabric was tossed somewhere behind him as he hooked his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as his breath fanned over your dripping core causing you to shiver, “so beautiful,” he muttered again, pressing a kiss to your heat before licking a stripe up your folds and focusing his tongue to your clit. You gasped as he licked and swirled the sensitive bud, sucking it into his mouth as became desperate to taste more of you. 

“Jake,” you moaned, the sound sending shocks straight to his cock and he didn’t think his name had ever sounded so good. He pulled away, much to your dismay that was voiced with a whine, before you felt him spit on your core, warm and dripping as he slowly teased your entrance, tongue reconnecting with your clit. He took his time, exploring you and exploring what made the sweetest sounds fall from your lips and your hips bucked as you silently pleaded him to stop teasing you. 

“Don’t worry,  I’ll take care of you.” He made it clear that he had no intention to cease his teasing anytime soon, a single finger shallowly toying with your entrance as you coated him with your slick. You sighed when he fully plunged his finger in, searching for that spot that made obscenities tumble out of your mouth, stretching you as he added another digit, curling them just so. He focused his attention on you, watching as you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, cock straining against his boxers and he quickly rid himself of them with his free hand to lazily stroke his length, desperate for some kind of friction as you made the most beautiful sounds above him. Your legs began to shake around his head as your release quickly began to approach, him abandoning his aching cock in pursuit of pushing them open when you’d tried to clamp them shut.

“Fuck, Jake, I-” you began babbling as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he mumbled against you, working you through your orgasm and lapping up everything you had to give him. He gingerly removed his fingers, tongue still working you as you twitched at the overstimulation coming down from your high. He kissed back up your body, settling on top of you and you kissed him desperately, tasting yourself on his lips and moaning as you felt him brush against you. You reached between your bodies, stroking his length as you lined him up to your entrance and despite everything his body was telling him, he paused. “You sure, sweetheart? We can wait.” You smiled up at him, knowing even as you were both lost in the passion of the moment, his top priority would always be making sure you were okay.

“Please,” you begged, “please, Jake.” He slowly began to sink into you, groaning into your ear as he bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust. You wrapped your legs around him, moaning as the sting of the stretch began to ease only to be replaced with the pure pleasure of feeling full. 

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you as he pulled almost fully out before sinking back in, desperate to feel the way you so easily accepted him again. He lifted his head slightly, hips bucking into yours and giving you a tender kiss before he quickened his pace, eyes meeting yours and you nodded at the silent question. His thrusts grew rougher as he threw one of your legs above his shoulder, the deeper angle making you throw your head back with a groan.

“Feel so fucking good,” you managed to get out between thrusts, only spurring him on more as he continued his relentless pace. 

“So beautiful, taking me so well sweetheart,” he grunted, bringing a hand between you to circle your clit. You swore you were seeing stars as the pleasure overwhelmed you, the noises filling your bedroom nothing short of obscene and you began to feel the pressure build within you. You knew your second release was coming on quicker than the last and you intentionally clenched around him, trying to bring him there with you. “Fuck, do that again baby,” he groaned, dropping his head into your neck as you did and your nails scratched into his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. Your walls fluttered around him, body writhing as you came, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you felt him twitch inside you and fill you with his cum. He placed tender kisses to your neck, working up to your jaw before peppering your face with kisses and coaxing breathless giggles from you as he slowly pulled out of you. He rolled onto his back, pulling you along with him and you settled into his side, head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

“Would have taken you flying a long time ago if I’d known this would happen,” leave it to Jake to take this opportunity to crack a joke and you just swatted at his chest.

“I guess I’m no better than the girls I tease at the bar… falling into bed with a cocky pilot.” 

“Your cocky pilot.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you loved how that sounded.

“I love you,” you weren’t sure why you said it, the weight of the moment simply getting on top of you, but you heard his heart jump beneath you and wondered if maybe you’d spoken too soon.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

-----

Later that evening the Hard Deck roared with life, your friends excitedly buzzing about and rehashing your first flight.

“You handled that bird strike like a champ, I threw up the second I touched down after my first.” Phoenix said proudly, knowing you were more alike than Jake than you may have realized, knowing you would feel just as safe up there as you did right here. 

“Not gonna lie, I did think I was gonna blow when we almost hit the ridge.”

“We didn’t almost hit anything, sweetheart,” Jake said cockily as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his arm wrapped snug around your waist. The group continued to chatter as you sipped your drink, pulling away from the conversation and leaning into the man at your side, humming in content. 

“Hey, Jake?” You asked, looking over your group of friends before lifting your head to meet his eyes.

“Yeah darlin’?”

“This is everything. Everything I need, everything I want.”

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist. 

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.” 

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.” 

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.” 

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more. 

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.” 

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue. 

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.” 

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too. 

“You visit here a lot?” 

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.” 

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.” 

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.” 

And he does. 

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen. 

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah. 

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos. 

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?” 

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.” 

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.” 

“Tell me about it.” you grin. 

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.” 

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back. 

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand. 

He’s looking at something. 

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar. 

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

“Joel?”  Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?” 

You already know the answer. 

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares. 

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?” 

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.” 

“You look good.” 

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.” 

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you. 

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.” 

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?” 

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head. 

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?” 

“See what?” 

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent. 

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.” 

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?” 

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin. 

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.” 

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin. 

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of  Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified. 

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath. 

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.” 

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants. 

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.  

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender. 

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations. 

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.” 

Your ears ring 

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted. 

You love doing what he asks of you. 

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over. 

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?” 

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling. 

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you. 

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.” 

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes. 

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.” 

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it. 

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.” 

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks. 

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss. 

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.” 

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.” 

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck. 

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.” 

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.” 

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks. 

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.” 

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—” 

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.” 

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?” 

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.” 

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be. 

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.” 

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.” 

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.” 

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be. 

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it. 

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung. 

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy’s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together. 

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact. 

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead. 

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.” 

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking. 

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?” 

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.” 

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy. 

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!” 

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile. 

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you. 

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.  

“What is?” you ask. 

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.” 

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything. 

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?” 

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling. 

Tommy smells gunpowder. 

He hears bullets whizzing through the air. 

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout. 

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah. 

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.” 

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled. 

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own. 

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again. 

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.” 

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.” 

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!" 

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?” 

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him. 

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.” 

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?” 

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better. 

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles. 

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone. 

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.” 

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.” 

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door. 

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.” 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.” 

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks. 

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.” 

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned. 

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.” 

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.” 

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.” 

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.” 

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.” 

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist. 

A kiss on the back of your neck. 

“Call me if you need anythin’.” 

“I will.” 

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder. 

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it. 

The walk to your home is a silent one. 

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.” 

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?” 

“Nah. Let’s just talk.” 

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips. 

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.” 

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.” 

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.” 

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it? 

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?” 

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.” 

You wait for him to continue. 

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.” 

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.” 

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather. 

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange. 

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.” 

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest. 

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.” 

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him. 

You lick your lips, your mouth  dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve. 

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate. 

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s. 

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.” 

“But—” 

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.” 

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before. 

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.” 

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t. 

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say? 

“Yeah?” 

You can’t do it. Coward. 

“Do you need. . . another pillow?” 

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?” 

“It is.” 

It isn’t. 

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

[joannasteez]

with me, the world is yours

pairing: roman reigns x black reader authors note: i wrote all of this late summer/early fall and after breaking away from it for so long, i've kind of lost the drive to finish the story in the original way i'd intended to write it, BUT, i am willing to add to it in small ways with little drabbles and such. so whoever reads this, please consider it as background/exposition and or a prologue to whatever gets added to it. if anyone wants to see something added to this specific story please drop me scenarios in my inbox!! word count: 8k

he liked to walk the floor

carpet smooth beneath the expensive drop of his heel and toe. hubris a limitless force, the broad width of his chest swelling. pride, unsullied, raw and ever simple in its existence. it was a deep elegant staining streak along his being that refused to leave him, unless of course he willed it so. and the casino floor of The Summer Isle Hotel, his hotel, filled with this great thundering of rage and joy and desperation. tiny drops of poker chips like small striking claps. the flipping of cards giving that easy slipping swoop against padded black jack tables. the hum of the room was loud, because the room itself seemed, to his eye, to never end. a tenacious buzzing that simmered his blood quick, excited. 

the night was young. restless. ruby red suede heels moving, clever and seductive. the color of champagne at every corner his eyes took him, bubbling rich in flutes and set in the sweet form of silk dresses. pearls sitting tempting over cleavages and diamonds dressing the sturdiness of fingers that roamed the figures of excitable women. emeralds, jades and sapphires, taking every shape against the skin that would have it. 

earrings, anklets, rings, bracelets......

whiskey and brandy swishing in glasses......

dry champagne hitting the tongue just right......

bodies hugging, lips kissing, eyes glazed over and just so damn greedy......

this...this ceaseless atmosphere. the un-quelled need to have. to take hold. to win. 

roman loved to walk the casino floor of his hotel. 

but he hated, absolutely hated cheaters. fucking thieves, cunning-less and eager. their tact lacking just as much as their ambition. roman figured, if their schemes were anymore complex, then he'd feel somehow better about their stealing. he'd at least respect their finesse before using their heads to shove them out the entryway doors of the establishment. and what a fine establishment it was, built off the sweat of his brow, his, others, blood and many tears. owning a hotel on the vegas strip was no easy feat and he'd be damned if someone disrespected it. disrespected his work. his vision. 

...so then why?...

your eyes flit over to a table just some feet away. 

...why did he let you play your games?...

a man in muted clothes gives you a signal. many silent signals, ones roman was once oblivious to, but now overly familiar with, as if he created them himself. 

...four seconds of a stare. one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four. four meaning spade, given they were following the alphabetical order of the suits. 

the man, face more punchable by the minute, touches his nose. meaning, the spade is a face card. 

and the fucking dealer is young, flips up his card too easily, exposing just before he deals.

roman wants to do many things. to the man, the dealer, and the other pairs around the other blackjack tables following the same system. his fingers curl, ball inward till his palm pains him but his eyes remain as they always did. fiercely void, teetering delicate on some fine line of violence, until you move. speak. 

"blackjack", you call. with just enough disinterest that prides the flow of his blood. makes him smirk.

"they've all been at it for days", paul bristles. 

"end it", roman calls, walking away. 

---

you despised most men, despised their presence, looking at them, unnecessarily speaking to them, breathing the same air as them. they'd bred more trouble than they were ever worth and always, without fail, served up to you, on some disgusting dish, half baked and ill formed, the least discreet of charms, to win even slivers of your attention. it was the usual lousy song and dance, artless and heavy handed. you despised most of them, because they led you to places like these with promises too alluring to ignore. all you wanted, want still, is the money. its all you need. 

and they'd all but manhandled you from the casino floor to a room. two men, one barely distinguishable from the other, but then again...they donned shades that matched their disapproving looks. lips turned in scrutiny. but what the fuck did they know anyway?... fuck them and this...this room. a holding of some sort. walls white, chairs black, a purposeful minimalistic touch crafted to intimidate. and it was working...even if just slightly. 

your chair creaks, wooden and anxious. you hated this, always would. this forceful feel of surrendering. 

and you don't speak first, but because of that neither does he. 

grey's scattered about his beard, scarce but still there. slight face lines...stress maybe?...and tawny specks living as freckles. he's groomed to perfection but still there's something about him, a flare in his eye that lends itself to a buried ruggedness. a meticulous sort of brutality. 

and he's just sitting there... 

...close to you but not too close. enough to open you with his eyes, but not enough to leave you breathless...

he's practiced in this. patient. 

...he can't do this all day... you think, till his body sits more comfortable than before. he will if he has to, and he will. to prove a point. to win. 

the room is cold. sterile. you shiver some, the first to say anything. 

"i didn't do anything wrong". 

"then why so defensive?"

you felt some ways away from lethal and the reasons for such a feeling mounting more every second. forming knots in your belly, heat and pressure. guilt and a sickly intrigue. his voice was rich and deep. smooth and commanding. if in another place, at some other time, you could see yourself falling for that voice, lulled and taken by it. you hate it, the hot twinge it drives into your skin. you grow sharp, words throwing like daggers. 

"if you were me, sitting where i am, you'd be defensive too". 

"i could have you brought up on charges", he presses. toying really. flip and flopping between seriousness and sarcasm. the heels of his shoes click the floors, and you fall slow into the creak of the chair, pulling away from the size of him as he approaches. he bends, levels with you, but even this feels like a looking down upon. "cheating and swindling. maybe even restitution". 

"what?" you start. you cant help your self. "not nice enough for a little jail time". 

you see his jaw shift. "smart mouth". 

you move in with a sudden spell of boldness. "fuck you". your lips twist to spit against the floor. "and fuck your casino". 

it's quick. harsh. his fingers long and curling at your jaw. he's warm, grip steady despite the push of your hands. he feels the fight in you, regardless of how soft you are to the touch. skin tender, like untouched feathers. 

but still... that damn mouth of yours. 

"you tried remember", mirthless but not. 

"don't fucking touch me", you rant. hitting at him harder. attempting without end to pry away his fingers, until finally he lets go. 

and it's rather shortsighted but brave nonetheless, the way your feet carry you to go at him. to do what exactly? you're not to entirely sure. but it doesn't matter much anyways, not when he's this mountain of a man. herculean and spiting. resolute in fucking with you a little for whatever enjoyment he can get out of the situation, and you know this to be true when your momentum to him is soured, a scream bleeding coarse through the walls. 

the dense walls block most of the action, but the scream of pain is undeniable. the faint crush of bone breaking through to where you are, fixing you to the floor where you stand in some sickly mixture of fear and surprise. 

"the money or their fingers i asked them". his stare is heavy. daunting. "some of them chose money, but of course they get to keep neither". he walks to the single entry-exit door. body taking up most of the frame. "paul, escort the young lady back to her room". 

you scoff on instinct. hating the condescension his tone takes. you shift by them both in a way that knocks your shoulders into their arms. paul's chalky, round face as amused as his boss. 

"i can escort myself". 

---

amongst the other's lining the vegas strip, The Summer Isle Hotel is the second largest. and where the floors lack that bold blood red carpeting, there is laid instead a fine marbling, in the endless halls and walkways, polished enough to see even the faintest of facial details. the ceilings venture high, littered with crystal chandeliers and in the walls and on ceilings are engraved these renaissance inspired paintings. there is this rhythm to the place, something archaic and forever far away, that is meant to always be desired. as people sip champagne, drunk and more verbose by the second, bleeding their pockets dry to their hearts content, the artistry of the hotel leaves them wondered and greedy. that even as they eat the finest food and drink the oldest wines, there is more to indulge in. more to have, to reach that unreachable place of pure luxury.

it was extravagant and all consuming, and pieces of you wondered what it all felt like. to never want or lack for it, because it was just simply there, at the edge of your fingertips. 

the hotel was big enough to get lost in, big enough to lose others in, so when paul sits himself at your table for two, security detailing not too far, just at the edges of the bar, you grow weary and annoyed. he'd been looking for you. 

you swirl your drink with a cocktail straw. feeling the pressure of his stare. "im being babysat now?" 

his hands fold with an instinctive diplomacy. 

"just call it reassurance". 

reassurance...that was bullshit. you didn't need to be told things more than once, especially when the talk was as loud and showy as it was earlier. "he made it pretty clear what can happen. i'm a cheater, not stupid". 

"there isn't always much of a difference between the two".

you hum, sipping what's left of your drink. "if you're gonna chat me up, buy me another drink then". his brow raises, as if in waiting. you sigh, annoyed at having to perform niceties. "please". 

its expert and concise, a look and just under a handful of gestures to the bartender, but his awareness never wavers from the already empty cocktail glasses where vodka-cran once filled. three to be exact. this fourth, he hopes, would be your last, as it was now that the glazing over of your eyes was coming underway. and he'd originally been an advocate for roman's earlier display of brutish prowess, and still is in all honesty, but seeing you, it did unsettle him in very few but poignant ways. he knew enough to know that you were attempting a drowning of frenzied nerve. sitting here, he hopes you understand, like everything else on the strip... its just business. 

paul shifts. bringing his chair slightly closer. "the system you use on the blackjack tables, how long did it take to come up with it?" 

"not long, maybe a few minutes", you start. sipping and thinking on whether to indulge him or not. but it seems to you now that the whole trip has gone to complete shit so why not. "it's all about assigning basic signals to cards but it's the memory part that fucks people up. memory and performance anxiety". paul chuckles at the absurdity and you grin, slightly pleased at his interest. "practicing in a warehouse versus being on a casino floor, at a table. it's different. anything can happen". 

you push away the drink. satisfied. paul's eyes turn soft, with what you think is relief. why relief?

"and then theres the whole finding a weak dealer situation", you continue. "no offense, you guys have a better looking hotel but the venetian runs tight security". 

"noted". 

its your turn to shift in your chair. asking the question you've been wanting the answer to since the moment happened. "why didn't he break my fingers?" 

"who knows. maybe he's waiting for you to get stupid", paul jokes. 

"you either are or you aren't. no in between". 

"that means you'll stay put then?" 

you scoff. "what, i'm on lockdown?"

"the boss says you're free to do as you please. just no stealing".

you smile coy, standing to leave. "you wouldn't mind covering the tab then? can't seem to find my wallet". 

---

thief. cheater. schemer. you've heard many names and resented none of them, because at their root, the truth remained what it was. it was artistry. and if you're clever enough, sharp enough, quick enough, finessing could be masterful. the constant putting together of a challenge, a game. and it was practical to love games, because good players win. 

but this? this was not practical. he was not practical. 

he seemed to be playing a different game entirely. you figure solely to spite you. a figurative spitting in the face if you will. 

every waiter of every bar in every corner of the hotel knew your cocktail order. vodka-cran with lime, extra ice. a splash of club soda. 

the security detail seemingly doubled overnight and each of them never failed to greet you. a smile and a head tipping nod. 

casino floor personnel, always with a subtle but sudden direction, pointed out to you the slots that paid out the biggest and the most often. 

the restaurants you dined in refused to give you the check and when you asked why, flustered and confused, they gave the same answer every time. 

"because the boss said so". 

complementary goods in your hotel room. aged wines and sweets. 

tickets to shows you neither wanted to attend or cared for.

if you were a different woman, who lived a different life, you figure she'd find this every bit as enticing as it was. enchanting even. grand gestures made out of some sickly sweet distant admiration. but you were not her and most men you knew or had known only did things; provided, loved, cared, with condition. so only one questioned remained. why? and after days of guessing games, a stomach turning foreboding shifted swiftly to irritation. he'd upped the ante finally, moving from these fairly small gestures, which to you were not small at all, to something a little bit too much for you to take. 

and you wonder now if he knows that he's reached your end, knocking hard at the ceiling of your limits. body simmering hot with this slow to finish unraveling feeling. as if at any moment unknown to you, you'll break in some uncontrolled fit of rage. he was becoming more persistent, silent still but more persistent and the affects of such persistence were all around you. soft wool carpeting where marble floors ended, a detailed fretwork spanning every corner of the ceilings, and french sliding doors connecting you to a wide stretched pool looking over the vegas strip. 

"the boss sends his regards", housekeeping said after it was all said and done. 

from the 6th floor straight up to the 39th, he'd gotten them to move everything you'd bought with you. your clothes, shoes, purses, from a studio room you could just barely pay for, to the penthouse suite. 

all of this, and a tiny note atop the dresser. 

enjoy your stay - roman

"roman", you try aloud. 

it isn't till the next day that you realize he's quite fond of leaving these little letters. words thin and cursive. messages brief enough to never reveal even a semblance of his thoughts. 

friday morning his words scribble a small card stuck to the center of a bouquet of white roses. 

white desdemona's. enjoy the roses - roman

you struggle for sometime in the bright silence of the morning. the busyness of the vegas strip bleeding a hum in through the sliding french doors. it wouldn't be hard, indulging him. cling fast and easy to soft petaled gestures, quelling finally that wayward need for a romantic sort of fascination. buried so long ago but clawing upwards tirelessly still, begging for relief. but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, which in the same breath meant denying him. tearing that pristine white card in two and setting the roses out to sit just in front your suite door. to send a message, simple but strong, enough for him to understand. 

a sudden knock urges you to settle into a resolution quickly. quicker than you were prepared for. the white card now in your hand tearing into two pieces with a twist of your wrist as you go to open the door. 

its house keeping. 

you place the torn paper in their hand before stepping out of the suite, furthering more down the hallway to the elevator by the second. the roses themselves were too lovely to get rid of anyways. 

"tell your boss i send my regards". 

---

would you believe them?

a less than modest woman from the north east, standing above the illustrious wonder of the vegas strip. and from your glass flute a slow, smooth sip, along with some restless awakening of a dream, even if it last only for a moment. an imagining from this high place, that with a deep sure breath like some figure from beyond with a vast primordial power, you gave life to this idle desert, and with sun and sand, birthed from pure will what they call fabulous las vegas. but this must be what he feels, day after day, night after night, standing above the rest, the staunch rush of pride, like something simmered well into the run of his blood. for you it was this endless day dream, the money, the power, the access, but for him, it seemed real. it was real. 

and still the question remains... would you believe them? a cunning woman, wrapped strapless in leather fine enough to please even the most marred skin, and heels that extend the vicious form of your legs. 

just tuesday you were cursing the good name and fortune of this place with your dna splat just mere inches from his shoes, and now here you are friday, waiting for him. 

if they, whoever they are, told you sometime ago that you'd be here, you wouldn't have believed them. 

he'd done well to send another card, and with it, another gift. 

the rendezvous. 7pm - roman

he'd gotten house keeping to do more of his dirty work, the poor bastards, but even their precision was daunting. the placement of the card, and the gift, and the complementary wine, and a single blooming stargazer. the petals dainty and blushing. it'd left you standing deep in a well of emotion, finding everything he'd left, and your bed taken by a box. the lid pulled off quickly by that gnawing urge to indulge him. and despite his initial brutish behavior and persistence, it was safe to say that the man was not void of taste. 

but it would be more sensible to deny yourself,  like a chant, it'd echoed, and your fingers ran over the plains of something silky. a dress, cool raven color, strong and subduing, but the fabric was so fine to the touch it'd felt criminal to hold. and with it had lived perfumes, bottle after bottle, as if he feared you'd somehow go without. and... fuck... sitting, waiting really, in a satin pouch... two pairs of goddamned diamond earrings. one pair smaller than the other, but both far more delicate than most things you'd ever owned. and soon the short warm swell of excitement had grown cold and hesitating. why was he doing this? what did he want from you? 

they were questions you intended to get answers to and it seemed if they weren't answered now then who knows when, unsure if you'd ever see him again. 

"you didn't like the roses"

your heart takes to some quick instinctual beating. a ragged fraying of nerves just off the simple sooth and strength of his voice. before, in that silent white room, you were sharp, aware of him but the power of his aura did nothing to sway your wanting to see him pained by your indifference to him. now though... it was so damn different now it seemed, as you were a small ways away from a purely formed nervousness. 

you turn just enough to give him your profile, sipping slow at the flute, steeling one buzz under your skin away with another. "i'd like them more if they were red". you face him finally, staying leant up against the balcony railing of the restaurant. "but it seems i don't have much option or choice here". 

"no need to choose when everything is the best". 

"that doesn't sound self important at all". 

"doesn't make it any less true". 

champagne has never tasted so good, you think, sipping and fighting the impulse to look away from him. his eyes softer than before but still lying in them are traces of searching for some unspoken truth. it was a much more subdued attempt compared to before, every pass his eyes made about your own, short flickers to your lips, the way you clutched the glass, your hair, your jewelry, the dress you were wearing, like a gentle pealing back of a layer. less scrutiny out of a short bout of anger and more of a learning. he'd come to the conclusion after watching you leave the white room all those days ago that he wanted to learn you. 

here now, watching you sip champagne, he wondered if you'd let him. 

"listen", you start. taking a closer step to him, with some new found form of resolution, and its hard to keep this will strong and steeled away when he's this close. scent heady and soothing to your senses. "i don't know what you're thinking, but i do know that you got me a lot of fucked up for just hauling my shit-"

"the suite is yours for as long as you want it" 

"i'm not paying for it"

his grin is warm. inviting. long fingers slipping the flute from your hold after its been emptied to set it down at a nearby table. "it's yours anyways". 

your confusion is palpable, lives in the way you retreat closer to the banister again, for fresher air void of him. in hopes to think more clearly. "just the other day you practically had me hemmed up and now you're-"

"that was different. it was business". 

you scoff. "business my ass, fuck you-"

"and fuck my casino, i know". 

it's your go to insult it seems, this time having less of an affect on him, but still there is something there. a small stinging pain bruising the very large stain of ego. 

you look to him with searching eyes of your own. "so the wine... and-and the roses and just... everything, i mean thats?..."

"gifts. just gifts. not to be payed back ever". 

your face fixes in a fashion similar to the first time you spoke to him. eyes defensive and unsure, brows pulling in for a full measure of scrutiny. "why?"

"have dinner with me". 

you press again. "why?" 

"because", he starts, with a streak of vulnerability. "all of my attention is taken up by a casino resort on the strip of one of the busiest places in the world but for some reason, for the last 72 hours or so i've only been able to think clearly about you".

your eyes roll off instinct despite the flutter feeling in your gut. "am i supposed to be flattered?"

"its the truth". 

roman hadn't been a man who lent himself to believing in chance or possibility for sometime. if he wanted something, or hell even someone, it simply happened, because thats the way it had been, since the first burst of the resorts success till before this very moment. when he spoke, the world of the resort opened and bent, twisted and curved till it formed to his liking, so much until the effects of his wants rippled through the whole of the strip till they echoed miles away, through the rolling of nevada desert dust. but you...

the click of your heels, the soft sway of your hips, the way words twisted from your lips comfortable because you knew yourself well enough to know that regardless of his capabilities you'd do something drastic and a bit ways away from reckless before ever letting him get the best of you. 

that bravery, an unflinching flame, new and unpredictable and different and more exciting than anything he'd seen in sometime. 

whether you were leaving or staying, he follows you and savors even the cut of your eyes. it's quick and fierce, unsure of its power but stripping the resolve of him all the same. and of course a curt look is all you give him, as he opens the door to the rendezvous and follows you in, not a word to him as waiters and well off patrons pass the both of you by. a leisure walk around pristine white cloth dressed tables and velvet chairs, each of your steps like some small conquering of a widely secured territory. his territory. you move more sure of yourself by the second and it rushes his warm and wanting. 

with no real hurry, roman pulls out the chair you've picked to sit in just before you can make to do it yourself, finding himself closer than he needs to be, just some inches from your face. each breath in, sweet and tempting. the perfume he bought you...

you sit without a word, not even a thank you, and he finds himself more drawn in by the second. 

it isn't until he sits himself that roman realizes you've chosen a seat at the center of the restaurant. and whether it's purposeful or not, it's damn sure fitting. 

a trivial orbit of faces and voices. 

"you don't take no for an answer do you?"

"when you're where i am, after a while, you stop asking and getting asked. you never even have to hear no". 

its arrogant, eye roll worthy even, but you don't miss the truth in it. the pull of his brows together, lending themselves to a pure honesty. and it's hard, quelling that pull up of envy. to be so well off, so rich, never having to answer to any one. i wish, you thought. i wish

your finger trails along the fine table cloth. "i must have you so out of sorts then, how rude of me". 

"it's fun", he grins. a single finger signaling someone. " 'm learning my manners again". 

and there was this fidelity to his words ......everything is the best because i am the best...... a quality that spilled over into everything that he touched, spoked to, looked at, and did. it was this undeniable thing, a force, that caused such a natural hesitation in you, but also this impulse to fight. you wanted to struggle against him, war with the easy diligence of him till he folded. cracking under the weight of his hubris till large fragmented pieces ground to dust. but you would not win that battle today, no, not as waiters execute their level of precision, plate after plate set atop the table in such a meticulous manner that it seemed to be planned. a well thought scheme with the intent to impress. dish after dish, revealed, one after the other smelling more divine than the one before it. 

the waiter, an adorably eager young man, falls into a spiel about the wine you can't be bothered to care about. his work of a perfect pour all for nothing. it nearly pains you. "i'll take a water please". 

the waiter flattens. a curt nod as he hurries away. 

"it's vintage", roman says. seemingly unaffected by your disinterest in old aged wine. 

" 'm sure it is". eyeing him. the sip his lips take. "seems you've had things all planned out. what if i'd said no?" 

"someone else's lucky night then. a free meal on the house".

"do you have a ready made answer to everything?". 

"i am who i am. it's impossible not to".  the cut of your knives into plated steaks reveals this smooth buttery finish. the meat tender against the blade and more so to the taste. and it takes everything in you not to moan or go cross eyed, not when he's watching your every move. seemingly studying and committing your eyes and lips and words to memory. no, you simply chew. sip at your water and live as quiet in your delight as possible. till of course it hits you, not as hard or sudden as one would expect, but it's more of a washing over. a stilled piecing together that quickens your pulse and frowns out the apathy on your lips. 

you stare down at your plate. a short ways away from dumbfounded. "you know how i like my steak".  even the way he chews is perfect. measured and steady. a luxurious sort of etiquette steeped into the make of him. but you find that his manners are selective, as he doesn't even bother to meet your eyes. low sitting and accusing. he chews as you did, but with more leisure. the slice of his knife and the clink of his fork fighting against the waiting you do in the silence. even when he works to indulge you, he abides in his own time, lets you wrestle with the trivial chatter of the room the way you did not so long ago with the abundance of his gifts. 

he wipes his mouth with a cloth. a feigned unawareness about him. 

"the chefs know how you like your steak".

you scoff. maybe your tenth eye roll of the night. " and the bartenders so conveniently know how i like my cocktails too". 

he sips his wine easy like he would water. "they have an eye for detail, thats why they work here". 

"or maybe", you start. fork an obnoxious clinking at the plate as it drops dramatic from your fingers. "just maybe it's someone else's eyes they're looking through. someone else's words they're following". 

"maybe". 

...so fucking goddamn frustrating... you think. eyeing the full table of food. and it's less anger and more confusion, that slow to finish fraying of nerves. these things that he does, says, that leave you emotionally inconvenienced. 

"you don't know how insane it feels, night after night, trying to pick up a check for dinner and the waiter refuses your money. it feels like stealing". 

he chuckles. "something you should be used to then". 

"fuck you. i only steal out of necessity". 

and this was it, the thing from which his curiosities where born, feverish in his fingers. an ache to flex broad and wide, to do and make till need was just a distant word laying dead at the recesses of your mind. necessities were strange, and if it became flesh and bone with legs and the will to speak it too would be a stranger to him. roman had not wanted for anything in some time, and if he felt in himself that he needed something, the readiness by which it came to him revealed only that he did not need it, but that he wanted it, in that covetous way that a man wants another mans woman. and so it became natural, that others around him would not need for anything either. 

the way he's settled into the velvet of the chair becomes less leisure, leaning in slightly with a more focused determination. "what do you need?" 

your smile is wry. unconvinced. "like you care". 

"if you could have anything, what would it be?"

the list was endless it seemed, a question you'd asked and answered thousands of times and then thousands of times again. cars, houses, shoes, clothes, jewelry, yachts, boats. trivial and obnoxiously expensive things even, if it meant that you could feel the freedom of just being. it was an easy thing to answer, but so hard still when all the answers were far away from you, never even brushing faint at your fingertips. 

and he thinks in this moment, your eyes softening, this is the most serious he's ever seen you. 

"i wanna be comfortable. enough not to worry about anything". 

"and why aren't you there yet?"

"i tried", a finger of yours slipping against the grip of the cutting knife. "but you stopped me". 

but how could he question you? was your drive, your diligence to get what you wanted not legitimate because it was not legal? and with this, the question forms clear again, why the fuck were you here? 

"a man at the top asking me why i'm all the way down here", your head shaking in this sly build of indignation. he had some nerve. "you don't see how shitty that is?" 

roman feels something in him lessen. a deep pulling away that reflects in the flare that takes to your eyes. an edge that leaves the room a bit cooler than before. how could he have been so stupid and blind? judging you for the very thing that had left him in this whirl of curiosity and admiration. 

" 'm not tryin to offend you". 

"but here i am. offended". 

he shifts, reaches the wide stretch of his palm to lay open against the table. an olive branch close enough for you to reach out and take. "let me make it up to you". 

you consider him. the outstretch of his palm. fingers strong and waiting. the way his eyes settle into this mild sort of kindness that still lends itself to something not so pleasing. the warm lights amongst the crystals of hanging chandeliers casting along his face in such a way that it shadows his eyes some but still shines against his features. speaking so clearly to the deepened well of his hubris, always revealing and hiding itself in his own time. he is a sure man, wanting only what he wants, but seeks it in such a diligent way that it suffocates the things, the people that he desires. but maybe, just maybe, if you leave him wanting, challenged and needy, he would give you everything. 

your finger tips move to tease at his. this faint dancing along his palm. "if you're gonna send me gifts, make sure it's things i like". touch a sly caress at his wrist. "i'm not a wine girl, and i hate seeing flowers die". 

he lets your touch play along his skin. revels silent in the rush it sends, a jetting stream into his blood. 

"what do you prefer?"

you slip off a ring that shines against his pinky. fitting it onto your middle one. your stare is this rapturous thing. hypnotic and breath taking, and he understands why you've probably gotten away with so much till now. 

"i have a sweet tooth". 

"i can work with that".

you hum into a sigh, considering still. your hand balling his own to close that reaching opened palm before you settle back into your chair. more eased now than you've been the whole night. 

"i hope so for your sake". 

and roman does not hesitate often, certainly never out of fear. he doesn't mind the manner of his words much, or their phrasing and the life it breathes into his expression. he doesn't suffer much to care for the thoughts of others and their own words, unless of course it somehow seeks to exist against his money, the resort or the greatness of his name. roman wasn't fearful, no, but being here with you, caution takes him all the same. like those tentative seconds where the lucky struck gambler is suspended in possibility, waiting for the dealers reveal. 

his words take to a mindfulness, as if each word is brought out selectively. "has anyone ever offered, to take care of you. buy you things. take you places". 

you laugh in that small uncontrollable way, when something, after so much confusion, becomes clear. because of course this is what he wants. of-fucking-course. 

"some have. i always told them no".

"why?"

to think of it, even if just slightly, annoyed you. "conditions. restrictions. rules. you can't go there, you can't do this. that's not care". 

"control is an acquired taste". 

a grin slips into the seam of your lips. curious. "is it yours?" 

his tongue peaks, a short run against his teeth, and something deep within, this buried and slow to rise feeling tightens at your core. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a taste of wine.

his grin matches yours. "not if it ain't yours". 

"out of all the woman everywhere, why me?" 

"you try to steal from me, you spit on my casino floor, and you ain't missed a chance yet to tell me how you feel". 

"we're into degradation i see", you joke. and it gets a laugh you think not many have experienced. it's something sincere, crinkling for some seconds the corners of his eyes. and despite the short bout of fondness that forms at hearing him laugh, he's got to be joking right? pulling your leg hard for an even bigger laugh. "i'm a thief roman". 

"a very transparent thief. i don't meet people like that a lot". 

it's a losing fight but still, it's hard not to push back. 

"you barely know me". 

"i could know you, if you let me". 

"what's in it for you?" 

sex, you think. when he's given you enough of his money and access, he'll ask for sex. 

"your company". 

---

riverside, california was not the vegas strip, and by all intents and purposes did not claim to be the notorious sin city. the breeze here was something warm and patient. a soft flowing about, satisfied only by its own directionlessness. but in a small whispered taunting way, it was unadulterated. the vegas strip was loud, this harsh numbing sort of droning that buried the more subtle, truthful noises and those skittish undercurrents in the skin that lent to fervent thoughts and ideas. the silence of riverside and the quaint rooftop air of antonella's was this exposing thing. and you'd come west to unashamedly connive your way into some money, but now you were here, unsure of the minutes, hours and even days to come, with him. sipping at coffee, and picking gentle but anxious at his diamond ring, feeling as aimless as the riverside wind. 

and then, seemingly from no where, his shoes click against the cobblestone, steps slow and uniformed, a pace all his own. and as he sets down a fine spread atop the table; meats, cheeses, fruits, and small cakes, he can sense rather acutely this refusal to acknowledge him. from you, an amusing fight; one leg crossed over the other, a fidgeting in your fingers and this far away look else where, feigning indifference. 

antonella's at noon - roman

he'd written as he liked to do, and yet it was a little passed two in the afternoon. the drive over to riverside lengthy and unknowing. 

"you're late"

" 'm sorry?"

roman is amused but taken a back all the same. in the years of his success, lateness was not something to treat with avoidance or fear but just another trivial idea. something purely subjective. or maybe it was because things just ran on his time, started and stopped when his desires had not been met or when they'd exceeded his expectations. it was new to think that something like that was so bothersome for you. 

he sits in the empty space of a double seated chair beside you. the wood fine and stripped, carved with intricate designs. his arm falling against the top. your bodies closer now than they've ever been. 

"if i'm-", you shift to face him. eyes taken by the tan of his cheeks, sprinkled with freckles. lips full, and beard thick. his eyes softer than normal but still traces of an intensity to them. he's beautiful, even in his arrogance and persistence. "if i'm gonna do this. whatever this is, you have to be on time. i'm not a woman who likes to wait". 

his eyes drop to the plump of your lips. existing there this thin tempting line of gloss. "yes ma'am". 

and his stare lingers, a gentle taking in of the slight pout forming into the line of your lips and the soft round out of your cheeks. your eyes under the cast of the sun, more ethereal than not, but guarded some still in this impatient game of waiting for something that will quell that burden of unknowing. the small tells of your anxiety live in the way you play aimlessly at that ring you took from him, or rather the ring he let you take. even with your demands that fight against his own desires and your quick wits and your curt looks and your own bouts of teasing, you still hesitate for fear of the feelings that come with great disappointment. he wonders now if his words for you are not enough, and that though it had been enough for mostly everyone, you are not them. you are new and different and he'd have to treat you as such. 

roman cuts a piece of cake easy, and on a fork it waits for you to indulge in it. 

"taste this", he gives, handing you the fork. 

"what is it?" 

"panettone". his voice deep and delicate about the shape of the vowels, taking on a slight accent in reverence of the treat. italian?, you wonder. 

the cake is buttery and sweet, a taste of fruit with each pass it takes over your tongue and theres something there as you sit with the taste of it that tells you that it's homemade. its a perfect mixture of everything, as if the baker had made it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more. 

he reaches to pick off a piece of fruit with a slim pick, sleeves loose and revealing the beginnings of what you think is a full arm of connected tattoos. you wonder how far they travel, and where they possibly might end. 

the strength of espresso wafts against the flow of a simple breeze as he takes to refilling the teeny size of your cup and then a splash of his own to taste. 

he sighs, satisfied at the warmth of it. "you like it?". 

"mhmm", you give. a sincerity lining your lips as you give him a small smile. it's something new, relaxed. an earnestness lacking that natural wary look you wear when you look at him. "you're taking my words to heart. i like a man who listens". 

"i aim to please". 

you slip the ring back onto your finger, less fidgety with it now. an easy settling of the tensity in your shoulders that allows your body to rest closer to him. facing inward so that the cross of your leg touches his. and it's this innocent, dainty step towards intimacy. where the gentle quiet of the day fills the air with a more tender possibility. guards are fallen away, more than before if anything, and your eyes shimmer warm and a little more accepting. i'll try, you think to your self, to believe him even if only for a moment. i'll indulge him. 

"you like that ring?", he asks. staring at the way it shines against your finger. 

at the mention of it, you twist the band about your finger. 

"my mother thought the best thing a woman could do for herself was have jewelry. it's the only thing that doesn't disappoint". nostalgia a fine thread in your words. remembering the woman that taught you everything. and he sees the soft way your cheeks turn up. feels a need to keep them that way, but even more so when you look at him. "it's a little big, but it goes with my earrings". 

my...my earrings. claiming fully the things that he'd gifted you. 

his longer, stronger fingers reach for yours, for the ring, seemingly possessed by memory. and his touch is a light caress. featherweight and reverential. a shiver strums your skin there. teeming with the want for a heated relief found only in another pass of his finger, till it folds, along with the others, his over yours, to lock in an embrace. 

"i had it made ten years ago", he tells you. "about a month after the resort opened. a gift to myself". 

his thumb dances with a sweet brushing along your skin, with nothing particularly amorous, but there is comfort here, in your touch, a stranger. the way skin passes slow and steady to feel the other, lax and patient. 

"it's still beautiful", your hand dropping to your lap, locked with his still, and the pull brings him just that much closer. a comfortable leaning in that gives way to him taking in more readily the heady sweetness of your perfume. his eyes and his mouth something like a foot away, but feeling so very close, so much so that it steals breaths. kickstarts that harsh beating in your blood, a drumming pulse in your fingers. you wonder if he feels it. 

"it doesn't disappoint". 

you smile. interested in him. "how old were you then?"

"28. you?"

you can see him at 28. untainted by the burning pace of vegas. his eyes ever intense but in them more of a smolder. his hair longer, with no flecks of grey. more unsure and less persistent. grasping at things that come to him so easily now. 

"24". 

and he'd love to meet 24 you. maybe not as quick witted but clever still. fast in your schemes with a maybe not so predictable temper. but still, a covetous touch to the things you wanted. needed. 

"causing trouble where?", he chuckles. 

"new york". 

he looks at the ring. loose on your finger. 

"ill have the ring resized to fit".

you shake your head. unsure. "it's something special. i don't wanna take that from you". 

"you don't ask and you don't say thank you. if i give it, it's yours. simple". 

he is as serious now as the day you first met him, and beyond all of your own doubting, there's this burden to believe him. the quiet fervor of his words and his touch, the warm glow of him amongst the day light and the unwavering hold his eyes take to yours. and his thumb runs a simple caress over where your pulse quickens harsh at the inside of your wrist, from surprise and need. a soft lulling that only seems to stoke the flame of a slow but sure to rise desire. it's yours, words promising and unfazed by the endless unknowns of tomorrow. so much so that he proves it, slips an envelope from his pocket till it finds its way into your hand. 

and the envelope is mere trash compared to whats inside. a sleek black card, engraved with his own name. 

your fingers slip at it. failing somewhat to hide the growing excitement. but there is disbelief here also, coming alive quick but dying quicker the more you feel the fixed weight of his decision, heavy in his eyes and warm at his touch. his intensity is a power all on its own, working well to lull you in. to subdue. a twinge at your core tells you that you are not immune. "is there a limit?" 

"why would there be?" 

you chuckle. "you're serious?"

"dead serious". 

there's that twinge again, lingering hot and teasing. scares you away from his eyes and the tender hold of his touch, but he doesn't falter, even when your fingers leave the tangle of his. and then, caution breaks against the luxurious sort of excitement teeming quick, tightens into your fingers so that the card feels heavy. too fine to hold in your hands. but still, he remains, sitting with an endless patience, sure that he will win you over fully. if not today then soon. 

the moment still seems too good to be true for you. 

you sigh. "this all isn't just some round about way of trying to fuck me is it?" 

but he doesn't hesitate. amused even. 

"that only happens if you want it to sweetheart". 

and it takes courage not to imagine it. the details of a daydream where his lips slip against your skin, hands strong and leading as they push and prod to his will, till you're just how he wants you, playing in these fast to leave flashes in your minds eyes. you think though, under his heavy gaze, that it's something to wonder about when he's not this close and determined to commit your every expression to memory. so you steel your face, fingers grabbing his cup to sip at his espresso, the curiosity of your daydreams attempting with a desperate sort of vigor to run away from you. they barely succeed. 

with roman, you were in for something interesting. 

[adolin]

PLEASE EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS FIC I GOT

Would you like TO HAVE YOUR MIND BLOWN? Do you think OLD WOMAN YURI IS SEXY? Do you enjoy HAUNTINGS and MINDFUCKS and ACCIDENTAL BABY ACQUISITION?

If the answer is yes, look no further! If the answer is no, still read this. Trust me

8k words, rated M, Chose Not To Warn

featuring: River Bubbles, Bloody Kisses, Gideon the First's cottagecore fantasy, PyrrhaxWake's psycosexual interrogation time loop