#this has been making me up for a few months now

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[garuda4321]

Don’t worry, I’ve been told I’ll get advanced notice if the world is ending from my buddy in Poland. I’ll make sure to keep you all posted on that. Of course, he also had an interesting thing to tell me, which I will quote because I think a lot of folks need to hear this. However, saving that for a little bit later because I feel like folks could use a bit of a motivational speech (I gave my first one today focused on hope, and boy do we need it).

Here goes.

I want to start by reminding people that it’s ok to feel. Whether that’s anger, sadness, hope, happiness, or whatever else you’re feeling, it is ok to feel them. Emotions should not be suppressed. I work very hard to ensure that I am a part of a community that is not only safe, but somewhere I can call home. I am always willing to invite more people into my home, especially in times of need as feeling safe is something everyone deserves.

I know that when faced with outcomes such as these, it is considerably easier to live with a victory than a loss. This is why this I am speaking about hope, having hope. I understand that not everyone has hope right now. If you do have it, please try to share some of that hope with those that do not have it. If you do not have it, hopefully you can find some in this reblog.

I am fairly certain that everyone has had the experience when something doesn’t go their way. In the realm of Ninja (the obstacle course racing variety), this is rampant. Perhaps we fell on the first obstacle of a course, or perhaps we missed qualifying for finals by mere seconds. When this happens, we have two choices. We can either stay down and let the negativity eat away at us, or we can get back up and keep training and trying until we reach our goal.

Unfortunately, we can only do that during training. On a course, when we fail obstacle one, that’s it, we don’t get a second chance. We don’t have that choice to stay down or get back up as we can’t change the outcome. As depressing as that sounds, it’s true.

You can’t change what happened and you don’t get the choice to “get up and try it again”. But we don’t have to sit and cry, complain, or hide from it either. We don’t have to give up.

Right now, there are lots of us that are down. We have communities that we feel safe and welcome in to support us when we need them. Together, as we refuse to give up, we can do each and every thing to help better our communities. It may not be a large difference, but a difference is a difference, and a difference matters! We can leave a smile, a compliment, or even a positive message behind because if someone is having a rough day, those small actions can make a large difference for them.

I encourage you to try to bridge outside of your comfort zone and meet new people, join new communities and try to spread some positivity in the world. I did so earlier today by giving a very similar speech to this one and again now by posting an abbreviated version of it. Do your best to make a difference with all people, no matter who they are, what they look like, or what they stand for. Because we will overcome whatever is thrown our way together, and by helping those that are struggling to overcome their own obstacles. We will believe and we will have faith. We may not know who or what to believe in, but we all know that we can believe in each other.

To finish us off, that quote from my friend in Poland.

“Remember that life is a long distance race. In a few months, a lot will change. In a few years, whole world will look completely different. Don’t lose your energy and faith in being a good person. World will need good people.”

Choose to be kind, caring, compassionate, and empathetic.

I’m signing off for now, maybe I’ll return with the next one I end up giving.

[fqlling4it]

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) part 2 | max verstappen x best friend! reader

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, and others

yourusername much needed rest and relaxation over the break (with some extra special family time)

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user732 posting for the first time in months after dropping THAT song is diabolical

↳ user82 her saying she’ll wait for his love is actually kinda insane because i’d be groveling on my knees if she showed the slightest bit of interest in me

lilymhe oh my beautiful, beautiful girl

↳ yourusername love you lily <3

user81 i know that second single’s gonna hit like crack

↳ user4 praying everyday for her to release again

georgerussell63 pops finally made the gram?

↳ yourusername took lots and lots of convincing for me to be able to post this georgie

francolapinto muuyyyy linda 😘

↳ yourusername i’m a little too old for you sweetheart

christianhorner make sure to tell that boy of yours thank you for winning you the bear

↳ yourusername papa, this is not how instagram works…. everyone can see this

user63 christian outing his daughter about having a boyfriend was not on my 2024 bingo card 😭

↳ user33 diabolical move on his part, but now i’m nosy and wanna know who

francisca.cgomes i’ve missed you, come by soon ☹️💔

↳ yourusername will be over as soon as possible

yourusername added to their story!

[caption 1: night out with my girl! francisca.cgomes]

[caption 2: always third wheeling these two pierregasly francisca.cgomes]

view story replies

francisca.cgomes you could’ve brought him with you bubs

↳ it’s still new, didn’t want to force him into something he might not be comfortable with… he only met pops because of work

user72 y/n’s so me, always third wheeling my friend and her boyfriend </3

user44 two pretty girls omg

carlossainz55 could’ve invited me hermosa, would’ve been a nice double date

↳ next time then, just wasn’t sure if you were ready to officially officially meet my friends <3

alexandrasaintmleux no boyfriend appearance?

↳ keeping it low key… wasn’t sure if he was ready to meet everyone as my boyfriend yet

francisca.cgomes added to their story!

[caption 1: picked up alex and forced pierre to be our photographer]

[caption 2: when she gets a text back so she has to set her phone down and scream]

carlossainz55 glad i have that effect on her, tell her to answer me though </3

↳ still screaming, will text you back when she’s done

user44 literally me when i get a text from my man 🧍‍♀️

user81 three baddies in one picture 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

maxverstappen who was she texting???

↳ it’s none of your business max, stop meddling

incoming messages from max!

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and others

carlossainz55 what a great way to end a three week break, love spending time with mi sol. ¡vamos vegas!

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user72 y/n in the likes, my yncarlos truthers RISE!

↳ user63 so delusional oh my god

yourusername viva las vegas!

↳ carlossainz55 viva las vegas!

charles_leclerc sad to be out last triple header as teammates brother, i’ll be keeping you around

↳ carlossainz55 gonna miss you hermano, we’ll race hard for ferrari

user65 can’t believe it’s carlos’ last few races in a ferrari 💔

↳ user55 and if i say perez is out so the redbull seat is open and carlos goes to redbull and franco stays at williams 😁

↳ user65 delusion at its finest

maxverstappen ready to go in vegas 🙌

↳ carlossainz55 see you there

user23 you know who else went golfing with lily during the break? y/n!

↳ user61 that doesn’t mean y/n was there when carlos was with lily and alex, you sound delusional

yourusername added to their story!

[caption 1: the only professional ever took me golfing lilymhe]

[caption 2: he got jealous, so my man took me golfing too (:]

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user732 man???? i thought maybe your dad was joking… oh my god

user61 hmmm… interesting…. is that perhaps carlos sainz? who wore that same outfit in the pictures he posted on his insta… suspicious 🤨

carlossainz55 i was not jealous hermosa.. just wanted you to remember how good i am at golf

↳ oh of course amor, you just wanted to show off your golfing skills… so what if i post a picture of us when i announce my new song? are you okay with that?

carlossainz55 sounds amazing hermosa, i’ll post you too.. wanna show off my girl

lilymhe oh you two are so cute

↳ you missed it!!!! when we went to go find my ball he told me he loves me… i melted on the spot lils, he’s so sweet 🥲🥰

christianhorner oh baby, i hope you’re having a wonderful break. tell carlos to stop by hospitality on media day, we’ve got some things to discuss

↳ thank you papa! i’ll make sure to remind him

user81 oh that’s so cute

user94 lily and y/n >>>>>

user01 the fit though

maxverstappen is that who i think it is?? you’re with carlos??

↳ please max, it’s none of your business… can’t you just be happy for me?

maxverstappen i am happy for you schatje, i hope he treats you well

↳ so well! i love him max… so so much

user344 imagine being max and fumbling the baddest bitch and almost losing your championship to someone with three race wins

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen and others

yourusername dinner dates with my man <3 (new song eternal sunshine out friday!)

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user61 I KNEW IT I KNEW IT AND I GOT CALLED DELUSIONAL FOR SAYING IT

carlossainz55 bonitaaa

carlossainz55 hermosa 😍😍😍

carlossainz55 te amo mi sol

↳ yourusername te amo guapo

lilymhe and the cutest couple award goes to… carlos and y/n

↳ yourusername ahhhh i love you lily <3

alexandrasaintmleux oh you two are just the cutest

↳ yourusername thank you alex, love you <3

maxverstappen so happy for the two of you, congratulations!

↳ yourusername thank you max, it truly means a lot

user743 ok but they’re so cute together

user392 newest ferrari wag but only for three race weekends ☹️

↳ user16 you act like she’s dying, they’re just moving teams

christianhorner so happy for you baby! i love you princess ❤️

↳ yourusername thank you papa, i love you too. make sure to tell geri we’ll visit soon <3

carlossainz55 added to their story!

[caption 1: paddock days with my girl]

[caption 2: a win in vegas with the best company]

f1

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and others

f1 carlos sainz to join oracle redbull racing for the 2025 season after sergio perez retires! franco colapinto will take sainz’s seat at williams for the 2025 season

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carlossainz55 so so grateful for this opportunity!

user55 i literally predicted this ????

↳ yourusername please predict carlos winning wdc 2025, thanks girlie 🥰🙏

user23 so so happy for him!

user82 oh this is amazing news!

maxverstappen can’t wait to be teammates mate!

↳ carlossainz55 so excited to be teammates again hermano

charles_leclerc happy for you brother!

↳ carlossainz55 thank you charles, double date with the girls soon!

user44 oh wow

christianhorner excited for next year! wcc is ours! work hard boys!

yourusername added to their story!

[caption 1: eternal sunshine out now 🌞]

[caption 2: my eternal sunshine ☀️ carlossainz55]

[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[mynameismad]

What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ³ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.3k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho (you’re here) | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, some joel references, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’, ellie has a panic attack, shambler appearance (ew), and for the fun part… SMUT, switch!reader, oral sex, fingering ( :P ), barely any dirty talk because this is a loving experience y’all (and i don’t really know how to write that lmao), ellie might be a little ooc but i just perceive her to be this way idk.

note: to start… if anyone needs anyone to talk to after hearing the results of the election, please don’t be afraid to direct message me. especially my fellow american queer/trans friends. we are truly in some tough times right now. i hope this chapter can serve as some sort of distraction for what’s going on. as always, enjoyy!

Idaho

Welcome to the Gem State, the sign read when you passed the state line into Idaho a few days ago. The place you’ve been dreaming of was getting closer and closer—that feeling of relief was near! You could feel it bubbling in your stomach, enriching the nerves that ran under your sore muscles.

Since Oregon, you and Ellie had barely shared a full conversation. It’s only been small directions, or helpful interjections with infected, or even, guidance in getting around potentially dangerous people.

This time around, you harbored most of the frustration and anger. Wrath wrapped itself around you once more, forbidding you from wondering what her inquiries meant—what bringing up Honey meant. Ellie tried to service you the best she could, trying to make up physically for what she couldn’t vocally. Resuming her position as your caretaker, but that only made things worse.

The wounds and weaknesses of Santa Barbara were healing but were being replaced by new ones. Surface cuts, sprained ankles, and scorned hearts. Ellie could ask you nothing without the pitch of your voice raising an octave. It wasn’t anything like the character she knew you to be.

Or the months you spent together thus far meant nothing—she never actually knew anything about you.

The annotated map relied in your hands as you approached an administrative building. You had spent the previous night planning the route, instead of engaging in small talk with your partner. You were, somehow, still trying to prove to Ellie that you didn’t need her. Indulging in an individual competition of: who does it better? It was a drastic understatement to call you a competitive person. And her incessant need to make up for the misfortune of her curiosity wasn’t helping.

“Here’s the firm…” You mutter, immediately trotting to the front doors. American Falls Firm. Pulling at the handle, you realized it was locked and barricaded from the inside. Huffing, you folded up the map, sliding it into your backpack. “Looks like we gotta find another way in.” Dusting your hands, you began to survey different sides of the building. She followed behind you, keeping an eye out for lingering infected and any other inhibitors.

Humming to yourself, you squinted at the broken window above you. Turning your head, you peered at the auburn-haired woman who’s back faced you. Your Beretta resided in her hands as she kept a keen eye on the surroundings. Ellie didn’t mind doing that job because it kept her mind from wanting appeal to you. It kept her from wanting to beg for your forgiveness. After all, this was just her doing you a debtless favor. She shouldn’t have been so attached to you anyway.

“Hey,” You waved her over. “I need a boost.”

She met your eyes, nodding with firm lips. “Sure,” Slinging the shotgun around her body, she bent at the knee and cupped her hands low. Placing your hands on her shoulders, your irises danced over her features, briefly. Dirt attempted to blend in with the freckles over her nose, but they didn’t stand a chance—you knew the difference. Her olive eyes did well to avoid yours, feigning a look of impatience. “Up you go.”

Ellie boosted you up toward the window with all the strength she could muster. Fingers catching onto the edge of where the floor and window meant. Using your own strength, you pulled yourself into a room illuminated by daylight. Groaning under your breath from the stretch of your muscles. Crouching, you leaned back down to pull Ellie up.

Her hand attached to your forearm, crawling up the stone wall and into the room. Ellie hissed as she crawled inside, holding her wrapped ankle to alleviate some of the pain. Standing to your feet, you looked down at her with flickers of concern in your eyes.

The other day, she tripped over a thick fallen tree branch from the morning dew—spraining or straining her ankle, you couldn’t remember the difference. All you knew was that she hurt her ankle badly, but it wasn’t broken. Ellie wrapped it herself with athletic tape from your bag; with her back facing you in embarrassment.

“Can we keep going, or do you need a second?” You inquire, avoiding your eyes, dismissively. Like you didn’t care what her response was, even though you did.

“I’m fine…” She stood to her feet, wringing out her foot.

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine…” Ellie grumbled, walking off to another side of the room.

It was a barren office that the both of you meandered through. Picking at the miscellaneous items that could serve you in any way. There were two desks that occupied the office; decorated with familial picture frames and old-world gadgets that made no sense to either of you.

Slowly, pushing open the door, the entire building appeared silent. Light peaking through broken and foggy windows, greenery growing inside and through the deteriorating structure. You found it rather beautiful that the earth was taking back what was hers—negating the infected, of course. Your fingers traced the vines that grew through the cement. Those plants were living despite opposition; everyone could learn something from that.

Breaking through barriers and walls, despite their resilience.

You glanced at the auburn-haired woman, keeping a safe distance from you, scoping out the place. “What’s the route out of here?” She asks, dragging her sneakers against the cracked floors. There was a slight limp to her gait, but made sure to walk as normal as possible when your eyes were set on her.

Blowing air from your lips, you respond. “The ground floor. There should be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Usually, lower floors of abandoned buildings worried you. Infected find themselves huddled in their own corrosion. In darker, moister, places they intensified. Some merging to the walls, other growing boils of acid.

When your eyes set on a metal door that led to the floor you needed to get to, your heart pumped blood into your veins. Pounding in your ears as an alarm. Through the window, white flurries fluttered by, confirming the one thing you were concerned about: over-developed infected.

“Mask up. Spores.” You swing your bag around to dig for your mask.

Ellie did the same, with slight hesitation. “Is the this only way through?”

You nodded, tightening the strap around your head. “Yeah, if we still wanna knock off some time.” Opening the door, you armed yourself with the pistol that sat snuggly in the waistband of your jeans. The walls were adorned in the crusty corrosion of the sick, bubbling in corners. You frowned under your mask, stepping slowly down the stairs. Ellie following behind you with the same caution, shotgun drawn.

Errk!

Both of you stopped moving in the stairwell at the sound of a clicker. You swear under your breath, glancing at your partner. “We’ve got company.” She muttered, nodding at you to go forward.

Moments like this was when you relied on her the most, but you’d never admit it. It was nice to not have to endure circumventing infected alone. Ellie was your backup, and you were hers. Even if you were still upset with her—underground that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Navigating through the dark, with your lights flickered on, the both of you managed to stealthily kill the clickers wandering around. But when a pair of crusted hands leaped from the wall, pushing you onto the ground… Another beast was alerted.

With the sound of Ellie’s shotgun, a loud monstrous grumble rumbled from down the hall. You pushed the stalker to the side, scrambling to your feet. “Ellie, how many bullets do we have?” You asked her, adrenaline pumping through your body.

She checked the chamber, cursing. “Fuck! Three rounds.”

Picking up the pistol from the ground, you checked the magazine. Only a few bullets. The shambler began to stomp, approaching the two of you, increasing into a run. “We gotta go!” You grab her hand, tugging her a tight hole in the wall; tall enough for you to slip through.

Running into the room, you realized there wasn’t an exit. There was only a door, but it led back out into the hallway. The quick call you made to evade the boiling beast, was a mistake. Before you could even regret the decision, the shambler bursted through the wall.

Without command, Ellie began firing the shotgun. First bullet. Second bullet. Third bullet—she was out. It roared, releasing puffs of acid. You both dodged by the skin of your teeth, running around the room like frightened mice. Now, it was your turn to unleash pointless blows to the creature. Emptying the rest of your magazine into the bulbous creature did nothing but anger it. Somehow, it found a way to creep up behind you and Ellie, taking her by the throat.

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, voice trembling in horror. Her hands scratched at its arms, pounding to be set free.

A pipe leaned out of a wall as an escape route, a message from God—fate, prying at you. Using the strength of a scared shitless person, you yanked the pipe free, falling back onto your butt. Quickly, you stood up and began hacking at the thing. Sounds of effort and defensive fear leaving your lips. Dropping Ellie onto the ground, he turned to you, roaring. However, your hacking at his body didn’t stop until he was on his knees. Gurgles left his corroded and bubbled mouth, but you used it as bait to make your final blow.

Heaving over its corpse, your back hunched, the pipe slipping from your sweaty grip. She coughed, reminding you of her presence, slumped against the wall. Her breath began to grow heavy, hand on her chest.

“Oh, my God— Ellie!” You crouched beside her, unsure where to place your shaking hands. She attempted to crack a smile, to pretend she was fine, but she wasn’t. The imperative organ in her chest beat faster than it should have, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe—at least it felt like she couldn’t.

Ellie was panicking.

“Hey,” You tried, deepening your eyebrows, sliding your hands from her shoulders to her neck, to her trembling jaw. “Ellie,” Her hand shot up to grip your wrist with vigor, looking into your eyes, intensely. “Ellie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your free hand pushed strangling hair from sticking to the plastic of her mask.

The grip on your wrist moved to the entrapment on her face. She began to claw at it, whining. “No…” You attempt to stop her fast, strong movements, but she shoved you away. “Ellie— no! What the fuck are you doing?!”

She peeled the mask off her face, taking the deepest breaths you’ve ever seen. Leaning back, your eyes watered, watching her gasp for toxic air. Ellie pushed the strands of her hair off her face, leaning her head against the cement of the wall. Her heart was settling, but then she looked to you. Olive eyes meeting your teary ones. “What the- what d-did you just do?” You stammered. “Ellie…”

You enunciated her name with such weariness that it made her feel guilty. Still, getting herself together from her panic attack, she felt the need to console you. But she didn’t have the energy.

Breathing heavily under your mask, you watch as nothing happened to her. She doesn’t convulse, choking on the toxic elements in the air. There was nothing different about her. Absolutely nothing.

“I can…” Ellie breathed. “I can explain later. Let’s just get outta here first, all right?”

Having no choice but to believe her, you stood to your feet. Reaching down for her hand. When you pulled her up, her ankle gave out on her. “Shit,” Ellie cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. “The harder they fall, huh?” She dryly chuckled.

You frowned, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

Unamused, you found a way out of the ground floor. Unmasking at the first sight of daylight. You didn’t have to travel far with Ellie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. The only place that was able to receive your weak bodies was a little bookstore around the corner.

It was clustered inside. Book aisles placed close together, where only a single body could shimmy through. A pair of metal stairs spiraled up the back of the store, leading to another floor of books. Dropping all of your things, including Ellie’s arm, you stalked up those rusty steps with hot tears welling into your eyes.

Ellie leaned against a bookshelf, pressing her lips into a line. Watching every harsh step you took, ascending up the stairs. Her own eyes began to fill with tears, glancing down at her shaking hands. Before they could fall, she harshly wiped her face and decided to busy herself. It wasn’t a bad time to take inventory.

Upstairs, you found yourself huddled in a corner. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, weeping as low as you could. The tears falling down your face was a release of fright. You realized something on that ground floor that you wish you hadn’t. That freckled stranger you had come upon, or who had come upon you, in Santa Barbara was becoming a meaningful person in your life. Unbeknownst to you! Ellie had snuck up on you like a rodent in disguise.

That distant figure that once hovered in dim lighting who you didn’t trust has become so much more. You trusted her with your fucking life. And it only took a few months on the road.

Having barely recovered from the threat of that shambler, she snatched her mask off like it was nothing. In those few second, your heart beat so loud it stalled time. You thought she was going to die right in front of you, willingly.

It took you back to a moment in your past—the death of your mother. Before you reached Catalina Island, your mother sacrificed herself to ensure that you made it there. She gave you her mask to take the spores head-on. Promising that she’d hold her breath; at fifteen, you were silly to believe her.

Just then, Ellie’s gasps proved your immediate worries and fears wrong. She wasn’t going to die in front of you like your mother did. The viral spores on that floor didn’t kill her. Making you wonder: who the fuck were you traveling with?

Wiping your face, messily, you wander back down the rusted steps of the bookstore. You spot her with both of your bags opened, going through the supplies you had. Counting under her breath. When her strained eyes caught yours, she ceased all movement.

“You know,” She began, looking at the hand that was missing her pinky and ring finger, massaging her palm. “I think, that was the most you’ve ever said my name.”

You frowned, walking through the aisles, cheeks stained with tears. “What the fuck was that back there?” The sound of your voice was weak and frail.

“A panic attack…”

“I’m talking about the mask, Ellie. You breathed spores…?”

She licked her lips, averting her olive eyes. “I’m immune…”

A beat passed between the two of you, roping around your still bodies.

Ellie watched how your lips quivered, like you wanted to cry. The redness in your eyes made her frown. “I just— in the moment… I couldn’t breathe. I needed to take it off—“

“How do you know?” You abruptly ask. “How do you know that you’re immune? What if it just… I don’t know… Takes longer to develop in your system?”

“y/n…” She remorsefully spoke. “I was bitten when I was fourteen.” Ellie rolls up the sleeve of her jacket, pushing her tattooed arm toward you.

Pressing your lips together, you walk forward, taking her arm in your hands. Her forearm was covered in evergreen ink. Taking your hand, she guided your fingers over the eruptions in her skin. Abrasions. Hidden beneath the adoration of the tattoo. You never noticed this before. “I had a lot of time to know if this was real…” Ellie muttered, peering at you. Insecurity leaking from her pores.

You met her eyes, opening and closing your lips, trying figure out the words you wanted to say. “Who are you?” You examined the features you’ve come to know. “And don’t walk away this time— you have no choice but to tell me.” A chortle falls from your lips, causing her stiffness in her shoulders to loosen.

And so, Ellie told you as much as she could. She told you about how she got bitten. She told you about Riley. She told you about Joel and Tommy—about the fireflies—and about Joel, again. She told you about Dina and Jesse. And then, she told you about Abby. The familiarity of her name caused you to perk up. You knew of her from the resort; it was her and a little boy. However, the version she told you about aligned nothing with the version that you knew of.

“I went to Santa Barbara because I wanted to put an end to my suffering and Tommy’s— I wanted to kill her.” Ellie confessed, leaning her head back against the books pushed into the shelves. The two of you sat opposite of each other in a book aisle, knees grazing every so often. “I thought that would fix everything… But, when I saw her on that pillar…” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. “For a second, I wasn’t going to do it. She led me to that beach, holding that kid, and I was gonna leave.”

Ellie blinked, remembering that empty feeling she felt on that day. Guilt crawling through her for something that was never in her control. You watched her speak, intently, with deepened eyebrows. “Then, I remembered. I remembered what she did— what she took from me, and I couldn’t let her go. I threatened that little boy, and I made her fight me. She didn’t want to, but I made her.”

“Did you kill her…?” You asked, slowly.

She chortled, wiping her teary eyes. “No. She took my fucking fingers, and I let her go.” The laugh she released was dry, and without humor. “It was like… Everything that I’ve done, leading up to that day, was all for nothing. All the people that I hurt— that I killed just to get to her… It was all for nothing.” Her voice cracked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie couldn’t stop them this time.

You reached for her knee, caressing your thumb over the fabric of her jeans. She peered up at you, through her thick, wet eyelashes with a sort of surprise. Ellie didn’t think you’d stick around after hearing about her truth. You, a victim of the rattlers, empathizing with a murderer.

Before that, though, you were a firefly. You more than just a victim.

“How could I ever think of you as a bad person after what I’ve done?” She pressed her plump lips into a line, shaking her head. “That wasn’t what I meant at all… I was just trying to figure you out. I worded it all wrong— I’m sorry.” Ellie apologized with such frailty, you had no choice but to accept.

“Don’t be sorry, Ellie…”

“I’m beginning to realize I’m not really good with people.”

You squeeze her knee. “That’s not true. I think we get along great.” You shrug, attempting to lighten up the mood. Her lips curled at the corners, reaching for the hand on her knee, placing hers over yours. A silence bounced between you—eyes boring into each other’s, looking through each other. “I also think… You did what you thought was best…” You voiced, nodding affirmatively. “I probably would’ve, somehow, done worse.”

She scoffed, drawing circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly. “Worse? You couldn’t have done worse.”

“You’d be surprised.” You lifted your eyebrows. “Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but as a firefly… When you’re told to do something, you do it.” Shrugging, you remove your hand from hers, crossing your arms. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. I’ve done loads of shit that I’m not proud of.” You looked down at your knees, frowning. “If some girl killed someone I cared about right in front of me… It would have been the last thing she ever did. Shit, I’ve killed people for less.”

You paused, eyebrows twitching. The image of a guardian angel came into your mind—Honey. “It should’ve been me in that house… In Santa Barbara.” Squeezing your eyes shut, tears began to fall down your cheeks once more. Angry, mourning tears. “It’s like… The Lord gave me second chance to do better— or was it fate? I don’t fucking know…”

Ellie blinked, having a severe déjà vu moment. Somehow the words spoken in her past, have managed to resurface. If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again. Spoken by your pretty mouth, instead of someone else’s. “I’d probably be just like Honey if it weren’t for you— dead. And I still don’t know what makes me worth saving, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful for you.” You sniffed, lips quivering while looking at the auburn-haired woman.

She swallowed, moving from her spot across from you to sit beside you. If only she had the courage to say those words to Joel. If only her resentment didn’t run so deep—perhaps, her guilt for his death wouldn’t be so strong. “Everything about you is worth saving… You’re like a lucky charm.”

You leaned your head back against the books, looking at her. “A lucky charm, huh?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, you totally whooped that shambler’s ass. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hitting her arm, you giggle, keeping your eyes on the bookshelf in front of you. “Seriously, y/n…” Her humored tone faded as she trained her eyes on the side of your face, urging you to just look at her. To meet her eyes as passionately as she wanted to meet yours. It could’ve been the vulnerability that pulsed around the room, but she needed to see you. Her body ached for touch—perhaps, your touch. Ellie needed consolation for her confession.

Finally, your eyes drift toward hers. Not realizing how close her body was to yours. Shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching as if you were conjoined by the hip. Her eyes were prettier close up. They were greener than the evergreen that grew up desolate buildings. The freckles on her damaged skin could be connected like constellations—how come you never noticed this before? You wanted to trace the scar over her top lip and the one in her eyebrow with your finger, not just with your eyes.

The only thing that could be heard was your uneven, nervous breaths. Ellie moved her face closer to yours, just enough to tease, to ask for your permission without using her words. Her olive eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. Weakly, you nodded, chewing on the corner of your bottom lip.

Her hands settled on your face, pulling you to hers. Meeting her lips with your lips, softly and patiently. Placing your hands on her wrists, you pull away, analyzing her features. Full lips were parted, wantonly. Pushing forward, you resumed the kiss with more intensity.

Whining against her lips, you got onto your knees, kicking your leg over her legs. Settling on her lap, her hands moved to your hips, kneading them. Her lips beginning to trail down your jaw; they were wet and hot kisses, causing your hips to roll on their own. Pleasured sighs fled from your swollen parted lips, holding onto her shoulders. “Ellie— Ellie, are you sure about this?” You question, with your eyes fluttered shut.

Against the sensitive skin of your neck, she spoke. “Beyond sure…” She muttered, littering your neck with love bites. Then, she pauses, pulling back to look up at you. Her hands still on your hips, pulling them to a stop to get your attention. “Are you sure about this?” Her pupils were blown out, adoringly.

You massaged her tense shoulders, licking your lips. The sight of her made your skin warm and tingly. “I’m fucking sure.” You smiled, playing with ends of her auburn strands. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against hers again, with fervor.

The both of you needed this—human connection. Even if it was short-lived, or temporary.

Ellie pushed at the flannel over your arms, tossing it to the side. Then, it was your knit shirt. She rolled it up from your abdomen, you lift your arms so she could remove it. Lastly, was your sports bra. She pulled it over your head, eyes marveling at the sight before her. Her calloused hands ran down the bare sides of your back, lips trailing down your sternum.

Running your hands over her hair, she latched her lips around one of your nipples. Sucking and nibbling at the sensitive nerves. A moan escapes your throat, arching your back into her. Your hips buck on top of her lap, begging for her touch elsewhere. “My lucky charm…” She mutters against your skin, kneading your other breast.

You end up with your back on the hard floor of the bookstore. Your hands pulling off her clothes like your life depended on it. She pulled your pants off, leaving you both only in your underwear.

Ellie kissed you, again, pressing her chest against yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, pushing her thigh against your clothed core. You could feel her grinding against your propped up leg, moaning into your mouth. Calloused hand gripping the back of your thigh. Sloppily, your lips trail to the side of her face, airy moans releasing beside her ear. “Ellie, please, touch me…” Wantonly, you pleaded, clenching the roots of her hair.

With her hot lips against your jaw, nibbling at your ear, she obliged. Drifting her hand down the center of your bodies, rubbing you over your underwear. Propping herself up on her other arm, she peered down at you. A pout resting on your wet lips, narrowing your eyes at her. One-handed, she slides your underwear to the side, running her middle finger up your center. Spreading your slick over that sensitive bud awaiting her focus. Ellie chews on her bottom lip, watching you shudder under her touch. “Right there?”

You respond with the tremble of your thighs and the heaving of your chest. She cracked a charming smile, eyes hazing at the sight of you.

Slipping two fingers into your cunt, she moans with you, curling her fingers slowly. Your hands roam her toned stomach, squeezing at her breasts, but you were losing focus. “S— So fucking good— ah!” Pulling her fingers out of you, she lowered herself. Kissing the scars and bruises that littered your abdomen. Her movements briefly confused you, until you felt her mouth on the inner parts of your thighs.

She pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. Then, she was on you, mouth hot over your cunt. Suckling on your clit, thrusting her tongue into you—eating you like she was starving. Your mouth fell ajar, grasping at her hair for something to hold onto. “Fuck, Ellie!” You whine, bucking your hips toward her face.

Her olive irises looked up at you between your legs, glimmering with lust. Arching your back, feeling that tightness coiling under your muscles, a lewd sound comes from your throat. Something between a moan and a yelp.

Sooner than later, your release comes crashing over you. Like a breath of fresh air. Legs clamping around her head, pushing her closer to your heat. Her lips making out with your pussy, bringing you down from your high. “Oh, my God…” You mutter, massaging her scalp with your fingers.

She crawls up your body like a lustrous lioness, letting your taste yourself on her lips. Your hands gripped at the fat of her ass, biting her bottom lip with your teeth. Ellie gasped, angling your face with her hand, groaning against your lips.

Sliding your index finger under the hem of her boxer-short underwear, you yank them down. “Damn…” Ellie mutters, kicking off her underwear the rest of the way. “You’re quick.” She chuckles, as you flip her onto her back. Running your lips down her neck, biting her skin.

“I want you… Can you blame me?”

You gripped at her hips, but when she winced you stopped. Peering down at her hip bone, a stitching remained there. Red and a little irritated. “It’s fine. Keep goin’, please.” Ellie tried, reaching for your hand.

Lowering your body, you kissed around the irritated wound, gently. Ellie watched you, chewing on her lip. Holding onto her hand, you kissed lower and lower. Through the hairs over her mound, the inner parts of her thigh—lightly over her cunt. She twitched, bashfully trying to shut her legs. But your hands braced her thighs.

Breathing her in, you licked a line up her center, making eye contact with her. An airy sound left her parted lips, free hand tweaking her nipples. “Yeah… Yeah…” She chanted, rocking herself against your face. You lick at her clit before sucking it into your mouth, her hips jolting at the feeling. Fluttering your eyes shut, you spend time on her sensitive bud, messily. Your non-dominant hand still holding onto Ellie’s, her grip tightening every second.

Taking your other hand, you insert your middle and ring finger into her core. Looking up at her reaction, while you made love to her clit. “Fuck, yes!” She enunciated her words lustily, drawing them out. Popping her bud from your lips, you begin to curl your fingers. Her wanton moans bouncing off the bookshelves around you.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You whisper, mainly to yourself, as you gaze at her in awe. Ellie was always so rough around the edges, but under you she was different. Her scarred body shook under you, in pleasure. She was in her element.

She moaned your name, riding your fingers. The muscles in her abdomen clenching, the grip on your hand getting harder. Taking that as your cue, you began to make out with her pussy. Only bringing her closer and closer to that breaking coil.

When the sparks in her stomach bursted into flames, a string of curse words fell from her lips. Her back arching off the hardwood floor, fingers pinching her tits. Her slick was all over your mouth, as you crawled back up her body.

Hungrily, she found your lips. Pushing your bare bodies together, you lazily made out—winding yourselves down.

Orange hues of the sun setting peaked through the windows, and the empty parts of the shelves. A burnt orange cast, glazing over your bodies like a blanket. Your legs intertwined, arms draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists; you were comfortable like this. Ellie was comfortable like this.

Parting your lips, she peppered small kisses along your jaw, before laying her head on your chest. “There’s a couch upstairs…” You breathe, playing in her hair.

“You say this now…?” She looked up at you, fingers rubbing circles on your bare hips.

A chuckle fell from your lips, your thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. “Heat of the moment!”

She sucked her teeth, nuzzling her head into your neck. “Whatever, you filthy woman.”

“Hey! You’re the one who took my clothes off.”

“You let me take your clothes off.” She nibbled at the skin of your throat, squeezing the fat of your hip.

You pressed your lips together, amused, running your fingers down her freckled back. “We could go up to the couch now.” You offered.

Ellie shook her head, hooking her leg around yours to pull herself closer to you. “No, just wanna lay here for a while…”

And you did just that. Laid with each other until your backs ached enough to move to the couch upstairs. Only to resume the position on the itchy cushions until the sun came back around to drag you both back onto the road.

[acciotaitlynn]

living out my ovulation dreams ₊˚⊹

⤷ raf›sylus›zayne›xavier›you

⤷ 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, oral; ꒰m&f receiving꒱smut w some plot, angst, public sex, raf myth spoilers, merman junk, somnophilia, orgy, lil bit of stuff between xav and raf

⤷ 12,240

*this is my own take on the characters; I wrote them a bit differently than I usually do. hope you like it ♡

Sands of crystalized comet dust shimmer and press softly under bare feet as you walk along the Celestial Sea. Trees line the path, guiding you with starlit lanterns and leaves sparkling like spun silver as sea glass chimes gently in the air.

A figure comes into view, crouching by the water, teasing glowing fish with patterns on the surface. An astro guppy takes a playful nip as they swim in excited circles.

You sit beside him on the sand, watching a yellow fish nudge away the little bully before returning, twirling a proud dance for its bravery.

“I’m starting to expect new friends of yours every time we meet,” you tease.

Rafayel smiles softly before turning to you, gaze turning gentle as he takes you in. You don’t miss the way his eyes travel to the swell of your breasts, lingering before they slowly return to yours.

A fierce, pleased blush spreads over your cheeks at the heated look playing on his features.

When you’d put on this dress, embroidered with delicate shells in the same shade as the azure sea he hails from, you’d tried to ignore the hope that it would elicit such an expression.

His eyes swim with an unidentifiable emotion before they dart back to the water. A wave of amethyst hair slips from the knot at the nape of his neck as he shakes his head.

“He’s not necessarily a new friend. I’ve known Nova for a few weeks now. I swam up on him shortly after his birth, alone and scared. He’s been following me ever since. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m family,” he states, his fingers resuming their shapes.

Your soft laugh fills the air as you nudge him with your shoulder, earning a stumble and a pouty glare in return. “Seems a big responsibility… but you’ve made yourself a fierce protector.” Nova turns quickly, knocking off Rafayel’s teal tormentor as he tries for another nip.

“Creatures of the deep sea are the most loyal beings you’ll ever meet,” he murmurs, sitting back on the sand with a soft sigh. His words seem to hold something back, carrying a weight you can’t begin to understand.

After months of meeting here, you’d hoped he would have opened up more by now, but he continued to hold a barrier between you that fills you with a surprising sadness.

Every gaze that ends too soon, every touch that pulls away too quickly, is an overwhelmingly painful punch to the gut.

You barely know him. You don’t understand the hesitancy and slight mistrust he holds when interacting with you. Sometimes, you wonder why he even takes the time to meet you here. It seems like a gentle, reluctant torture he forces himself to endure. Guilt wells in you for how you make him feel, even if you don’t get it. And for the fact that you genuinely shouldn’t be here.

You have someone waiting at home, someone you deeply cherish. If you’re being honest with yourself, a truth that triples your guilt, you have two significant people waiting, knowing your actions will hurt them both.

Sylus wasn’t home when you left tonight, so you’d taken the rare moment to observe Xavier as he napped on the couch, brushing back his hair as longing swept through you. Their faces swim in your vision, even as you turn to Rafayel.

Another figure with raven hair and bright, golden-green eyes smiles at you tenderly, but you shove him out as quickly as he comes, unable to handle more right now.

The weight of being a terrible person settles in your stomach like a heavy stone, an undeniable truth. You can’t resist it, though. Each man has an indisputable pull, luring you in even when you try desperately to fight it. You can’t make sense of any of it, but you’ve given up on resisting.

You think you did the moment Rafayel’s figure emerged from the waves, the sky painted in a palette of pastel hues as the sea had stirred with magical energy around him.

His form slid effortlessly through the water, casting a cascade of iridescent colors, a mesmerizing dance of blues, pinks, and purples. His fins became legs as the gills on his ears receded, vanishing along with the last traces of his marine form.

Hair cascaded around his shoulders, framing a face sculpted by the gods. His glowing eyes had locked on yours, looking for all the world like he’d come to this beach purely for you. Like there was an irresistible pull for him, too. He stepped onto land with purposeful strides, droplets of glistening seawater evaporating into the morning air as his presence hummed with power.

As he walked toward you, something strange had happened. An overwhelming sense of devotion, bordering on worship, washed over you, sending you to your knees before him. He’d smiled gently and helped you up, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach at his touch before he quickly drew away.

That was months ago, and meeting him here has become a weekly tradition; even more often, if you find time to slip away, your feet carry you to this spot without thinking. He’s always waiting for you, and when he isn’t, he rises from the water shortly after you arrive, breathless, as if he’d swam a long distance to get there.

He turns to you now with a distant look in his eyes, ones that never fail to make your body weak and tingly. Yours trail to his perfect, rosy lips. The desire to kiss him, to be closer to him, has developed into a want so powerful that you don’t know how much longer you can withstand it.

His gaze slowly shifts into that familiar, quiet pain as the unknowing desire etched onto your face burns bright, nearly blinding.

“How was work today?” he inquires as he turns away.

The Celestial Aid Clinic swims behind your eyes. With it, the physician holding a special, secret place in your heart.

“It was good. It’s been slow because the nearby residents are doing so well. I suppose having the best doctor around helps with that,” you reply, as anguish washes through you at his apparent distance. He smiles a genuine smile, nodding softly. The conversation trails off, the waves crashing against the shore, the only sound in the still night. You lay under the stars together, your hands almost touching between you.

Your mind is loud, drowning out the serene atmosphere with thoughts of Sylus; his hands roaming your body, him filling you up so completely, making you feel pleasure unlike any you’ve known. You want to scream, cry, and rage at the heavens for blessing you with an utterly perfect man, only to throw three equally wonderful ones your way like a cruel, cosmic joke.

But your longing is so strong; it's a palpable entity now, demanding that you give in. Drawing closer to him is so natural; his face is all you see as your fervent murmur brushes over his face. “I can’t take it anymore…”

His eyes go wide, hesitant, terrified almost, as your lips meet his. But they part instantly, his tongue dancing with yours as he releases a pained groan. His arm snakes around your waist as he pulls you against him, his body arching into yours, mouth drifting along your neck.

It’s feverish; you both grasping each other like you can’t get close enough, like you’re desperately trying to become one.

When his lips touch your chest, reality sweeps through you, and you jerk back, overwhelmed with disgust at yourself. Your eyes go wide, and you don’t think; you just turn toward home, your feet moving fast as you try to outrun your guilt and the longing to return to him.

He watches you leave, an unavoidable, desperate feeling settling in his chest.

He should be the one swimming away. He’d had a feeling he shouldn’t come here tonight. He was familiar with the look developing in your gaze for him as the bond between you pulled insistently.

He picked up soft footsteps growing closer but didn’t bother to turn from your retreating form. “Seems you finally gave in,” Sylus’s deep tone breaks through the quiet night. “I thought you were “done” with this?” Sylus asks, his tone surprisingly gentle. Rafayel turns away as your figure disappears, giving Sylus a sad smile before turning to the sea, not bothering to respond.

“I was wagering my brother would give in first; you should see his face after he hears her cries of pleasure coming from my room. Those puppy eyes that always make her melt fill with anguish before he storms from the house…”

A rare anger toward the man flares, his chuckle grating on Rafayel’s nerves. Sylus is way too cocky this time around.

“Just because you’re the one she fell for first this time doesn’t mean you have any claim on her that the rest of us don’t, you know that,” he states, standing and preparing to leave. Now that you’re gone, he longs to feel the waters wrapping around him, helping to wash away the hurt that’s been swelling since you left.

“And you know it’s impossible to let go,” Rafayel says simply. His legs transform as he slides into the wave’s embrace, turning to the shore, his burning eyes locking on Sylus’s bright, carmine gaze. The wind howls, harmonizing with the roar of the restless surf as deep booms echo from the depths. Colorful fish scatter as the ocean deepens to a stormy hue, reflecting its deity's mood. “Here we go again,” Rafayel says with overwhelming sadness. The sea returns to its serene state, the waters becoming still once more, leaving Sylus alone with the lap of gentle waves on the shore. 

It’s a quick trip home from the beach, but it feels longer as he strolls, contemplating what he witnessed on the beach. Rafayel was right. This is only the beginning. The start of another turn in a painful cycle.

The cottage comes into view, its smooth, pale stone shimmering with the reflection of distant stars. It's Sylus’s favorite home, among the ones he’s shared with you. A serene blend of simplicity and magic in an idyllic town with cobblestone paths, streetlamps crafted from glowing crystals, and the smell of a small bakery. He’s accustomed to living a lavish lifestyle with you, but he’s surprised he enjoys this much more. It’s peaceful and meaningful, allowing for a deeper connection with the universe's beauty and you.

The rustic inside is a welcome sight, the flames of the fireplace dancing with hues of soft blues and purples, emitting warmth and a faint, calming melody. You and Xavier sit back to back on the shimmering wood that lines the walls, reading books on cloud-shaped cushions. His brother jerks away from you when he sees Sylus, quickly steadying you with a hand to your back and a mumble of “Sorry” before leaving the room, leaving you confused, your book hanging limply in your hand as your eyes search after him.

Sylus releases a frustrated sigh. He doesn’t understand why Xavier is being so hesitant this time around. Typically, he’s the first person to run to you in every life, leading the search for you across the cosmos.

But Sylus won the race this time, and though it wasn’t purposeful, it irks Xavier relentlessly. He knows damn well he could just sit you on his lap, your sweet cunt warming him as you read, and Sylus won’t do a damn thing about it. He could tell him that until he was blue in the face, but he wasn’t going to pull his brother’s dick out and plop you on it. Xavier was going to have to man up and get over it.

He scoops you up, plopping down on the softer couch and holding you close. He can sense hesitancy in how you hold him and sees the guilt in your gaze when you kiss him before turning your focus back to your book.

He aches to reassure you that you have no reason to feel guilty. But he knows you need time. Rafayel is in your life again. Your yearning for Zayne is now palpable. And though Xavier clearly can't see it, your need for him is more potent than all.

Your head plops against Sylus’s chest as you drift to sleep, and he gently removes the book from your hand, cradling your head. He holds you for a long while, listening to the soothing melody of the cosmos flickering in the air and wishing for time to slow down so you can be just his for a little longer. 

Sleep clings to you as you rise from bed—a powerful pull guides you down the hall on gentle feet. Xavier watches wide-eyed as you climb into his bed. There’s no hesitancy in you as your arms wrap around him, nestling against his chest. Slumber pulls you under immediately with a soft sigh of relief.

He isn’t sure what to do. His hands hover above your back, and his heart pounds in his chest. You’ve never done this before. Not in this life anyway.

Joy overwhelms him at you seeking him out. This is what he needs… What he always requires—for you to want him above all. For you to show him at least in some small way.

In most lives, he’s shared a bed with you and Rafayel, so you sleeping in someone else’s regularly doesn’t sit well with him, even if he knows it shouldn’t matter.

Holding you like this is a balm to his soul. Until you start mumbling his name with a familiar longing as your body presses closer. He grows hard instantly, the need for you tearing him apart.

It isn’t long before you grow still, thank the heavens, and Xavier sighs, holding you tighter and settling in for a long night. 

You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that one moment, you were in bed with Sylus, only to wake up in Xavier’s.

Did Sylus see you? He must have; there's no way around it.

You wonder how Xavier feels, but you haven’t had the chance to ask; he was gone when you woke up.

Nausea churns in your gut, intensifying when you see a figure exiting a treatment room, a tender smile gracing his stoic face. Ugh. Why does that sweet smile calm you instantly? Shouldn’t the fact that it does so feed the guilt within you?

The tranquility of the space and the gentle aroma of herbs and flowers from the garden you share out back add to the serene feeling within you.

Zayne’s office is composed of pale stone, with frosty veining that shimmers gently around delicate, frost-inspired engravings. Frosted glass panels with tiny snowflakes partition the rooms, with beds draped in soft, ethereal fabrics to match.

The space is warmth and ice intermingling harmoniously, perfectly representing the man himself. Your eyes browse the room as you praise your decorating skills.

Zayne touches your shoulder affectionately, a stern note in his voice. “You promised to take the day off today. You went so far as to pinky promise, in fact,” he accuses.

Your eyes dart to the bag in your hands nervously before you hold it out to him. You often grab lunch for Zayne to ensure he takes the time to eat. But you’ve never gone so far as to bring him a meal on your day off.

If he finds it odd, he doesn’t show it; he just regards it with a gentle expression and looks genuinely pleased. “It’s your favorite from the bakery near home. I mostly got sweets; I figured that would get you to eat if I’m not here to force you.”

He chuckles, taking the bag from your hands, his fingers lingering against yours momentarily. “You don’t have to force me; I’ll always do whatever it takes to ease your worries.”

A blush covers your cheeks at his words, and his smile grows wider as you glance away. “Um, I also came to ask if you’d like to try that new ice cream shop tonight,” you mumble sheepishly.

What is wrong with you? You didn’t come here to ask that. Only to drop the food off and leave. Why are you making things worse for yourself?

But, overall, Zayne is your friend, and going out with him is a regular occurrence. You can’t let your growing feelings create distance between you. Pleased, he nods his head. “I can meet you after I close up here,” he suggests.

You wonder how your heart can feel so light yet heavy at once as you head for heaven’s palace. 

Sylus has risen to the commander of the Heaven’s vanguard, with Xavier as his lieutenant. They work seamlessly together, and heaven’s forces have become unstoppable since taking charge.

You come to the training grounds at the palace often, having long sought to be able to protect yourself. A wish both brothers were eager to grant.

Maintaining your focus is tricky as you and Xavier dance.

The two of you are usually seamless, seemingly moving as one. But today, your balance feels off, your mind swarming with ever-nagging thoughts.

Concern fills Xavier’s face as his sword finds its place at his side. You try to avoid looking at how his thin white shirt clings to his chest or how good he looks when he pushes his damp hair back.“Is everything okay?” he asks softly.

You still haven’t spoken about what happened. Perhaps he’s waiting for you to bring it up, but now it doesn’t feel like the time. You see Sylus heading for the castle, so you nod, quickly bidding him goodbye as embarrassment floods you, leaving him confused.

Heading for Sylus's chambers, relief replaces shame as you meet his teasing gaze. “So, you’re running to me this time, kitten?” he drawls.

Shame hits you, only to be drowned out by Sylus wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing you. “It’s nothing to feel guilty about,” he murmurs, pressing you closer. You pull back instantly. “What do you mean it’s nothing to feel guilty about?! Of course, it is, Sylus. I sought your brother in my sleep and woke in his bed. That’s not nothing.”

Why did he always seem to be pushing you toward Xavier? It never ceased to confuse you.

“Look, I love you,” he states simply. “More than anything, I want you to be happy. If you need more than what I give you, then seek it. I’ll never hold that over you.”

You search his eyes. “I never want to make you feel like I need more. Plus, I don’t want you seeking anyone else, so it’d be selfish of me to do so,” you mumble sheepishly.

“I never said that I needed anything more,” he murmurs before his lips are on yours.

He sets you down long enough to tear off your clothes before you’re in his arms, and his cock is deep inside you.

His movements are frantic, but they slow as he carries you to the bed and hoists your legs, pressing as close as he can get with languid, deep strokes.

His eyes never stray from yours as he says, “No matter who or what you want, I’ll never leave you. Remember that.”

Tears fill your eyes at the sincerity in his words, at the way he makes love to you like you’re the most precious thing in this world.

He lets you flip him over as you move against him. Teasing your nipple and smacking your ass, a grin spreading across his face. You cover him in kisses, teeth working at his skin till he’s moaning beneath you, hands digging into your hips as he grinds you against him.

He rubs your clit as you bounce on his cock until you feel him tense and slow before he crushes your lips to his and presses deep as his essence fills you, dragging you over the edge with him.

Your eyes meet his as you stand in the shower. “I’m going out with Zayne tonight,” you say, your voice soft and guilty.

He smiles, kissing your head and stepping under the celestial waterfall whose perpetual warmth endlessly flows. “I promised someone one-on-one training tonight, so I’ll be home late anyway.”

You nod, excitement filling you at the prospect of seeing Zayne, even as you step closer to Sylus.  

“The name itself wins me over,” you state, looking at the sign above the door with Nebula Nibbles spelled out in twinkling stardust. Zayne softly chuckles as he opens the door for you.

The shop is cozy, with pastel tones, floating ice cream scoops, swirling constellations, and murals along the walls. And vibrant displays of scoops and enchanting jars containing sprinkles glow gently throughout the room.

Zayne tries stardust strawberry and nebula nougat while you opt for celestial carrot cake to irk him.

“You’re not allowed to try mine. You can’t reciprocate,” he states.

“That’s fair,” you giggle. But he ends up offering you some of each with a tender smile. “Did Miss Eloise come in today?” you ask, referring to the kind old lady who always brings along her tiny dog.

“She did; she asked about you.”

You sigh deeply. “I hate being off when Rupert comes in,” you pout.

You also hate being off since it’s a day away from Zayne.

Like twinkling stars, you take in the delicate fairy lights hanging around the exterior as you sit in comfortable silence on the couch. Your hands drift closer, pinkies touching. Neither of you moves, but the longing in the air is palpable.

He walks you home, casting his eyes on the luminescent stone’s gentle glow and the small, orb-like lights that hover gently along the edges of the pathway.

“Is everything okay? You haven’t spoken much tonight,” you observe.

He quirks a brow, the corners of his lips curving. “Neither have you,” he quips.

“That’s fair,” you mumble. It grows quiet again, but you step closer, giving him a soft smile.

Every bit of you aches to kiss him goodbye, but you settle for a hug. Before adding more, you need a little while to figure out how you feel about everything.

He stiffens before his arms wrap tightly around you, drawing you closer. He places a soft kiss on your head before he steps back with a sad smile. “Go to bed soon; it’s getting late,” he murmurs.

“Right back at you,” you pout. 

Xavier is cooking when you walk in, and your heart seizes before you realize the accompanying burnt scent isn’t lingering in the air.

“What are you making?” you ask hesitantly.

He gives you a knowing smirk, pulling a tray of freshly baked muffins from the oven. Muffins that look delicious and not burnt.

You can’t help the note of surprise in your voice as you say, “These are delicious!” the lunaberry-filled bread warming your insides. You narrow your eyes at him. “I detect foul play here,” you accuse, grabbing another muffin and walking away.

Hot water helps melt away stress, and the fragrance of celestial blooms is a soothing balm. Your mind drifts to Rafayel, and your hands trace your body as you pretend they belong to him.

Coming around your fingers with his name on your lips does nothing to ease your ache.

Within minutes, you’re running to the beach as fast as your feet can, pushing away every thought that tries to tear you from your goal.

He’s waiting for you, kissing you fiercely as you jump into his arms. You search his eyes, guiding him to the ground and wrapping your legs around his waist. “I don’t know what I’m doing…” you admit, tears filling your eyes.

Acceptance and understanding fill his features as he murmurs, “I know.”

Gods, his lips are soft. You can’t help but nibble and suck, earning deep groans that make your world spin.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” you whine, your body moving against him.

His movements grow hurried, freeing your breasts as he pulls your dress to your hips. Every pull of his lips and flick of his tongue is a wildfire, consuming you whole. He kneads firmly, his hand on your back as he helps you move faster.

You settle between his legs, moving to unbutton his pants, only to have your wrist caught in the process.

You pout at him, sitting back to give him space. “You don’t need to do that, cutie,” he says tenderly.

You move for him again, gaze earnest as you plead, “I want—no, need, to please you. Need to taste you as you cum. It hurts so badly,” you admit.

His throat bobs as he nods, helping you free his length. Of course, it’s as perfect as the rest of him, filling up your throat as you gag around it. You worship the thick head, eagerly lapping up the essence that drip out. “You taste so good,” you groan, bobbing as you suck and slurp around him.

He’s quietly whimpering, head thrown back in ecstasy as he bites his lip harshly, hips making tiny pumps into your mouth.

You find that you love teasing him, making relentless eye contact as you playfully circle and suck the ridges, murmuring, “cum for me… please?”

A faint glow appears above his heart as he nods feverishly, hands tangling in your hair as he holds you against him. He moves slow and deep before he’s still, and his warmth fills your throat. You hum happily around him, swallowing it all down, working him til he’s whining.

He’s so cute. His puffy lips and rosy cheeks, that perfect pout as he lays you on the sand, mumbling, “need to taste you just as bad…” before your panties tear off, and his tongue traces over you.

It’s soft and warm, aware of every spot that makes you squirm beneath it. Your thighs squeeze his face as you move against him, delighting in his slick chin as he meets your eyes and slips his fingers inside you.

He can’t take his gaze away from where you join, from you squeezing him tightly as he slides in and out. His mouth takes you fully, passionately working as he moves inside you, moaning eagerly against you.

The sight of him sucking your clit is all it takes to have your walls fluttering around him as a sharp cry leaves your lips. His fingers slip out as your knees frame your face, and his tongue dips in, pumping wildly until your pussy stills. Even then, he licks up every drop that leaves you, leaving you a moaning mess.

You pull your legs back further, loving the way his eyes latch onto your dripping core, still pulsing from the absence of him. “Need you to cum inside here, too,” you whisper, your eyes pleading with him. He curses softly, wasting no time at all before he’s burying himself deep, groaning against your neck as he bottoms out.

As he fills you up, an image flashes in your mind—you and Rafayel joined just like this, but at another time, another era.

That overwhelming sense of worship fills you again as you clench him tighter, pulling him close.

“I’ve missed you so much, my lord… missed you inside me so much,” leaves your lips on a sob without you fully realizing it, so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

He stills, eyes wide as his fingers dimple your skin.

Suddenly you’re on all fours, ass rising in the air as he grips you tight, fucking you roughly. Your back arches deep, cunt squeezing around him so tight he can barely breathe as he grabs your swaying breast.

“Best follower I could ever ask for…” he praises, earning a pitiful whimper from you and the pulsing of your pussy as you come around him, tears overflowing from the pleasure.

His thrusts turn sloppy as you get incredibly slick and warm, walls still pulsing around him. He guides you onto his lap, pressing deep while his hands move your hips. You take over, though, bouncing eagerly on his cock as you chase your next orgasm.

Every touch from him is like the most potent drug; every high is so intense it renders you helpless.

You need more.

You need this forever.

“I love it when you use me,” he mumbles, hands traveling your skin as he nips at your breast. You hold his mouth to the sensitive bud, forcing him to suck as you ride him.

Your hands cup his chin as you kiss his neck, licking the soft blue scales appearing on his skin, pulling a deep cry from him as his hips pump sharply.

“This isn’t enough…” you mumble pathetically, regretting your words when he stills and his eyes quietly assess you.

He brushes your hair back, kissing you gently. “I can help. But you’ll need to trust me,” he says, his tone suddenly serious.

You nod, whispering, “Always,” without hesitation.

He scoops you up, legs transforming as he glides into the water.

You can’t help tracing the soft, translucent blue scales along his tail, mirroring the play of the night sky against the sea’s surface.

Blushes of pink and purple merge seamlessly with blue along the fin's delicate edges, like the pattern of flickering flames.

Awe, sparkles in your eyes. Your arms wrap around his neck as you whisper, “You are so beautiful.” To which he blushes fiercely.

Something incredibly thick prods at your entrance, excitement and arousal flooding you as you realize what it is. You bounce eagerly, a grin spreading across your face.

He smiles, fingers dimpling your ass as he guides you. “Calm down, cutie, it’ll hurt at first…”

You go still, another vision flashing—his cock inside you while the waters splash around you.

You snap back, searching his gaze.

“Rafayel, do we know each other?”

He cups your face, smiling even as he looks so sad. “Maybe we’ve met in another life.”

His lips crush yours before you respond, and he gently pushes you onto him. You watch where you join, dripping around his impossibly thick length, much bigger than his human form, though similar in appearance.

It extends seamlessly from the tail, the softest, prettiest blues with delicate pink veins.

And the ridges… Hitting every spot just right as he fills you up.

Cries of pain and pleasure echo in the night as he bottoms out, your pussy stretching so wide around him it doesn’t seem physically possible.

He’s nervously gauging your reaction, but you pull him close, nuzzling against him as you bounce slowly. He holds you tight and lets you do as you please, just gently riding him as he presses kisses to your skin.

“This is what I need,” you murmur dreamily. “To worship my god in his truest form.”

He curses softly, impaling you, cock pushing into you so deep you see stars. Fervent murmurs of “harder” and his name fill the air as the sea roils around you, glowing with excited, colorful fish.

He doesn’t mean to whisper, “I’ve missed you so much…” with his face buried in your neck, but he doesn’t mind the slip since you earnestly reply, “I’ve missed you too,” before latching onto him for dear life and meeting him stroke for stroke.

He stills, resting where the water meets the sand, propping up on his hands and guiding you on top. He watches as he pushes inside you, gently commanding, “Show me how much.”

More than happy to oblige, you smile and nod, turning into a slut before his very eyes.

It’s endearing, as always. Tits bouncing wildly in his face as your demanding little hand presses him against them with a needy whine.

“So needy,” he teases. “Can’t let you go so long without my cock next time, yeah?”

“Speaking of, you waited entirely too long this time. You could have taken me weeks ago. Aren’t gods supposed to be merciful to their followers?” you mumble grumpily before your world turns upside down.

Memories upon memories.

Puzzle pieces slide into place as you scream in agony.

You and Rafayel are living so many lives together before your very eyes, lives filled with indescribable happiness and joy.

Some images are distorted, blurry renditions with other unidentifiable people. Something that leaves you frustrated for reasons you can’t explain.

The world spins as you meet his concerned eyes, feeling him grip your face as he watches you with eyes full of disbelief. Your eyes shine with understanding and tears as you whisper, “My husband.”

He hasn’t heard his favorite name leave your lips since the first lifetime. If your cunt weren’t keeping him grounded, he’d surely pass away from happiness.

Horror fills your eyes as you realize, “How could I forget you? I always forget you…”

Sobs wrack through you as you whisper, “I’m so sorry,” again and again, holding him close as you rock him, his tears dropping on your skin.

He meets your gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says softly, firmly.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? Causing others' pain is something to be sorry for!”

He brushes your hair back, giving you a tender, sad smile. You groan softly at how the slight movement makes him jerk inside you. He starts to guide your hips, but you catch his hands. “Why are you still here?” you plead.

Why is he still here so many lifetimes later, when all you’ve truly done is cause him pain?

Confusion fills his features before understanding does. He nuzzles you, whispering, “Because I love you, princess,” before his lips capture yours.

You can’t stop crying, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses your tears as his fall silently, a look of sheer joy playing on his face. The boundaries he’s held around himself all these centuries are long gone; there is no hesitancy in his touch, no sadness clouding the lust.

You sit back with a wide smile as he watches you move. The friction of his soft scales against your inner thighs and his skin under your nails as you grip him is everything.

It makes a bit more sense now why your coupling feels so perfect.

It’s written in the stars.

Wonder and awe shine in his eyes as he squeezes your tit, grinning and guiding your hips. “You take me so well, cutie,” he praises with a firm smack to your ass.

“Harder,” you murmur, your cries of the word getting louder with each slap until you’re moving against each other so fervently you can hardly breathe, your cheeks red and tingly.

Your fingers tangle in his damp hair as your pussy pulses around him, and you press him deep. He feels you soak him as his cock gets messy. He buries his face in your neck with a hoarse shout, hot essence filling you in thick bursts as he throbs inside you.

Your heart pounds as you make a foolish decision.

“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?”

Surprise fills his eyes as he grins. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you?” he teases.

You nod, pushing away the embarrassment and guilt.

Sylus gives him a subtle nod when he enters, ruffling your hair and gently kissing you before retreating from the room.

Rafayel had been selfish; he hadn’t even considered who his presence might hurt. Wide blue eyes watch him from the sofa as you grab his hand and lead him to your room.

He’s inside you for hours before exhaustion finally takes you, with you shamelessly crying his name loud enough for the whole house to hear.

Xavier enters quietly, murmuring, “Would it be okay if I stay a little while?” He folds Xavier against him, running his fingers through his hair.

“This sucks,” Xavier mumbles petulantly, his deep pout forcing Rafayel to hold back laughter.

He moves over him, whispering, “Let us make it better,” before his tongue meets his.

Feeling each other's touch after so long is renewing. And they meld together so easily.

Xavier groans in pain as Rafayel pulls the covers down, revealing your bare form. He frees Xavier's length, running his fingers through your folds gently and scooping your essence onto his cock.

He lives for the cute little moans Xavier releases as he breaks under his hold.

“You can touch her, you know. I won’t tell.” He nips his ear playfully.

Xavier blushes and shakes his head.

“She always likes it,” he reassures, guiding Xavier to your breast.

From there, it’s easy. Xavier carefully tucks you under his arm as he lays back, fingers pinching and tugging your breasts as Rafayel strokes him. His hips buck up, and he reaches over to tease your clit, marveling at your slickness with a quiet curse.

He has you whimpering in your sleep, moaning his name when you don’t even know it’s him, coming around his fingers as cum coats his stomach and Rafayel eases him through the waves.

He holds you for a while, but he’s gone when you wake up. Rafayel is as well, with a note that says he’ll meet up with you later.

You’re running for Sylus immediately, guilt washing over you as you throw open the door and meet his gaze. “Morning, kitten,” he murmurs, a small smile curving his lips.

His arms gather you up without hesitation, his kisses soft and searching as you travel each other's skin.

“Were you not sated last night, sweetie?” he teases, smacking a breast and admiring its bounce.

“Can never get enough of you, Sy,” you say, moving between his legs.

He tastes so good. Pleasing him is a powerful aphrodisiac; his moans and gasps make your body sing.

Such a powerful presence, yet you can make him whimper beneath you in moments.

You work him fervently until he’s spilling in your throat before sliding him inside your cunt while he still twitches.

“I thought about you last night,” you admit, fingers tracing his perfect lips. His cock hardens again at your admission.

He growls, grabs your throat, and moves your hips, waiting for you to say more.

“Rafayel was deep inside me, and I kept thinking how good it would feel if you were too,” you whined, getting tighter at the image.

Sylus chuckles, nodding to where you join, where you struggle to take him. “We’ll shred you into ribbons, kitten,” he teases before flipping you over and pinning you down.

His pace is punishing, the grip of his hands possessive and painful.

You’re sobbing into the comforter as he takes you, commanding you to tell him you’re his over and over. “Again, sweetie.” More sharp slaps to your thighs and ass and pinches to your clit.

“I said you can fuck whoever you like. I didn’t say I wouldn’t make you pay,” he sneers, impaling the breath from your lungs.

He chokes you so hard your vision swims as he makes you tell him how good he feels inside you.

Needy and demanding of reassurance.

He had no reason to be upset, and he knows it. This is a song he’s sung time and again.

But his grip painfully tightens as he rubs your clit, feeling you tremble and cry around him, flooding his cock with warmth. His hips slam deep, filling you up with a horse shout, his teeth finding your shoulder with a sharp bite.

His mood improves instantly. He’s wrapping you in his arms, wiping your tears, and telling you it's alright.

“That was nice and all, but I’m starting to think you’re not as okay with this as you lead on,” you accuse hoarsely, massaging your sore skin.

He chuckles, tucking you against his chest and kissing your head. “I said I’m okay with it, kitten. I didn’t say I like it.” That wasn’t entirely the truth.

“You’re just telling me this now!?” you huff, giving his ankle a hard kick.

His laughter fills the room as he dodges your next attack, pinning you down on the bed and kissing you with a mischievous smile. “After they finish with you, do I have permission to fuck you however I please?” he murmurs.

Confusion fills your features. “They?”

“Answer me, sweetie.”

You nod softly. “You can always do as you please,” you whisper.

His cock fills you again, and this time, he makes love to you slowly, tenderly, as his lips gently trace the bruises he left on your skin. 

You try hard to hide the faint bruise on your neck, and everything is going well until you and Zayne are on the way back from lunch when you get hot and foolishly unbutton your collar.

His eyes go distant, and he’s quiet on the way back to the clinic. Mumbled responses and a cold expression are all he gives before disappearing into his office and locking the door.

You’re floating with joy, but you feel like a deflated balloon under the weight of his energy. The hurt that flashes in his eyes when he sees Sylus’s handprint replays in your mind on a loop as you clean exam rooms.

You’re humming a melody to cheer yourself when Zayne walks in, closing the door softly behind him.

He crosses his arms, eyes searching yours as his low voice pierces the air.“

Why are you denying yourself of me?”

You freeze, your mouth hanging open as you stumble over your words. “Uh, what? I’m n-not—I just,” you mumble pathetically, glancing anywhere but at him.

He tilts your chin, his smirk teasing as he quips, “Yes. You are.”

Your eyes narrow as irritation swirls through you.

There seems to be an abundance of cocky, overly-familiar men in your life, and some of them are a little too mouthy of late.

“What makes you think you know what I want?” you snap softly.

He hovers over you, lips inches from you as he angles your face. His low voice makes your body heat.

“So, you don’t like it when I do this, then?” he asks, pressing his lips to yours.

You zap to life, excitement dancing in you as you shrug, murmuring, “It’s not awful...”

He hums, nodding, tracing his tongue over your ear, biting gently.

“And this?” he breathes. Your body is limp in his arms as he unbuttons your collar, lips brushing over your skin like a soothing mist.

“It’s nice,” you admit, blushing when his eyes heat, and he murmurs, “Just nice?”

He kisses you again, wrapping you around him.

“Because this is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” he says earnestly, capturing your mouth passionately.

You hold him tight but groan in frustration, your balled fist gently smacking him. His soft laugh fills the air.

“What’s all this about?” he asks, trying and failing to keep his tone serious as he watches your outburst.

You sigh dramatically and wiggle around. “Everything is just so weird lately…” You whine, giving him a dire look.

“You should honestly stay far away from me,” you tell him in a firm tone, your expression dead-serious, to which he just grins.

“Thank you for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He sets you on the exam table, a mirthful glint in his eyes as snowflake-print latex traces your skin.

“W-what are you doing…” your voice is hesitant as he unbuttons your top, quickly pushing your bra down to free your breasts. They’re in his mouth before you can even protest. Not that you would. The pull of his lips and the flick of his tongue have you arching into his mouth with needy little whines as you pull him closer.

He hums happily at your reaction to his touch, feeling more at ease than in years. Perhaps since the last time he held you in his arms.

You eagerly search every bit of him you can reach, every touch fueling the desire to bend you over this table and show you how much he’s missed you.  But he prides himself on his patience and can hold out a little longer.

Plus, one of his favorite things in every lifetime is driving you mad until you're begging him to fill you for the first time.

In a particularly cherished memory, you push him down in frustration at his game, tugging his pants down and sitting on his cock without a second thought. He smiles softly as the image swims in his mind, pulling down your shorts and lacey ivory thong, one that sends him reeling.

You gasp softly as he props your legs next to you, spreading you open as you turn away, blushing fiercely. He guides your gaze to his. “Eye’s on me, little one,” he murmurs, ensuring you listen before he fixes his attention with a content hum as he holds you open, playing messily, coating you with firm strokes back and forth.

Worry flows through you as you stop him, anxiety clear in your voice as you ask, “Is anyone here?”

“Rupert and Eloise are waiting on lab results in exam room three. Better keep quiet,” he murmurs before his finger slides inside you, toying with your g-spot with a pained groan as you squeeze him tightly.

Out and in, then he circles your clit. Over and over until keeping quiet is near impossible.

You pray Miss Eloise’s long-distance hearing isn’t great because the cry of pleasure you release when Zayne’s mouth closes over you is feral. You hold him against you, grinding against his face fervently as his tongue dips inside and his nose brushes your clit with each movement.

“Look at me,”  he reminds softly before his fingers set a steady pace, edging you until you’re whimpering his name, begging him for release. 

He holds your face, forcing you to watch his fingers move inside you.

“Look at how wet you are... Making such a mess,” he scolds, awe filling his features as he watches you drip onto the shimmering fabric.

“Come for me now, love. Let me see,’ he commands softly.

You keep his gaze as pleasure washes through you, whimpering pathetically as his fingers tease you until you’re begging for him to stop.

A tender smirk crosses his face as he pulls your pants up and fixes your top, brushing your hair back into place with a chaste kiss to your head.

You reach for his pants eagerly, but he catches your hand.

“Let’s save that for another day,’’ he says gently before shutting the door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

You look around the room, wide-eyed and sated at the mess you made.

Zayne was his usual stoic self for the rest of the day, acting as if nothing had happened. But he did ask if you want to go to a movie tomorrow, blushing fiercely.

Interacting with Xavier has never been awkward until now.

You’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, taking turns reading Destined in Starlight, a series you both enjoy. He picked up the newest novel today, seeming eager to start reading when you got home.

But as his soft voice fills the air, something unidentifiable creeps in, and his face takes on a distant edge.

He scoots further away at one point with a soft, frustrated sigh. You scoot closer immediately in retaliation, and he sighs again, resignation in his features as the story continues.

Now he’s silent, staring at the softly glowing stars floating throughout the room, arms crossed, his brows scrunched in thought.

You’re just staring at him, frustration swirling through you.

You speak at the same time.

“What is stuck up your butt right now?”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself last night.”

Ah.

Suddenly, you feel more guilty than ever.

For some reason, the hurt in his cerulean eyes hits you harder than anything else has.

You reach for him, but he jerks away, cracking your heart as he glares at you.

“Has anything else happened?” He asks accusingly.

Rafayel’s face swims in your mind—your literal husband. Then Zayne’s, his chin glistening with your essence.

Your eyes dart away as you blush fiercely, telling him all he needs to know. He huffs a laugh, hanging his head and nodding, almost emotionless.

Then he walks out of the house. 

Stones shimmer softly underfoot like twinkling stars as you walk through the park hand in hand with Sylus.

He admires the fairy lights strung along the bushes before turning to you with a gentle smile.

He took the news about Zayne well. Or at least he did an excellent job at pretending.

You cuddle together in the star-gazing meadow, surrounded by moon-themed cushions, admiring the open sky. The park provides telescopes and illustrated guides, telling stories of constellations and mythical sky creatures.

Sylus points out a particular constellation as you roll your eyes: Corvus, the Star Crow, the wise and watchful deity overseeing the balance between life, death, and transformation.

Figures.

“Have you ever heard of the Constellation of Kindred Spirits, kitten?” He asks suddenly, his voice hinting at sadness as he points to the cosmos. You shake your head.

“Representing deep connections and soul bonds with individuals,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek before motioning to another.

“That star-cluster is special. The Constellation of Radiant Heart. Standing for love, compassion, and the internal light that guides the soul.”

You watch him closely, feeling something stir within you. Some inexplicable feeling of understanding.

Strange, since you understand nothing at all.

“They compliment each other well, enhancing shared connections and destined relationships...” He pulls you close and kisses your head, saying nothing more, which you find odd. The night trails into a comfortable silence as you hold each other.

Why are his words running on a constant loop in your head, like a mystery you can’t solve?

Rafayel texts you to let you know he can’t make it over. Which is fine; you don’t want to leave Sylus’s side anyway. Later that night, you cradle his head as his breath evens out, stroking his hair softly.

Now that you’re alone, your thoughts and emotions run through you so quickly that you can’t make sense of them.

You feel incredibly guilty for not telling and Xavier about your restored memories, but how do you even broach that conversation? “Hey, so I’ve been married for centuries but, like, I didn’t know though, so it’s cool, right?”  

No.

You want to check on Xavier but can’t handle his anger right now.

You miss Zayne and Rafayel.

And more than anything, you wish they were all cuddled up with you, a vivid image that has your thighs pressing together and a moan slipping out.

You tuck yourself against Sylus with a sigh, wishing this wasn’t so unbearable. 

Guardians of the Cosmic Veil is awful. It’s a hate-watch for you and Zayne now.

The theatre is nearly empty because most people left a few minutes in. You haven’t left because you enjoy each other's company and Zayne’s dry humor.

“I think the plot got lost somewhere in the cosmic void—and nobody bothered to retrieve it.”

“It’s like escaping to a world where entertainment doesn’t exist.”

“This truly is taking me to another realm—one where I question my life choices for watching it.” 

His arm wraps around you, pulling you close as his hand trails up your thigh.

He’s not watching the movie at all. He’s too focused on the damp spot he sees when he pushes your dress up.

You gasp, wide-eyed gaze searching his as his fingers trail over it with a pleased hum. “Zayne—”

He rests his head against yours, kissing your cheek. “Shh. Let me take care of you.”

He’s pushing your panties aside and filling you in seconds, smiling as you make a soft noise of pleasure, and the person a few rows in front of you turns and makes eye contact.

You pray the lady can’t see you blushing as you wave and mouth an apology, narrowing your eyes at Zayne even as your hand travels to his cock, palming this thick length.

Gods, he’s going to feel so good inside you.

He moans quietly at your touch, pressing your hand down hard and grinding into it before collecting himself.

He must like it when you watch because he guides your face again, murmuring, “Look how beautiful you are.”

His hand is so sticky, his long fingers slipping in and out—one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. Him biting his lip harshly, his brows scrunching as he tries to hold back how good you’re making him feel is a close second.

The tighter the band grows in your core, the harder your hand works his cock, the material of his pants rubbing you raw.

You’re both doing a poor job of staying quiet now. The lady in front of you walks out. You hope it’s because of the terrible film, but you highly doubt it since she casts a disgusted look in your direction as she leaves. You can’t help but giggle, earning a soft smile as his fingers fuck you harder.

Squelching sounds fill the theatre as you grip his hand and ride it until you’re breathless and weak. You keep working him as you lick his fingers clean, eyes never leaving his hooded gaze.

His cock twitches violently, and you giggle as he curses and trembles, watching a dark stain spread on his pants.

“Little minx,” he accuses with a tender smile.

On the walk out, his cheeks are cherry-red, and he makes you pay by fingering you in the parking lot until you are well past overstimulated and begging him to stop.

The stain on his pants gets wider without you even touching him. 

You’re half asleep, standing in Xavier’s doorway again.

He sits up, watching you climb into bed with a look of hesitation on his face.

“I thought you have company,” he says, moving aside instead of pulling you close.

“Why are you so upset with me, Xai?” you mumble, a sleepy pout on your face that melts his heart.

He looks away, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

You hum sweetly, poking his arm. “Someone is full of it,” you tease.

He catches your hand and the other when it moves next, with a fierce look in his eyes. You don’t think; you just sit on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling his nose and reveling in the surprise on his face.

“Are you mad because you wish you could do this?” you murmur, kissing him gently as your heart soars.

“Or maybe because you want to see these?” you ask, freeing your breasts with a smile at the desire clouding his features. He grips your thighs tightly, dimpling your skin as his throat bobs.

You take his hand, guiding it to your damp boxers—boxers he notices are his.

He hasn’t seen those in forever...

Joy overwhelms him—you had wanted him all this time.

Watching you bond with everyone but him was torture. He’s always believed you share something special that isn’t there with the others. So it was like a slap in the face when you seemed to prove otherwise.

He’d been too stupid, too slow—Sylus had latched onto your essence across the cosmos, rushing over immediately. By the time Xavier arrived, you were already head over heels, and even though it shouldn't, it felt wrong to intrude.

“Maybe you’re longing to fuck this?” you murmur.

He shakes his head, rubbing you delicately. “I don’t want those things—I need them… I need you.”

He cradles your head as he kisses you. First, soft and slow, then he’s pulling you tight against him as his tongue searches your mouth.

He feels like coming home after the worst day.

Like finding your guiding star in an endless night sky.

His touch elicits things you’ve never felt before, and he’s barely touching you. Just tracing shapes over your back and thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulders, and the swell of your breasts.

It’s absolutely ruining you.

Gripping your hair tight and tilting your head back so your pretty tits arch in his face, his lips and teeth in harmony to create faint bruises as he takes on a more possessive edge.

Every effort to get you closer, every mark that blooms, every rough grab of his hands that leave their sign, feels like an effort to claim what’s his.

You let him do as he pleases, gasping in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure, taking it like “his good little girl.”

You’re nothing but a doll on his lap. A mere plaything. And he’s really missed his favorite toy.

Your tits are red and puffy from the abuse of his mouth and hands, and your lips are slick and swollen as whimpers slip out.

“F-feels so gooood…” you sigh, a dreamy expression on your face as you watch him.

Lust shines in his blue eyes, their depths seeming unfathomable. The anger he’s trying to work off sharpens his features; his brows knit, and his jaw clenches as he uses you, looking nothing like the Xavier you know.

The soft, gentle man who holds a special place in your heart is long gone.

Honestly? You aren’t sure which version you like better.

“I missed you so much…” he whispers, confusion rising like a familiar friend.

There it is again.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Rafayel said the same thing.

And just like you had then, you earnestly reply, “I missed you, too,” without thinking.

He says something, but you can’t hear it because a terrible pain shoots through your head, sending you into a void of swirling images from different times and different eras—all containing the man beneath you. Tears spill over as you murmur his name,  and he holds you tight, rocking you back and forth as worry rages in him.

Lifetimes of the most tender love you’ve ever known and the most profound friendship you’ve ever had flash before your eyes.

The missing pieces settle in your heart as it mends, repairing the thread that binds your souls together.

He comforts you in silence while you cry, but it’s taking everything in him not to beg you to talk to say something. Meeting his eyes, your gaze wide and pained, you cup his cheek, whispering, “I remember… everything,” in a small, scared voice.

You can’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean, but hope flares in him even as he fights it.

Your hands ball into fists as you hit him weakly, your tears welling over while emotions hit you so hard they make you feel sick. “What are you doing here!?” you ask, your voice breaking as you hit him again, only to have your arms pinned.

“I don’t understand,” he says softly, which frustrates you more. His kind, loving voice is like a knife to your heart.

“We promised each other, Xavier! In our first life, we promised to move on if anything happened. Specifically, we said there would be no endless searches through the cosmos,” you accuse, struggling against his hold.

His eyes widen, and his body locks up with a look of sheer disbelief. Your frustration softens a little at the tears slipping down his cheeks. You kiss some away and rest your head against his. “You were supposed to keep living, to go on and be happy, not waste your life in an endless cycle of torment. You aren’t leashed to me like Raffie... You have no responsibility to me.”

He releases his hold, smiling softly as his thumb circles your nipple. He realizes then that you don’t quite know everything… But he’ll take what he can get.

“You must have known I wouldn’t listen. Besides, would you truly not have searched for me if you remembered?” he asks, and his question hits home. You deflate like a balloon, your exasperation leaving you as sadness replaces it.

Pain shoots through your head again, so much worse than before. And then—Every puzzle piece clicks into place, and the finished product is a rendition of eternal love and devotion written in the stars.

Centuries ago, a foretold alignment of planets occurred as the sky vibrated with ethereal energy, giving constellations a front-row seat to the grand celestial ballet.

Mere patterns of stars were imbued with life, transforming into beings of radiant light and consciousness.

Five extraordinary stars came to life that day—The Constellation of Radiant Heart, representing compassion, love, and the internal light guiding one’s soul.

Kindred Spirits: deep connections and soul bonds between individuals.

Frosted Bloom: purity, resilience, and the delicate beauty of life in cold environments.

Eternal Flame: enduring passion, resilience, and the warmth of everlasting love.

And Eternal Union: the timeless bond between soulmates and love’s enduring nature across lifetimes.

You, Sylus, Zayne, Rafayel, and Xavier.

The constant pull to reach each other began instantly, bringing you and Rafayel together, with the others following soon after.

The foretold prophecy was whispered anew as word of your existence spread. It spoke of great power and the consequences of it being misused or led astray.

Signs pointed to your union being the power spoken of, as it embodies constellations that, when aligned, wield an offspring of energy capable of shifting the balance between light and darkness.

Of unhinging the very fabric of reality.

A council of gods striving to maintain this delicate balance intervened to prevent such possibilities, knowing that love, while powerful, could be unpredictable. 

Celestial threads were disrupted, corrupting their natural flow to keep you separated.

Yet, you naturally gravitate together—a cosmic force of nature beyond control, contributing subtly to the balance of creation. Such that your rediscovery of each other seems harmonious, like a divine occurrence, allowing it to slip right under the radar.

A fierce deity named Astra sent out a wave across the cosmos, selectively targeting your memories of the others.

You have no idea what broke the spell. Hopefully, Astra is dead; whatever it is,  you thank the gods for it.

You snap to reality, your eyes locking with Xavier’s as you smile, whispering, “My guiding star, come to life…” with wonder in your voice.

“Now I see,” you tease softly, cupping his cheeks as you both begin to cry.

Your lips find his, and the way you make out feels like it did the first time. His hand slips into your boxers, a low groan leaving him when he feels how wet and warm you are.

His fingers play in the slickness before they fill you, pumping deep and fast as he squeezes your breast, watching your every reaction.

Suddenly he’s freeing his cock, tearing your bottoms for easier access, and all but impaling you.

His hand grips the nape of your neck, guiding your head to his, as his arm winds around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You wanna apologize for taking so long to let me have you this time? Bet you're regretting it now that you remember my cock is your favorite,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your ass as he lifts you to the tip and down to a languid rhythm.

“Say it—tell me you’re sorry,” he demands softly, mouth finding your breast as he waits for your response.

“I am sorry,” you say, meaning it. He pushes deep, stilling you, his eyes searching yours.

“I know it irks you that you were last in line,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face.

His eyes narrow with a playful expression as he bites your boob. Hard.

He devours your shriek, throwing you on the bed and spreading you wide, fingers fucking you until you're crying his name.

His cock slips inside, lips curving with a soft smile, his eyes full of love, as he fucks you like it's all you’re suitable for.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he instructs calmly, with an almost bored tone, as he watches you squirm beneath him.

His cock stabs you sharply when you don’t respond.

“Fuck! It f-feels amazing. It always feels amazing!”

His pleased hum fills the air, sending shivers down your spine. “And whose cock is best?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

He’s playing like it’s a joke, but you know he’s serious.

He rubs your clit hard, gripping your throat as he hovers over you. “Well. What’s your answer?” he murmurs, kissing you softly.

You can’t see straight from him fucking you so hard, and he’s cutting off your air just right, causing pleasure to curl painfully, just waiting to snap.

“Yours, Xavier! Gods, you know that!” you sigh in exasperation, rolling your eyes to the heavens.

Xavier is the most jealous, hands down, with Raf close behind. Xavier needs constant reassurance of how much he means to you. If he doesn't get it, he’s either pouty or he’s destroying your poor body out of spite; there is no in-between.

“Good girl,” he coos, pushing your legs back and settling over you, teeth teasing your ear as he whispers, “And who do you love most?”

Your pussy tightens painfully, pulling him in deep as you kiss him and ease his worries.

“You Xai. It’s always been you silly.”

He makes a sweet, happy sound, his ears turning pink as he hides his face. The band in your core snaps so suddenly, hurtling you into an orgasm painful in its intensity.

You’re making such a mess, his cock squelching around so loud.

He’s slamming into you, watching you suck him in, whimpering as his hips slow and his essence warms you.

Then his total weight is on you, showering you with kisses til you're breathless and giggling. The storm in his eyes calms, and he can’t keep the smile off his face as he repeats, “I missed you so much!” with another little nuzzle.

Sylus walks in so quietly that you don’t hear him until his breath is against your skin.

“Seems our little pet has been keeping secrets,” he drawls.

His hand begins to trace your body, and Xavier leans back, hips resuming their pace as he spreads your legs and shifts his focus to where you join.

You groan, squirming around, grinding against him as excitement stirs.

You love it when they play with their toy together.

“When were you planning to tell me, sweetie? Your memories have been bubbling up for a while now,” he accuses, giving your breast a light slap with a teasing grin before he makes his way to your clit, rubbing slow, tortuous circles in time with Xavier’s thrusts.

Xavier’s watching Sylus’s fingers swirl above his cock, slipping in an out of you, a dazed, heady feeling taking over him as his soft voice reaches your ears like the embodiment of sin for someone seemingly so pure.

“Getting so tight… You always have liked it best when we fuck you together, huh?”

Sylus chuckles, capturing your whimper as Xavier’s pace quickens, cute little sounds leaving him as his fingers coat you messily, gripping your thighs tight with sloppy pumps of his hips.

“How much do you remember?’ Sylus inquires, his breath brushing your ear before trailing along your neck.

“Everything,” you murmur breathlessly. His gaze seeks yours, features full of disbelief and wonder.

“Everything?” he repeats, scared to believe it.

Tears fill your eyes, and a smile spreads wide as you nod fervently. His hand squeezes your cheeks, and his kiss takes your breath away.

“Well then, I guess you see that you owe us. We follow you across the cosmos… You put us through so much, kitten,” he says, his tone sweet yet mocking.

You roll your eyes, tossing him an exasperated glare. “You know well that you chase each other, not just me, jackass.”

You are shimmering stars that are only whole when together.

“Doesn't matter,” he says, freeing his cock; he turns your head and wets your lip with his essence. “Time to pay up.”

You act annoyed, but in reality, having them fill you at once and using you for their pleasure in such a primal way is sheer ecstasy.

Xavier’s teasing you, pressing kisses to your neck and cheeks while he murmurs filth in your ear, watching you choke around Sylus.

“I know you can take him better than that, angel.”

“No fair, Sy! Your cock is bigger this time. It doesn’t even fit.”

“Our perfect little star… You know you were made just for us, right?”

“Go on, tell him whose cock makes you feel best.”

That one earns him a knock upside the head as Sylus pushes him back.

Xavier’s soft laugh fills the air, hips resuming their unforgiving pace.

He cherishes making love to you so much more than having this resolute goal of destroying your body. But he's enjoying working off his pent-up frustration.

He also prefers having you all to himself. But something in the bond you all share makes sharing you feel like the most natural thing in the world.

Sylus has already clued Zayne and Rafayel in. Zayne is straight-up rushing over. Raf busts into the room now, jumping to your free side and overwhelming your cheek with kisses.

“Hey there, cutie,” he says, his radiant smile lighting his features and melting your heart.

His gaze drifts to Xavier’s pistoning cock, with a small, heated breath of, “Oh.” He teases your clit and Xavier's shaft with gentle fingers, lust clouding his face.

“Are they making you feel good?” he murmurs, watching Sylus fuck your mouth as you choke and nod, his fingers circling faster.

“Yeah? Just wait. I’ll make you feel so much better than they are,” he promises.

“Eyes on me now, sweetie,” Sylus commands, tugging your hair to angle your face. 

“You’ll take it all like a good girl,” he commands, fucking your throat so deep you lose the ability to breathe.

Rafayel’s mouth sucks and bites your breasts, teasing your nipples and palming your clit while his fingers play with Xavier, whose ruining your cunt, murmuring about how “You’re taking them so well” and telling Raf not to stop.

Sylus stills, cock throbbing as he releases so much cum you can barely get it down. Xavier’s warmth fills you next, and you tumble over with him, crying out around Sylus as pleasure rolls through you.

You’re so blissed-out you barely register being scooped up and carried to the pull-out sofa as Rafayel states he needs more room. He lowers you onto him, entering you gently, but the way he grips your thighs when he bottoms out is anything but.

He leans back and gets comfy, a teasing grin on his face as he commands, “Make me feel good first, princess. I’ll reward you after.”

He makes no move to help you; he just smiles and praises you while you bounce on his cock, dazed and trying to stay up on shaky legs.

You bury your face against him, switching to a slow grind, whining, “You feel so good, baby.” He groans, flipping you on your stomach instead and lifting your ass high, delivering gentle slaps that contradict his unforgiving pace. It only lasts a minute, though, as it slows at Zayne’s presence.

Zayne’s voice overwhelms your senses, murmuring, “Hello, beautiful.” He helps you prop up on the back of the sofa, kneeling so he can kiss you. He strokes your cheek, his eyes searching yours tenderly.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he says with a small smile.

“Zayniee!” you say dreamily. “Wanna taste you sooo bad,” you whine, earning a gentle laugh.

“I can arrange that,” he says, undoing his belt slowly. You open wide, moaning in pleasure as he pushes in.

His touch is gentler than the others—light squeezes of your breasts, fingertips tracing shapes on your back as his hips move slowly.

He grips your ass, helping you move against Rafayel, telling you how perfect you are.

Xavier settles next to you, rubbing your clit to Rafayel’s pace, while Sylus sits close, a glass of wine in hand. “You’re excelling in your penance, kitten,” he praises teasingly.

“Gonna paint you white, now, cutie,” Raf mumbles, his thrusts getting sloppy before his essence fills you up.

Zayne takes his place instantly, spooning you as his cock borderline rips you open.

Sylus isn’t the only one who leveled up in this life.

He holds you close for a while, just resting against your head while lightly gripping your throat, thumb rubbing to a soothing rhythm.

“I’ve prayed so many times for the spell to break,” he admits, agony filling his voice. “I was beginning to lose hope, but—” his hips begin to pump, and every touch is an attempt to reassure him that you’re truly here.

You cum around him again and again, the couch getting filthy as he turns you into an overstimulated, whimpering mess.

Sylus teases your breasts while Rafayel and Xavier sit close.

Your poor pussy is ruined, and you’re barely conscious, dazed by the pleasure they’re giving you.

This doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon since Zayne murmurs, “Just one more time, my love.”

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive. 

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55. 

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement. 

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening. 

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop. 

Just your luck. 

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers. 

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her. 

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.” 

“Oh, will you now?” 

You pause. 

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?” 

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?” 

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car. 

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.” 

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs. 

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser. 

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has. 

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be. 

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course. 

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision. 

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?” 

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?” 

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.” 

“Step out of the car.” 

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind. 

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing. 

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.” 

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk. 

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits. 

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips. 

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them. 

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly. 

“Stick out your tongue.” 

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever. 

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.” 

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this. 

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes. 

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known. 

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire. 

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.” 

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes. 

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back. 

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.” 

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out. 

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her. 

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop. 

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.” 

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been. 

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.” 

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.” 

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties. 

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal. 

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants. 

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger. 

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls. 

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.” 

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest. 

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.” 

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.” 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.” 

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything. 

“I am in control.” 

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.” 

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.” 

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes. 

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it. 

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself. 

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure. 

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines. 

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask. 

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—” 

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through. 

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground. 

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.” 

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front. 

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short. 

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted. 

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out. 

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls. 

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.” 

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip. 

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.” 

“I made my terms abundantly clear.” 

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.” 

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.” 

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips. 

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.” 

“Prove it.” 

That’s the wrong thing to say. 

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl. 

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says. 

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time. 

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic. 

“Oh, yes!” 

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers. 

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal. 

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play. 

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous. 

You can use that. 

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching. 

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!” 

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that. 

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble. 

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips. 

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times. 

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy. 

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?” 

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.” 

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?” 

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.” 

It’s like flipping a switch. 

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips. 

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel. 

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.” 

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur. 

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“With your mouth between my legs.” 

“Fingers?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.” 

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more. 

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change. 

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head. 

“Not what I meant!” 

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts. 

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—” 

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer. 

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat. 

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last. 

“I’m going to come.” You force out. 

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut. 

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon. 

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg. 

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away. 

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out. 

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth. 

“No more,” you beg, “please.” 

“Am I forgiven?” 

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.” 

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair. 

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck. 

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask. 

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.” 

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?” 

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.” 

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later. 

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.” 

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs. 

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching. 

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too. 

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.” 

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car. 

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this. 

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?” 

“Yeah. They should.” 

“Where did you break down?” 

“By the bridge on Old Forest.” 

Perfect. 

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.” 

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this. 

“Alright.” 

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body. 

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor. 

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.” 

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?” 

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...” 

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed. 

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.” 

“Honey—” 

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?” 

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile. 

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.” 

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.” 

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly. 

“There’s no one around to catch us now.” 

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up. 

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss. 

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.” 

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days. 

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing. 

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say. 

“Be good and you can have my cock later.” 

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it. 

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh. 

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl. 

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.” 

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.” 

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous. 

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too. 

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows. 

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.” 

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate. 

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end. 

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks. 

“Agnes—“ You choke out. 

“It’s okay, honey.” 

You let go. 

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks. 

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new. 

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck. 

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.” 

“Thank god.” 

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can. 

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight. 

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting. 

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?” 

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”  

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it. 

“To be parents.” You whisper. 

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating. 

“I’m not.” 

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.” 

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.” 

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense. 

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.” 

She nods, “Alright.” 

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.” 

“That was terrible.” 

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully. 

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick. 

“When is your shift over?” 

“In a few hours.” 

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses. 

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning. 

[nimnia]

m⚝ssing y⚝u too m⚝ch

▹ synopsis : it has been too long since you've been in tokyo, but you were glad to come back again, and this time, for bunnies' camp! now, time for some quality time with your girl...

▹ genre : fluff, a bit suggestive

▹ a/n : kakkkakkakekekadsikekekdkaakke im in love with pham pham ssi

› masterlist

upon arriving in tokyo, you were on a call with your girlfriend at the airport. hanni insisted on calling you the moment you landed, so in any ways, you had no choice but to do what she says.

with your phone against your ear, you could hear muffling noises behind the call. you hear some sort of voices, which you can recognize it as her other members talking at the background.

"where are we going to meet up, han?" you said as you walked through the exit and looked around in delight. it's been a long time since you've returned to tokyo, the last time you remembered this place was four years ago.

tokyo was your first ever country to travel with your older sister, and despite some unpleasant encounters with people, the place was just as beautiful as they were.

"where are you?! i just exited number 4!" hanni exclaims on the call, making you look at the sign above you.

"oh, i'm at exit number 8. do you want me to go to you?" you offer as you stand at the side with your luggage on your feet, waiting.

"aaah... i'll come to you! just stay there! exit number 8, right? that shouldn't be too far," she replied, another muffled shuffle was heard again and a pant from her. you blink at the sound before chuckling, leaning back on the wall.

"you don't have to run, han. i'm not going away," you comment playfully, eyes looking at the left side to where the farabout number 4 is.

"don't care! i'm excited to see you, so why wouldn't i run?!" hanni said as she continues to run, ignoring the calling behind her. you chuckle again, cheeks turning rosy at her words.

"alright, alright. i'm just here near the benches, i think you'll be able to find me, yeah?" you smile at her response, "of course! you said you were wearing my shirt right? then, you bet i'll find your pretty ass quickly!"

then before you could mutter your comment, a short gasp was heard before the call was cut off. confused, you look at your phone and blink slowly. "huh. maybe she found me already?" and right you are,

"y/n! y/n!!"

you hear your girlfriend's voice from afar. you immediately turn your head in the direction of her voice, and instantly, a large smile forms on your face.

"there yo-" you choked when hanni suddenly jumps on you and wraps her arms around your neck as tight as she didn't intend to be. you cough a few times before laughing and slid your arms around her waist.

"aww, did my honey miss me?" you cooed as you pat her waist. you chuckle when she whines on your neck, you find it cute and endearing. you took a moment to smell her perfume, smiling as it didn't hurt your nose as always.

"i missed you a lot.. it's been so long since we've met again, y/n!" she sulk as she pulls away but never releases her arms from your neck, only keeping you close. you laugh softly, "i'm sorry.. uni has been busy ever since, so i couldn't find the right time to see you again."

you pout pitifully, puppy eyes staring into her eyes. her cheeks turn red before she smiles and laughs at your beautiful face, "it's okay! i don't mind you prioritizing your studies, as long as we stay in touch with each other, which we did!"

you nodded at her words, chest warming at her reassurance. it has been 4 months since you saw her in person again, since you got so busy with your college studies and she with her idol activities, it was difficult at first, but soon enough, both of you were patient and respectful with each other.

during those lonely times, hanni never missed the opportunity to call you and talk to you in chat, and neither did you miss it as well. even while you were studying, she was just watching you through the video call and only talks when necessary or when she wants to.

and while she was practicing or organizing her room, you were always watching her through the video call and just, basically, did the same thing.

it's a mutual thing to do, a respectful thing to do with one another.

you were busy looking into her face when she leans in and kisses you softly. instantly, your eyes closed and leans more into her endearing kisses, missing her warmth and touches.

you can feel her smiling against your lips, and it causes you to deepen the kiss before pulling away with a small smile on your face. "i missed you too, han." you mumbled under your breath.

she giggles sweetly before finally pulling away from you, holding your hand. "you have your ticket for the bunnies camp, right?" she narrows her eyes at you, though she smiles when you nodded affirmative.

"of course, i did! how could i ever forget the ticket?" you laugh at her shrugging her shoulders, "well, just in case! you'll never know!" truth be told and unbeknownst to you, she had secretly bought one ticket, just in case you forgot yours.

but that's just a secret, never yours to know for now.

you hum in wonder, before hearing voices approaching both of you. you look up to see minji and hyein running towards you, "oh! min and hye!" you waved your unoccupied hand at them before getting lunged by the youngest.

"unnie!! i missed you!" she screams against your shoulder, hugging you tighter than hanni did earlier. it was a death hug, but honestly, who cares? this young girl is basically your baby sister, even when both of you aren't biological.

you hugged back, "i missed you too, chipmunk! how was your injury?"

hyein proudly shows off her legs with no cast or any bandages around it, "hehe! i'm all healed up! i've been resting for a month and i got so bored that my legs just healed by itself-" you laugh at her dark(?) humor, slapping her shoulder.

hanni groans as she shoves you, "not funny! hyein, you don't have to entertain this woman, my god!" she said to hyein who just scratches her head indifferently.

"meh."

you chuckle at her single reply, knowing how it will likely irritate the aussie-viet woman. then comes into your vision, minji slid her arm over yours, "hallo."

you smile, "hi, jiji. did haerin and dani come with you too?" in which she nods her head, "yeah, they're in the car right now with our manager. they were busy taking selfies together, so.." she shrugs.

you sigh in understanding, "of course, of course.. well, let's go before any of you get noticed!" dragging minji, you run with her ahead while the twotolz are struggling to catch up with you.

─────

"damn, i know you want to dress up for the bunnies camp but do you really have to literally glow like that, babe?"

hanni sweatdropped as she said, watching you stand in front of the mirror to check your outfit for the bunnies camp. you stare at her deadpanned through the mirror, finding her comment rather exaggerating over your outfit.

because truth be told, it was just a plain white long skirt, with your white polo underneath the brown cardigan vest that uniquely complements your overall vibes as a vintage-modernly woman.

you like this kind of style, but for your girlfriend to exaggerate?

you shake your head, embarrassed. "you're overdoing your comment, hanni! i look normal and natural here, i'm not really glowing in a literal way.." it was to cover up your flustered state, since hanni has a way to make things a bit complicated in a nice way.

hanni sighs, laying on her side on your bed— hotel's bed —with her elbow resting and cradling her head while facing your way. "you don't get it, babe. i'm not the type to lie my ways just to make you feel better,"

she gazes at you longer, "but i'm saying a fact because it is what's in front of me." her half-lidded eyes that has been staring at you longer than you possibly imagined made you feel flustered even more.

your cheeks turn rosy, "but to go that much... you could've just said i look nice, you know?" you slightly turn your body to the side to look into more of the details of your outfit, unaware of the idol woman leaving the bed and approaching you silently.

then catching a glimpse of her face through the mirror, you yelp in surprise to feel her arms wrapped around your waist and her body pressed up against your back.

"h... hanni." you stuttered quietly, embarrassed and shy at her gaze towards you through the mirror. you pressed your lips together, hands over her arms that tightens around your waist.

hanni, with her eyes closed, leans and rested her chin on your shoulder, shifting close to place her lips on your neck. your hands trembled, feeling your neck turning red and burning.

"come on..."

she hums at your timid response, finding it endearing. slowly, she brushes her lips against your neck, and her hands on your waist squeezing your body a few times, admiring you more, adoring you wholely.

your heart raced further as you feel her front pressing up against even more onto your back, as if wanting to hold you closer. you gulp, breathing hitching at every soft pecks she lands on your smooth neck.

"you smell really nice.. was it a soap or a perfume?" she mumbles against your skin, causing you to shiver at her breath touching the sensitive spot on your neck.

"it's.." you breathe, "..it's a soap. your soap," you subconsciously leans back onto her body. the warmth and needy touches speaks how much she wants you, even in a slight indirect way.

she hums lowly, pressing her lips against your skin more. "that's nice... you liked it?" she whispered, arms sneaking upwards to rest them under your chest. hands are now on your torso, underneath your arm.

your breath hitched once again, heart racing at the intimate atmosphere that this woman has built. you couldn't find your voice and couldn't even trust it under this moment, so you just nodded.

she smiles warmly on your neck, then shifts her head to kiss your neck, causing you to let out a soft exhale. "you know... i missed you a lot, babe. you don't know how much.."

she trails off as she moves her hands to hold your arm, putting them in front with her hands slowly trails across your arms to hold onto your hands. gently and lovingly, she interlocked your hands together, securely and tightly.

"do you even know how much i yearn for you? how much i really want to touch you? how much I want to see you?" your legs quivered, leaning your head against hers as she whispers these words on the crook of your neck.

you couldn't find your voice at all, nor could find the sense to ignore these feelings and twitches she causes you.

she has you wrapped around her fingers.

"but now, we're here... closer and against each other's bodies." she murmured, tightening her hold around you. you bit your lips, not knowing why you find this so hot and endearing of her.

"i wish to kiss you until you give yourself wholely to me, babe. can i? can you grant me this wish?" she pleads, desires and desperation in her voice warms your body as if sunlight was above you.

"..you talk funny, han." you managed to speak, even with a husky low voice that could barely make it out. you were burning in her arms, desperate for more of her touch and love.

she smiles endearingly, kissing your neck. "i just love you a lot, i miss you a lot. i want more of you, babe," she breathes out as if it was so natural of her. couldn't she see how much it affected you?

maybe she does, and she's doing this intentionally. she must have wanted you to fall to your knees. she must have wanted you to look at her and only her. she must have wanted you to give everything about you to her.

you spun to face her and cupped her face, staring into her wide eyes. you smile, leaning with your nose against hers. "are you doing this on purpose, hanni? what? would you like me to give you what you want, hm?"

you said under your breath. minty breath hitting her lips, with her eyes widening more and cheeks turning red. something in your eyes caused something in her stomach to shift, it was a burning desire.

she needs you now.

she claws onto your back, pulling you until no space between you is present anymore. "just before we go..." she mumbles, clouded eyes gazing into yours, her heart racing like a man in a marathon.

your husky and airy voice shook her to her core, in a good way, in a pleasurable way. "absolutely, my princess..." the moment you said this, near her face, it was all over.

perhaps you missed each other a little too much.

[deebrisbyfish]

After spending most of yesterday numb, angry, and terrified, I took the time to think about how I both want and NEED to move forward.

For months, I've been pondering if it’s time to move on from my semi-autobiographical webcomic, “Finding Dee”, for a few months now. I wrote a whole blog post about it, and I’ve even been working on some potential new ideas for new comic strips. All kinds of fun stuff. I’ve been considering that when I had enough material for one more trade… about 40 weeks of strips… I might put this comic to bed and move on. Then, I woke up yesterday morning to the election results and have spent most of that day feeling like I’ve been repeatedly kicked in the stomach. That feeling hasn’t really gone away and likely won’t for a while, but like a lot of chronic pain, I’m learning how to function with it being ever-present. Whee.

As such, it was important to me yesterday afternoon, after I finished with work, to immediately draw THIS. To put these thoughts out there in my chosen medium of expression, doing the thing I love to do the most: make comics Now, another factor in my concerns over whether it was time to end “Finding Dee” came down to the election, and the promises contained within Project 2025. 

The incoming regime has promised that in their new world order, being publicly transgender can become a punishable crime. Telling transgender stories will be flagged as porn, and porn will be made illegal as well. I will be branded a sex criminal for telling what can quantifiably be called the LEAST sexy webcomic ever. Because Republicans needed a boogeyman to terrify their ignorant base, and we were RIGHT THERE.

But, after a lot of thought and consideration, I decided that I am not ready to retire this strip just yet. Maybe if something cool happens and I decide to move on, but like I said in the strip here… I want that to be MY choice. Not the government.

So, I’m moving forward. The strip will continue as it’s been until I DECIDE that I’m done with it. End of rant… for now.

[casurlaub]

There's no way of knowing for sure but I think it's an interesting question to discuss...

I assume that you'd need to recognize your fear on some level for the Boggart to represent it... We see a lot of pretty 'childish' (not meaning this in a condescending way) fears displayed in PoA when they have that Boggart lesson... Not so many dead bodies or even abstract fears (like being lonely), as you would expect from adults. And it all makes sense because they are children but you simply can not tell me that Hermione's greatest fear really was McGonagall telling her she'd failed all her classes. Of course fear of failure is a valid fear (all fears are valid?) and believe me, I can relate, but with everything they had gone through already? Also... Remus asking them to take a moment to consider their greatest fears implies to me it's something you're aware of on some level.

So... What is/was Remus aware of?

The moon obviously is a very obvious choice - from a young age on its there, it's visible, it's easy to blame for him reliving excruciating pain and fear (and lose of self-control) every month.

And when we see him facing his Boggart, it's indeed the moon. Not being shunned by other wizards, not side-effects of lycanthrooy but the moon. Of course it's a symbol for his lycanthropy but as it's the full moon it's obviously linked to the transformation into a werewolf. That's what he is most afraid of. But which part? The pain? The lose of self-control? Reliving trauma? All of it?

It's interesting to note that the moon is Remus' Boggart even in a time in which he had access to Wolfsbane (PoA) which means in a time in which he did not experience lose of control (of course it's a possibility that by then it's been ingrained into his mind so there was no simple 'rebooting' it). So maybe it's not the self-control thing? And if it's not and the pain has always been there, does that mean it's always been the moon?

I don't know if it's as easy as that... Because in PoA Remus misses classes for days because of the moon, Wolfsbane and all. We don't know for sure how it has been when he went to school but I personally don't think he was out for that long. Because I can not imagine that no one except for Snape picked up on his absence if he missed days and days every (other) month. But also because of Sirius' (insensitive) 'wish it was full moon' comment. Yes, Sirius can be cruel but I can not imagine him making such a comment if Remus spent a considerable amount in the hospital wing every month. No, we're led to believe the full moons were fun, adventures. Remus tells us so himself and calls them the best times of his life? Now he is obviously lying a bit (because the transformations were still painful even though he now had company and didn't hurt himself anymore and I do believe he was playing it down out of gratitude and guilt towards his friends.. along the lines of 'they already became animagi for me, don't complain about feeling sick now') but isn't there a bit of truth in there still?

So the full moons obviously were still painful but he has company, roamed the grounds with his friends and didn't need as long to bounce back? Is that enough to assume the moon wasn't his Boggart at least through a few 'happy' years?

I honestly don't know. I can see him having a different Boggart in that short period of time between them becoming animagi and the war picking up... I can see it being something about abandonment (which is also the reason he did never say something about them bullying Snape?). And I think it's safe to assume he was aware of that fear (the Snape thing, him looking grateful in that photo on Sirius' walls, his behaviour as an adult even when he continues to defend them..) But I don't know if it's about losing people in the sense of them dying...

His Boggart is still the moon in OotP when he yet again had someone to lose (if not Harry then Sirius - old friends and all..). But maybe by OotP he has realised that he could survive on his own, that, while it wasn't pleasant, he didn't need his friends.

I can also see his Boggart changing after Teddy was born (or, before Teddy was born that he had infected Teddy with lycanthrooy - actually I think that Boggart is very likely), but that is also just speculation.

Long story short: I don't know but I find it interesting to explore and I think there's enough ground to argue in different directions. But I do think as a teenager/young adult it's less about losing his loved ones than his own deep-rooted abandonment fear (being worthless...)

Was Remus' boggart always the moon, or did it only become that when he no longer had to fear losing everyone he loved?

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) hope you like it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst word count: 2,6k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason doesn't know when things started going wrong, but it's been a while.

Since that night.

The night a piece of Mason died, because before everything was beautiful and happy, and now he feels like everything is blue. Mason is not a melancholic person, but he doesn't know how to get out of it when no one is understanding what is happening to him.

“Hi, can you come to Manchester alone?” Mason asked his mother on the phone, and it was the first time in over a year that Mason had asked Debbie to come to him. Only her, because Mason needs a comfort that only Debbie can give him, the comfort that only a mother can give a child.

“I'm taking a train tomorrow” she replied and he nodded before hanging up, but not before answering several questions, and honestly Mason didn't want to answer any of them because he was too sad. 

Mason hung up the phone and went to the kitchen looking for something to eat, but he's a disaster at cooking and had no head to think, so he just picked up his phone and ordered Japanese food.

He wasn't really hungry, but if he didn't eat, he knew he would have terrible training tomorrow. Some days Mason just ate out of obligation, smiled out of obligation, talked because others talked to him, and he does everything like a robot.

Mason stood at the kitchen window and watched the rain falling outside. Winter was coming and Mason was going crazy, everything was strange, he finally returned to training after a few weeks injured, but not even that could make him happy.

Mason hasn't been able to feel happy for over a month. 

And he doesn't know when he'll be able to get over it.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Debbie asked him the next day after he got back from training. She was sitting on the couch and Mason sat on the floor when he arrived, just to play with Ace for a bit. Debbie knew there was something very wrong with her son, Mason was silent, sad.

“Hum, yeah, of course, I just don’t know how” Mason sighed in frustration, for a month he has been mulling over the same thing in his head, surviving day after day, but he feels like he is about to explode. “It's hurting me, mum.”

Debbie felt sorry for him because he looked miserable. Mason sighed and lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling above him.

“Let's start at the beginning, okay? Was it something between you and Y/n?”

Mason's heart sank when she spoke your name to him, because Mason had refused to talk about it for a month, and now he felt all the feelings rushing into his chest at once like bullets.

Debbie knew about you, you and Mason had only been together for a few months, but he seemed more in love than ever. 

“I was going to be a father” Mason whispered and the memory of that terrible night came rushing back to his head, a terrible place in his mind that he couldn't get out of on his own. “She lost our baby.”

“What?” Debbie couldn't hide her surprise and shock, because she didn't expect this. 

“It was my fault.”

Mason has been reliving that night in his head all the time, ever since he heard the doctor say the baby didn't survive. Mason remembers the feeling that was like several knives hitting him, he had never felt anything like it. Mason remembers the scene of you crying in the hospital bed, he can even hear the sobs when he closes his eyes, and that sound has terrified him every night.

“Why is it your fault, Mason?” Debbie asked, getting off the couch and sitting on the floor. Mason laid his head on Debbie's legs, feeling his heart ache as she stroked his hair, just like a mother does with a child. 

It was a very rainy night, Mason had an interview scheduled at Old Trafford and he decided he wouldn't go by car, as Bruno was also going and Mason asked to go with him. Bruno left first and Mason asked you to pick him up, but more than twenty minutes had passed and you still hadn't arrived, and Mason started to get worried, but he couldn't leave, because you could arrive at any moment.

But the only thing that arrived was a message from your number, but it wasn't you who wrote it. Mason's heart stopped at that moment as he read the message saying that your car had slid off the road and crashed, but you were fine, you just needed to go to the hospital because of the baby. 

Mason paid the Uber driver a lot more while he begged him to go faster because he was so worried he was biting his nails.

Shit, it was his fault, Mason shouldn't have asked you to pick him up in that heavy rain. Anyone knew it could be dangerous.

Mason ran through the halls after finding out which room you were in, and he sighed in relief when he saw you lying there without a scratch, but when you turned to head towards the door, Mason saw red eyes.

He didn't want to think the worst, but it was impossible.

“Hey, you good?” he approached, shaking, Mason's hands began to sweat. He was happy that you were alive, that you were okay.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sob escaped your throat and you began to cry desperately. Mason sat on the hospital bed and hugged you, not caring that he was wet from the rain.

“How is our baby? Is everything fine?” 

Mason felt his heart break into a thousand pieces when you pressed your face against his chest and cried, and Mason felt trapped in a nightmare when he understood what had happened. You looked up and looked at Mason, you were inconsolable, suffering, and it was then that Mason realized that it was his fault.

“I lost- I lost our baby” he couldn't say anything, but you were squeezing Mason so tightly that he couldn't get away and get away from you. “I’m so sorry, Mason. I’m so sorry.”

Mason didn't know why you were apologizing. He didn't say anything, Mason didn't even let a tear fall, he couldn't cry when you were desperate in his arms.

“It wasn't your fault, Mason” Debbie said to Mason when he told her what had happened, and she wiped the tear that fell down her son's face. “Don’t say that ever again.”

“I shouldn't have asked her to pick me up, I should have taken an Uber or taxi and left her at home, safe.”

You would still be pregnant if it weren't for the car crash that caused you to lose the baby, and you wouldn't be sad right now, nor would Mason. And you wouldn't be separated either. You were going to have a beautiful baby, Mason thought it was a girl, and then he was going to have two of you.

Everything was ruined now, and it was all his fault.

Mason also can't forget your crying when he left you two days later like a coward, the guilt was consuming him and he accepted that you would be much better without him. He was a coward, Mason couldn't accept that he made you suffer like that, and that's why he decided to leave, so as not to cause any more damage to your life.

Mason didn't know what was worse, remembering you crying when you told him you had a miscarriage or when you were crying and begging him not to leave you. 

“Why did you leave her, Mason?” 

“Because I don't want to cause her any more suffering.”

“Mason, I'm your mother, and I'm not going to hide what I think about this. You're suffering, you think it's your fault but it's not, and I'm sure Y/n thinks the same.” Mason closed his eyes, it still hurt to think about it, and maybe it would never stop hurting. “I can't imagine your pain, losing a child is probably the greatest pain anyone can go through, even if the child hasn't been born yet.”

“But a mother's pain is probably greater, what if Y/n thinks it's her fault? Have you thought about that? I don't want to put any weight on your shoulders, but you left her at the worst moment of her life. She might be suffering much more without you than with you.”

“She's probably better off without me.”

“I'm only going to tell you this once. You know she loves you, that woman would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for her, don't ruin what was the best thing that ever happened to you because you're stubborn. I'm so sorry you lost a child, Mason, I'm truly sorry, it's a dream to be a grandmother again, but I'm not going to let you cry here alone when you could be by her side and you can get through this together.”

Mason cried. For the first time in a month he cried. Mason let out all the pain of losing his baby, crying eased the pain he had in his chest, but not the guilt.

Debbie let him cry and cried with him, because Mason was still her son and she didn't want to see any of her children suffer. She would let them all cry on her lap whenever they needed to.

“I don't want to make her sadder.” he confessed quietly and felt his mother's fingers in his hair. 

“You need to be with her, Mason, no one wants to go through this alone.”

“I think it was a girl.”

Mason could imagine a little girl running around the house, with hair the same color as him, but with your smile. She would definitely have your personality.

“I wish you had told me sooner that I was going to be a grandmother. I'm so sorry about that, Mason. I never wanted you to have to go through the pain of losing a child.”

“I feel like my heart has been crushed for a month.”

“Please go talk to her, she deserves an explanation and you don't deserve to go through this apart.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

You sighed when you felt a drop of rain fall on your face, walking faster to the entrance of the building where you live with some groceries in your hands. It still wasn't fast enough, because the rain got heavier and you got soaked as you tried to reach the building.

“Oh, Lord” you muttered to yourself when you reached the gate, and didn't even look ahead as you made sure no bags were ripped. 

You stopped when you saw Mason standing at the entrance of the building outside, staring at you. He was standing leaning against the wall, and you felt your heart race because you hadn't seen him in over a month. 

He had his hair shaved, and you knew it was because he took a hit to the head that caused him to get stitches. God, you loved him so much you could cry, and he was so beautiful and you hated him for leaving you.

Not even the rain bothered you at that moment, because you couldn't look at anything else but Mason. Mason pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, but he called you to get out of the rain that had now left all your hair and clothes wet. 

“Hey” you said, handing the bags to Mason when he asked. “Do you want to come in?”

Of course, you couldn't help but notice the deep circles under his eyes, and Mason looked thinner than usual. You knew you looked just as bad as he did.

“If you don't mind, I want to.” 

Mason walked you to your apartment in silence, and you didn't know what to say. It was a surprise to see him there, it had been a terrible month and you still hadn't recovered. 

Mason put all the bags in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom to get a towel to dry yourself. Mason followed you when you went to your bedroom, and his desolate look on you warmed your heart, because you thought you were the only one who suffered with what happened, but Mason was there in front of you suffering.

“I'm going to take a shower” you mumbled and took off your clothes, knowing Mason was watching you. “Come with me?”

You didn't wait for Mason and went to the bathroom, turning on the hot water in the shower to take a long shower after the cold rain. You stepped into the shower and watched as Mason silently took off his clothes, and soon after he was in the shower with you.

“Why did you leave me?” you whispered looking at Mason. Mason opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't, he started crying and put his hands on his face. “Mason, it’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. It was my fault and-”

“What?” you asked, because you had no idea that Mason was blaming himself for what happened. “It wasn't your fault, what are you talking about?”

Mason knelt on the bathroom floor and wrapped his arms around your waist, crying into you as the hot water ran over you.

“I should have never asked you to come pick me, it's my fault, you lost our baby because of me.” God, you didn’t think you could feel this much pain. Mason had been blaming himself for a whole month, and you would never have let him go if you knew. You knelt in front of him and held his face in your hands.

“Listen to me, this wasn't your fault, it was an accident and accidents happen.” He shook his head and you rested his forehead against yours, hugging his neck. “Why did you leave me?”

“I didn't want you to hate me, I didn't want to make you suffer more.”

“I suffered more without you by my side.”

“Forgive me, please.”

“There's nothing to forgive, Mason. You lost a son too, I know this is hard for you too.”

“I shouldn't have let you go through this alone.”

“Never leave me again, please.”

“Never again, never again. I promise. I’m so sorry.” 

“I wish I was still pregnant.” you confessed, because it's true. You've lived very happy weeks since you found out about the pregnancy.

“I know, me too.” Mason left a kiss on your forehead and you held him closer to you. It was an intimate moment, two hearts hurting but finding healing together. “I love you, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you, I’m sorry too.” you kissed Mason. “We'll get through this together, okay?”

“I'm sorry I was away from you for a month, you've been through hell alone.”

“Don't worry, you're with me now.”

You took a shower together, nothing more than small kisses, because you just wanted to spend time together. It was an important moment, Mason felt like he was forgiven even though he had nothing to be forgiven for, and you knew that now you could fully heal, Mason was once again with you.

Sometimes the bad times just show you that you're better together than you are apart, and Mason finally understood what his mum said, about healing together, and getting through everything together, both the good times and the bad times.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Breaking Point” Pt. 2 Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings?: angst, jealousy, NSFW, brat kink? Idk

Summary: After a tense argument at the circuit, Y/N leaves without telling Lewis, retreating to the hotel to gather her thoughts. But as she settles in, a late-night call from Lando stirs the pot even further, igniting Lewis’s jealousy when he returns.

WC: 3,000?

Part 1 is here

The hotel room is quiet, the silence heavy and almost suffocating. I pace the length of the room, my mind still racing from everything that happened at the circuit. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to act like that, to throw Lando into our argument just because he didn’t want to face the real issue. It was so petty, so unlike him, and it hurt.

But then again, maybe I shouldn’t have left without telling him. I can already imagine his reaction when he finally realizes I’m gone. But honestly, after the way he brushed me off, I couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.

As I sink onto the bed, my phone buzzes, and I see Jude’s name flash on the screen. I take a deep breath before answering, bracing myself for his no-nonsense tone.

“Hey, Jude,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Y/N,” he replies, his voice clipped and businesslike. “Just wanted to confirm the details for your shoot in LA. You’ll be flying out on Tuesday morning, so clear your schedule for the next month. We’ll need you on set every day, so no personal distractions, alright?”

I swallow, the weight of his words settling over me. “Got it.”

“Good,” he continues, barely pausing for breath. “Now, I’ve sent over the call sheets, locations, and everything else you need to know. Check your email and let me know if you have questions. I don’t want any surprises on set.”

“Right,” I mumble, feeling a flicker of frustration. Jude has always been the type to micromanage every detail, and right now, his stern tone grates on my already frayed nerves.

After a few more instructions, he finally hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. I set my phone down, trying to push away the nagging guilt creeping into my chest. I shouldn’t feel guilty, I remind myself. I have every right to take this role, to make decisions about my own career.

My phone lights up again. This time, it’s a text from Lewis.

Lewis: “You left?”

I stare at the message, my fingers hovering over the screen. I know he’s upset, but right now, I don’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of an immediate reply. Another text pops up.

Lewis: “So you just walked out without saying anything? Real mature, Y/N.”

I clench my jaw, feeling a spark of anger reignite. He was the one who acted like a child back there, throwing accusations and refusing to see my side of things. I toss my phone onto the bed, deciding not to reply. If he wants to act like this, then let him stew.

It’s nearly 11 p.m. when I hear the faint sound of the door opening, followed by Lewis’s footsteps as he enters the hotel room. I keep my gaze fixed on the window, refusing to turn around and acknowledge him. The tension in the room is immediate, thick and heavy, and I can feel his eyes on me, practically burning a hole in my back.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” His voice is clipped, a sharp edge to his words that only fuels my annoyance.

“Maybe,” I reply coolly, still refusing to look at him.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and I hear him drop his bag onto the floor with a thud. “So you just left? Without even bothering to tell me?”

I finally turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t think you’d care. You seemed pretty done with me back there.”

“That’s not the point, Y/N,” he says, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t just walk out without saying anything. Especially not when we’re in the middle of something.”

I raise an eyebrow, feeling the anger simmering beneath my skin. “Oh, so now you care about my whereabouts? Funny, because back there, you didn’t seem to care about anything but throwing Lando in my face.”

His jaw tightens, and I can see the flash of irritation in his eyes. “Don’t turn this around on me. You’re the one who just decided to take on a huge role without even talking to me about it.”

I roll my eyes, feeling a surge of defiance rise up. “Lewis, it’s my career. I don’t need your permission to make decisions.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms as he stares me down. “It’s not about permission. It’s about respect. We’re supposed to be a team, Y/N. You could’ve at least let me know before deciding to miss four races.”

I throw my hands up, exasperated. “We’re not married, Lewis! I don’t have to consult you about every little thing in my life!”

He flinches, and I see the hurt flash across his face before he covers it with a cold expression. “I see. So that’s how you see this? As something casual?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” I snap, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “It feels like this relationship is just… too much sometimes. Like you expect me to drop everything for you.”

He stares at me, his face hardening, and I can feel the anger radiating off him. “Too much? You think I’m asking for too much just because I want you to consider my feelings?”

I roll my eyes, a smirk tugging at my lips as I let out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re acting like I committed a crime just because I want to follow my dreams. Newsflash, Lewis, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

His eyes darken, and for a split second, I see something shift in him. Before I can react, he closes the distance between us, his hands gripping my arms firmly as he pushes me back onto the bed. I gasp, more out of surprise than anything, my heart racing as I look up at him as he gets on top of me.

His gaze is intense, a mixture of anger and something else, something I can’t quite place. His hands still grip my arms, his face close to mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You think this is a joke, Y/N?” he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous.

I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe… maybe you’re the one who can’t handle it.”

A flicker of something crosses his face—frustration, irritation, maybe even a hint of desire. He leans in closer, his grip on me tightening just slightly, his gaze locked onto mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between us thick and electric.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” I reply, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Maybe now you know how I feel.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the anger and frustration swirling between us, mixing with something deeper, something more primal. His gaze drops to my lips, and I feel my heart hammering in my chest, a rush of anticipation mingling with the resentment I still feel.

His hand moves from my arm to my neck, gently squeezing, his gaze intense and unrelenting. “Is this what you wanted, Y/N? To push me until I snap?”

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my silence only seems to fuel him more, his face inches from mine.

“Say something,” he demands, his voice low and commanding.

But instead of a response, I let out a soft laugh, daring him with my gaze. “What, can’t handle a little attitude?”

A dark smirk crosses his face, and for a brief moment, I see the flash of something almost… greedy in his eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Maybe I do,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

The tension between us is palpable, the line between anger and desire blurring, and I can feel the intensity radiating off him, his frustration and passion mingling into one. For a brief moment, we’re caught in a standoff, neither of us willing to back down, and I know that we’re both teetering on the edge, unsure of what will happen next.

He inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment, I think he might actually snap. But instead, he closes the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine in a bruising kiss. I gasp, surprised by the force of it, but I don't pull away. Instead, I find myself kissing him back just as fiercely, our teeth clashing, our tongues tangling in a desperate, angry dance.

His hands roam over my body, gripping, kneading, as if he's trying to remind himself I’m his. I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the hard planes of his muscles flexing beneath my touch. He tears at my clothes, pulling my dress off, until I'm left in nothing but my underwear.

I reach for him, my hands fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him, to touch him, to have him inside me. He groans, low and guttural, as I grab him through his jeans. I can feel how hard he is, how much he wants me, and it only fuels my own desire.

He inhales sharply, his hips bucking into my touch. "Brat," he mutters, but there's no real anger behind it anymore, just a simmering heat, a desperate need.

I lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw, down his neck, my tongue darting out to taste his skin. He shivers, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me against him. I can feel his hardness pressing against me, and it makes me ache with want.

But then, the shrill ring of my phone cuts through the heated silence, startling both of us. I feel him tense against me, and he lets out an annoyed growl, pulling back slightly, his gaze narrowing as he looks down at me, his breathing ragged.

“Who the hell is calling you at this hour?” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation.

I’m just as annoyed as he is, but before I can even reach for my phone, he snatches it up from the nightstand, his eyes flashing as he glances at the screen. His jaw clenches, and a dark look crosses his face as he turns the screen toward me, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Lando?” he says, his voice laced with accusation. “Why is he calling you? What the hell does he want?”

I blink, my mind struggling to catch up as I stare at the name flashing on the screen. “I… I don’t know,” I stammer, feeling my heart sink. I honestly have no idea why Lando would be calling me, but I can already feel Lewis’s jealousy simmering, his grip on my phone tightening.

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he glares down at me. “Really, Y/N? You’re telling me you have no idea why he’s calling you at eleven at night?”

I sit up, trying to take my phone from him, but he holds it just out of reach. “Lewis, come on. It’s probably nothing. Lando’s always trying to rally people to go out after a race. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats, his voice dangerously low. “Why does he even have your number, let alone feel comfortable enough to call you at this time? Do you have any idea how this looks?”

I feel a flash of frustration, the anger from earlier bubbling back up. “Are you seriously doing this right now? It’s Lando. He’s just a friend, Lewis.”

He scoffs, his grip on my phone unyielding as he stares down at me, his eyes hard. “A friend who clearly has no boundaries. Or maybe you’re the one who doesn’t.”

My mouth falls open in shock, and I feel a sting of hurt at his accusation. “Excuse me? You’re the one who’s being unreasonable here. I haven’t done anything to make you doubt me.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him to stop calling and texting you?” he snaps, his voice rising.

“Because it’s not an issue! You’re making it one,” I retort, the fire in my chest burning hotter as I meet his gaze. “If you’re so insecure about my friendship with Lando, that’s on you, not me.”

His eyes flash, and for a moment, I see a hint of vulnerability, quickly masked by anger. “Insecure? I’m not insecure, Y/N. I just don’t appreciate my girlfriend getting late-night calls from other guys, especially not ones who I’m pretty sure are interested in more than just ‘friendship.’”

I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to pull my phone from his grasp, but he holds it firm. “Lewis, it’s not like that. And if you trusted me, you’d know that.”

He stares at me, his gaze sharp, calculating.

Then, slowly, he holds the phone out, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Answer it, then. Let's see what he wants.

I glance between him and the phone, my heart pounding as I reluctantly take it from his hand. My fingers are shaking a bit, and I press the screen to answer, bringing it up to my ear.

"Hello?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

But before I can get another word out, I feel Lewis's hands on me again, his fingers gripping my waist as he leans down, his lips finding my neck. I gasp, my words faltering as he presses soft, heated kisses along the sensitive skin just below my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"YIN? You there?" Lando's voice crackles through the phone, cheerful and oblivious. I can barely concentrate, Lewis's lips warm against my skin, his hands trailing up and down my sides, pulling me closer.

"Uh... yeah, I'm here," I manage to say, my voice coming out breathy, almost shaky.

"What's up?"

"Just wanted to see if you were up for going out tonight," Lando replies, his tone light. "A bunch of us are heading to a bar nearby.

Figured I'd check if you wanted to join."

Lewis's mouth trails down my neck, his lips grazing my collarbone, and I struggle to keep my composure, biting my lip to stifle a soft gasp. He's doing this on purpose, I realize, trying to keep me distracted, knowing full well what he's doing to me.

"Um... I don't think I can make it," I finally say, my voice wavering slightly as Lewis continues his assault on my neck, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make my pulse race. "I... I think l'Il be staying in tonight."

"Oh, alright," Lando says, sounding a little disappointed. "Well, if you change your mind, just text me. We'll be out pretty late.”

I try to mumble a response, but Lewis presses his lips to a particularly sensitive spot on my neck, and I feel a shiver run through me, my fingers gripping his shoulders as I struggle to keep my balance.

"Yeah... okay," I manage, barely aware of what I'm saying.

I hear Lando say goodbye, and I quickly end the call, dropping the phone onto the bed as Lewis's hands tighten around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His gaze is intense, his eyes dark and filled with something primal, something possessive.

"Staying in tonight, huh?" he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers trace slow, teasing circles on my hips.

I let out a shaky breath, meeting his gaze with defiance. "What was that about?" I demand, though my voice betrays me, coming out softer than I intended.

He raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he pulls me even closer, his face mere inches from mine. "Just making sure you're focused on the right person," he murmurs, his voice low, sending a thrill down my spine.

I roll my eyes, though I can't hide the small smile tugging at my lips. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," he replies, his tone playful but with an edge of intensity. "But I don't like sharing."

And then he's on me again, his mouth trailing down my neck, his teeth nipping, his tongue soothing the sting. I arch into him, my nails raking down his back, leaving red lines in their wake. He hisses, the pain seeming to spur him on, his hands sliding beneath my thighs, pushing them apart, spreading me wide for him.

I can feel the heat of his gaze on my most intimate parts, and I squirm beneath him, suddenly self-conscious. I feel his hand slide under my thong, onto me. His fingers are there, stroking, teasing, and all thoughts of embarrassment fly out the window. He circles my clit with his thumb, his fingers dipping inside me, stretching me, filling me, and I cry out, my back arching off the bed.

"You're so fucking wet," he murmurs, his voice rough with arousal.

I nod, wordless, lost in the sensation of his touch, the way he's making me feel. I love being touched like this, with such hunger, such desperation, and it's intoxicating. I want more, I want everything he has to give me.

I moan, my head falling back against the pillow as he works me expertly, his touch rough and demanding. "Is this what you wanted, Y/N?" he growls, his fingers pumping in and out of me. "To be fucked like the brat you are?"

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response, but my body betrays me, my hips lifting to meet his hand, my walls clenching around his fingers. “Yes… please.” I whine.

His fingers slow their relentless pace, and I let out a frustrated moan. "Ah ah ah," he tuts, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What was that, Y/N? I couldn't quite hear you over all that begging."

I flush, embarrassed and turned on in equal measure. "Please," I say again, louder this time, my voice cracking with need. "Please fuck me, Lewis. I want it… don’t tease me." I whine.

He rewards me with a particularly deep thrust, his fingers curling inside me and making me cry out. "Good girl," he praises, his voice low and approving. "Such a good little brat for me. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll give this bratty girl exactly what she’s begging for." He says lowly, promising something more intense after this.

He continues to work me over with his fingers, his thumb circling my clit in maddeningly slow strokes. My body is wound tight, teetering on the edge of release, but he keeps me there, denying me the satisfaction I crave.

"Lewis, please," I whine, tugging at his hair, my nails digging into his scalp. "I can't…Please let me…." I beg for permission.

He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he growls, "Cum for me, Y/N. Cum all over my fingers like the desperate little baby you are."

And with those filthy words, I shatter as I orgasm.

———————————————————

Note: part three is up! HERE

Hope you guys are liking it! If you are please like and follow so I can know to write more!

I’m new to writing stuff like this so 😅 sorry if it’s not perfect!

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Remember when I said I was going to sleep?

I lied

---

He banged on the door, not bothering with the doorbell or even knocking like a normal person. It had taken him a minute to wrap his head around what Tommy had said, and yes he had let him walk out the door, but damn it the conversation wasn't over.

"Tommy I know you're in there, your car is in the driveway!"

He waited a minute before banging again. Part of him was a little satisfied seeing the stained glass window above the door rattling in its frame.

"Tommy! The least you can do is hear me out!"

He debated going round the back and trying his luck there when the door opened.

Tommy's eyes were red and he looked about as good as Buck felt.

"Ev- Buck... What are you doing here?"

"Don't call me Buck." he pushed past Tommy into the house.

"Everyone calls you Buck."

"You don't. You've never called me that and you know how much that means to me."

Tommy sighed and sat down at his dining table.

"Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Why? So you can just cut me out of your life? Pretend the last six months didn't happen? Is that what you want?"

He was angry and he started pacing up and down Tommy's living room

"No. That is the last thing I want... But I'm a realist."

"No, you're a coward. You got scared and you ran."

Tommy didn't say anything, just stared at his shoes.

"Maybe I am too impulsive, maybe suggesting moving in after 6 months was too much too soon. But I know how I feel. How I feel about you."

"Evan... You came out six months ago. I can't expect you to... Settle for me. There is a whole world out there for you to explore."

"Trust me, I've done plenty of exploring. I told you about the time I spent travelling around, working every job I could find... I didn't always sleep alone during that time. And even when I first started at the 118... I explored plenty."

"Maybe. But not with a man. I can't ask that of you. And... I don't think I can handle saying goodbye to you when you realise you want more from life than me. My heart is breaking now but it would destroy me having to let you go in six months or a year, or maybe even a few years if we're lucky. "

"So you just give up? You decide I'm not worth fighting for? That I don't know that I want forever with you just because I only discovered I'm bi six months ago?"

"That... That's not what I'm saying. Don't you think I want this? Want this with you?"

"Considering you dumped me about two hours ago... I don't know what to think." Buck crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Tommy an expectant look. "I thought things were good between us."

"They were."

"Then what is the problem?!"

"I got scared ok?! I've been here before, and I don't mean Abby. I was in a serious relationship with a guy and... I was crazy about him. Things were good. So good. I thought it was forever."

Buck sat down on the other side of the table.

"What happened?"

"He... Didn't think we were forever. More like for now." Tommy shook his head. "He... He told me he couldn't be my first and my last. That we both had to see what was out there. He broke my heart."

"But I'm not the same person as your ex." Buck reached across the table, silently asking Tommy to take his hand. "I'm me. I know what I want and I want you. I don't know what the future holds for me and you... But I'd like to find out with you."

"Evan... I want that too but... I have to protect my heart. I mean it. I don't think I could handle losing you if having you in my life for only six months makes me feel like this."

"I'm not going anywhere." Buck told him resolutely. "These past six months have been some of the best of my life. We have fun together. You indulged me with that curse, you're friends with Eddie and Chim, you get the job, you get the lifestyle that comes with it... You get me."

Tommy turned to face him.

"Evan... I... I want to believe this so bad but... I don't know if I can."

"Don't you want to try? Give us both a real shot at happiness?" Buck asked. "I'm usually the one that gets scared and does something stupid... But I can be the sensible and reasonable one out of the two of us if that's what you need."

"You shouldn't have to change for me."

"But I have changed. For the better. You made me feel... Like me."

Tommy shook his head.

"You did that all by yourself."

"Maybe. But you helped. Having you by my side helped. You make me feel secure. You make me happy Tommy."

"You make me happy too." Tommy admitted, finally reaching out and covering Buck's hand with his own.

"Then don't throw this away because you got scared. I promise not to mention moving in together again for at least another six months." Buck joked, happy to get a small laugh from Tommy.

"Ok." Tommy said after a minute. "Ok." he repeated more confidently. "I guess I can be brave if you are."

Buck smiled and bought Tommy's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles.

"I was hoping you'd say that." he got up and rounded the table, stopping in front of Tommy. "Now we missed the movie again... But maybe we can just hang out here and watch something?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'd like that." Tommy said and met him halfway when Buck leaned down to kiss him.

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.

[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓞FF-LIMITS!　˒˒　SL

─── ﹙🎧﹚your sister, daniela, has always told her friends to back off of you, no matter what, telling them you're supposedly "off-limits." however, while intoxicated, you and sophia kiss each other, leaving tension burning between the two of you—until the next time you visit your family alongside dani's members.

pairing. sophia laforteza x f!r genre. fluff wc. 2.5k+ notes. 4 @secretcessy >< & karina from aespa mention + for the lore dani isn't an only child 🤗!!!! made ts way too long oops. ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ les by childish gambino

LYING ON YOUR BED OF YOUR DORM ROOM shared with one of your friends, incessant notifications blaring from your phone abruptly interrupts you from your nap. you huff at the irritating sound, unlocking your phone swiftly, only to be met by series of notifications from your sister.

fuck.

god was she oddly skilled at being annoying and bothersome. raising your eyebrows, you rub your eyes, trying to focus on her texts, as they merely appeared to be random blobs of words in-between. your thumbs hover over the keyboard, debating on how to respond to her.

plopping your phone on your bed, you huff, sitting up in a fetal position. "guess it's time to start packing," you murmur under your breath, before getting up.

you knew daniela was right—per usual, as much as you hated to admit it. it'd been at least a few months since you last saw her and roughly a year since both you and daniela were with your family at one time. maybe it wouldn't be so bad being back home with daniela.

grunting, you begrudgingly pull your closet door open, dragging whichever luggage you saw first. accidentally slamming the closet door too loudly to your roommate's taste, you hear words in scorn being hollered from across the dorm.

"stop closin' the doors so loudly!" you hear your roommate snort, as she leans against the door frame, a toothy grin tugging the corners of her lips.

"fine, whatever, jimin," you mutter in response, rolling your eyes, as the korean girl watches your face distort into one of disdain, making her giggle.

"what are you even packing for? the break just started," karina raises her eyebrows, "you like, never have anything to do for break." she teases, her arms crossing against her chest, before she saunters over to you.

"got forced by dani to visit our family," you shrug, as karina clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

"you need to pack better; you're folding your clothes too big to fit enough outfits into your suitcase," she critiques, a chuckle escaping her breath, as her hands reach over to some of your clothes, folding them compactly.

you nudge her playfully, "c'mon! give me a break, i just got told i have to visit by dani!" you dramatically sigh, leaning against the wall.

"at least she's paying for your flight, right?" karina shrugs, as her movements are precise while helping you pack, nudging you on the shoulder, "maybe you'll meet somebody new while visiting—somebody who'll deal with your impulsive decisions," she teases.

to your surprise, rather than the visit consisting of you and daniela, it was the two of you and her members. you had only realized once you entered your parents' house, a luggage being dragged by your hand, and there were five other girls besides daniela sat on the couch, all chattering.

it wasn't like you weren't acclimated to hanging out with them; they were somewhat your friends too, but mainly through daniela. the only girl you'd known out of the bunch was sophia—mainly because, the first time you guys partied together with dani and everybody else, all drunk and hammered, the two of you kissed.

to be truthful, you could remember that moment vividly, the memory still clear as day to you—the way her hands cupped your jaw all snug and secure, to the way a wide grin played on her face. and to be even more truthful, right after that moment, you held an irrevocable affinity for her, leaving you in an odd predicament.

you awkwardly wave, hoping sophia coincidentally forgot about that low moment in time, before dani suddenly gets up, parading you around.

you nudge the latina playfully, a groan erupting from her throat, as your eyebrows furrow, "when did you guys even arrive? it's only like 10 in the mornin'!"

"we just wanted to be early," she shrugs, her arms instantly reaching towards your luggage, "c'mon, i'll get you settled down! i have so much shit to tell you, y'know."

you nod, a giggle escaping your breath, as you let the latina lead you to your guys' old bedroom, while her members continued to chatter, teasing insults thrown every few moments.

your eyes scan across your old bedroom, a sigh driving from your lips "shit, it's been a while, hasn't it?" a sense of nostalgia hitting you, as you recall all the times you've argued with dani over your guys' room and who "owns" which side.

the blonde-haired girl nods, her arm wrapping around your neck to your shoulder, as she leans into you, mumbling, "yeah, it sure has been."

a giggle escapes your breath, as you unlock your suitcase, unpacking some of your clothes out. "where's mom and dad anyway?"

"they went grocery shopping—wanted to go all out this year since we're visiting at the same time with the rest, too," daniela meekly replies, as she helps you pack, a hint of a teasing smile playing on her face. pulling out a book, a series of laughs escapes her breath, "no fuckin' way!"

"what—i have studying to do 'cause you made me book a flight last minute!" you retaliate, nudging the girl playfully, as you huff.

"okay, fine, fine! that was uncalled for," daniela begrudgingly admits, as she continues to help you unpack.

while you two work on getting everything out of your luggage, dani drops random, interesting facts from drama that often leave your jaw dropped. at one point, you couldn't help but wonder where daniela gets all this information from. giggles escape your guys' room, bouncing off the walls.

"anyway, we plan on just hangin' out and stuff, then dinner with mom and dad," the latina lists out the agenda, as you two finish unpacking.

you nod, "good, good. just, y'know, i've barely met your friends."

"you'll like them—i can guarantee you that," dani chuckles, as she spots a gift-box with a small tag reading "for: daniela," sitting in the corner of your suitcase, a mischievous smile painting her face.

"no fuckin' way!" the latina exclaims, immediately pulling you in for a hug with her ring-clad hand holding firmly onto the gift-box, "seriously!"

you nod, a grin playing on your face, "what kind of sister would i be if i didn't wanna celebrate your new album!"

"you missed me, didn't you?" she teases, prodding at your cheek, as she flicks your forehead next. you retaliate, nudging her shoulder.

"as if, loser."

sprawled out on your bed with books accompanying you, you cradle a textbook in your lap, tapping against your sheets while fidgeting with your fingers. your head pounds with tension, as you card a hand through your hair.

fuck, in no shape or form were you gonna be able to read all of these pages in time for your finals.

you rub your temples before simultaneously reading over the textbook and typing in small summaries of each section on your laptop, humming to the hushed audio of your spotify in the background.

hearing your door click open, your head snaps to that direction, meeting a familiar face. in your sight stood sophia laforteza scanning you as well. you raise your eyebrows, confusion noticeably washing over your features.

"do you need anything?" you murmur, your voice barely audible, as your eyes scrutinize her features and attire, your demeanor now awkward—especially with the way she looked effortlessly drop-dead gorgeous.

heat subtly curls at your cheeks, as you wait for the filipino girl to answer, sophia equally as confused.

"sorry, i was trying to look for the bathroom, and dani said it was down the hall," sophia tries to explain, shifting her weight to one foot.

"yeah, 's further down the hall—a door down the hall, actually," you point to down the hall from your bed, before returning to your crammed-in studying habits.

"y/n, right?" the filipino asks, a small, awkward smile tugging at the corners of her lips. she leans against the door-frame, no longer meekly standing.

you nod, "mhm. didn't you need to go to the bathroom thoufh?" you murmur, barely sparing the girl another glance.

sophia mumbles an inaudible curse under her breath. "you're right," she says flatly, before muttering out a swift apology and gingerly closing your door.

what a weird interaction, you thought. nonetheless, you presume on cranking open your textbook, huffing at seeing big blobs of texts that you felt disdain reading.

meanwhile, with sophia's back plastered against the bathroom wall, she grunts inaudibly under her breath, sinking down to the tiled floor. god, how could she be so infatuated by you, a girl who barely paid her any mind? the filipino girl could feel her head twisting with tension from your lack of response.

fuck was she crazily awestruck for you.

and so, for the next few days of the visit, sophia couldn't help but feel her self-control slipping rapidly, despite daniela's repetitive warning that you, in particular, were "off-limits."

the filipino girl tosses and turns while lying on the guest room's bed, eventually settling back to her back plastered against the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. constantly, the same embarrassing moment of you two kissing while drunk taints her mind, flickering in it every few seconds. rubbing her temples and eyes in hopes every single little thought including you would dissipate, she sits up.

"she's your best friend's sister—what are you doing?" the thought soon sounding like a bunch of random words strung together.

looking to her sides, sophia notices the rest were all knocked out, hushed snores escaping their lips. to her left, lara and manon were fast asleep, while to her right, megan and yoonchae were sound asleep as well, their laptop still blaring cartoons.

the filipino girl takes one last look around, before she stood up, gingerly opening and shutting the door. her eyes scan the hallways, as she tip-toes to your room.

you hear faint, soft knocks against your wooden door, and crinkling your eyes almost like crescent moons, you reluctantly get up. cracking the door open just a bit, your eyes widen at the sight of the filipino girl standing.

"jesus—it's 1 in the mornin'," you whisper-shout, as you open the door completely, shock and frustration littering your featured. you motion your hands forwards and backwards, beckoning the girl to rush in.

"my bad, pretty," her newfound confidence makes your heart skip, as your cheeks flush. she gives you teasing glances, her slight giggle reaching your ears.

in disbelief, you mumble, "what—"

"please? i know we kissed, when we were drunk; don't tell me we didn't," the filipino girl desperately whispers, her gaze softening at your lips. throwing you an ear-to-ear smile, sophia's eyes flicker to your shoulder, a subtle, non-verbal signal, as you nod.

her arms entangle themselves around your waist, earning a muffled curse from you. her fingers trace your back gently, almost cautious to not be too prying towards you.

"just, a few seconds longer," sophia whispers against your ear, and you couldn't help but feel your resolve crumble, knowing that you, yourself, wanted the filipino girl to stay, too.

"we- we're going to get caught; dani's gonna know you're down here," you warn, cautious to get caught with your sister's best friend in your bedroom. however, your words deeply betray your actions, as your arms were on autopilot, wrapping around the girl's neck.

"what's so bad 'bout that? c'mon, ease up—just a bit," sophia coaxes, her touch gentle and soft against your waist, as she draws patterns.

"is it really worth the risk?" you tilt your head, barely able to hold back a chuckle at how careless the filipino girl was. your eyes linger on her face, making her softly hum.

sophia sighs before grinning, "you're worth more than getting scolded by dani," she drawls out, her face full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder how her words make your knees weaken a bit.

she had you pressing your lips together, fighting back between a smile like a high school girl. one of her hands moves to interlace itself with one of yours, the delicate feeling of her thumbs brushing up against your knuckles leaving you melted.

"maybe, i guess you're right," you admit begrudgingly, pausing before continuing, "but- i mean, don't you think 's a little reckless? you're gonna be busy promoting with the girls at one point."

the filipino girl meekly shrugs, before swiftly mumbling, "it's worth the fun—you know that, and i know that. promise i'll have time for you."

the sincerity laced in her words only made your blood rush and chains of shivers rush down your spine. maybe—just maybe—this wasn't just a fleeting moment to her, not just something to have fun with, and was more so, something sophia wanted to hold onto, for eternity.

"what if we're not ready? what if-" you murmur, making sophia break into a small pout at your words, before she cuts you off.

"i could never be willing to let you go anyway," the filipina whispers, searching for reassurance in your gaze. she nods, her thumb brushing against your cheek, as you eased under her touch.

"and besides, there's just somethin' about you—something i can't figure out. yet, it makes everything with you special."

and for the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless by her pure bluntness—the way she said everything that could make heat curl at your cheeks even more, in meek sentences.

"fuck, sophia," you mumble against the crook of the filipina's neck, before continuing, "i- fine, just, we can't tell dani—not yet."

sophia gives you a slight nod, as her hands find its way to your hair, entangling them, "yeah- yeah, whatever you want—just tell me your boundaries."

locking eyes with her, the prominent sense of familiarity and comfort in her gaze makes your knees buckle, the girl practically giving you heart-eyes.

"can i?" the filipina asks, her voice light-hearted and gentle. you nod, almost eagerly before sophia leans in, closing the gap between you two. her plush lips immediately crash against yours, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. it was as though she was ready for this moment—ready to gain redemption from the first kiss.

you shudder against her kisses, as you guys pull away—only to catch your guys' breath. before you could continue, a muffled, low voice blares through the hallways.

"sophia? are you still in the kitchen?" daniela calls out, trying to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the rest. the latina couldn't help but be suspicious and skeptical due to how long sophia supposedly spent at the kitchen.

both of you still in your movements, her hands resting on her chest to gently push her away. a cheeky smile plays on sophia's grin before she whispers against your ears.

"that's my cue to go," she plants a haste kiss against your cheek, then to your forehead gently. her eyes scan your waist that was snaked with her arms around it, as she reluctantly slides them off—the girl evidently disappointed at having to leave so soon.

"bye, pretty."

we're kissing in the bathroom, girl, and, uh

i hope nobody catch us

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