#this is a continuation of the previous fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moongirlcleo · 2 days ago

Text

A Thorough Appointment

Tags: Jealousy, Childhood Friends, MMF Threesome, Counter Sex, Kitchen Sex, Oral, Caleb and Zayne get Competitive, Poly-ish, MC is a little Shit, Porn with Plot, Double Penetration AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

After a long day of hunting—and a doctor’s appointment you were definitely late to—you barely have time to kick off your boots before walking straight into a storm: Caleb’s jealousy. One rescheduled date, one harmless visit to Dr. Zayne, and suddenly, you’re the grand prize in a competition you didn’t even sign up for.

What starts as a little petty jealousy spirals into a full-blown rivalry, and before you know it, they’re both set on proving exactly who knows how to take care of you best. Spoiler alert: they’re both very, very competitive.

“Your appointment was scheduled for 2:30 today, were you aware of that?” The receptionist at the desk of Akso Hospital said, barely looking up from the computer screen. Her plaited hair curled around her face from under the bonnet on top of her head, giving her a worn but stern look.

With a wince, you nodded.

“Er, yeah… I apologize, but I was working and I had an assignment run late.” You wrung your hands in embarrassment, hoping the receptionist would understand. After all, being a Deepspace Hunter wasn’t exactly your typical nine to five.

The receptionist gave you a withering look, causing the apples of your cheeks to burn with heat. She typed something onto her document and nodded toward a small cluster of chairs.

“You can wait over there. The practitioner will call your name when they’re ready for you.”

With a small sigh, you retreated toward the waiting ward, mulling over the previous assignment that had held your schedule up.

Wanderers had been attacking areas of Linkon City in droves lately, keeping all hunters busier than usual. So much so, that you had barely even seen your own partner, Xavier, in weeks. The sheer amount of protocores being turned into the association backlogged the systems, making paperwork become an even bigger nightmare too.

“Ms. L/n?”

Looking up from your hands, you saw a practitioner holding a chart, looking toward you. With a short nod, you stood up and followed the young man as he rattled off a grocery list of questions.

Mumbling a reply, you continued to follow him into Dr. Zayne’s examination room. It smelled of sterilized equipment and a fragrance you couldn’t quite place.

The NP guided you toward the examination bed, to which you hoisted yourself on top of. You silently watched as the practitioner took all of your vitals, quietly charting them down for the doctor to assess.

“Alright, Ms. L/n, Dr. Zayne will be along shortly. When you have a moment, please change out of your clothes into this examination robe.” The NP handed you a flimsy paper gown, and with a smile, he retreated from the room.

Once the door clicked shut, you began to strip down into bareness, hastily tying the rope around your waist to securely tie the gown down.

Settled, you sat on the bed once more and began flipping through your phone apps to entertain yourself while awaiting the doctor. It seemed like only yesterday that you and Zayne were snot-nosed kids, always hanging out together. With a smile, you remembered one such instance where you and Zayne played hide and seek with Caleb, the latter growing upset at being unable to find you until way later. The memory of your youth was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Y/n?” A voice came from behind the door. “May I enter?”

“Y-yes!” you called back. “I’m decent.”

The door opened and Dr. Zayne appeared, looking handsome as ever. He gave you a serene smile and picked up the chart on the counter.

“So,” he began, flipping through the papers. “Looks like you’ve been overexerting yourself again, haven’t you?”

With a sheepish grin, you nodded. “Well, yeah… I mean I’m fine, though, Zayne. Really.”

The doctor gives you a stern look, jaw set. “Y/n, I mean it. You know you’re not supposed to push yourself, else your heart co—”

“I know, Zayne,” you snapped at him. “But I can’t let that stop me from doing my job and protecting the people around Linkon.”

Zayne’s eyes softened as he looked over you. “I know you want to save people. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. I mean it, please try not to overexert yourself.”

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he set your chart aside. “You always do this, n/n” he muttered, voice softening, though the frustration remained, laced with something unspoken. Something you didn’t want to name.

You blinked, thrown off for just a second. It had been years since he called you a nickname—since the days when scraped knees and childhood dares were your biggest worries. You shifted on the exam bed, folding your arms over your chest like a shield. “And you always worry too much,” you muttered.

Zayne exhaled, shaking his head. “Someone has to.”

A silence stretched between you, thick with familiarity, with the weight of history neither of you addressed. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, as if he could see past the mask of easy confidence you wore. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would break the careful distance you’d kept.

But then his communicator beeped, the sterile air of the examination room shifting back to reality. You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, taking the opportunity to hop off the table, your movements brisk, determined.

"Promise me you’ll at least consider taking a break," he said, quieter this time.

You hesitated, fingers ghosting over the knot of the paper gown before you forced a grin. "No promises, doc."

Zayne watched you go, jaw set, the worry never leaving his eyes.

The afternoon air was crisp as you stepped out of Akso Hospital, the scent of antiseptic replaced by the damp, metallic tang of the city. Sunlight glared off the polished streets, casting long shadows as you made your way to your vehicle—a sleek black hoverbike stationed in the parking dock. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling as you swung one leg over the seat and keyed in the ignition.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence, but your mind wasn’t so easily drowned out.

Zayne’s voice still lingered, edged with concern, the ghost of his words brushing against your thoughts like a whisper from another time. You knew he meant well, that he had every reason to be worried, but slowing down wasn’t an option. Not when the city was crawling with Wanderers. Not when Xavier had been out in the field for weeks without so much as a check-in.

Not when you were already late.

Your eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard—an angry red 3:37 PM blinking back at you.

“Shit.”

You revved the bike, the thrusters lifting you effortlessly above the streets of Linkon City. Buildings blurred past in streaks of neon and chrome, the hum of traffic and distant sirens becoming nothing more than background noise. Caleb was waiting. He hated when you were late—though he’d never say it outright, not in so many words. But you knew. You always knew.

He worried, too, though in his own quiet way.

Your grip on the handles tightened as you wove through the lanes of air traffic, mind cycling through a dozen excuses. The job ran late. Zayne held you up. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but something about the thought of Caleb’s knowing stare made your stomach twist with guilt.

You’d make it up to him.

You cut a sharp turn, your apartment complex coming into view, its glass windows reflecting the golden afternoon light. Your fingers tapped absently against the throttle, your heart still hammering from the weight of the day.

Late. Again.

Would Caleb still be waiting? Or had you let another person down today?

You barely had time to kill the engine before the apartment door swung open. Caleb stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable beneath the warm afternoon glow filtering in from the window behind him.

You could tell immediately—he knew.

“You’re late,” he said, voice deceptively even.

You sighed, tugging your helmet off and running a hand through your wind-blown hair. “I know. I—”

“Had an ‘assignment run late’? Or did Zayne hold you up?”

The way he said the name—clipped, pointed—sent a prickle of irritation down your spine. You unzipped your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch as you stepped inside, leveling him with a tired look. “Caleb.”

“What?” He pushed off the doorframe, shutting it behind you with a quiet click. “Just curious how long I was supposed to wait before you finally decided to show up.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a doctor’s appointment. Not a date.”

His jaw tightened. “Didn’t look that way from what I heard.”

Your breath hitched for half a second. He had heard something.

“Who told you?” you asked, wary.

Caleb scoffed. “Does it matter?”

Yes, it did. But that wasn’t the fight you were having right now.

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Caleb, I didn’t plan on seeing him today. I had to go, I got chewed out, end of story.”

He took a slow step closer, eyes flicking over you, searching. “Chewed out?” His voice lowered, tone almost taunting. “So he was worried about you.”

Your lips pressed into a firm line. “That’s his job.”

Caleb let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Right. His job. Funny, because last I checked, I’m the one who actually has to patch you up when you push yourself too hard.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this a competition.”

His gaze darkened, something possessive flickering behind his eyes. “I don’t have to make it one.”

Silence stretched between you, thick, charged. You should be annoyed. You were annoyed. But the heat in his stare, the sharp edge in his voice, sent something else curling in your chest.

Still, you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head, voice deceptively light. “For someone who isn’t making this a competition, you sure seem jealous.”

Caleb’s jaw tensed, but you didn’t miss the flicker of something else—something unguarded—before he masked it behind a smirk.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, stepping back.

You arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Forget it. You’re here now. Just… try not to keep me waiting next time.”

You studied him for a beat longer, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you.”

Caleb glanced at you from the corner of his eye, skepticism still lingering in his expression. “Yeah? How?”

You grinned, tossing your helmet onto the couch. “I’ll figure something out.”

The tension didn’t fully dissipate, but for now, it was enough.

Caleb didn’t move right away. Instead, he watched you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, the smirk from earlier fading into something heavier. Something darker.

You barely had time to process it before he took a step forward—then another—until the space between you had all but disappeared.

“Caleb…” you started, voice caught somewhere between exasperation and warning.

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers brushed against your waist, slow, deliberate, tracing the fabric of your shirt as if mapping the shape of you.

“You think this is funny?” His voice had dropped lower, smoother, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in—so close, you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You swallowed, but you refused to be the one to step back. “I think you’re being ridiculous.”

His lips quirked at that, but his eyes remained intense, smoldering. “Ridiculous, huh?”

His fingers flexed against your waist, grip tightening just enough to make your pulse spike. He wasn’t just annoyed anymore—he wanted to prove something. To remind you who you belonged to.

“Caleb,” you murmured, pulse thrumming under the skin of your throat.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was pure velvet, thick with unspoken intent. “If I kissed you right now, would you still think I was being ridiculous?”

Your breath hitched.

He was playing dirty.

Your pride screamed at you to keep the upper hand, to smirk and brush him off like this wasn’t affecting you. But your body betrayed you, heart hammering against your ribs, a traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you—like you were his.

And damn it, maybe you were.

Before you could form a retort, he tilted his head, nose grazing yours, the faintest ghost of a touch against your lips—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound shattered the moment like glass.

Caleb went still, his body tense with frustration, his jaw ticking like he was barely holding back a curse. You blinked, mind still fogged over as you registered the sound.

Another knock.

Caleb exhaled sharply, his hands leaving your body with obvious reluctance. His head fell forward slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he muttered a single word, voice dark with irritation—

“Unbelievable.”

You, still caught between flustered and amused, barely had time to compose yourself before—

“Y/n?”

That voice.

Your stomach dropped.

Caleb’s entire body stiffened, his grip tightening into fists at his sides.

Zayne.

You pulled away, clearing your throat as you straightened your clothes, ignoring the heated look Caleb shot toward the door.

“Uh—one second!” you called, hoping your voice sounded normal.

Caleb let out a low growl, raking a hand through his hair before turning toward the door, murder in his eyes. “Of course it’s him.”

You shot him a warning look, but he only leaned against the couch, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips. “Go ahead, pipsqueak. Let Doctor Perfect in.”

Oh, he was so not letting this go.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you unlocked the door—only to be met with Zayne’s calm, knowing gaze.

And just like that, the tension in the room shifted again.

You barely had time to school your expression before Zayne’s eyes flickered over you, sharp and assessing. He was calm—too calm—the kind of composed that sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Zayne’s gaze lingered on you a beat too long before he lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my messages.”

You blinked, stomach twisting as you glanced at your phone—still sitting on the couch, untouched. Damn it.

Before you could respond, a slow, almost too satisfied voice cut in from behind you.

“She was a little… busy.”

You closed your eyes briefly, bracing yourself before turning.

Caleb leaned against the back of the couch, arms still crossed, a smirk playing at his lips—relaxed, easy, deliberate. Like he wanted Zayne to see.

Zayne’s posture didn’t shift, but you caught the flicker of tension in his jaw.

“I see,” he said smoothly, though there was something clipped underneath his tone. His gaze moved between the two of you, his lips pressing into a firm line before he turned his attention back to you. “I needed to check in. You left the hospital in a hurry.”

“She’s fine,” Caleb interjected before you could answer, pushing off the couch and strolling toward you. He stopped just close enough that Zayne had to either stand his ground or step back.

Zayne didn’t move.

You sighed, muttering, “I was going to say that myself,” throwing Caleb a look.

Caleb just gave you an innocent shrug. “Just savin’ you the trouble.”

Zayne’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Right.” He turned his full attention back to you, clearly choosing to ignore Caleb’s presence. “You should be fine, but I meant it when I said you need to ease up. If you keep pushing yourself—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Caleb cut in again, voice lazy, but his eyes gleamed with something sharp. “I make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

Zayne’s jaw did tick this time, and you swore you felt the air in the room drop a degree.

Okay, enough.

You stepped between them, pressing a hand against Caleb’s chest to physically keep him from leaning any closer. “Okay, that’s enough out of you,” you muttered before looking at Zayne. “And I’m fine, I promise.”

Zayne’s gaze flickered down to your hand against Caleb’s chest before meeting your eyes again. “You said that last time.”

You huffed. “I mean it.”

Zayne studied you for a long moment before exhaling, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine.” But the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Caleb, sensing victory, let his smirk widen. “See? She means it, Doc. You can go now.”

Zayne’s eyes snapped toward him, sharp as a blade, but instead of biting back, he exhaled and turned to you. “I’ll check in later.”

The moment he stepped back toward the door, Caleb slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just close enough that Zayne had to notice.

“Looking forward to it,” Caleb said, his tone all mockery and satisfaction.

Zayne’s eyes met yours one last time, and for a split second, you thought you saw something—something that wasn’t anger, wasn’t frustration, but something deeper.

He didn’t leave.

His fingers twitched at his side, his jaw set like he was debating something internally, but his feet stayed firmly planted. He wasn’t going to give Caleb the satisfaction of walking out first.

You felt the shift immediately. The charged air between them thickened, tension rolling through the room like an oncoming storm.

Caleb, always one to push, leaned further into your space, his arm still draped lazily around your shoulders. “Something wrong, Doctor?” he drawled, voice rich with amusement.

Zayne exhaled through his nose, but there was something measured in his expression, something controlled. “I just want to make sure she is actually taking care of herself,” he said, tone neutral. “Not being… distracted.”

Caleb let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I make sure she’s taken care of. Every. Single. Day.” His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke, slow and deliberate, just enough to make a point.

Zayne’s eyes darkened.

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward to put some space between them before they started circling each other like predators. “Okay, that’s enough of whatever this is,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“This?” Caleb grinned. “Come on, pipsqueak, don’t act like you don’t enjoy a little attention.”

Zayne scoffed. “She doesn’t need this kind of attention. She needs rest.”

“Yeah?” Caleb mused, tilting his head. “And I bet you’d love to be the one to give it to her, wouldn’t you?”

Zayne’s jaw flexed.

You, caught between them, felt like you were standing at the edge of something dangerous—something thrilling. Caleb had always been possessive, but Zayne? Zayne was different. He was steady, rational, someone who thought things through.

But not right now.

Right now, he was pushing back.

Zayne took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I care about her well-being.” His eyes locked onto Caleb’s. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

Caleb’s smirk widened, but his grip on your waist tightened. “That so?” His gaze flicked to you, hooded, deliberate. “What do you think, baby?”

Your breath caught.

You were so not getting in the middle of this.

Or maybe… you already were.

Zayne watched you carefully, the weight of his stare almost suffocating. Caleb’s fingers traced lazy circles against your hip, his expression smug, knowing.

Heat curled low in your stomach.

Damn them both.

You could play coy, pretend this was nothing more than a pissing contest. Or you could really test them.

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “I think…” you dragged out, shifting slightly so Caleb’s grip adjusted and Zayne’s focus sharpened, “...this is pointless.”

Caleb chuckled. “Come on, pipsqueak. You love when we fight over you.”

Zayne exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not fighting over her.”

Caleb’s brows shot up. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched. “I think I need a drink.”

Before either of them could argue, you slipped out from Caleb’s hold, brushing past Zayne on your way to the kitchen. You felt both of them watch you go, their attention a tangible weight pressing into your back.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

And yet, as you poured yourself a glass of wine with slightly unsteady fingers, you couldn't shake the realization:

You liked it.

You took a slow sip of your wine, savoring the quiet moment—if only to let the tension stretch a little further, tighten just enough before you snapped it.

Behind you, you could still feel their stares, the weight of them pressing into you like a tangible force. Caleb was undoubtedly grinning, waiting for you to react, waiting for you to play his game. And Zayne? Zayne was still convincing himself that he wasn’t in this game.

You smirked against the rim of your glass. That wouldn’t last long.

Turning on your heel, you leaned against the counter, tilting your head as you let your gaze flicker between them, slow, considering.

“So,” you said, swirling your glass between your fingers. “You two seem pretty convinced you know what’s best for me.”

Caleb arched a brow, crossing his arms. “That a problem, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened. “We just don’t want you overworking yourself.”

You hummed. “Right. So which one of you actually plans to do something about it?”

That got their attention.

Caleb’s grin widened, a lazy, dangerous thing. “Oh, I like where this is going.”

Zayne, ever the rational one, exhaled. “Y/n.”

You shrugged, setting your glass down and stepping forward, close enough that they both had to take notice. “You both keep telling me you’re looking out for me, that I need to rest, that I should take care of myself.” You glanced up at Caleb, then at Zayne, letting the air between you all thrum with expectation. “So prove it.”

Caleb was already on board, eyes glinting with interest. He stepped in first, fingers brushing the inside of your wrist as he smirked down at you. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge, pipsqueak.”

You met his gaze, pulse ticking faster as you turned to Zayne, who was watching the exchange with something unreadable in his expression—something deep, something restrained.

You smiled, slow and knowing. “And you, Zayne?”

For a second, he didn’t move. But then—deliberately, purposefully—he reached out, trailing his fingers down your other arm, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “If you want me to prove something,” he murmured, voice low, “then I will.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

This was happening.

Caleb chuckled, dark amusement rolling off him as he leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. “Guess the real question is…” His fingers ghosted over your waist, teasing. “Who makes you feel better, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s hand flexed subtly against your arm, his touch grounding, steady, intentional. “Tell us what you need.”

A slow, sharp thrill curled down your spine.

This wasn’t just them competing.

This was them laying it at your feet.

And you were going to take it.

Your smirk deepened as you glanced between them, heat curling through your veins. Oh, this was going to be fun.

You let out a slow breath, drawing out the tension as you trailed your fingers up Caleb’s chest, then turned and let your other hand slide along Zayne’s forearm. A test. A challenge.

“Well,” you mused, voice smooth as silk. “You both seem confident.” You tilted your head, gaze flickering with amusement. “But confidence doesn’t mean much without action, does it?”

Caleb’s grip tightened at your waist, his smirk widening. “Careful, pipsqueak. You know I love a dare.”

Zayne exhaled through his nose, steady but watching you, eyes hooded. “You shouldn’t play games you don’t want to win.”

You chuckled, slow and sweet. “Oh, but I do want to win.”

Caleb hummed low in his throat, his fingers grazing up your spine. “Then let’s play.”

And just like that, they did.

Caleb was the first to move—of course he was. He was reckless, fast, the one who always pushed boundaries first. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips just enough to make you suck in a breath, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “That little appointment stress you out, baby?”

You huffed, but before you could snap back, Zayne was already countering—his touch different, slower, methodical. His fingers traced up the back of your neck, barely there, teasing warmth spreading through you as he leaned in from the other side.

“You’re avoiding the question,” he said, voice dipping into something quieter, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “What do you need?”

Damn them both.

Your pulse thrummed as you swallowed, eyes flicking between them. They were the ones in competition, and yet here you were, caught in their little storm, heat rising in your cheeks, breath coming in shorter, sharper.

You had to regain control.

So you smirked and pulled back just slightly, dragging your hands down their arms as you stepped out of their space. Not a rejection—just a tease, a taunt.

“Honestly?” you mused, letting your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, playful. “I’m still waiting for one of you to impress me with your little game.”

Caleb let out a low growl of approval, shaking his head. “Oh, you like pushing your luck, don’t you?”

Zayne, ever composed, rolled his shoulders back, gaze dark with something unreadable. “Careful,” he warned, though there was no real threat behind it. Only a promise.

You leaned against the counter, tilting your head. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Caleb moved first—again—grabbing your wrist and yanking you flush against him. Your breath caught, but you refused to falter, your hands landing against his shoulders as he smirked down at you.

“I don’t think you understand, pipsqueak,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “You are the game.”

Before you could bite back a response, Zayne was there—his presence grounding, solid, but no less demanding. His fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your head slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Then we’ll just have to see,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “who wins.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Oh, hell.

Before you could even think of responding, Caleb’s lips were on your neck, open-mouthed, hot, his fingers gripping your waist just enough to make you feel him, to know exactly how much he wanted this.

And then—Zayne’s fingers trailed up your throat, tilting your head further as his lips hovered just over yours, not kissing you, not yet, but so damn close you thought you might lose your mind.

“You wanted to be taken care of, didn’t you?” Zayne murmured against your lips, voice a phantom touch.

Caleb chuckled against your skin, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

And just like that— the last shred of control snapped like a live wire.

Caleb, always the one who acted before thinking, always the one who wanted to leave a mark. His teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck before he soothed it with his tongue, his grip tightening on your waist as if daring you to pull away.

But you wouldn’t.

Not when Zayne was still there, fingers tilting your chin, controlling the angle of your head, his breath hot against your lips. “You wanted to play,” he murmured, his voice lower now, thick with something darker. “Are you ready for the consequences?”

You barely had time to suck in a breath before Zayne finally closed the distance, his lips slanting over yours, slow but claiming, the kind of kiss that swallowed you whole. Where Caleb was fire, Zayne was an ocean, pulling you under with the sheer weight of his control.

You barely registered Caleb’s growl of amusement before his hands slid beneath your thighs.

“Up, pipsqueak.”

Before you could argue, he lifted you, strong and easy, and you yelped as he set you on the counter, your legs instinctively parting as he stepped between them.

Zayne barely moved from his spot, standing beside you, watching the way Caleb’s hands slid over your thighs, the way you instinctively leaned into the touch. But when you turned to meet his gaze, something dangerous flickered in his eyes—something restrained, like he was holding himself back just enough to let Caleb get away with it.

For now.

“Jealous, doc?” Caleb teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, testing.

Zayne hummed, rolling his sleeves up, eyes never leaving yours. “Not at all.”

Then he leaned in, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear. “You know how patient I can be.”

You shivered.

Caleb chuckled darkly. “Yeah? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Then his mouth was on you, lips searing as he kissed you like he wanted to burn himself into your skin. His hands roamed, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you closer, your body flush against his.

You moaned against his lips, but before you could lose yourself entirely, Zayne was there again—his fingers sliding up your arm, up your neck, threading through your hair as he pulled you away from Caleb and back into him.

His mouth met yours again, this time rougher, more demanding, as if he was reclaiming his space in this game.

Caleb let out a low, satisfied hum. “There’s that competitive side.”

You barely had time to process the heat in Zayne’s gaze before Caleb’s hands were sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips ghosting up your back, making you arch against him.

“I think,” Caleb murmured against your throat, “we should see just how much she can take.”

Zayne smirked against your lips. “Agreed.”

Caleb nudged you to the edge of the counter, fingers making quick work of your zipper. Beside you, Zayne watched, his expression carefully unreadable—but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

The glint in Caleb’s eye was unmistakable as he slowly peeled your pants down, his fingers dragging against your heated skin. A lazy grin spread across his lips as a flush crept up your cheeks.

“What a perfect spread you’ve got for me,” he murmured, licking his lips.

Zayne exhaled sharply, unimpressed. “If you’re just going to tease her, step aside so a real man can do the job.”

Caleb shot him a glare. “And what, you think that’s you? Come on, doc. Even as kids, you couldn’t take care of her like I could.”

Without another word, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down in one smooth motion. The way both men stared at you—hungry, reverent—sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

Then, slow as a hunter stalking prey, Caleb sank to his knees, lips ghosting over your inner thigh before his tongue swiped a deliberate path over your heat. The precise movement made you exhale shakily, your eyes fluttering shut—until a warm hand caught your chin.

Zayne.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your soft whimpers as Caleb’s mouth worked between your legs, devouring you like a man starved.

You barely had time to register the way Caleb groaned against you, completely lost in the taste of you, before he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. His lips glistened, his breath warm against your core.

“Pipsqueak, we’re moving this to the couch.”

Before you could respond, Zayne stepped in, effortlessly lifting you off the counter and turning you over in one fluid motion. Your stomach pressed against the cool surface, your ass high in the air, as he smoothed a hand down your spine.

“No, we’re not,” he murmured. “I’m taking her right here. Feel free to watch, Colonel.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, but there was an edge to it. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he eyed the doctor with barely contained irritation. “You always gotta be first, huh?”

Zayne ignored him, too focused on the way your body trembled in anticipation beneath him. His zipper slid down, the sound sharp in the quiet tension of the room.

Caleb scoffed at the sight of him stroking his thick length, precum already beading at the tip. “I’m bigger.”

Zayne didn’t dignify him with a response, instead lining himself up against your slick entrance. His breath was hot against your shoulder as he murmured, “Can I move?”

“Yes,” you whispered, then, remembering your audience, “But turn me to face Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened with interest as Zayne shifted you, allowing you to brace yourself against the counter while still facing the other man. The doctor’s first thrust was slow, deliberate, stretching you open inch by inch, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Zayne breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Caleb barked a laugh, stepping closer. “So you have fantasized about her, doc.” His fingers tucked under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “Not gonna lie, pipsqueak, as much as I hate that he’s fucking you first, you look damn good split apart on a cock.”

Your breath hitched as Zayne’s pace quickened, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your hands reached for Caleb’s waistband, already desperate to feel him too.

“I bet you wish it was you inside her right now, don’t you, Caleb?” Zayne grunted, hips snapping forward.

Caleb smirked, shoving his pants down and letting his thick length spring free. “Oh, I know I will be soon. Right, pipsqueak?”

Ignoring his words, you leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. The weight and heat of him sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, especially when he hissed at the flick of your tongue.

“Fuck,” Caleb panted, fingers threading through your hair. “I mean it, though. I need to fuck you too.”

Zayne groaned behind you, his thrusts growing erratic. “Then do it now, before I lose control.” His grip on your hips tightened. “I want to make her come before either of us do.”

Caleb glanced down at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, waiting for your answer. The air in the room was thick with tension, anticipation crackling between all three of you.

You swallowed around Caleb’s cock, then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Let’s make it work, then.”

Zayne paused, considering. “If you turn toward me, Caleb can—”

“No,” Caleb interrupted, voice firm. “You had your turn with her pussy. It’s my turn. You take her ass.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “How about we let her decide?”

Two sets of eyes turned to you, heated and waiting.

You licked your lips, then smirked. “I am feeling a little needy… and I do think I want to feel Caleb.”

Caleb’s smirk was pure satisfaction as he reached for you, cradling you against his chest. Zayne schooled his features into something unreadable, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes as he pulled out and let you step toward Caleb.

“Come here, Y/N,” Caleb murmured, guiding you toward the couch. Zayne followed, his gaze heavy on your back.

Caleb sank onto the cushions, signaling you to straddle him. “Here’s how we do this. You ride me, and doc takes you from behind. You remember your safe word, yeah?”

Your heart pounded, excitement thrumming through you as you nodded. “Got it.”

You sank down onto Caleb’s cock, the stretch making your head fall back as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered.

Zayne, behind you, let out a slow breath. “She is.” His hands traced down your spine, soothing. “I’m going to put it in, alright? Let me know if it’s too much.”

You braced yourself as he pressed against your tight entrance, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

“Should I stop?” Zayne asked, voice tight.

You shook your head, body thrumming with overstimulation. “No—just… keep going.”

Caleb kissed your throat, murmuring, “That’s my girl. You can take it, can’t you?”

Zayne gave a rare smirk. “Alright.” He pushed in fully, the stretch making both men groan at the tightness. Caleb’s grip on your hips tightened as he buried himself deeper.

“Holy fuck,” Caleb breathed.

Zayne exhaled sharply. “Agreed.”

The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of their thrusts, the heat pooling low in your stomach. Your body trembled between them, caught in the perfect storm of their attention, their need.

“Guys,” you gasped, “I—I’m close.”

Both of them groaned, their own control unraveling.

“Can I come inside you?” Caleb rasped, his voice clipped. “Tell me I can, and I’ll fill you up.”

Zayne, voice low, added, “I won’t last much longer either.”

Your nails dug into Caleb’s shoulders. “I want you both to come inside me.”

That was all it took.

Zayne shuddered as he spilled into you, his grip almost bruising, his breath hot against your shoulder. Caleb wasn’t far behind, groaning into your skin as he pulsed inside you, their releases mixing within you.

The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, body clenching around them as your orgasm ripped through you.

All three of you collapsed in a tangled mess of limbs, panting, your skin humming with satisfaction.

You lay between them, your chest still rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, your skin humming with the aftershocks of everything you’d just done. The air in the apartment was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin, leaving no room for pretense or denial.

Caleb was the first to break the silence, a lazy, satisfied chuckle rolling from deep in his throat as he draped an arm over his forehead. “Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice rough, spent, but still carrying that unmistakable smugness. “You really know how to keep a man on his toes.”

You exhaled a slow breath, a smirk curling at the edges of your lips. “I’d say the same for you.”

Zayne, ever composed, ran a hand through his tousled hair, the sharp control he always carried just barely slipping at the edges. He turned his head, gaze flickering over you, assessing, lingering. Then, without a word, he reached out, fingers brushing lightly down the curve of your waist—soft, reverent, a quiet claim. “Are you alright?”

You hummed, stretching slightly, feeling the delicious ache in your limbs. “More than alright.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he trailed lazy fingers down your stomach, teasing. “So… who won?”

You bit your lip, flicking your gaze between the two of them—Caleb’s ever-present smirk, Zayne’s sharp, expectant stare. You let the silence stretch, relishing in their anticipation, in the way they both waited for your answer.

Then, you grinned. “Pipsqueak,” you echoed Caleb’s earlier words, sing-song voice dripping with amusement, “this was just round one.”

Caleb’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he tugged you closer, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder. “Cocky little thing.”

Zayne exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but there was something dangerous glinting in his eyes. He brushed his knuckles down your jaw, slow, intentional. “Next time,” he murmured, voice low with quiet promise, “I won’t be as patient.”

His words caused you to shiver.

Oh. This was far from over.

#love and deepspace #lads smut #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads #zayne x reader #caleb x reader #moongirlcleo #lnds caleb #lnds zayne #lnds smut #lnds

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starmocha · 5 hours ago

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sorry if this is too dark but if MC did die, how do you think each of them would react/the severity of the reaction? Obviously all of them would be crushed but I think Caleb would definitely either 1) end everything 2) end himself

Oh, I've written plenty of dark stuff before in other fandoms so...

So…do you guys have your tissues ready? Guys’ reactions to losing both you and the baby. For the sake of continuity, it follows the previous ask someone wondered about an MC with a risky pregnancy. I will be writing two other alternate “endings” another time (losing you, but baby lives & both you and the baby live. I won’t be doing a miscarriage/stillbirth one since no one asked.). These ficlets will also be available on AO3 in my fic collection, and we’ll chase after shooting stars.

(I actually do have a series with the guys grieving your death, but I am way behind on it. I have Zayne and Rafayel’s stories up if anyone’s interested in reading them.)

life moved on

Zayne would struggle internally, his logical side at war with his own emotional state.

He was a doctor. He knew there would always be a risk of loss. He himself sometimes had to be the one to deliver this type of unfortunate news to families.

Only, he just never imagined he would be on the receiving end one day.

He had monitored you throughout your pregnancy, learning more, and taking precautions wherever necessary. He knew the risk, he knew there was always that chance. But he had hoped. He had prayed. He had believed.

And it was all in vain.

He had been letting work consumed him. Life still moved on. The world would not stop for him, and there were still lives that he could save. There was not a moment to waste.

Sometimes, though, the world did slow down, everything pausing, such as now as he sat down at his desk lined with a row of photographs in frames. The snapshots of the life he had lost, of the future that should have been his, seemed to stare back at him in cruel mockery.

For just this moment, alone in his office, Zayne let his grief poured out, the heavy sobs filled the former silence in the room. In an hour, he would compose himself again, returned to being Doctor Zayne, and he would resume his duty, because life moved on.

But his heart stayed buried, resting with you and the child he lost.

no rest for the wicked

Rafayel falls into a deep depression, riddled with guilt, because he believes he is being punished for what he had said previously.

There was no rest for the wicked.

Rafayel couldn’t recall the last time he had slept peacefully, or even at all. Surely, this must be a punishment, right?

He had said such horrible words, so he was being punished for them, right? He didn’t deserve the baby, and he didn’t deserve you, so he was punished with the loss of both. That was a fair punishment, right?

He laughed, the sound so hollow and mirthless, his chest tightening with pain as tears trickled down his face.

Right. He didn’t deserve this.

So why should he deserve anything?

He grabbed an empty canvas and hurled it at the wall, destroying it instantly.

He didn’t deserve any of this.

He grabbed another, and another, and another. He incinerated several art pieces at various stages of completion, feeling nothing as they turned to ashes. He vandalized most of his studio, destroying his tools and everything he had ever created. There was no meaning to any of this anymore.

Heaving heavily and with a dagger in his hand, he turned to the grand canvas that filled the space of a wall. He plunged the weapon into it, dragging it down over and over again, his mind filled with a cacophony of his own voice and yours.

My fishie…I won’t leave you…

“Don’t lie to me…” he kept attacking the canvas, his words growing more frenzied, “Don’t leave me…I’m yours…I’m yours…you promised to stay…”

He dropped the dagger and fell to his knee, his forehead resting against the canvas as he sobbed. He was so exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep again in your arms.

“I’m sorry…”

forever would be nice

Xavier would feel so much guilt, almost as if he didn’t do enough to help you.

He felt so incompetent.

He should have done more. Should have done something.

Xavier could hear you scolding him, telling him it wasn’t his fault. Deep down, he knew it was true, but he wanted a reason, wanted an explanation for why that day happened. If he at least shouldered the blame, then maybe he could make sense of why he lost not only you but the baby as well.

Lately, it seemed like it was harder to wake up. He had not changed the bedsheet or pillowcases in a while, the scent of you still lingered, helping him sleep most nights. In these sweet dreams, he lived another life, his world completed with both you and the baby.

He wished he could dream just a little longer. Forever would be nice.

just enough

Sylus reverts to who he used to be, cold and distrusting.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to numb this pain, but maybe if he drank enough, he could begin to forget.

Forget the you who had fearlessly took his hand no matter how dangerous he was, the you who had wanted to bring light into his dark world, the you who accepted him for who he was, loved him just as he was.

Sylus’ hand tightened around his glass, the force enough that it shattered and shards pierced his skin. He stared emotionlessly at his cut hand, the blood dripping profusely to the floor not even registering in his mind that it was his.

As his wounds healed on their own, his eyes glazed over, and he remembered another day when there was so much more blood than this. There was just so much blood on that hospital bed, and he remembered how his voice was completely raw as he screamed at the panicked doctor and nurses, and then the chaos subsided, an eerie silence had followed, his whole world gone in an instance.

There was no noise. There was no warmth. There was no joy. There was only this sudden void in his life again, one that he had tried to fill for so long.

Not enough alcohol to numb the pain, not enough punching bags for him to take his rage out on, and not enough money to bring back what was.

If he could trade away his riches, his power, his glory, he would in a heartbeat for a chance to have you back, because with you, everything was just enough. He desired nothing else but you, the love and happiness you had brought into his life was enough.

always by your side

Caleb wouldn’t be able to bear living in a world without you, since his whole life since childhood had revolved around you.

There were hushed whispers throughout the Farspace Fleet, all quieted in an instance whenever Caleb passed by. The Colonel was always a strict man, his presence demanding respect for his authority, but recently, there had been a change, his demeanor hardening, his violet eyes dulled, a despair hidden beneath his icy façade.

One night in warm June, he left Skyhaven in the dead of night, catching a late train to Linkon. He disembarked, empty-handed, his feet automatically moving, his mind muddled with memories of a little girl who came into his life so long ago, of his promise to always be by her side, their lives always intertwined until that one awful day he was taken from her.

However, nothing could ever keep him from you. He would always find his way home to you, and no matter the storms in your lives, he would find a way to right things.

You were both going to be happy. There was nothing make-believe about the life you two were going to have.

You had worn a white dress, him in his colonel uniform, and with your hand in his, he had vowed his life to you once more, his joy boundless when you echoed back to him similar words. After marriage came the baby carriage, and you were all going to be a family of three.

He had always taken care of you, and he still took care of you even when there were concerns about the pregnancy. He had done everything right, made sure you were safe throughout, so how could things have gone wrong in the eleventh hour?

The moment you slipped from his life, his whole world stopped, the nightmares he had thought were gone returned with a vengeance, haunting him with dreams of that day over and over again. He had failed you, the hospital had failed you, everyone had failed you, because he would rather believe this than ever think he was always meant to lose you over and over again until you were ripped from his life for good.

It wasn’t fair.

He wondered what sin he carried to be punished with the loss of both you and the baby. A baby conceived from love, an innocent being, never once taken breath but only knowing death. Caleb wondered what kind of God would be so cruel, wanting to scream his anger out, wanting to demand answers to all of the questions that had been haunting him.

He stopped walking, seeing a locked gate blocking his path. He stared at it dully before he pulled out a gun, shooting the lock once with perfect precision. He continued walking, the path he was taking lined with rows of gravestones of those long departed from this world.

The one he wished to see was secluded, in its own area and hidden away, just like how he had always wished when you were alive. The world had never deserved you, and now he was even more convinced, you were always too good for this Hell on earth.

A grave among bushes of hydrangeas, his breathing suddenly became ragged. The air was heavy and he was pulled to his knees, his lungs tightening as he struggled to breathe, but for this brief instance, there was a smile on his face as he let go of his control over his Evol.

The gun he used earlier levitated ominously.

He started laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes. He could hear your voice again. You were calling for him.

Caleb! Caleb!

“I’m here,” he whispered, “I’ll always be by your side.”

Caleb always kept his promises to you. Always.

Among the dead, a deafening noise resounded, startling the wild creatures that lurked around the area.

Surrounded by the pink and blue and white of the hydrangeas, the summer seemed so endless now as the ground was dyed in crimson.

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justagalwhowrites · 12 hours ago

Text

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 8: Making Waves

You start filming Savage Starlight and a conflict brings you and Joel closer together. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 7 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Mild violence. Memory of past childhood sexual abuse, not described. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 11.9k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

August, 2002

You stared down at your headshot on your lap, your stomach in knots.

This wasn’t an audition but it felt like one. An intense one at that. Not that you’d ever taken your career casually, you’d always given your best at auditions and rehearsals and on set, even when you were first starting years ago. But that had always just been to make your mom happy and make things better for the people around you and to make something good. You’d never really worried about the practicalities of it. But you had to worry about those practicalities now.

It had been a month since you found out your mother had, essentially, driven your financial life into the ground. You still didn’t know what her endgame was. You were hardly a genius at math but looking at the piles of papers you’d found in her office told you enough and, when you confronted her, she told you the truth: you were more than $6 million in debt, $2 million of that owed to the U.S. government. You may not know much but you knew that was bad. Really fucking bad. You needed money, way more than you’d make for a season of Family Tree. You had, at least, managed to land $100,000 an episode for the season you were filming now but still, that was only $2 million, just enough to cover the past due tax bill and nothing else. You’d been living in your trailer - it was only a matter of time before someone figured that one out - and surviving off craft services for weeks. You needed an apartment, you needed to get a lawyer to get emancipated and those things required money. You needed something else, you needed it to pay well and you needed it now.

You heard your name and your head shot up. The receptionist smiled kindly at you.

“Mr. Wilde will see you now,” she said. “Head on in.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as best you could, your chest tight, and straightened your dress before you headed into the office.

The room was huge, panoramic windows looking over the hills beyond, shelves of awards and pictures of the same man smiling with celebrities on every surface. That man, Henry Wilde, was looking down at his desk when you came in, in a blazer with the top few buttons of his shirt open. You let the door close behind you and you hovered awkwardly, trying to not fidget with your headshot. This was the first time you’d ever taken a meeting like this on your own. Your mother had been your agent but you weren’t about to let her represent you for shit anymore. You needed to find one of those, too. After what felt like a small eternity had passed, you cleared your throat quietly and he looked up, appraising you for a moment before smiling.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he said, standing up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in! Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He gestured to the plush seats opposite his desk and you smiled, relaxing a little as you crossed the room and sat down. He set his Blackberry to the side and laced his fingers together as he watched you arrange yourself, a small smile on his face.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Wilde,” you said. “I know you said I could reach out when I needed something but I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course,” he scoffed. “I do my best to make time for rising talent like you. I’ve been enjoying your work, you are a truly gifted actor.”

“Thank you,” you said, sitting up a little straighter, your hands looping around your knee as you crossed one leg over the other. “That really means a lot, coming from you. I mean when you look at the projects you’ve produced…”

“Please, let’s not waste our time talking about me,” he waved you off. “I’m much more interested in what made you reach out, especially on your own without your mother. She’s always been so… hands on.”

“Yeah,” you winced a little in spite of yourself. “She’s… she’s not representing me anymore. That’s part of why I wanted to see you. I… I found out some things about what she’s been doing and how she’s been managing me and…”

He smiled a little.

“You need some help figuring things out on your own?” He finished for you.

“Yes,” you sighed, relieved, and then laughed. “Yes, I really, really do. I don’t really know what I’m doing for this, just that I have some money that I owe so I need to work but I don’t know how to find an agent or a manager and how to find more work and I just…”

“You were right to come to me,” he cut you off, reaching into a tray on his desk, flipping through a stack of file folders before finding the one he was looking for. “We can’t be losing talent like yours to the bureaucratic bullshit of the industry…”

You were silent for a minute, watching as he paged through things, nodding to himself, before reaching into his desk and pulling out a business card. You sat up a little straighter as he looked at you across the desk.

“I think I have a way to help you,” he said. “There’s a part that I can get you an audition for - you’d still have to land it but I’ll get you in the mix - that should solve any of the economic issues you’re having. And I have an agent for you -” he held the business card out to you between two thick fingers. You reached to take it but he pulled it back. You frowned, looking back at him. “But I’d need something in return.”

You deflated a little.

“But…”

“I’m a business man,” he continued, watching you. “I don’t give things away for free. If I did, I never would have reached where I am today. This needs to go both ways, sweetheart.”

You laughed a little in spite of yourself.

“OK,” you said. “But I… I don’t have anything. That’s why I’m here, I don’t have any money, I don’t know anybody - at least not anyone you wouldn’t know - I…”

“I don’t need money or power,” he interrupted you. His eyes ranged over you, slow and sharp. “But believe me, there’s plenty you have that I want.”

You swallowed hard, your stomach clenching.

“I don’t…”

“And there’s plenty I have that you want,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken at all, his eyes lingering on your chest, your thighs. “The only question is what you will do to get it.”

You steeled yourself, the threat of debt and homelessness hanging over your head.

“I’ll do anything,” you said. “Please.”

He smiled, the expression making you want to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

“Good,” he said, holding the card out again. “That’s the information for the agent. I’ll give them the information for the audition if you come to my hotel tonight at 8 p.m. Sound good?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. It wasn’t like you had any experience with men but you knew what he was asking for.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll send a car and I’ll see you tonight.”

He looked back to his desk and you took that to mean that you were dismissed and you stood up, your legs shaky and your headshot still in your hands.

“Oh, and sweetheart?” He said and you turned to face him, an almost hungry look on his face. “Wear something… cute.”

You just nodded and made your way out of his office, past the receptionist and to the elevator, trying not to wonder if any of this was worth it.

November 29. 2024

“Christmas Shoes.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true, that’s my favorite Christmas song.”

You scoffed.

“Who hurt you as a child?” You asked, wishing you could turn and look at your costar but you had to sit still for the makeup artists to do their job, your eyes closed as one of them worked on your eyeshadow. “That’s the worst, most depressing song choice in the world.”

“Alright, Miss Superiority Complex,” he said. “What’s your favorite Christmas song?”

“Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses,” you said without hesitation.

“No,” he said and you could almost hear him shaking his head and you resisted the urge to giggle. “No, I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to sound cool, that’s not actually your favorite.”

“Yes it is,” you said. “Sorry my taste is so much better than yours but…”

“Alright,” your makeup artist said and you didn’t feel her fingers or brushes on your face anymore so you opened your eyes. She smiled, sitting back from you, looking proud of her work. “Ready for the wig?”

“Hell yeah,” you smiled. “Let’s go.”

They turned your chair so your back was to the mirror and you watched as the artists brought in a white wig that looked like it would reach your waist. The prep work for the hairpiece had already been done, a bald cap on your head while the makeup artists did their job, and putting on the wig itself didn’t take too long, a production assistant going to get one of the marketing team interns to come in and shoot the video of you seeing yourself as Starlight for the first time. You got out of the chair, keeping your back to the mirrors as your co-star, Cole Cox, watched from his own makeup chair with a little smile on his face.

“You do look really good,” he said, the marketing person catching everything. “My kid is going to lose her mind when she sees me standing next to you.”

“Wait ’til she sees you flying with me,” you smiled back before jumping in place for a moment to loosen yourself up, the camera fading into the background of your mind. “Alright, let’s do it!”

You turned to face the mirror and gasped in spite of yourself.

You’d seen yourself in costume plenty of times before in your life. Sometimes it seemed like you spent more time dressed up as someone else than you did as yourself. But you’d never seen yourself as a superhero before. Putting the costume on that morning had been an experience in and of itself. It took some help getting into it, the molded pieces and tight fabric a lot more work than you were used to when it came to getting dressed, but you couldn’t deny that the end result looked pretty incredible.

But with the wig and the makeup - highlighting your cheekbones, making your eyes look sharper - it was even better.

“Oh my God,” you said leaning into the mirror to get a better look at yourself. The makeup artist laughed. “This is amazing! I look… heroic!”

“Endure and survive, baby,” Cole said and you laughed.

“Endure and survive,” You smiled, looking over your shoulder to him.

“Alright, let’s get you two to set,” the production assistant said and you took one last look at yourself before you turned to leave.

It was almost hard to believe that you’d been in Austin, making Thanksgiving dinner at this time the day before. It had been a hectic day, getting up early and napping in the car on the way to the airport and again on the plane, feeling oddly safe sleeping in front of people because you knew Joel was there. You’d gone straight from LAX to the studio and into costuming and makeup and even though you were just doing some promo stuff that day, you knew you were going to be exhausted by the time you made it home that night.

Joel, to his credit, had been surprisingly… maybe not kind, but less than surly since your conversation in your office days earlier. While he didn’t seem thrilled about getting up so early, he’d kept his commentary to himself and hadn’t even fought too hard about needing to wait outside the hair and makeup room instead of being glued to your side the entire time. You wondered if he’d be happy being quite that flexible during the rest of your trip. Somehow, you doubted it.

Your bodyguard was right there when the door to the makeup room opened, looking like he’d been pacing the short distance of the hallway for a while, turning quickly as you left.

“Took you long…” he began but his voice trailed off and he stared at you, his eyes going a little wide.

“So cool, right?” You said, popping your hip and planting your hand there to strike a pose. “It really looks like the suit from the comics! Do you think Ellie will like it?”

He snapped his mouth shut and blinked for a moment.

“Well?” You asked, brows raised, suddenly nervous. Joel had come to know Ellie well over the last few months, what if he thought she wouldn’t like it?

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, much of his trademark gruffness absent from his voice. “Yeah, think… You look… She’ll like it.”

You smiled and made your way to set, Joel damn near pressed to your side the entire way.

It was about what you expected for the rest of the day. You posed for promotional photos with Cole and by yourself, the oddly exacting feeling of Joel’s eyes on you while you did. Then, they put you in some rigging and walked you through how to pose like you were flying.

“OK this is trippy,” you said, hanging 10 feet in the air. “Are we going to use any of this footage for anything but promos? I’m not sure of her physicality yet, especially with flight…”

“This is just for your intro video,” the director said. “Kind of like a highlight reel. It’ll circulate online plenty after the announcement but we don’t have any plans to use this anywhere in the final film.”

“So I can fuck around as much as I want,” you said. “Noted.”

You heard Joel stifle a laugh and you looked toward him as he rolled his eyes.

“What, Big Miller?” You teased.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Just learning where that niece of yours got her mouth from.”

“She had to learn it somewhere,” you winked and you saw him try not to smile.

You ended up in the air for a while, the camera slowly panning down your costumed body, capturing you from every angle and you tried not to feel self conscious about that before you focused on looking strong and intimidating with a wind machine in your face.

Then were some fight sequences - mostly just your side of it, almost like you were battling a camera man - and striking poses that felt immensely foolish, your hands out in front of you like you were sending a burst of energy forth but none came. The marketing person followed you around any time you weren’t actively filming, catching you goofing off with Cole and dancing a little to the music that was playing on set as everyone got into position. It was disconcerting, being so observed again. You’d become spoiled in Texas, months since you’d last been on a film set or under the omnipresent eye of a camera. You had to maintain a different persona here, one that was palatable and easily consumed and, by the time you went back to get out of costume, you were exhausted.

“You alright?” Joel asked, his hand on your lower back as he led you to the car.

“Fine,” you said, trying to hide a yawn and failing miserably. “Just tired.”

“Probably hungry, too,” he muttered, sounding irritated. “Didn’t see you eat a damn thing today and you were doin’ all that shit, flying around, fighting… Gonna fuckin’ collapse if you’re not careful.”

You looked at him, a little incredulous as he opened the car door.

“There’s not room for me to eat anything in that suit,” you said. “And since when do you pay attention to my eating habits?”

He rolled his eyes.

“In the car.”

“So demanding,” you muttered but you obeyed all the same, too eager to have room to breathe to fight his orders on principle. Joel climbed in after you, pulling the door closed with a little too much force. The driver started moving almost the second the door was closed. “But the statement still stands, since when do you care what I’m eating?”

“Since you collapsing would make my life difficult,” he said. “And since we were on that set all damn day with that big food table and all you did was drink water and Diet fuckin’ Coke.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Shove it,” he griped. You snorted. “You got food in that house of yours or are you just planning to go on hunger strike for this whole damn movie?”

You rolled your eyes but unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned between the front seats so you could see the driver. He glanced at you, brows raised.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi,” you smiled. “You don’t have to just go to my house, right? I can tell you somewhere else to go?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“Siren,” Joel said, a warning tone on his voice that you ignored.

“Perfect,” you said. “Then let’s go to In ’n Out, one near the beach please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said again and you sat back, crossing one leg over the other and looking at Joel, smug.

“Security don’t get a say in this?” He said wryly.

“Nope,” you said.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He asked.

“Usually,” you said.

He rolled his eyes.

“Seatbelt,” he said.

“Seatbelt,” you said, lowering your voice to parrot his own, bobbing your head from side to side but obeying anyway. “God, isn’t it exhausting being that controlling?”

“You’re exhausting,” he said. “You’re not just going inside a restaurant, you know.”

“I know,” you said. “It’s fast food, Joel. It has a drive through.”

“Jesus,” he muttered and you smiled.

“You forgot,” you said. He looked at you, brows raised and you smiled wider. “You forgot that fast food places have drive throughs for a minute there, didn’t you.”

“No,” he said, defensive and irritated and you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing. “I just always expect you to do the most ridiculous shit, damn the consequences. Don’t see why you’d change that now.”

You just rolled your eyes and watched the city go by, girls in short dresses dashing across streets and ducking into bars, guys clapping hands with their friends, the lights of the city sparkling. You wondered what it would be like to live that life, one where you could just be a face in the crowd that no one paid any mind to beyond the people you loved, where a small economy wasn’t riding on you showing up to work every day, where you weren’t so caged by choices made for you before you could even really understand them.

You did a video call with Ellie on the drive and checked in with her and Elise, who had come to stay at your house for the few weeks you were gone so they would be better protected. She’d had a good day, Esmo helping the two of them decorate the house for Christmas.

“Sissy, look at this shit!” Ellie said, turning the camera so it faced out into the living room.

“Ellie!” Elise scolded. “Language!”

“Fine,” she sighed, exasperated. “Look at this stuff.”

“That looks amazing, kiddo!” You said, watching as she panned around the room, showing off the fat tree that sat against the back wall. “Good eye.”

“It even has the old ornaments, look!” She said, going to the tree and going in close on a bulb that was covered in haphazard glitter paint in the shape of a small handprint, one Ellie and Anna had made when Ellie was a toddler. “Like the really old ones I made with Mom!”

“Yeah,” you said, getting choked up. “Check that out.”

She turned the camera back on her face.

“We saved some for you to put on. But… Wish you could have been here to decorate and sh…stuff,” she said.

“Me too,” you smiled a little sadly. “But I’ll be home before you know it and you can show me everything.”

“Cool,” she said. “Hey, Big Miller!”

“What’s up, trouble maker?” He asked, putting his face next to yours so he was in the frame, too.

“Do you have a tree and ornaments and stuff at your house or are you going to have to use ours?”

You felt him stiffen for a moment at your back for half a moment before responding.

“Not much point in decorating for just me,” he said. “But don’t care about the holidays much, anyway so it don’t matter.”

“You should get some ornaments and a stocking and shit,” she said.

“Ellie!” Elise scolded.

“And STUFF,” Ellie said. “I said stuff, Grandma!”

“No you didn’t,” you and Joel said at the same time.

“Traitors,” Ellie muttered, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you should bring some Christmas stuff,” Ellie stressed the word “and put it up with our stuff. You’re at our house all the time, anyway.”

Before you had a chance to intervene and force some of the professional distance Joel claimed to have wanted, he answered for you.

“Maybe, kid,” he said. “Don’t… don’t really have much of that kind of thing though.”

“We should head to bed over here,” Elise said, looping her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and giving you a soft smile. “It’s late. You’re taking care of yourself out there? Not stressing yourself too much?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” you smiled back. “And Big Miller here isn’t letting me out of his sight so no scary fans can come run off with me, promise.”

“Good,” she said. “Get some rest. We’ll talk to you tomorrow, honey.”

You said your goodbyes just as the car pulled up to the In ’n Out drive through.

“What do you want,” Joel said, reading the menu as you waited your turn.

“I’ll just order it myself,” you waved him off.

“No, you won’t,” he said. “Don’t need anyone recognizing your damn voice and calling the fuckin’ paparazzi…”

You snorted.

“That’s not a thing you need to worry about,” you said. “We’d be long gone before they showed up. It’s fine. And you’d just order it wrong. If I’m risking this damn costume not fitting tomorrow so I can eat tonight you’d better believe I’m getting what I want.”

He looked at you, his jaw clenched tight, but he still rolled down the window when you pulled up to the kiosk and you let Joel order first because it seemed like the nice thing to do. You had to lean over him to get closer to the window and he stiffened, sitting stock still as your front brushed against him.

“Hi!” You called brightly through the window. “Can I get a double double, protein style and animal style and fries with spread on the side and a Diet Coke?”

“Is that even food?” Joel asked once the man working the window repeated your order back to you.

You scoffed.

“It’s definitely food. And don’t be jealous when mine is better than yours,” you said. “I’m not sharing.”

You ignored Joel when he tried to yank you into the back seat, his hand closing around the waist of your yoga tights as you leaned between the front seat to get your food, the kid working the window gaping at you for a moment.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Oh my God,” he said, gaping at you.

“Is the spread in there?” You asked, holding up the bag.

“Uh,” he said, his eyes wide. “Yeah… yeah, it’s in there.”

“Awesome,” you smiled wider. “You’re the best. Thank you!”

“You about gave that kid a heart attack,” Joel said, opening his own bag and pulling out a French fry. “That famous face of yours is gonna get someone killed…”

“Ha ha,” you rolled your eyes. “And you’re not allowed to eat yet.”

“Dyin’ to know why not,” he said, popping the fry in his mouth anyway.

“Because you have to wait until we’re at the beach to eat it, that’s the rule,” you said before turning your attention to the driver. “Nearest beach, please. Not Santa Monica, that’ll be too busy by the pier.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“No,” Joel snapped. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” you said.

“It’s not safe,” he said, leaning forward to talk to the driver. “Don’t listen to her, do not go to the beach.”

“It’s after dark and I want to see the ocean,” you said.

“It’s dangerous,” he growled.

“No one knows I’m going to be there,” you said, as calmly as you could. “No one is expecting me. It’s after dark, no one will be there trying to swim or sunbathe. This is the time to go.”

“You don’t need to go look at the damn water,” Joel said. “It’s water. Same as always.”

“I miss the beach,” you said, watching him closely. “Come on, Joel. I’m giving up enough, aren’t I? Can’t I have this? Just one little normal thing? Please?”

He watched you back for a moment, those brown eyes of his sharp at first but softening.

“You listen when we’re there,” he said eventually. “If anyone else is there, we leave. You don’t do anything reckless or dumb. We clear?”

“Crystal,” you smiled, practically giddy. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

“Better not do anything dumb,” he muttered, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest but not protesting any more.

The driver stopped in an empty lot, the horizon dark, the light of the city at your back, Santa Monica Pier bright in the distance. But this stretch of sand was empty of people, just the way you liked it. You looked to Joel all the same, eyebrows raised and one hand on the door handle.

He sighed.

“Go on.”

You couldn’t help but squeal a little, too excited for this little slice of normalcy to hold it in. You damn near threw the door open, all the exhaustion that had weighed you down fading enough that you ran, arms spread wide, toward the water.

The crash of the waves was loud, the air crisp and cool and laden with salt and the harsh tang of wet seaweed and rotting fish. You stopped just at the edge of the waves, the tide high, and whooped out into the night, to where the stars disappeared into the darkness, laughing as your voice faded to nothing in the distance.

“The hell are you doin’,” Joel said more than asked as he came up alongside you.

“Enjoying the ocean,” you said, breathless, watching the waves roll in for a moment, listening to them crash before looking at Joel smiling. “Why, do you do something besides yell at the water when you do it?”

He gave you a look that, even in the dim light of the city behind you and the pier in the distance and the moon overhead, you recognized as at least a little exasperated and you laughed.

“C’mon, Big Miller,” you teased, clapping him on the shoulder before traipsing back inland. “Let’s eat.”

You got the food from the car and you planted yourself down on the sand, midway between the parking lot and the water, taking off your shoes and burying your toes in the cool sand. Joel sat beside you, close enough that his elbow brushed yours when he moved. You got the burger out first and took a bite, giving a satisfied moan when you did, your stomach growling too.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you said, your mouth full. “I was hungrier than I realized.”

“Told you,” Joel said, smug, taking a bite of his own burger. “Shit, think I was, too.”

“You don’t have any damn excuse,” you said, taking another bite. “You can have all the craft services you want, you don’t have a costume that has very little stretch that was made from very precise measurements to fit into every day.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” he said.

“Suppose it does,” you said, balancing the burger on your knees to open the spread and dip a fry in it.

“So,” Joel said after a minute. “Why’d you want to come to the beach.”

You looked over at him, brows raised. He was staring determinedly ahead at the water as he took a sip of his drink.

“Do you really want to know?” You asked. “Or do you want leverage on me.”

He shrugged.

“Dunno what I could leverage on you about a fuckin’ beach.”

You laughed dryly.

“Suppose that’s true,” you looked at the water, too. “I used to come to the beach a lot when I was little. It’s about the only thing I remember from before I started working.”

You felt Joel’s eyes on you then but you kept looking straight ahead.

“Most people come to Los Angeles but I was from here,” you continued. “And yeah, I might be some rich asshole now but I wasn’t exactly born into money. I’m guessing my mom brought me here because she was flat broke and this was a free way to keep me occupied. But I remember sitting on the sand and eating those saltine crackers - the individually wrapped ones, like you get with soup at restaurants which is probably what she did, swiped them from work when she was waiting tables - and just watching the water and wondering how far my voice would travel if I yelled. I thought it might carry across the world when I was really little because there was nothing there to stop it… Anyway. I still like coming here, I miss it when I can’t. It makes me feel small.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Joel asked, his eyes still on you.

You looked at him then, at his uncommonly soft gaze, tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. You realized that you knew his face so well now, better than so many others. Even in the dark, you knew where the flecks of gray had started in his beard, knew that the creases would be less pronounced around his eyes right now because he wasn’t glaring at you.

“I think so,” you said softly, the waves crashing in their steady rhythm before you. “It’s nice to be reminded that, in the grand scheme of things, I’m actually quite insignificant.”

“Don’t think that’s true,” he said. “Think you’d always matter.”

You watched him for a moment, as though he was going to change his mind or take it back, but he didn’t.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking back to the water and brushing the sand off your shins. “I guess it doesn’t really make much difference, does it?”

“Suppose not,” he said.

You put the paper wrappers and your empty cup in the bag and tucked it where you didn’t think it would blow away before looping your arms around your knees, taking a deep, centering breath.

“You ready for a lot more days like today?” You asked. “Standing around while I play dress up?”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Can’t believe how many times they make you do the same damn thing again and again.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, that happens,” you said. “It’s gotta be pretty boring to watch from the outside.”

You more felt him shrug than saw him.

“Had more boring jobs.”

You kept watching the waves, the energy you had from just being at the beach slowly fading and the exhaustion for the day catching up with you and you leaned your head onto Joel’s shoulder. He stiffened for a moment but, before you moved away from him, he relaxed into you. He was calming, something sturdy about his presence, and he smelled clean and masculine and you had the oddest desire to nuzzle into his neck and breathe him in and commit that scent to memory.

“See why you like the beach,” he said eventually. “It’s… nice. Steady.”

You smiled a little.

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

You stayed like that for a while, until you were worried you were going to fall asleep on him and you went back to the car. On the drive home, you fought to keep your eyes open but failed, your head finding the warm comfort of his broad shoulders once again and you drifted off to the steady cadence of his breathing as the world went by outside your window.

***

He shouldn’t allow this.

He knew better. He did. But as you leaned against his side, your head on his shoulder, he slumped down further in his seat so you stayed in that place pressed into him, the artificial scent of hair spray and makeup remover mixing with sand and the salt of the water and your sweat.

He fucking knew better. This was stupid. Arguably one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. He didn’t want to be attached to you. He definitely didn’t want to get any more attached than he already was. He didn’t want to know what your fucking hair smelled like or how soft your skin was or how your body felt when it relaxed against his own.

But.

But you were there. You were close and protected and had unconsciously found comfort in him in a way no one had done in so, so long and he hated how much he enjoyed that. He liked you close, wanted you close. He felt calm, sure when you were close.

This was stupid but he wasn’t sure how to stop it. It felt like when he was a kid, running down a steep hill at full speed and he knew that even if he stopped putting one foot in front of the other he would keep careening toward the bottom, not able to control it.

He felt it when he was with you on the plane and you were groggy and he stopped the flight attendant from waking you to offer you breakfast or a drink because you needed the rest and instead kept the fruit and the granola bar and gave them to you when you woke. He felt it when he saw you in that damn costume, as if the fucking leggings and sports bras weren’t bad enough, you dressed in something made for you - designed to make you look powerful and beautiful and strong - made his heart stutter in his chest. He felt it when he watched your costar touch you in the ways he wanted to touch you. He tried to shove that urge down deep, tried to keep from breaking his damn jaw from clenching it so hard as he watched you work.

And now you were asleep against him, relaxed and soft. He should stop it, he knew that, but he couldn’t.

You didn’t wake as the car came to a stop in your driveway, you didn’t even stir.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging you gently. “C’mon, we’re home.”

Your face scrunched but you just pressed closer to him.

“Hey,” he said again, giving you a little shake. “Gotta get you inside.”

You didn’t respond at all that time and, as good an actress as you might be, Joel could tell you weren’t faking. Back when he thought you were nothing more than a spoiled brat, he’d be frustrated by it but he knew better now. You’d been traveling since 3 a.m. local time, been going non-stop since you were on the ground and it was after 10 now. Joel had gotten to sit there and watch you work all day - the contained space of the movie studio making his job easier than he was used to - and he was pretty damn tired. It was no wonder you were exhausted.

Joel sighed.

“Alright, hang on,” he said to himself far more than to you.

He carefully arranged you so you wouldn’t fall over without him to lean on and slowly, delicately, got out of the car before gingerly pulling you against his body. He tucked your head into his shoulder, one arm going behind your back and below your arms, the other looping beneath your knees. You groaned a little in your sleep, your eyebrows knitting together, but you just nuzzled closer to him, your fingers looping around the collar of his shirt and tangling in the fabric to hold him close.

Dominic, one of the guards at your front door who had been on your detail the last time you were in LA, smirked a little as he opened the door for Joel.

“Shut up,” Joel muttered as he carried you inside.

“Didn’t say a thing,” Dominic said.

Joel carried you to your room, the lamp on your nightstand on when he got there and set you softly on the bed. He carefully removed your shoes and tugged the knit throw draped over the foot of your bed up and over you. You smiled in your sleep, face content and relaxed, and he let himself pretend, for a moment, that that look was for him. He watched you from that reality, one where he didn’t manage to destroy everything he ever cared for, one where he was worthy of your peace and quiet spaces, but stopped himself before he got lost there, in that world that wasn’t for him. He went to turn off the lamp but paused for a moment, looking at a photo on your bedside table.

In any other context, with any other person, it wouldn’t have been anything extraordinary. It was you, Anna, Elise and Ellie at Disneyland. Ellie couldn’t have been more than seven, a gap in her smile as the four of you posed in front of the castle. Your arm was around her front to pull her back against you and Anna’s head was on your shoulder and Elise was beaming on the other side of you. But the best part was you in the middle of it all. You looked… normal. Still so beautiful he was sure people would be staring at you even if you weren’t famous but your skin was shiny with sweat, a pair of sunglasses tucked into the neck of your tank top, cutoff shorts and tennis shoes and Mickey Mouse ears on like you were just any other person. If you’d started the day in makeup it was long gone by the time this picture was taken but you didn’t seem to care. You looked happy. So fucking happy, in a way Joel was sure he hadn’t seen before, like this was all you wanted in the world. Not the movie premieres and awards shows but this, being next to the people you loved, giving your niece something she wanted.

Something about that gave Joel a lump in his throat. That, when it came down to it, the thing you really wanted was probably the same thing he did - more time with someone who was gone.

He tucked the blanket in tighter around you and tried not to think about the disturbingly human version of you that he left behind in your bed when he went to his own.

“Did you put me to bed last night?” You asked by way of greeting the next morning, sitting in your kitchen with a cup of coffee in your hand when Joel got up for the day.

Joel shrugged, getting himself a mug and going for the coffee pot.

“You could have woken me up, you know,” you said, a teasing edge to your voice.

“Tried that,” he replied. “You weren’t movin’. Couldn’t just let you sleep in the car all night, not safe.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t need to haul my ass around today,” you said. “But… thanks.”

“Sure,” he said again. “But… it was fine. Didn’t mind.”

You smiled a little and tried to hide it behind your mug and Joel tried to ignore the way his chest swelled a little when you did, when you gave him some indication that you liked him looking out for you.

That day was more of the same, Joel sitting on a movie set and not fully understanding what was happening, watching you in that perfectly fitted fucking costume as you ran and jumped and threw punches and flew with your all-too-handsome costar pressed tight to your side. He tried to get used to it, to watching you work while he sat on his ass, to seeing you touch someone else in that soft and tender way without a spark of jealousy catching in him.

It was the same the next day, too, and the day after that and Joel was starting to wonder how long you could really keep going at this pace. They had you getting to set at six in the goddamn morning, in hair and makeup and costuming until close to nine and then you were shooting until close to nine at night, often with nothing but a smoothie or fucking Diet Coke in between.

“Acting is… harder than I thought it’d be,” Joel said one day on the ride back to your house.

“It can be a hard job,” you said with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very lucky to do what I do and I love acting but yeah, it can absolutely kick your ass some days.”

“Good to know you earn that damn paycheck at least,” he said dryly.

You laughed.

“Always happy to have your seal of approval, Big Miller.”

He was relieved when things relaxed on Thursday, you apparently having meetings at the studio half the day and you didn’t move from your room for so long that Joel was starting to worry. But, eventually, you emerged, looking almost oddly polished and professional with dark jeans and a turtleneck and a blazer on.

“Starting to think you died,” Joel said dryly from his place on the couch.

You smiled a little.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said. “Just tired, needed to catch up on sleep.”

“Can’t blame you,” Joel muttered. “Seems like that director is bound and determined to work you to death.”

You shrugged.

“I did ask them to try and squeeze as much filming into a day as possible,” you said. “I don’t want to be away from Ellie for too long. This whole process is going to be tricky when we start shooting with the whole cast next month, we’re just trying to knock out what we can now because we can.”

“Still,” Joel said. “Can’t make a movie if you drop dead from exhaustion.”

“Aw, Big Miller,” you smirked a little. “Look at you, caring. Who knew you had it in you?”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket. “Before this all goes to your damn head…”

He tried to ignore the pleased little smile on your face on the drive to the studio offices, the sunlight through the tinted windows almost making your skin glow.

Joel stayed closer to you than usual as the two of you headed into the skyscraper in Burbank, this space less contained than the studio lot. It looked so much like a regular office building it was a little disconcerting and he felt distinctly out of place here, especially with you because you were out of place here, too.

Not in the way he was, of course. Joel had never been under the misplaced assumption that he would one day work in a building like this one. This world was different than the one he occupied, he would never be anything more than an interloper among powerful people who dominated the corporate world and made more money than he could even dream of. But you were on the opposite side of the spectrum, so far apart from him that you may as well have been a different species. Things as mundane as a business meeting and an office building seemed so far below you - though, at least, this place seemed to realize that.

A young woman met you at the front door, handing you an iced coffee and ushering you quickly through a turnstile and to an elevator without you needing to talk to anyone or pass through a metal detector like the other mortals that were coming and going from here.

“Do you know your way from here?” She asked as the elevator neared its destination.

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled. “I appreciate your help.”

“Of course,” she said as the door chimed and opened. “Please let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Quinn met you at the elevator doors, which opened onto another lobby - one much more opulent than the one downstairs, looking more like a luxury hotel than an office building.

“We just need to get a few things nailed down,” she said, you and her talking low as Joel trailed along behind you to an office with a secretary waiting out front.

“I think you’re safe to wait out here,” you said when Joel went to follow you inside. “Don’t think there are any big bad monsters lying in wait for me up here.”

“Probably right,” Joel said and you gasped.

“Joel Miller, admitting that I’m correct? I’m shocked!”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, resisting the urge to smile as he watched you head into some oversized office with some overpaid executive before settling in to wait.

He tried to soothe his unease at there being a wall between you in a place he didn’t know by being alert, his arms crossed over his chest, body tense. He could just see some of the lobby outside through the glass in the door and he caught a glimpse of the jackass producer you’d dated in the past, the one who was far too old for you as he went walking past. He tightened his jaw.

Eventually, you and Quinn came back out, some man Joel hadn’t met before following behind.

“Looking forward to sharing this with the world,” he said, offering you his hand.

“You and me both,” you smiled, taking it as Joel looked the man up and down. But you weren’t stiff and uncomfortable like you’d been in the past, instead seeming much more like yourself.

“Seemed like that went well,” Joel said, following you and Quinn back to the lobby.

“It did,” you smiled a little, looking back over your shoulder to him. “Believe it or not, not everything in this town is dramatic.”

Joel snorted.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

The three of you were headed for the elevators again when you stopped, looking at a woman and a man talking in two arm chairs not far away.

“Margie?” You said and the woman looked up, blinking in surprise at you before smiling hugely. You smiled back and headed for her, Joel and Quinn trailing behind you. It took him a moment to place the woman and then he recognized her, the mother of the girl who was playing the younger version of you in Savage Starlight. “Hey, how are you! What brings you out here?”

“Oh, we just had some meetings today,” she said, standing so she was on your level, looking a little star struck.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “Is Catherine here? In talks for another role? I’m not surprised if she is, she’s very talented.”

“Kind of,” Margie said. “Henry Wilde said he wanted to meet her, can you believe that? She’s in with him right now, we’re just…”

Joel felt you stiffen, watched the smile slip off your face.

“She’s with him now?” You asked, all the warmth gone from your voice. “Alone?”

Margie’s face fell, too.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, she is, what…”

You and Quinn exchanged a quick look.

“Go,” she said and you gave Joel a look, almost pleading, before starting toward another door off the lobby.

Joel followed at your heels. In any other circumstance, he’d have stopped you, pulled you back and demanded to know what the hell it was you thought you were doing but he had a feeling about this, one that made his stomach turn.

You shoved the door open and the secretary jumped to her feet, her eyes wide, you not even slowing down as you stalked past her.

“Mr. Wilde is busy right now,” she said. “You can’t just…”

“Oh I bet he is,” you said, going to the other door and giving it a sharp shove. It didn’t budge.

“Like I said,” the secretary said again, sharper this time and standing next to you and Joel. “Mr. Wilde is in a meeting and is not to be disturbed.”

“Oh, I think I can disturb him all I want,” you said, stepping back from the door and looking to Joel. “Do me a favor and open that for me, would you?”

There was something about the look in your eyes, something sharp and earnest and vulnerable, that made him just obey, bracing his shoulder and forcing the door open with a crack.

He stumbled into the room, a huge office with floor to ceiling windows along the back with a desk in the middle of them. Wilde’s head shot up and Catherine jumped from her seat opposite him, her eyes wide.

“What the…”

“Henry!” You swept in behind Joel, back straight and head high, something almost intimidating about you when you did. Joel followed close behind you and you stopped next to Catherine’s chair. “Been a while.”

Joel watched the man behind the desk, ready to move for him, but he just shook his head a little before getting to his feet.

“Too long,” he said.

“Mr. Wilde,” the secretary ran in, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, I tried to stop them, but…”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “Why don’t you take Miss Ford here back to her mother and her agent, we were just finishing up anyway. Give us some space to chat, would you?”

“Of course,” she said. “Miss Ford, why don’t you come with me?”

“But…” Catherine looked between you and Wilde. Your eyes were raking over her, again and again, like you were looking for something.

“It was lovely to chat with you,” Wilde said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Go see your mom,” you said, a tight smile on your face that didn’t reach your eyes. “Stick close with her, OK?”

“OK,” she said cautiously, watching you for a moment before going to the secretary and doing as she was told.

You watched Catherine and the secretary leave, waiting until you heard the outer office door close before turning your attention back to Wilde.

“That was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” He asked, coming around his desk and standing close enough to you that it made Joel stiffen. “You know if you want to see me all you have to do is ask.”

“You and I both know that I want absolutely nothing to do with you,” you snapped, your voice so much sharper than Joel was used to hearing it when you spoke to anyone else. Even when you were harsh with him, there was an undercurrent of your typical teasing edge to it or, at least, hurt. This was hateful, pure vitriol, and it felt earned.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all,” he smirked. “Why else would you come bursting in here?”

“Because I am not about to let you sink your fangs into that little girl,” you said through gritted teeth, eyes flashing.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” you said. “You know exactly what I mean. I know exactly who you are, Henry. I know exactly what you do and you will not do it to that girl, do you understand me?”

“I think you forget which of us is in charge here,” he said, his face shifting. He wasn’t amused anymore, he was angry. Joel stiffened. “Maybe you need a reminder but I fucking own you, sweetheart.”

“Not anymore you don’t,” you said, holding your ground.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “You’d be nothing without me and I could fucking bury you without even trying…”

“Could you?” You cut him off. “Because I remember you trying that before and here I am, the most bankable fucking star in this goddamn town. You think I’d just disappear quietly? That you can intimidate me? I’m not a kid you can push around anymore, Henry, I’m not a fucking Barbie you can play dress up with I’m an entire goddamn industry and I will burn you to the fucking ground if you lay a finger on that girl.”

“You couldn’t shove me out before,” he sneered. “Do you really think you could do it now? Some stupid girl who’s barely got a fucking high school diploma and you think you can push me around? I could buy and sell you 100 times over, sweetheart, and…”

“And no one outside this fucking city knows your name,” you said, chin out. “Go after her and I will eviscerate you in the press, I’ll spill all your dirtiest little secrets.”

“And take yourself down with me?” He asked, brows raised. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s that they say about a woman scorned?” You asked. “Don’t try me, Henry. The entire world cares what I have to say. Do you think they give a shit about some old man who sits behind a desk?”

He just narrowed his eyes at you and you smirked.

“That’s what I thought,” you said. “She’s under my protection, understood? You will stay the fuck away from her or you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go. And I hear about you taking your little one on one meetings with other girls? I will burn you down.”

You turned to leave but Wilde grabbed your arm, yanking you back hard enough that it made you stumble and something inside Joel snapped.

He moved quickly, putting his body between you and the other man. Wilde’s eyes went wide and Joel grabbed his arm, wrenching it away from yours before shoving him back.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel growled, pressing in closer to the man, forcing him to back up until he was pressed against the window.

He watched Wilde’s expression shift from shock to righteous indignation.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, son,” he said. “I recommend you step back and let your client and myself handle this.”

“You put a hand on her,” Joel said, the strangely foreign yet familiar heat of rage roiling beneath his skin. He had to fight to not put this fucker through the window. “My job to take that hand off. Whether it’s just off her or off you, too, is your choice.”

“I pay your fucking salary,” he tried to shove Joel and failed, his hands all but bouncing off Joel’s chest in a way that would be comical if Joel wasn’t so ready to put him in the ground. Joel shoved his arm into Wilde’s throat, pinning him to the window.

“Pretty sure it ain’t your name on my goddamn check,” Joel said. “And even if it were, I’m paid to keep her safe from threats. You’re a threat. Try that shit again and you’ll see just why I got the job I do.”

Joel stepped back, letting the other man stumble forward before he turned to look at you.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded once, your hand covering your elbow where Wilde’s hand had just been. “Good. You done here?”

“Yeah,” you said, looking at Wilde as he straightened his blazer. “I’m done.”

Joel just gave you a nod and he put his hand on the small of your back as you headed back toward the lobby.

The second you were out the door, your breathing picked up, panicked and trembling.

“You’re OK,” Joel said quietly, guiding you quickly for the elevator and looking back over his shoulder to make sure Wilde wasn’t following. “Just keep moving, I’ve got you.”

You nodded quickly and Joel pushed the call button, thankful the elevator doors opened almost immediately. He ushered you inside and pushed the button for the ground floor but, as soon as it started to move he pulled the emergency stop and turned to face you, your eyes wide, hands trembling.

“What…” your voice trailed off, breaths still coming in scared little pants.

“Think you’re having a panic attack,” Joel said. “Or somethin’ like it, anyway. Bought us some time so none of those assholes see it happening, just take a deep breath for me Siren, alright?”

You nodded quickly and closed your eyes, taking a shuddering but deep breath.

“There you go,” he said gently. “You’re doing good baby, hold that for a second.”

You nodded, clenching your eyes shut tighter but obeying all the same. Joel counted for a few seconds.

��Alright, let it out nice and slow,” he said. “Focus on it, get all the air out.”

You obeyed, not shaking quite as badly now.

“Good,” he said when you finished. “Again, in, deep and slow.”

He guided you through it a few more times until your trembling stilled and your eyes opened again, looking at him all open and honest.

“You OK?” He asked, reaching out and cupping your cheek before he could stop himself. You nodded into his palm. “Ready to see other people?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath again. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You got any other meetings today?” Joel asked gently.

“Um,” you closed your eyes for a moment, brows knitting together in concentration before you opened them again. “Just Quinn and Leo but…”

“Think they’ll let you cancel?” Joel asked. His hand was still on your skin and his heart was racing. “So we can get you home?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, Quinn will understand, she… she knows.”

“OK,” Joel said. He knew he should take his hand back but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Your eyes stayed locked on his and he felt a pull at the root of him, a drive to bring your body against his own and press his lips to yours. He tried to shake that feeling as you leaned into him but he couldn’t, he just forced himself to stand stock still as you moved to be against him, your face tucking below his chin and burying in his shirt. He moved slowly, cautiously, to hold you, your body warm and soft against him. Joel cradled you there, focusing on you, trying to ignore the feeling that you weren’t quite close enough.

After what felt like no time at all you stepped back, giving your head a small shake and taking another deep breath.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, staring at his chest instead of really looking at him. “You didn’t have to do that and… thank you.”

“Sure,” Joel said gruffly before reaching around you to start the elevator again.

By the time the two of you reached the ground floor, you looked like yourself again, a sense of power in you when the doors slid open. Quinn was waiting for you, looking you up and down.

“All good?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Catherine make it down OK?”

“Yeah,” Quinn nodded. “We’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“Good,” you said. “Are they still here?”

“No,” Quinn said. “I sent them home…”

“What did you say?” You frowned, brows drawing together.

“Nothing extreme,” Quinn said quickly, her eyes darting to Joel. “I told Margie to never let Catherine take a meeting alone, ever. She’s talented, there are a lot of people who might want to not give her what’s she’s due, she needs to have representation.”

“Good,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “OK. If it’s alright with you, can we push our…”

“Of course,” Quinn said quickly. “I’ll talk to Leo. You get home, take a hot bath, just… take it easy. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah,” you smiled tightly at her before pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

You were silent on the drive home, staring determinedly out the window, your hand over your mouth the entire way, the presence of the driver forcing him to bite his tongue. When you got there, you didn’t wait for Joel to come around and open your door, instead jumping out the second the car stopped and, normally, he’d yell at you for that. It was reckless and stupid and your total lack of care for your own safety drove him insane but, this time, he just followed after you.

“Hey,” he said gently once you were both inside.

“Thanks for your help, Joel,” you said, rushing past him you toward your room. “I appreciate it.”

He sighed, watching you leave, wishing there was something he could do to help you even if he didn’t fully understand what he wanted to help you with.

But he couldn’t bring himself to hide in his room the way he so often did where you were involved. Instead, he hovered in the main part of the house, hoping that you’d come out.

He tried to tell himself it was because he needed to know if you were alright for professional purposes. The convention was tomorrow. If you weren’t going, he’d need to know. If you were, he’d need to know how likely it was that you’d do something reckless, whether or not you’d remember emergency procedure, if you would pay close enough attention to know when something odd happened. That was an acceptable reason for his concern. Not that he could admit the real one even to himself.

It was late when he started debating stretching out on the couch so he would hear you if you got up in the night when you appeared, in an oversized robe and bare feet and you startled then when you saw him. There was something keenly vulnerable about you like this, an odd intimacy in your dewy skin and open expression.

“Joel,” you said quietly, your hand covering your heart. “Sorry, I…”

“You really apologizing for being in your own house?” He asked, brows raised.

You smiled a little and laughed once.

“I guess so,” you said, crossing your arms, looking a little more like yourself when you did. “You’re up late.”

He shrugged.

“So are you.”

“Yeah, well…” you looked down at your feet for a moment. “I was going to eat something…”

“It alright if I join you?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Of course,” you said, meeting his eyes and giving him a tight smile.

He trailed behind you to the kitchen and worked silently alongside you, taking your unspoken direction as you pulled deli meat and cheese and vegetables out of the fridge, piling them on the counter. He even followed you to the pantry, where you got out bread and chips and then froze, a bag dangling from your hand. You were staring at your Oscar where it still sat from the last time you were in town, tucked away at the back of a shelf.

“C’mon,” Joel said, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder and you let him guide you back to the counter.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye as you made a sandwich, almost overly focused on the process of spreading mustard on bread and layering it with turkey and lettuce and sliced tomato. When you were done, you put some carrots on your plate, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat at the bar. But you just stared down at your plate more than anything else, pushing a carrot from side to side and watching it roll. Joel finished making his sandwich and sat beside you. He took a bite - more out of pretense than anything else - before finally looking at you.

“Wanna talk about it,” he said more than asked.

“Not especially,” you replied, pushing the carrot again, watching it wobble on the china.

He was quiet for a moment.

“Meant what I said when I told you I’d protect you, even from him,” Joel said eventually.

You stared at the plate.

“I know,” you said.

“Helps when I know what I’m protecting you from,” he said.

You looked at him then, with that sharp and exacting gaze of yours, like you were seeing through everything to the core of him. All the walls that had built up after the loss of his child, all the protection he’d put into place the first time he met you, all of it meant nothing now.

You looked down at your plate again, your hands drawing into tight fists, the flesh straining over the bone of your knuckles.

“Everything they say about me is true,” you said, your voice thick.

Joel frowned.

“What do…”

“That I fucked my way to the top,” you said. “That I wouldn’t be where I was if I didn’t spread my fucking legs, it’s all true.”

Joel was silent, his jaw clenched tight and you laughed bitterly.

“It’s not because I wanted to,” you said, still staring at your food. “You can judge me all you want, I don’t care, but I didn’t have much choice. I owed a lot of people a lot of money and the only way I could get the job that would pay me enough to take care of it was…”

Your voice trailed off and Joel frowned.

“Owed…” he paused. “Do you mean when… when you were a kid, when your mother…”

“Yeah,” you said, clenching your fist tighter, and Joel’s stomach turned. You finally looked at him then, your eyes wide, a desperate, pleading edge to them. “I made a trade. I did what I had to do. But I know what it’s like to be a teenaged girl in a world full of men and I know what it’s like when the only bargaining chip you have is between your thighs and I know what it’s like to be backed into a fucking corner by Henry fucking Wilde and I will not let that happen to that girl, I don’t care if it’s the last thing I fucking do.”

“Did you tell anybody?” Joel asked weakly, searching your face.

“Who was there to tell?” You asked, brows raised. “I didn’t even fully understand what happened until years later, after we dated because I was stupid enough to pretend like there was something romantic about it. I kept telling myself that he must have really loved me to have wanted me then. But really all he wanted was someone young, someone he could control and when I stopped letting him control me after the Oscars… When we broke up I very famously fucked half of Hollywood while I got dropped by my manager and my agent and no one would touch me with a 10-foot-pole because he controlled all of it, they all answered to him. It would have been my word against his, the impulsive, entitled starlet crashing out because her powerful boyfriend broke up with her. No one would have believed me.

“If it wasn’t for Quinn just getting started and clawing her way up from nothing and desperate to take on a client, I never would have worked again. No one would represent me, no one wanted to work with me. She got me Siren and I took a lot of shit on that fucking job but it was a job. It helped me stay relevant while everything else blew over. It’s not like I could do anything else because Henry was right about that, too. It’s not like I went to college, the degree I have barely even counts as a high school diploma. I’m not sure I could have gotten a job at McDonalds back then. This is all I know how to do.”

You looked back at your plate and took a deep, shaky breath.

“I hate that I put Catherine in his orbit. I hate that he’s on this fucking movie,” you said softly. “I hate having to answer to him again. I have a lot more power now than I did before but… He’s right. He owns me.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Joel said and you looked at him. “He can want to all he damn well pleases but that don’t make it true. May not have known you very long but I know this much about you: No one owns you but you.”

You laughed a little and sighed.

“He must have something on me that I’m forgetting about,” you said. “Something in his back pocket that he’s ready to make public and burn me down. I don’t think he will now that he’s producing Savage Starlight - at least not right this minute - but just the thought that he’s sitting there, ready to destroy my life…”

Joel shrugged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he said. You frowned at him. “It’d be shit but you’d have Ellie and Elise and…” He trailed off. “You’d have the shit that matters is what I’m saying. And if that fucker ever touches you again, I’m gonna put him on his ass.”

You smiled, laughing darkly, before sighing and leaning into him, catching him off guard. You were between his legs, your head nuzzled into his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on his throat. He swallowed, a knot in his throat, and put his arms around you.

“I think you were brave for doin’ what you did,” he said quietly. “Catherine… she’s lucky she has you. I’m sorry you didn’t have that when you were her age. You deserved better than you got.”

“Thanks,” you said softly. “That… that means a lot.”

He held you like that for a while before you sat up from him, taking a drink of your water, and Joel watched for a moment as you took a bite of your sandwich before he, eventually, ate alongside you in silence. When you were done, you went to put your dish in the dishwasher but he stopped you.

“I got it,” he said and you frowned. “You had a shit day. I can… S’fine.”

“Thanks,” you smiled tightly at him. “I… Thanks for not… Thanks for treating me like a person about it. Not everyone would.”

He just nodded slowly.

“Course. See you in the morning, Siren.”

“See you in the morning, Big Miller.”

He watched you go and sat there on his own in silence, trying not to linger on what you’d told him. He cleaned up your kitchen and, before going to his room, he went to the pantry and picked up your Oscar. He had to do something to take care of you, he couldn’t help it. The trophy was heavy in his hand and he carried it to his room, tucking it at the back of the closet where he could protect you from having to see it again.

A/N: Joel and Siren are getting closer! If Joel's not careful he's going to realize that she's a real person he's got feelings for and not some ethereal being who is so far out of reach she may as well be an alien and who KNOWS what'll happen then 👀

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying reading these two as much as I've enjoyed writing them.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel @missladym1981 @mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent @secretlyangelic @pedrobae @scarletsloveletter @phry-k @sunnytuliptime

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #tsats #the savage and the sanctuary #bodyguard!joel #bodyguard au

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hazbinshusk · 2 days ago

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overlord!husk x bunny!reader x transmasc!partner. when you stumble into the private bar of a certain casino-owning overlord, you find him charmed rather than irritated by your presence. when he propositions you and you tell him that you have a boyfriend, husk isn't daunted. he's intrigued.

so happy and flattered to have been asked to write this smutfic for @mckeeks by their absolutely wonderful partner @top-shelf-tender for valentine's day. this is my first time writing a threesome fic featuring a non-canon character alongside the reader, and it was so much fun to do! happy valentines to the both of you, my loves!

featuring: smut, husk is kind of sleazy, oral sex, vaginal sex, threesome, thigh-riding. partner is unnamed and transmasc, and hell is gender-affirming because I say so, so they have markings where their top-surgery scars would be and both sets of genitalia. again, because I say so.

The Overlord notices you before you do him, but his attention still leaves goosebumps prickling against the back of your neck in a way that has nothing to do with the way the cool breeze of the air conditioning caresses the bare skin of your arms, your thighs. You’ve wandered into one of the more secluded areas of the casino, the sounds of tumbling slots and excited players muffled and replaced by the soft, playful chords of jazz music and the muted conversations of the few sinners around you. The spicy-sweet scent of cigar smoke tickles at your delicate nose as you order a drink from one of the imp waitresses. Confusion wrinkles your brow for a moment as she hesitates, glancing over your shoulder for a few seconds before nodding and heading to the bar.

Despite the pause you still get your drink, and you find a seat at an isolate table towards the side of the room. The boozy mix of maraschino cherry and gin is cool and fresh against your tongue, the alcohol joining the previous drinks already muddling the edges of your mind. There’s this buzzing in your skin; an awareness that doesn’t seem to be dulled at all by the alcohol, those instincts that seem to have come hand in hand with your sinner form keeping a wariness itching inside you.

It doesn’t seem to unsettle you though… instead there’s a warmth that curls in your stomach and up against the small of your back. So, when a tall, silver-furred hellhound approaches your table, you don’t feel all that surprised.

“Stand up,” he tells you gruffly. “The boss wants you at his table.”

You blink, an ear twitching as you set your glass on the table in front of you. “The—”

“Let’s go.”

Shit.

You almost stumble over your heels as you do as your told, the chair legs catching briefly on the carpet. Your face warms with nerves as you realise what you’ve done.

You’ve managed to walk yourself right into the private lounge of the gambling overlord himself.

Following obediently after the hound to the opposite corner of the room, you run your palms over the skirt of your dress, nervously smoothing away non-existent wrinkles in the sparkling fabric. The bar is dimly lit and the glow of the overlord’s eyes is the first thing you notice as they watch you, half-lidded, as you cross the bar to his table. The demon takes a long drag of his cigar as the hound pulls out a seat and guides you into it with a genial hand against the middle of your back. The smoke curls around the overlord’s features as he studies you with a weighted gaze that seems to heat your very core.

“You’re new.”

You open your mouth, close it again as you fail to find your reply. His voice is rough but melodic, a hypnotic blend of torn velvet and warm honey that makes you shiver. When you don’t respond, his smile curves wider with amusement, his claws sounding a quiet tink against the crystal of his whiskey glass as he picks it up. He takes a sip, unbothered by the burn of it, before he continues.

“I’d remember you.”

You swallow as the heat doubles in your cheeks, and you finally find your voice again. It quavers slightly, and you twist your fingers together in your lap beneath the table. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this was your private… area.”

“The security outside didn’t tip you off?” he asks with a raised, red brow. Off your look, his smirk widens, and he turns his head to address the hound now standing beside him casually. “Roscoe, remind me to give Dex a bonus. He always has the best taste.”

The silver hound – Roscoe – nods, hands tucked behind his back. “Yes, sir.”

The exchange makes you shiver; a fly, served up to a spider in its web.

“I should go,” you offer, your tone deferential, polite. “I was just looking for somewhere quiet, and—”

“In a casino?” the Overlord seems entertained by your explanation. He raises a hand, and moments later another drink is set on the table in front of you. His whiskey is replaced, too.

“I never said it was logical,” you defend yourself, waving a hand pointedly up at one of your ears, the one that bends down against your hair, the tip of it brushing your forehead like bangs. “They’re kinda sensitive.”

He chuckles, and the sound of it almost feels as though it pulses into you. “I bet they are…”

You press your thighs together under the table, feel the cold wet of condensation against your fingers.

The Overlord leans forward on the table, his wings shifting, spreading slightly behind him imposingly. “Your luck turn on you, doll?”

You shake your head, fidgeting with the stem of your cocktail glass. You take a sip, hoping the booze will banish the tension you feel tightening almost addictively in your stomach. “I’m not actually much for games of chance.”

The words slip out before you consider them, and you bite your lip. The cat demon’s smirk only widens though, and his eyes watch your nose twitch almost predatorily. “Smart girl.”

You breathe a soft laugh despite yourself, and for a brief moment, you think maybe his pupils actually widen at the sound. “It’s not really about being smart, I just… how lucky can I be if I’m in Hell?”

The Overlord snickers, letting his gaze travel down over you for a moment, every inch of you warming under his glowing gaze. He takes a long drag from his cigar, eyes returning to yours, and when he speaks his voice comes huskily, a tone low enough for just you to hear. “Ever thought about tryin’ to make your own luck?”

Something in his question makes you bold, and you finish your drink, lick the sweet liquor from your lips with the tip of your tongue. “And how do I do that?”

He swallows the last of his whiskey, waving away the bottle immediately offered by a nearby imp. Instead, he gestures to the hellhound, standing up and rounding the table towards you. “Find Roscoe here, later. He’ll show you to my private suite.”

The suggestion in his voice is enough to make your breath catch. Excitement rises unbidden inside you at the suggestion, the promise in his voice. “I…” you clear your throat, remembering yourself. “I have a boyfriend.”

The Overlord smirks, smoke curling around his muzzle as he leans down to speak in your ear.

“Bring him.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everything between telling your partner about the offer you’d been made and you now kneeling on the Overlord’s plush carpet floor was a blur. You’d mentioned it teasingly, a joke that the two of you could laugh about as a what-could-have-been anytime you passed by the Lucky Hearts Casino, even as your face had flushed with the pink of arousal, of possibility. And now that pink burns in your cheeks again as you watch the Overlord light a fresh cigar, considering the two of you with bright, hungry eyes. He smirks when his eyes fall to where your fingers are laced with your partner’s between you.

“Oh, sweet girl…” he croons, relaxing back into the soft fabric of the armchair he’s reclining in. His tail twitches back and forth slowly, and his tongue slips out to lick slowly against the side of his muzzle. “Don’t you two jus’ make up the prettiest pair of playthings?”

You swear you can feel your partner’s pulse drumming against your fingers, their anxiety, their excitement mirroring your own. The Overlord had welcomed the two of you into his suite with a knowing, cocky smirk, and the burn of the drinks he’d plied the two of you with still burned a little against your parted lips. The demon exhales a trail of smoke towards the ceiling before he leans forward in his seat to bring his face level with yours. He takes your face in one paws, claws digging into your cheeks as he tilts your face back. His smirk widens as he holds your gaze for a moment as though he’s considering you, and then his mouth is on yours.

His kiss is warm and rough and intoxicatingly demanding, tasting of whiskey and smoke and something you’re sure is just him – his tongue slides against yours, surprising you with its rough texture, and your hand tightens in your partner’s as you whine into the Overlord’s mouth. His fangs catch briefly on your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you whimper. He holds your gaze long enough to catch your reaction, see the way you lean forward instinctively to chase his lips, before he moves to kiss your partner too.

You watch the two of them like you’re suddenly starving for the way they look together, a thrill curling through you as your boyfriend leans up into the embrace, as you catch glimpses of their tongues meeting. The Overlord’s claws are curled around his throat, the point of his thumb claw digging tauntingly into his raised chin. Your partner dares to raise a hand to cup the Overlord’s cheek, and the cat chuckles into the kiss before he finally pulls away.

“Mmmm…” he hums almost thoughtfully as he settles back in his chair, pleased, and takes another drag from his cigar. The claws of his other hands trail over his thigh idly, as though he isn’t fully aware of it, and they linger over the fastening of his pants. “Y’know, guests really should make a point of thankin’ their host.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You lick slowly up along the length of the Overlord’s hard cock, the barbs tickling along the flat of your tongue. Your fingers curl in the soft fabric of his trousers, tugging them further open, baring more of him to the two of you. You can’t help but moan as you feel your boyfriend’s tongue meet yours, curling around the other side of the cat demon’s cock as he mirrors your moments. The Overlord groans, head falling back as the two of you tease the head of him.

The sound turns to a heady chuckle as he watches the two of you kiss, your fingers curling around the base of his cock and pumping him slowly. You’re straddling your partner’s thigh, and you can’t help but gasp into his mouth as you grind down against it, matching the pace of your hips with the pace of your hand. You can feel his familiar smile against your lips, feel him bite teasingly at your lip as he mumbles, “That’s my eager girl…”

He kisses you again before he swirls his tongue around the Overlord’s cock and sinks his mouth down onto it, taking it in until he gags.

“Fuck…” The Overlord moans, wrapping a fistful of hair in his claws and tilting your head back. He tugs it harder when your hip still, pulling a gasp from your lips at the sudden flash of pain. “Did I say stop, doll?”

You shake your head, rolling your hips against your partner’s thigh obediently. You clutch at the Overlord’s thigh, your partner’s shoulder, feel the claws leave your hair to skim down over the side of your face. They trail over your shoulder, bare except for the strap of your bra, and one claw catches under it, dragging it down to your arm.

“Give daddy a show, baby.”

You hold his gaze as you unhook your bra, slipping the flimsy lace from your arms and tossing it aside. You can feel your partner’s eyes burning into you too as you run your hands over your chest, squeezing the soft, giving swell of your breasts. You nipples harden under your touch, sparks of pleasure with each flick of your fingers. The feathered end of the Overlord’s tail tickles over the small of your back, the curve of your ass, and you hold his gaze as you bring your mouth back to his cock.

The two of you make out almost sloppily, tongues and lips teasing over the demon’s cock. He thrusts up into your mouths, claws in your hair and your partner’s, and you take turns deep-throating him until you’re both gasping for breath, drool hanging in a thread from your lips. Your partner catches your cheek in his hand, wipes the saliva away with his thumb before he kisses you again. You practically melt into it, light-headed and breathless.

“I’d say the two of you might be the most wholesome little creatures in Hell if I ain’t just witnessed all that,” the Overlord smirks, stroking himself a few times before he pushes himself up to stand. He gives you both a dark, cocky smirk, reaching up with one paw to undo the buttons still fastened around his throat. His other hand comes down to stroke your partner’s cheek, and the sinner leans into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. “On the bed, the both of you. Now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You shiver as you feel the soft, soft fur of the Overlord’s chest press against your bare back, his claws claiming your hips. He has you kneeling on the bed in front of him, and you can feel the firm line of his erection pressing against the cleft of your ass. You push your hips back against it and he groans a quiet laugh in your ear, squeezing your hips and brushing a biting kiss to the curve of your throat.

“Easy, doll,” he tells you, tail tickling at your ankle. “We’ve got time for that yet, don’t we?”

“Do we?”

He breathes another laugh, rewarding your teasing with a kiss to your jaw. You whimper the barest breath of a moan in response, pushing your hips back into his again needily. He watches your partner over your shoulder, directing his next words to him. “She always this… enthusiastic?”

Your boyfriend is laid out on the bed before you, their legs parted as you slowly circle his clit with your fingers the way Husk had murmured in your ear. Their chest heaves with every laboured breath, a crease between their brow as you work them slowly undone. He nods, a breathless smile softening his features in a way that makes your heart flutter against your ribs. You want to bend down to kiss him, to catch his lips with yours and taste the quiet moan that escapes him, but the Overlord’s paws keep you anchored against him. When you dip your fingers into him and then raise your hand to trail your slick fingers along the line of his cock, he bucks up into your hand.

“Yes…” he sighs, eyes rolling back for a moment. He reaches down blindly, fingertips just managing to graze your thigh. “I fucking love it…”

Husk snickers, touching a claw to your chin and turning your face towards his. His voice is low and rough with desire. “So do I.”

He kisses you deeply, claws making you shiver as they tease over the soft flesh of your stomach, down to whisper over your inner thighs. One paw moves back up your body to squeeze your breast, curl around your throat, and your breath catches against his palm.

“Now, pet.” he tells you, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “You’re gonna be a good girl, and sit on his face, yeah?”

He relaxes his paw just long enough for you to nod, to breathe out an eager, “Yes…”

“And you’re gonna watch me make myself at home right there, right where those clever little fingers of yours are now.”

Again, he flexes his grip on your throat, and you partner moans again as you flick your fingers back over his clit. “Yes, sir…”

The cat’s smirk widens at that, his other paw slipping a little further up between your thighs. You know he can feel just how wet you are as his fingers graze the thin fabric of your underwear, and you ache with the need to feel something inside you.

“And you’re gonna show your boy here just how much you appreciate how he feels between these sinful thighs of yours by tellin’ me what to do.” he releases your throat just to press a kiss to it, the rough barbs of his tongue sliding against the sensitive flesh there. “Sound like somethin’ you can handle, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” you move your head in an attempt to catch his lips with yours, but he pulls away.

“Be a good girl, now,” he says, running his claws up the back of your thigh to squeeze the soft cottontail at the base of your spine. It makes you jump, your nose twitching. “And do as you’re told.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Your back arches with the force of your moan as you feel your partner’s tongue press deep into you, his fingers playing almost too lazily with your clit. He echoes the sound, muffled by your thighs, as the Overlord laps his tongue up from his hole to the head of his cock. The demon is laid out on his stomach between his thighs, wings quivering as he grinds his own erection against the sheets. His tail waves behind him, his claws wrapped firmly around your partner’s thighs, forcing them to stay open to him.

“Fuck, right there…” you breathe, honestly unsure of which man you’re talking to. You lean forward, bracing your hands against your boyfriend’s chest so you can grind down against his mouth. He groans headily into your cunt as you trace your fingers lovingly over the markings that line the curve of his pectorals, your thumbs flicking over his nipples. “Right there, baby, fuck…”

The Overlord’s ears flick towards the two of you greedily, drinking in every little sound you make. An almost desperate urge to run your fingers through the soft fur between them overtakes you, and without thinking, you lean forward to do so. The gambler stiffens the moment he feels you fingertips graze his fur, but at the ridiculous softness of that hair draws you in and you sink your fingers into the thick fur. And when your nails graze along his scalp, the big bad Overlord does the most endearing thing you could possibly imagine –

He purrs.

The sound is a rough, chainsaw rumble that seems to vibrate into the very mattress beneath him, and your partner’ moans loudly into you, arching up under the Overlord’s mouth. The cat meets your eye, gaze aglow with arousal and need and what you swear is a warning not to say a fucking word about what you’re hearing, but still he arches his back in that gorgeous, fluid way only cats can seem to manage when you move your fingers lower to scratch at the base of his neck and between his shoulders.

“That’s it, sir…” you murmur, voice catching as your partner’s fingers quicken on your clit. You fuck yourself needily on their tongue, stroking your fingers through the Overlord’s fur. He has a paw fisted around the base of your boyfriend’s cock, his tongue on their clit. “That’s it, a little… faster… fuuuh—”

Your eyes roll back as your partner mirror’s the Overlord, fucking you on their tongue in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s thrusting his hips as best he can to press his cock further into the cat demon’s paw, the higher pitch to their muffled sound betraying just how close he is.

“Keep—fuck, keep going, I—” you feel your partner’s hand tighten on your thighs as you buck against his mouth, holding you in place over his tongue. The Overlord groans, that purr still rolling through his throat, and you choke out praise as you watch your partner’s body tense so hard his hips rise off the mattress. You’re so fucking close. “Good kitty…”

The Overlord jerks away from your partner, glowing eyes snapping to yours. There’s a strained, begging whimper between your legs, and your own orgasm slips out of reach, but you’re trying to fumble for an apology, a question, whatever that expression on the gambler’s face means. Your chest heaves, skin marked with the memory of bites and rough hands.

“Get up,” he tells you, voice rough and reedy and hot. You open your mouth to apologise, worried he’s ending the night there, but instead he says. “Turn around. On your knees.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Oh, God…” you bite back another moan as the Overlord fills your cunt with his cock, fucking you just roughly enough to send a wonderful prickling up along your lower back. Your fingers curl in the sheets beneath you, and you open your eyes when you feel your partner’s hand smooth over your cheek. The touch is soft, gentle, then he’s grasping at a handful of your hair and jerking your head back to meet his eye. The Overlord curses as you tighten around him. “Shit…”

“Fuck, she’s tight…” he growls, claws digging into your hips, your thighs. He releases one to squeeze a handful of your ass appreciatively, withdrawing his cock only to slide the barbs of it up against your slickened clit. He snickers when you whimper. “Ain’t too good at takin’ a hint though, is she?”

Your partner smirks, and there’s love and desire all mixed in with the darkness of his arousal, and he uses his other hand to squeeze your cheeks, urging your mouth open. He hums his approval when you slide your tongue down along the underside of his cock and take it into your mouth. “That’s my girl… fuck…”

The Overlord thrusts into you again, hard enough to force you forward and make you gag on your partner’s cock. He groans, hand flexing in your hair, savouring the softness of your locks even as you suck slowly up along the length of him. Every press of the Overlord’s hips into yours makes you take him further into your mouth; saliva dangles in a thread from your lips as you choke around him.

“Good girl…”

“Such a good girl…”

“Fuck…”

“Feel so fuckin’ good…”

You feel your partner lean forward, hear the sound of the two of them meeting above you, torrid moans and open-mouthed kisses. The Overlord squeezes your tail again, claws sinking into the delicate puff of fur to dig into sensitive flesh. In the same moment you feel fingers pinch your nipple roughly and you moan around the cock in your mouth as you cum. You gag again, and tears wet your cheeks as your partner holds you in place there for a few moments more, fucking themselves into your mouth with a groan. When they release you and you’re gasping, they brush the tears from your cheeks with loving fingers, and you take them back into your mouth the moment you have your breath again.

It’s practically them that is all that holds you up by the time they both approach their release, your arms and thighs shaking as you cum again. Your legs are slick with cum, drool dripping onto the back of your hand, an ache in your jaw, and one in your cunt and god, you hope they never go away.

Your partner strokes your ear as he cums, deep into your mouth with a groan of your name. You swallow eagerly, tongue curling around the head of him until he pulls out with a gasping, breathless laugh. He murmurs sweet nothings, cradling your overheated face in his hands until the Overlord cums, too, thrusting hard and deep into you as he growls a ragged curse.

He doesn’t pull out until you stop shaking, sliding the length of his cock up between your thighs a few teasing times before he sits back on his calves.

“Sweet Christ, fuck. That was…�� he watches as you roll over, your head pillowed against your partner’s thigh as you press your own together, still trying to catch your breath. You can feel him run tender fingers through your hair, pulling it gently away from your face. The Overlord runs claws through the fur of his chest, seeming to consider the two of you for a moment before he huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle and shakes his head. “That was fuckin’ something.”

#husk x reader #husk fic #my fic #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel x you #husk hazbin hotel #mckeeks #top-shelf-tender

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trying-out-stuff · 2 days ago

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I’m gonna share the most devastating fic I read today about Talia and Damian post son of the demon.

Shout out to the author they just get it so damn hard 😭

you're my baby (say it to me) by TheJediAreGay

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63094207

It also has a previous fic (that is a sort of sequel to the new one) that I also recommend for Bruce and Damian feels.

Anyway I love this genre of fics with trying to continue on previous storylines that were cut too short or badly continued.

#damian wayne #dc comics #batman #dc #bruce wayne #damian al ghul #talia al ghul #brutalia #son of the demon #but actually I was so devastated reading it #Talia 😭😭#good mom talia #damian wayne al ghul #baby damian wayne #like Talia was so young compared to Bruce in that story and I like how it was acknowledged in this story

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t3acupz · 10 months ago

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🩻🤍💉 Brownham Medwhump May 💉🤍🩻

6. Doctor turned patient

Will usually comes home at around 7 PM to make dinner for both of them but today Matthew wanted to surprise the older man with a home cooked meal. He had been planning it for the past couple of days, and he finally settled on a recipe he felt confident enough to attempt.

Before living with Will, Matthew would get takeout every night from one of the hole-in-the-wall restaurants that littered the street by his apartment. Since moving in a month ago, Will cooked all the meals. During the week he’d make Cajun inspired dishes for dinner, and on the weekends he would bring Matthew with him while he fished. The former orderly would silently sit by the side of the stream, and watch Will cast his line, in awe of the gracefulness of his technique.

After taking a few weeks off, Will decided to go back to teaching to keep his mind occupied on anything other than the incessant Chesapeake Ripper news cycle. He liked working with the FBI trainees, and giving lectures on topics that caused both intrigue and fear in the minds of the young hopefuls.

Earlier in the day, Matthew took Winston on the five mile long run to the closest mom-and-pop grocery store. Will offered Matthew his old, beat up Harley-Davidson that was stored away in his shed but after inspecting it, and deciding that Will was better at restoring boats than motorcycles, Matthew said he’ll just walk. He didn’t mind it, Wolf Trap was scenic and peaceful compared to his old life in Baltimore.

It was 5:30 PM, and the sun was starting to set. Matthew had almost two hours to cook the skillet French onion chicken with baby potatoes. The grocery store didn’t have a great selection of fresh meat or vegetables so he made do with what he could scavenge. He started boiling a large pot of water for the potatoes, and suddenly realized he was surrounded by the whole pack, their tongues drooling over the wooden floor and their tails eagerly smacking his legs in anticipation of any scraps. Matthew watched Will cook all the time, and the dogs would typically lounge by the warm fireplace. He realized how well Will must have trained them but they weren’t interested in taking any orders from the newcomer.

“C’mon pups, let me through.” Matthew chuckled as the dogs didn’t move at all. He resigned to just having to maneuver his way around them, careful not to step on their paws.

He threw the potatoes in the boiling water, and picked up one the onions. How hard could it be, he mused, observing the layers as grabbed one of Will’s kitchen knives. Within seconds of cutting into the onion, Matthew’s eyes started stinging. “Yeah, this is a little annoying,” He said out loud to no one in particular but all the dogs perked up. “And no, none of you are getting any onion scraps.” He glanced down at Buster who was whining right under his feet. “I don’t think dogs can eat them anyway.”

In an instant, the pack started barking, and Max, Will’s burly retriever mutt, bumped into Matthew as he ran after the others to the front door. With his eyes full of tears from the onion, and his feet losing balance, Matthew’s hand slipped, slicing his thumb a half centimeter down into the flesh.

“Hey guys!” Will cheerfully exclaimed as he rubbed the closet canine’s back, coming home more than an hour earlier. “The students had presentations today so I didn’t need to stay late to grade—” He dropped his briefcase on the floor in shock when he finally locked eyes on Matthew bleeding on the floor of the kitchen. Sensing something was off, the dogs became frantic, running back and forth between the entryway and the kitchen.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Matthew grimaced, as he tried and failed to stop the bleeding. “It’s just a little cut.” Will ran over to Matthew, and helped him to a nearby chair.

“Stay here, the first aid kit is in the closet.”

Blood was already pooling by his feet, reminding him of his murder tableau. Prior to now, he hadn’t considered how painful cutting flesh would be until he accidentally did it to himself. Hannibal must’ve really wanted to eat me for what I did to his wrists.

“Are you feeling faint?” Matthew shook his head as Will hastily brought out the isopropyl alcohol. “This will sting a bit.”

Will gently took Matthew’s hand, and slowly started pouring the antiseptic over his left thumb. Matthew shut his eyes, desperate to hide the pain. He didn’t want to inconvenience Will any further but nothing gets past the FBI profiler’s keen empathy.

“Look at me, Matthew.” Will commanded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Muttered the young man, looking away from his thumb in hopes that not seeing it would somehow lessen the pain. “I was trying to surprise you with dinner, and then you came home early, and the dogs got—”

“I should’ve called,” Will cut him off while wrapping Matthew’s hand in a clean towel as he applied deep pressure on the cut. “Have you ever gotten stitches before?”

“On my chin, when I was a kid.” Matthew motioned with his free hand to the thin scar that ran down from his lips to the bottom of his chin. “I don’t remember what the stitching felt like though.” He admitted, wondering if he lacked the memory because the pain was too much for his small body to process at the time.

Will took out the curved needle, and sterile suture thread and sighed. “You’re not going to like this.”

Matthew didn’t want to admit that he was enjoying every minute since Will came home. He loved seeing Will take control, and be the doctor this time. Matthew’s mind began to wander to that night a few weeks ago when he gave Will head. They hadn’t done anything more since then. He worried that Will wanted him to leave but was too anxious to admit it. The thoughts were interrupted by the piercing sting of the needle going in.

“You need to stay absolutely still for this part,” Will said, leaning in close so he can see the flesh wound better. Matthew nodded but he was starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood. Will worked on his thumb, each time the needle went in, Matthew bit his lip. He was sure by now his lip was just as bloody as his thumb. “Almost done, just a little more.” Will assured him.

That was the last thing Matthew remembered before passing out, and falling to the floor.

“Matt! Matt! Wake up!” Will cradled the young man’s limp body in his arms. He felt Matthew’s forehead, a cold sweat had broken out on the younger man’s face. Shit, Will thought as he checked Matthew’s pulse, he must have lost too much blood while being hypoglycemic.

He felt Matthew’s head for any bumps, and carried him to his bed. “Shh!” Will glared at his pack, and they quickly hushed down with tails between their legs, and scurried over to the fireplace.

Will brought a cup of cold water, and a banana with him from the kitchen as Matthew began to stir.

“Will?” He groaned, rubbing his head where he landed on it moments earlier.

“You’re going to be okay, try to sit up and drink some water. I finished your stitches right before you fainted.”

Matthew slumped back in the bed in embarrassment. He ruined dinner, he bled all over the floor, and he forced Will to suture him after a long day of work.

“I’ll pack my things tomorrow morning, and be out of here by noon.” Matthew whispered, taking the cold glass of water.

“What are you talking about?” Will replied in confusion. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head too hard when you landed?”

“Ever since that night, you’ve not touched me again,” He took a small sip and continued. “I’m sure you feel like it’s too awkward to tell me to leave so I’m doing it for you.”

Will lifted Matthew’s chin up with his pointer finger and kissed him. After he felt Matthew’s body relax into him, he broke the kiss, and cupped Matthew’s flushed cheek. “I want you, Matthew Brown.”

Matthew felt the tears well up. “I—” Will kissed him again, this time with tongue.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Will whispered as his lips hovered over Matthew’s. “I’m not good at relationships.” He noticed Matthew’s ears turning redder than he’d ever seen them before.

“You look pretty cute when you’re covered in blood,” Will began lifting Matthew’s bloodied shirt over his head. “But it’s probably better if we get you out of these clothes.” Will threw the shirt on the floor, and pulled down Matthew’s bloodied sweatpants next. He ran a hand down Matthew’s hard abs, and slid it into the younger man’s boxers. Matthew gasped at the sensation, unable to stay sitting up anymore, he fell back on the bed.

Will stroked Matthew’s cock until it was hard and throbbing. “Do I want you?” Will asked playfully as he teased Matthew’s cock with his tongue, feeling him squirm in his grasp.

He gave Matthew a rough jerk that made the young man moan into the pillow. “Answer me.” Will instructed, waiting for Matthew to reply before he continued.

“Yes,” Matthew’s breath hitched as Will took his cock in his mouth, and giving it a long, hard suck.

“Yes what?” Will went up the length of Matthew’s cock with his flat tongue.

“You want me,” Matthew groaned, barely able to stay conscious. The pleasure was building, and he wasn’t too sure if Will thought this through but there was no way in hell he was going to stop what was currently happening.

Will pinched Matthew’s pert nipples, and ran his hands down to the enigmatic tattoos on his ribcage. He continued down to Matthew’s hips, and held him down as he bobbed his head, getting faster in accordance to Matthew’s breathing. Will knew that Matthew was getting close to finishing.

“Come for me,” Will commanded, sending Matthew over the edge. He jerked Matthew’s cock until the cum began to spurt onto his abs, caking them with the white liquid. “You did so good for me,” Will praised him, licking the bit of cum that landed on his fingers.

Will took the blanket and began cleaning Matthew. “Matt?” Will noticed that the young man was limp again. “Shit.”

After a few minutes, Matthew regained consciousness. “Oh god, did I pass out again?!” Matthew yelled, covering his face with his hands. Will nodded in amusement.

“I guess I’m that good, huh?” He teased, peeling the banana as he watched Matthew’s ears turning red again.

“Here, eat this, and I'll finish making dinner.” Will smirked, handing the young man the banana as he got off the bed, and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m sure those potatoes are beyond ready at this point.”

#this is a continuation of the previous fic #because matthew deserves a little reward for being such a good boy #also he can’t cook 🤭#brownham #medwhump may #matthew brown #fic

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setmeatopthepyre · 9 days ago

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Karma

[@118dailydrabble day 60] [part of antarct-fic | bucktommy | 118 words] [same scene as this]

Tommy's not sure he believes in karma.

If anything could convince him, it's this:

The desire to reach out to Evan, to crawl back to him despite the pain he knew would follow, the way he knew he'd be picking shrapnel out of his heart for years to come if he did, had sent him running to the farthest reaches of the earth.

And now, weeks later, he's found that isolation, that remoteness. Doesn't get much more remote than in the belly of a dead helo at the foot of a glacier. The only problem is, he's not alone. Because karma is a bitch and the man he's been running from all this time is right beside him.

#not necessarily a direct continuation of the previous one but same general time-ish?#just a little 'hmm fuck my life' break for tommy while he has a panic attack I suppose #antarct-fic #911 ficlet #118 daily drabble #my writing #my fic #bucktommy ficlet #bucktommy

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nostalgia-tblr · 5 months ago

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who can solve my plot/character problem in the sylki con artists au so that i can continue writing it

#The Problem: AU Loki scams rich people so that I can make (gentle! wholesome!) fun of Fandom Suit Kink Classism #which i'd think would give him a fairly good criminal income?#however the plot requires him to be A Poor and desperate for money enough to take daft risks with these scams #so i need to drain that income continually in some way to leave him hoping that This Next Scam Will Solve All Our Problems Bro #(AU Thor is not convinced and has got himself a job instead)#anyway the obvious drain that suggests itself is a gambling problem but that feels way too serious for this fic #as well as likely impossible to fix in time for the Happy Ending #and so i am kind of stuck at this point #debt incurred by some previous less successful crime? an ironic “he spends it all on suits duh” self-inflicted-by-the-solution problem?#what do people with money do to lose that money?!! halp!!!#fic related #oh the shark has such teeth dear

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themadwomanherself · 7 days ago

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Hi guys.

First of all, why you guys liking my depressing Michikatau story ideas? Do you guys like him being a sad boi?

Well, so do I. So I’m currently working on a new short focusing on Michikatsu’s life from his birth to the death of Yoriichi or his own? Don’t know. Tell me which ending you would like more.

In short; his dad’s an ass, his mom is a living saint, the gods are too invested, and Michi loves his brother so much it hurts.

Baby Michi and baby Yoriichi refusing to part as babies? Yes. Newborn Michi wanting to throw hands with his father for taking Yoriichi away from him? Yes.

Their father beating Michi for wanting his brother? Yes. Michi being mistaken as the younger brother in the corps due to Yoriichi being stronger? Yes. Koku having an absolute mental breakdown after Yoriichi dies? Yes.

I am mean and I have no regrets.

#writing #my post #ao3 fanfic #kny #kimestu no yaiba #demon slayer #michikatsu tsugikuni #yoriichi tsugikuni #kokushibo #why am i like this?#but at the same time I love doing this?#don’t ask cause I can’t give an answer #but I have read a many michikatsu and yoriichi fics #and have gathered a good number of headcanons #I love the idea that the twins were inseparable as babies #and that Michi craves Yoriichi’s warmth #that the Kami have blessed both boys but the blessings are vastly differently #I’ve also seen one writer have it that Michi was born with the demon slayer mark but was much fainter than Yoriichis #and I like it?#Akeno hid it before her husband entered #the authors explanation not mine #anyway #would love to hear thoughts #consider this a sort of companion piece to my previous short #I also have another idea to write their proper encounter after Koku dies #let’s continue to make Michi and a sad boi

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coockie8 · 2 months ago

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The wiki says that Manic is the second born, but Sonic and Sonia have both referred to him as "little brother" in the show with Sonia at one point also calling Sonic "older brother", establishing a chronology for them (Sonic, Sonia, Manic), and I desperately wanna know where the wiki got the information it's using, 'cause it's certainly not from the dialogue in the show.

#Sonic Underground #like I kinda always knew this from previous watches #but I'm rewatching it and yeah this chronology is established #I'm not saying whoever wrote that in the wiki is *wrong* just that I don't know where they got their information #to be fair continuity in this show is like nonexistent lol #also Sonia calling Sonic ''older brother'' is in an AI generated hologram created by Robotnik to trick Knuckles #but I feel like they had to get that information somewhere #like that's a weird thing to just make up and throw out there when they could've just as easily had her just say ''brother''#I feel like adding in ''older'' was intentional to finish establishing the chronology of the triplets #as Sonia and Sonic have both previously referred to Manic as their ''little'' brother #having Sonia refer to Sonic as her ''older'' brother just finishes establishing that he is indeed the oldest and she's the middle child #Regardless the Sonic > Sonia > Manic chronology is the one I go with in headcanons and fics and stuff #it ultimately doesn't *really* matter I just wonder where they got this info

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rking200 · 4 months ago

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It's Sunday! A new chapter has found its way to The Red Room. Check it out to see why Connor acted how he did last chapter <3 Take a peek at @connor-sent-by-cyberlife's wonderful new render, and don't forget to check back later to show their post some love!

The Red Room (60070 words) by rking200 Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Original Chloe | RT600, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Stalking, Vomiting, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Missing Persons, Abduction, Manipulation, Death Threats, Mental Health Issues, Zlatko didn't do it, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Sex at some point Summary: Connor Stern is a law school dropout who dreams of making it big in the music industry. He manages to get into a special apprenticeship program with the musical genius Elijah Kamski and, despite working two jobs and struggling to stay afloat, feels like his dream is finally within his grasp. When Hank Anderson stumbles into the lounge Connor performs at, The Red Room, he becomes entranced with him. As Hank falls in love with Connor's voice, he ends up entangled with conflicting emotions and delicate situations. Slowly, his nights are filled with Connor's songs and his closeness, even if he feels he doesn't deserve it. They reach several roadblocks along the way of getting closer, some more dangerous than others. A collaboration written alongside Connor-sent-by-Cyberlife for the Reverse Big Bang 2024, told with a POV alternating between Hank and Connor. Chapters added weekly.

#hankcon #dbh fic #dbhrbb2024 #chapter update #it feels like it's been two weeks since the last chapter update xD #At the same time it feels like I wrote this chapter just yesterday #which isn't true at all so #i guess my time perception is just skewed #anyway lmao #i hope you all enjoy this chapter!#I feel like the fic really starts picking up from here #Not that I thought the previous chapters were slow #god no #I just think the fic starts ramping up here and continues gaining momentum from here on out #Thanks for joining us on this ride <333

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cels-not-so-secret-love-affair · 4 months ago

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falling to the music pt. 4 (jily)

a/n: we’re back again with jily because i am infested by brainworms. read on for marlene’s introduction, some little glimpses into what’s going on with remus and sirius (they’ll work it out, promise) and jily first kiss(es). p.s: the song the marauders cover is one of the boys by mott the hoople, and it’s a banger.

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Over the next good few days, the two of them text quite a bit. The habit just slips in, alongside her morning coffee and her nighttime skincare routine. James seems to be completely swamped with uni work, but still makes time for her, messaging her on his lunch breaks and phoning her up from the fruit and veg aisle in his beloved big Tesco’s to ask for her professional opinion on what he should prep for lunches that week. He sends her pictures of him brushing his teeth in his pyjamas at five o’clock in the morning, because he’s insane and likes to get up early, and she sends back photos of the sky in the evenings and her second (or third, or twelfth) latte that day. There’s a lot to learn about James. And, unusually in Lily’s experience, he seems to be equally as curious about her. He wants to know her favourite everything - colour, season, tv show, flower, music decade, sport. Then he wants to know why they’re her favourites, which prompts even more questions. It’s never an interrogation, though. He just wants to know.

Four weeks on from that first blinding meeting at the concert, then, and Lily is tucked up soundly in bed watching Criminal Minds on her laptop when a now-familiar notification lights up her bedside table. It’s James again - she can tell by the text tone. It’s different to her usual one. Instead of the normal chirpy sounding ping it’s a guitar riff, because she’s got a fucking crush.

James: hey lils?

Lily: Hi, James.

James: hello!

James: so i was thinking

James: we’re doing another gig soon, right?

James: and it’s a proper nice venue, i’m really excited about it

James: and i was wondering

James: if maybe you’d sort of almost kind of want to come?

James: you’d get all the friend of the band privileges and stuff, so you could turn up early (if you wanted) for soundcheck

James: and we could get you backstage too

James: oh and you could bring some friends if they’d want to come too

James: and everything would be free of course

James: drinks as well

James: idk, i just thought it would be nice to see each other so

James: is that like something you’d be up for?

Lily: Jamie, sweetheart.

Lily: I’ve been trying to send the word ‘yes’ since about six messages ago.

James: oh!

James: okay well yay!!

James: i’ll go grab the details and send them over then?

Lily: That’d be great :)

James: oh my god

Lily: What?

James: you just used a smiley face

Lily: Yeah? What’s wrong?

James: nothings wrong it’s just like

James: lily evans of proper punctuation and capital letters fame just used a smiley face

James: you would not believe how hard i am punching the air rn

James: i’m rubbing off on you ;)

Lily: Maybe so ;)

Lily: You two need to stage an intervention for me.

Marlene: hi lilsss

Marlene: bit extreme

Marlene: what are we supposed to be putting a stop to exactly?

Lily: Heterosexuality.

Marlene: oh okay in which case yes you’re correct and i am totally game

Mary: are we talking about james again x

Mary: lily sweetheart, you’re down bad 💗

Lily: I know, it’s awful.

Lily: However, would the two of you like to go out Friday night?

Marlene: fuck yes

Marlene: life is kicking my arse i need to get DRUNK

Marlene: tell me a time and place and i’m there

Mary: i’m free! x

Lily: Perfect!

Mary: where are we going? x

Lily: Right.

Lily: Promise you won’t take the piss.

Marlene: physically impossible, that

Marlene: but carry on

Lily: I may have just invited you to James’ next gig.

Mary: oh babes x

Mary: well at least it’s another chance for me to get a proper look at him

Mary: make sure he’s good enough for you 💋

Marlene: tbf if there’s music and alcohol i’m happy

Marlene: and sure i’m curious about this guy and his band

Marlene: no piss taken on my end

Marlene: this time, we’ll see what i have to say once i’ve actually seen the bloke

Lily: I don’t deserve your kindness.

Friday whips around like a bullet, and before she’s even registered it Lily’s waiting anxiously outside of the venue in the cold, all dolled up and feeling vaguely nauseous. It’s not that she’s worried - Lily Evans is a confident woman, always has been and always will. A man is not about to muck that up for her. But he hasn’t responded to her text saying she’s there yet, and her friends are about to meet him, and it’s only her second fucking time seeing him in person which doesn't feel correct at all but that’s how it is apparently and blimey why is it so cold? But then she can hear a voice she’s most used to hearing over the phone, and suddenly things just seem to quiet.

‘Lily!’, comes James’ delighted cry as he jogs towards her from around the corner. His hair is messy as ever, and his eyes are creased up in that big beaming grin he wears so easily. Stopping in front of her rather breathlessly, he suddenly becomes awkward, hands fidgeting.

‘Sorry, I- I’m just realising we haven’t really, uh, done this… Could I give you a hug? Is that okay?’ Lily laughs, somewhat reassured by his obvious nervousness.

‘Sure, James. I’d like that.’ He pulls her into his arms then, and God she could just melt. He’s got the same cologne on from when they first met which of course means he smells practically edible, and his arms are strong and warm and comforting, and yeah, she could get used to this. But then he’s pulling away, and the cold that she had temporarily forgotten about begins to seep back into her bones with his absence.

‘Will you introduce me to your friends?’

‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Uh, James, this is Mary, Mary, James.’ James offers his hand to Mary, who shakes it and smiles appraisingly. ‘And then this is Marlene.’

‘Nice to meet you, Potter. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Nothing too bad, I hope?’, James laughs, leaning across to greet Marlene too.

‘Well, we’ll see,’ she replies, returning the handshake with a strong grip.

James takes them in through the side door - ‘Alright, Sean? Yeah, these girls are with me, thanks man’ - and through to where the rest of the band are hanging out. Sirius is laying with his head in Remus’ lap (whose long legs are dangling off the edge of the stage), staring idly at the ceiling and speaking softly so that Remus has to lean down to listen to him. They make a complimentary pair, and seem very at ease with each other. Peter meanwhile is sat behind his drum kit texting furiously, but he looks up when he hears them arrive.

‘Hiya James, hiya Lily! Hiya Lily’s friends!’

‘Dezzie still breathing, Wormy?’ Peter looks slightly shy, but nods anyways.

‘Yeah, she’s doing good.’

‘Glad to hear it! Come say hello, won’t you?’

‘Two ticks!’

‘Sorry guys, bloody impolite this lot.’ James smiles ruefully at the girls. ‘Oi Pads, Moons! Get off your arses and talk to our guests!’ At this, Sirius and Remus look up from where they’re sat together in the corner, pulled forcibly out of their conversation and back into the room.

‘Hey, it’s Magdalene!’, Sirius grins, scrambling up quickly and bounding over to them. He winks at Mary as he says hello to her, then turns to Marlene, but is interrupted just as he begins to speak.

‘Lesbian, mate. Don’t try it.’

‘Ah. Duly noted. Nice hair! Now, Mary, darling…’ Remus, looking slightly hurt after having been abandoned, hauls himself up to his feet and comes to greet them too. He introduces himself to Lily and Marlene (since Mary is in the middle of being distracted) and Lily realises with some surprise that it’s the first time she’s hearing him speak. He’s quite quiet, with a singsong sort of accent and nice clear vowels. She shakes his hand warmly and is reminded of her impression of him when he was playing his solo. Then Peter finds it within himself to put his phone away and also joins them in conversation. He’s somewhat awkward, looking to James whenever his voice falters, but Marlene asks him a few questions about the band and he begins to chat quite earnestly. James beams delightedly and leans in to speak in a low voice into Lily’s ear.

‘Your friends are nice.’

‘Yours aren’t half bad.’

‘It’s good to see you, you know. You look lovely.’

‘Thank you, Jamie. It’s good to see you too.’

The venue starts to fill up with the rest of the crowd about a half an hour later, and the girls are front row. It’s really exciting, actually. There’s that sort of pre-concert buzz in the air, the low thrum of anticipation that underscores the chatter and the indie rock music playing faintly in the background whilst people buy drinks. A few girls just behind Lily are scrolling through The Marauders’ Instagram page, the glow of their phones lighting up bright, curious faces in the dimmed room. It’s clear that they don’t really know the band, but as they look through their posts a sort of running commentary starts up. One girl likes Sirius, which of course she does, and speculates rather loudly and inappropriately about the possibility of fucking him. Another protests at this, declaring that James is clearly the hotter of the two - ‘Look at that man in this photo and tell me he isn’t fit as anything!’, she says, passing her phone over and wiggling her eyebrows. Lily smirks quietly to herself. Yes, he’s fit, she thinks. And he wants me. The feeling brings a slight heat up to her cheeks.

Her thoughts are soon interrupted by a round of applause as the boys take their places on stage, Sirius leading them on. There’s a short moment of fidgeting with leads and adjusting guitar straps, before Peter raises his drumsticks in the air and looks to Sirius for his approval. All is quiet. Sirius nods, almost imperceptibly. The sound of the sticks rings out into the hush of the room for four clear counts. Then, all hell breaks loose.

The concert is insane, to put it lightly. By the time it’s over, Lily reckons she’s sweated off about six litres of water, her mascara is slightly smudged underneath her eyes and her feet are killing her. There’s a dull ache in the back of her head that won’t go away and she’s painfully aware of the fact that she’s scheduled a nine am study session with Alice for tomorrow. She wouldn’t change a thing. When the worst of the crowd has dispersed, their excited conversation and loud peals of laughter drifting out of the room, she checks in with Mary and Marlene before beginning to head round to the side door. Both report that they thoroughly enjoyed themselves, with Mary gushing enthusiastically about The Marauders’ cover of ‘One of the Boys’ and Marlene conceding that yes, they were quite good actually. Lily smiles giddily at having earnt her seal of approval, mentally congratulating James for passing the test. It’s cold when they get outside. The night is sweeping and gorgeous as they step out into the street, all bright lights and rushing cars, and there’s a sort of breathless exhilaration in being at the centre of it.

Lily’s just about to knock when the door is pulled quickly open from the other side. The sudden absence of it surprises her, and she loses her balance somewhat, which sends her stumbling forwards a few paces. Stumbling straight into James, as it happens.

‘Hey, steady on, mate- oh. It’s you!’ Lily rights herself quickly, startled, and blinks rapidly at him, the tops of her ears tinged ever so slightly pink. James looks down at her rather fondly and cracks a broad, easy grin.

‘Sorry Lily. I didn’t mean to give you a fright! I thought you’d be, y’know. Further away.’

‘Don’t worry, just a bit… unexpected, is all. You were amazing tonight.’

‘Thank you! I tried to look in your direction as much as I could, but I think I lost track of you towards the end a bit. Did you have a good time?’ He directs the last part to the group, peering over Lily’s head at Mary and Marlene and raising a hand to wave at them good-naturedly. This seems to suddenly make Lily aware of their proximity, as she moves back a bit to join ranks with her friends.

‘Yes, thanks,’ nods Marlene, in response to his question. ‘You guys aren’t half bad.’

‘Cheers, that means a lot.’

‘Will Sirius be coming out?’, Mary inquires. Lily shoots her a look, but she simply shrugs her shoulders and waits unabashedly for a response. James becomes awkward.

‘No, sorry, I don’t think so. He’s a bit, uh… occupied.’

‘He’s snogging Remus,’ yells a disembodied voice from beyond the doorway. It soon reveals itself to be Peter, who claps a hand on James’ shoulder and acknowledges the girls with a quick smile. ‘Quite thoroughly, actually’, he adds, matter-of-factly.

‘Oh. I didn’t know those two were an item,’ says Mary, looking a bit put out. James sighs, and rubs a hand across his forehead.

‘They’re not together, technically, it’s- it’s complicated. Did you really have to rat them out like that, Wormtail?’

‘It’s in the name, Prongsie-boy, it’s in the name.’

‘Yeah, well, anyways. Forget that. How are you ladies getting home? D’you need a lift?’

‘No, thank you, Jamie,’ Lily replies. ‘We can make our own way home just fine.’

‘You sure? I really wouldn’t mind, it would be my pleasure.’

‘The bloke’s offering, Lils. May as well take him up on it - especially if it’s a pleasure,’ presses Marlene, arching an eyebrow and smirking at her in a way that few would consider subtle. Lily pokes her tongue out back, but relents.

‘I mean, it would be useful, so long as you’re absolutely sure it’s no trouble.’

James’ car is nice; the kind of nice where you’re scared of getting in with mud on your shoes and it appears whoever designed it had an intense phobia of colours and non-curved objects. Heated-seats-nice. That bit’s pretty bloody lovely, to be fair. James, however, doesn’t seem to notice that it’s nice, and flops into the driver’s seat without a care in the world, slamming the car door and swivelling round in his seat to grin at the girls.

‘Chauffeur James, at your service. Where are we going?’

They drop off Mary first, since her house is pretty much on the way to Marlene and Lily’s. She thanks James for the ride, says her goodbyes to both her friends and disappears through the front door with a flurry of shouts about meeting up again soon as she blows giggling kisses over her shoulder. James’ eyes crease up amusedly as he watches her go. Then Lily taps her and Marlene’s address into the sat nav, and off they go again, cruising steadily past streetlights and takeaway places. Inside the car is pleasantly warm and the world outside seems to dissolve into a dreamy blur of softened shapes and colours. It’s nicer than public transport, Lily is forced to admit to herself. She watches James’ relaxed manner as he drives, smiles sleepily to herself and enjoys the soft, safe feeling that has begun to cradle her chest. Home comes far too quickly.

‘Here we are,’ James announces rather uselessly to the inhabitants of the house he’s just pulled up in front of. ‘Give me a minute, I’ll come round and open the door for you guys.’ He does as much, and Lily and Marlene get out, forced to sacrifice the warmth of the car for the brisk chill of the night outside it. Lily is distantly aware that this is her cue to say goodbye and go inside. This understanding hasn’t seemed to translate to her limbs just yet though, because she’s making no effort to actually walk towards the door. Marlene looks at her friend, then at James - who’s practically her mirror image opposite her - then sighs in a way that suggests she’s tired of being stuck in the middle of them.

‘I’ll be in my room if you need me, Lils. Have fun… standing.’ Lily blinks, then nods slowly.

‘Sure. I won’t be long.’

‘Yeah, okay. Thank you, James, for the lift and the night out. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again so, until then.’ Marlene waves at him, and departs.

‘So. This is your house. This is where we… part ways for the night, yeah?’ James says once she’s gone. He’s looking at Lily with big eyes like a rather mournful puppy, which is a fairly accurate representation of how she feels about having to say goodbye too.

‘I guess. We can chat for a bit though, can’t we? I know I’ve been watching you on stage all night, but I feel like I haven’t really seen you.’

‘Sure, yes, perfect, love that. Chatting. Hi!’ Lily covers a laugh with her hand and looks down at her feet.

‘Hello, Jamie,’ she replies, composing herself just enough to look him in the eyes again. Her cheeks ache from smiling.

‘You know you’re one of three people in my life to call me that?’

‘Am I really?’

‘Mhmm. It used to be just Sirius and my mum, but now it’s Sirius, my mum and… you. It’s weird.’

‘Should I stop?’

‘No, no, absolutely not. I like it. I like being Jamie to you.’ James’ voice is soft and shy.

‘Okay.’ Lily stares at him again awkwardly, lost for what to say to prolong the conversation but still not wanting to leave just yet. They’re both just smiling at each other quietly like giddy children.

‘Oh, you know what? To hell with it!’, Lily says suddenly. Then, with a business like tone and all in one breath: ‘James Potter, I have had a very nice evening and I think I should like to be kissed goodnight to round it off. Do you feel the same?’ James’ eyes widen a fraction as he processes, then flick to her lips. He takes a step closer, closing the gap that Marlene’s departure created, and brings a gentle hand up to cup her face.

‘Yes. Yes, I think I do,’ he says, before tilting his head and leaning in to kiss her sweetly. It’s a short kiss, tentative and caring, but when they pull apart he’s breathless from nerves. Lily grins at him.

‘Alright there?’

‘Yeah, uh… yeah. Glasses.’

‘What about them?’, asks Lily teasingly.

‘Not very conducive to kissing you properly.’

‘Well, we can’t have that. Kissing me properly is very important. Want me to take them off for you?’

‘Yeah. Yes, please. God, my brain’s gone to mush.’

‘I sometimes have that effect.’ Laughing, she removes James’ glasses, taking care not to poke him, and folds them shut. ‘That better?’

‘Much,’ James affirms, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her into another kiss, this time deeper and more confident. Lily hums with approval, and reaches up to tangle her hands in his hair. Making out with James exceeds expectations, she finds, and a dizzying euphoria takes over her as he walks her backwards so that she’s up against the car. The two of them get lost in each other for a while. They fit easily together, exploring and enjoying each other with pleasant curiosity. James treats her tenderly, going slow and generally following her lead. Lily, for her part, has been thinking about this ever since James first got up on that damned stage, and very much intends to make the most of it. But then he’s hesitating, and breaking away from her, which is bloody unfair because they were just getting started, and he’d better have a good reason for this because all she really wants to do right now is to continue snogging him senseless. She leans back against the cool metal of the car with her arms crossed and peers at him inquiringly.

‘Lils… don’t get me wrong, this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I am absolutely on cloud nine right now… but it’s, uh, it’s late. You told Marlene you wouldn’t be long, and I don’t want her to worry or anything. I’m sorry.’ Lily stares up at him and his sweet, sincere little face and finds herself simultaneously irked and endeared by him. Ugh. Curse him and his gentlemanly ways.

‘Yeah, that is true. God, you’re too nice for your own good. If you didn’t remind me about that we could have fucked in your car.’ James’ mouth falls open with a flustered expression. Lily snorts. ‘It’s fine, you can just dream of me for the time being. Save the sex for another day.’

‘Wow. Um, okay. You know Lily, you don’t make it easy for respectable blokes like me.’

‘That’s ‘cause it’s more fun,’ she giggles cheekily, tapping him on the nose. ‘Right. I’ll be off then. Thank you for my goodnight kiss - or kisses, actually - and text me when you’re home, okay Jamie?’

‘Of course. Goodnight, Lily Evans.’

‘Goodnight.’

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