#vintage hand clutch

[dannais-dde-daneann]

Archive-2022/23: Cool winter outfit in style of 1915-16 Pa-1

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Welcome Home, Rooster Bradshaw.

summary: It's been a long six months away from home for Bradley, and you're going to give him the welcome you both deserve.

a/n: ignore that this gif is from the offer, ok? It fits the vibe.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: masturbation (m), facesitting, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, bradley's a vocal lover, praise kink.

word count: 3k

taglist: @nouis-bum @floydsmuse @mamachasesmayhem @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @fall-winter-heart97 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue

Two more days.

Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space. 

Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left. 

His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze. 

This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time. 

“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk. 

Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated. 

Fuck, he missed you. 

He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan. 

Two days couldn’t come soon enough. 

When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.

With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months. 

Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top. 

B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo

Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.

He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you. 

Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.

When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him. 

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap. 

“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.

“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.” 

Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp. 

“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again. 

“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”

“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.

Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.

“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts. 

“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”

“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits. 

“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”

“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”

“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek. 

Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you. 

“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.

You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself. 

Fuck, he missed you.

He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute. 

“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”

“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley. 

Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months. 

“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”

His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.

“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”

You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.

“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”

“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”

“You want me to…?”

Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”

You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again. 

“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit. 

“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.

Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it. 

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you. 

He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.

Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again. 

Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed. 

“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”

With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan. 

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him. 

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you. 

God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.

Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight. 

“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.

“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.

Fuck.

His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.

“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”

“Welcome home, Rooster. Welcome home.”

[reddesires]

It Wasn't Nothing.

Part 2 of Is It Casual?

Logan howlett x Mutant Reader

Warning: Angst

Fandom: Wolverine/X-Men

A/N: So this was meant to be a 2 part but now it's gonna be a 3rd part story, the 3rd will be the final part, promise 🤞 I tried posting but my draft was deleted so like wtf, Tumblr.

The pounding in your head reverbated against your skull as consciousness took hold of you, it’s steady and relentless rhythm motivating you to finally open your heavy eyelids, your temples throbbed as you tried to observe your surroundings, the bright lights only intensifying the sharp pain all throughout your head.

The voices that hovered over you muffled, your eyes doing little to focus as their figures were blurry shapes that moved too fast for your mind to comprehend.

You can feel yourself being carried in someone’s arms, the movement of their body swift and hurried as they panically try grabbing your attention by speaking down to you but it did little to sway the remnants of darkness that lingered in the corners of your vision. Your head swings backwards, your body limp as you feel the leftover strength leave just as soon as it comes in waves.

The warm liquid on top of your lip causes you to hesitantly touch it, your blurry vision picking up the crimson that stained your fingertips, You feel your heart sink and your chest heaves in panic as you register that something is truly wrong and you don’t remember a single relevant detail from the last few hours.

All that you remember was being in your room before there was nothing, there were gaps in your memory and it made you clutch your head in pain as you tried to think back in attempt of remembering anything at all, your cry of pain causes a chain of reactions of alarm as you felt hands on your body with heightened concern, you can feel yourself being pulled away as you felt the hand of the person holding you place securely touching the side of your head gently pushing your face into the crook of their neck, you can feel the vibration of their rapid pulse on your cheek.

This smell.. Pine, whiskey, and vintage cigars. You would know that smell with pinpoint precision. You grip his shirt in your hand as you whimper from the onslaught of pain grabbing hold of you.

“Logan..” His grip tightens as he sighs in relief of finally hearing your voice, the dread that hung over them all as you screamed and writhed in agony just about gave him a heart attack, he jumped out of his sleep as soon as the first high pitched cry emitted from your room, your screams bouncing off the quiet halls of the mansion, every item lined along the walls knocked down in result of your unstable power.

Now as he looked at you, curled into yourself in agony and the blood dripping from your nose in his arms triggered an innate need to protect you from everything and anything, the protectiveness burning deep in his chest and the throbbing in his head doing little to prevent him from focusing on you as he held you closer to him away from the hands of the worried friends surrounding the both of you, he's in a state of tunnel vision and it's focused only on you.

Storm’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears and Jean hurriedly jogs besides Logan towards the infirmary intent on figuring out what happened within the confines of your room, her hand lightly grazed over your heated forehead before she snaps her hand back as Logan growls in response to the intrusion.

“We need to contain her, Logan. She could accidentally destroy the mansion if another wave disorientates her.” Jean firmly looks at Logan motioning to the table top that he’ll have to place you on, his brows furrowed in frustration and it continues to grow as he mulls over the implication but he finally relents as he regretfully places you down, Jean sighs in relief injecting you with a serum and he watches as your body slowly uncoils and lays limp just moments after the serum settles into your veins.

“Worry not, Logan. She’ll be okay, we’ll find out what happened.” The Professor says as he enters the room, Scott following in behind him, his lips pulled down in a worried frown as his head turns in your direction, his visor doing little to conceal the concerned furrow of his brows. Storm stands in the doorway, her hand gripping the doorsill as her eyes stay stuck on your motionless figure, her face says all as she bites her lip incessantly.

“I'll be monitoring her, I'm going to check her vitals right now. I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything.” Jean says as she hooks you up to a Holter monitor, the steady beep of the machine indicating your steady heartbeat easing the anxiety that hangs heavy in his chest. “The second you do.” He breathes out, his hand wrapped around your wrist gently squeezing before he forces himself to turn and head out the door, the image of the dried blood on your face burned into his mind’s eye.

●○●○●○●○●○●○

Waking was difficult by all means as you felt the strain in your body, the ache and throb of every muscle and you couldn't help but think maybe floating in between the plains of sleep was much better than this hell you're enduring. As you force yourself to lift your upper body, your arms wobbling with the exerted effort, you notice that your head feels a hundred times heavier as you try lifting your head, the corners of your vision blurry but by all means better than before.

The feeling of emptiness hits you like a crushing wave, the quiet much louder to you than you ever experienced before as you lift your hand intending on using your telekinesis on the full water bottle perched on the empty steel table next to you. There was no movement.

Your eyebrows furrow as you strain to move it, the reality of your ability laying dormant sends a strike of panic throughout your body. No, that's impossible..

The sound of the infirmary door opening rips you from your thoughts as you hear the click of Jean's heels on the marble floor, she hurries over to you as her hand gently grabs your shoulder.

“Oh thank goodness, I was so worried you weren't gonna wake.” She sighs as she checks over your face, tilting your head towards the overhead lights to check the current state of your pupils. “Jean..My powers.” You sputter, your voice strained and tinged with anxiety, Jean cups your cheeks as she smiles weakly and shakes her head.

“It's okay. It's just subdued temporarily. Your powers were unstable during the incident.” You sigh in relief, nodding as you slowly sit yourself up, gripping the side of your head as the lightheadedness immerses your senses.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Jean asks slowly, afraid of elevating the rippling headache throughout your head, and it halts your train of thought as you try to piece missing details in your mind. “I remember Logan..We were in the living room talking..then I went to my room, my memory blanks from there..” You mutter, your head feels scrambled, and you wonder if you've been pushing yourself too hard with your abilities, that you’ve miscalculated just how much you can handle.

“Well, I checked your vitals, and they came back positive for the most part.. I think it could've been a concussion that triggered the event, so I suggest you hold back from using your paramnesia for a while.” Jean says as she unhooks you from the Holter monitor. She sighs as she looks to you with a frown, taking over her lips, her hand gripping yours. “Please be careful, don't push yourself too hard.. You should speak to Logan and Storm. They're taking it especially hard, and I'll inform the professor of your status.”

You nod as you weakly squeeze her hand back. She nods in response, slipping a bottle of ibuprofen in your hand. “Just in case of any severe headaches.” Taking the bottle in your hand,you observe the small white capsules.

“Thanks Jean.”

○●○●○●○●○●○●

The mansion was unusually still, like the walls themselves were holding their breath, awaiting for the other shoe to drop and you can’t help but notice how empty you feel from the lack of presence from your powers.

There was no buzz from being in close proximity from others mind and the tingle in your fingertips from your telekinesis had no presence, you were a husk of your former self and though you knew without a doubt that your powers would return to you, you’ve never experienced a moment in your life without them, every trial and tribulation you had your powers has been through every one of them alongside of you.

As you ran your finger along the wall a chill ran up your spine, it was unusually cold like the air was brewing up an unexpected snowfall and as you turned the corner, you found the answer to the unexpected chill that hung in the room.

“Ororo..” Your voice is soft as you look over at the white-haired woman holding her knees to her chest, the open windows blowing in unpredicted snowflakes over her figure. You place your slightly trembling hands on the tops of her knees, the cold wind enveloping your body in a tight grasp as your hair blows back from the gusts flowing in as she looks up at you, she quickly lifts herself onto her knees as she grasps your cheeks into her chilly hands.

“Oh sweetheart, I was so worried!” She pulls you into a hug, you hug her back with just as much vigor as you felt her relief and you can’t help but wonder just how bad you looked from their perspective, did you look like you were dying just as much as you felt you were?

The snow that was blowing in had died down as you heard the song of the birds outside, your eyes trailing over the mess of the room, you're gonna assume that the culprit was you as you looked over the fallen books and picture frames, hopefully the kids didn’t witness your unprecedented state.

“I’m sorry, Stormie.” Your voice is muffled by her shoulder, and she only hugs you tighter. “I knew something was wrong, I should’ve stayed with you.” Her voice is tight with shame and sadness, and you shake your head quickly, pulling back to look her in the eye as you place your hand over her cheek.

“No, it wasn’t anyone's fault, okay? I'm here, I'm okay, Ororo.” She nods briskly, sighing as she looks over you again, a small frown on her lips, her fingers grazing over your temple.

“How's your head?” You smile weakly “I’m much better now, Jean thinks it could've been a concussion.” You show her your bottle of ibuprofen shaking it, the rattling reverberating off the walls in the quiet room. “I've got it covered, so don't worry, Stormie.” She shakes her head, her smile not entirely convincing. “It’s hard not to, I almost died from the stress.”

She gently pets your hair down as she hugs you again, her cheek pressed against yours. “Please try not to do that again, I don't want to lose my best friend.” You nod, your fingers gently holding her arm. “I'll try not to.” She pulls back, her smile just a bit brighter.

“I’m gonna assume you're also gonna talk to Logan.” Her eyes hold a sympathetic glint to them, and your eyebrows furrow as you look down. “Yeah..” She pats your arm. “He's taking it the hardest, Jean told him your results as soon as possible, but he’s locked himself in his room.” You nod as you place your hand over hers. “I’ll speak to him. It’ll be fine.”

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Yeah this doesn't feel fine at all, it felt hard to breath as you stood before his door, your arm glued to your side and it felt like your muscles were too tense to even make the slightest movement. Your temples throbbed and there was a high pitched ringing in your ears that you refrained from acknowledging, the thought of coming face to face with him after what you felt like a near death experience has you rattled for some reason. You know you have nothing to fear.

He was not angry with you by any means, but there was a heaviness in your chest, and your stomach was turning with a nauseated feeling. This was by all means not the norm for you, Logan was your closest friend and confidant, so what was this relentless feeling gnawing at your insides?

Logan is definitely not an easy person to get along with since his short temper and ‘Fuck you’ etiquette tends to throw a lot people off so the friendship between you two was something that was unexpected to everyone else due to your ‘Take no shit’ attitude but other wise pleasant personality totally clashed with his but there was an unspoken understanding between you, the man who preferred action than words and you, the mutant who could do just that.

A duo who worked all too well together.

You unclenched your fingers, stretching them out until the cracks of your fingers satisfied you enough for you to finally work up the courage to knock, there was silence before Logan's rough voice called out from what you assumed was the corner of his room, he was more than likely settled on his arm chair drowning in his whiskey and stuck in a haze of cigar smoke, you can smell it from here.

“I don't feel like talking right now, leave.” You don't even bother answering before opening his door, the natural light streaming through the window doing little to cast away the shadows in the corners of his room. “What did I just say, Bub?” You walk into the room, closing the door behind you, sighing.

“Not even me, Wolvie?” He's up before you can fully turn back to him grabbing you and pulling you into him, you stumble in his grip holding onto his sides to steady yourself, you can hear his heart beating heavy in his chest and his ragged breathing as he presses his face into your hair.

“Aw, you missed me.” You smoothly tease as you place your hands on his strong forearms, you try to look up at him but he has you stuck in place and it seems like he's frozen in a state of shock as he processes that your okay and standing right infront of him, that you weren't in a comatose state lying on a cold infirmary table but here, with him.

“You're a pain in my ass, you know that, right? I thought you were dying in my arms.” He's looking you in the eye as his hand grasps your cheek, forcing you to look back at him. You place your hand on top of his. “It felt like I was.” You say honestly, a weak smile on your lips.

“Why didn't you say anything to me, anything at all before you went to your room? I should've been with you..” He felt as if he could've prevented this situation you both had no idea was going to happen, Logan has always been one to blame himself for things that were out of his control, a trait you two seemed to share.

“We couldn't have known Lo, it's not anyone's fault.” He sighs as he hugs you again, and it's silent as you both take in just how much of a scare this whole situation caused you both. “When I was carrying you, I thought you were going to give out in my arms.. I was praying to God that it not happen, I'd rather everything bad happen to me before you.. never you.”

It broke your heart in a way that you couldn't possibly explain, like a balm was placed over a wound that you never knew about but your mind refused to give answers for what it could possibly mean.

“Logan, I'm so sorry.” The statement gave you pause, the words flowed out of your mouth almost like your subconscious was longing to say those words for so long but the ringing in your ears prevents you from thinking about it more.

“Don't apologize, Kid. I'm just glad you're okay.” You nod, your eyes misty with unshed tears, but you rub your eyes quickly. “You can't get rid of me so easily, ol’ man.” He shakes his head as he pinches your cheek, the distant look in his eyes telling with words unsaid.

“Wasn't planning on it.”

○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Life went back as it before the incident but the others kept a closer on you, they asked you if you were feeling well more often and their eyes followed you as if they were trying to catch even the smallest detail off about you that could entail that another episode was on the horizon but you tried to avoid any confrontation concerning their behavior towards you.

It was hard enough having to accept that you not only may have overworked yourself to the point of accidentally annihilating yourself but the mansion too but you also have to deal with the fact that you worried your friends so much so that they can't seem to shake off the fear of it happening again.

Logan was especially attentive to you even though he tries to play it off, he'll knock on your door using the excuse of bringing you snacks just so he could see that you were okay, if he could have it his way, your door would be open 24/7. He also keeps close to you at all times whether that be on a day trip with the school or on a small mission but you let him since you know he means well and it eases his nerves more than he's willing to admit.

You've been training more with the professor one on one and he seems perplexed by the setback in your paramnesia powers, he thinks maybe the incident may been the cause of it so you two have been taking it slow, the headaches becoming more frequent the more you try to use the full potential of your powers.

You can still use your telekinetic powers with no hindrance so the professor has allowed you on smaller missions and with training in the danger room but now you worry about your bigger mission against The Acolytes that you'll be fighting against soon, you can only hope that your powers will reach their full potential before then.

《 TAGLIST 》

@fandomsunited

@plan3t-plut0

@thewiselionessss

@the-queen-of-sorrows

@nerrivm

Next Part

[waxskies]

first date with the bachelors

~ light 18+ content

Sam

➛ he’d take you to see his favorite band. you’d be surprised to find out (because of how hype Sam was about the concert) it’s a small indie band, and Sam is friends with all of the band members. Sam would make sure you had a copy of their demo and would buy you whatever merch you wanted.

➛ you’d smile and nod while listening to the band play his favorite song, and Sam wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you.

➛ he’d suck on his lower lip, hypnotized by the way the stage lights highlight your face. possessed with an intense urge to kiss you, he’d cradle the back of your neck in his hand before guiding your face towards his to make out with you while standing in the crowd.

Sebastian

➛ he’d take you to Zuzu City on his motorcycle and pull up to the frog sanctuary. you can tell he’s feeling a bit tense about his location of choice, but it disappears because you start to excitedly point at the different exhibits and ask questions. he’d take you on a tour and pretend to be your guide. by the end of it, he’ll have made sure you’re accompanied by a giant frog plushie.

➛ afterwards, the two of you would stop by his favorite sushi restaurant, but it’d be super busy, and you can tell Sebastian’s feeling uncomfortable with the crowd. so you’d take it to go, and the two of you would find a nice park to get stoned at and eat your food.

➛ while watching the sunset you’d joke about the tour Sebastian gave you. suddenly. he’d lean toward you and wipe a speck of sriracha off your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. he’d stare down at the hot sauce on his thumb before licking it off and then giving you a quick, nervous peck on the lips.

Alex

➛ he’d invite you to a day at the beach, then show up with a blanket and basket of food Evelyn made for his date.

➛ somehow the two of you would end up playing volleyball against Leah and Elliott, and Alex would get super competitive and start coaching you.

➛ by mid game he's taken off his shirt and is using any excuse to touch you. you’d try to keep your head in the game, while the constant flirtatious skin-to-skin contact has your mind reeling in the gutter. when the two of you crush the competition, Alex slaps your ass and offers for the two of you to cool off in the shower.

➛ you go back to Alex’s place and cool off.

Elliott

➛ he’d take you to the botanical gardens in Zuzu City where the local theatre is holding a rendition of Hamlet. you’d watch as he silently mouths each of his favorite lines.

➛ when the play is over, he’d have a bottle of wine in one hand, and the other would be holding yours. he’d bring you to a grassy clearing where the two of you could talk under the shade of a large willow tree.

➛ you’d pass the bottle of wine back and forth, the two of you taking sips while discussing the play and how uncertain life is.

➛ your bodies would unconsciously move closer, and Elliott’s face would hover next to yours. he’d whisper a quote from the play to you, “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” His words would be as slow and deliberate as the kiss following them.

Harvey

➛ takes you to a vintage aircraft show in the city. his eyes are beaming from underneath his glasses. he’s smiling from ear-to-ear while clutching your hand and showing you the different airplanes.

➛ after, he takes you to his favorite café. everyone knows him there, and he is visibly overfilled with joy each time he introduces you to someone. it doesn’t take long for you to feel at home in the coffee shop, and Harvey dotes on you. his head rested in the palm of his hand while he attentively listens to every word you say.

Shane

➛ would rather die than call it a date. invites you to come barbeque with him in the Cindersap Forest.  

➛ he has a cooler full of beer and a couple of gigantic joja blue inner tubes for floating. the two of you joke about the town festivals and Shane tells you he only goes to them for the food.

➛ you and Shane take the inner tubes into the water and float in the forest river. Shane grabs the handle on your inner tube and pulls you over to him. he tells you this might be the best day of his life and kisses you on the cheek.

[carmenberzattosgf]

Just wanna make Carm cum in his vintage jeans is that too much to ask 🥺

Mmmmmmhhhh I so get it.

Straddling inexperienced Carmy while he’s sitting up on the couch at his place. There’s pure desire in his eyes as he looks up at you. His hands lay beside his thighs on the couch cushions, like he has no idea where to put them.

“You can touch me you know, Carm. I don’t mind.”

“I uh, I didn’t want to be disrespectful.”

“It’s not disrespectful at all. I want you to touch me.” You take each of his hands by the wrist, guiding him to hold your hips. “There we go, that’s better.” Carmy’s hands tremble slightly on your waist. He’s nervous out of his mind.

“K-kiss me?” Carmen asks. His voice comes out merely as a whine.

You meet his lips without hesitation, pressing your tongue on the seam between his lips. It takes him a second to catch on, but as soon as he does, he opens his mouth to let you in.

Carmy groans into your mouth as your lips move against his. His hands grip your hips tight enough to bruise. Naturally, your hips grind down onto him. He’s rock hard underneath you, straining against the fabric of his jeans.

You don’t slow down your hips, relishing in the desperate whimpers that leave his throat. His hands have slipped underneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. He doesn’t dare travel upwards though, no matter how much he wants to.

Your hands have moved to comb through his curls, pulling tightly. Carmy’s can’t get enough of you. He’s strong arms press you down on the hardness in his jeans.

His lips can barely stay connected to yours, too overwhelmed by you. He can’t stop the helpless groans that come out of his mouth one after the other. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before working down his face to his neck.

Carmy’s hips buck up against you as you suck on the pulse of his neck. “Fuck—“ he moans completely unabashed. His head falls back against the couch, giving you full access to his neck. When your teeth lightly scrape down his pulse point, a sharp whine escapes him.

You continue your movements on top of him, but that stops when he clutches at your hips, stopping you with his arms. “T-too much.“ Carmy can barely get the words out.

Carefully, you sit up and stare at the sight before you. Carmy is still lying with his head thrown back. His cheeks are bright red, and he’s refusing to open his eyes and make eye contact with you. It’s then you put the pieces together. You realize the bulge in his pants is gone. Now, a small wet spot grows on the front of his jeans.

“Oh—“ You really don’t know what else to say. You haven’t had a guy ever cum from dry humping before now.

He finally opens his eyes to look at you. “Shit, m’sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” Your hand combs through his hair soothingly.

“It’s embarrassing. I-I finally have a girl back to my place and I can’t even—“ he groans in defeat, letting his head fall back.

“I dunno Carm. I thought it was pretty hot.”

His head perks back up at your words. His blue eyes blown wide. “You what?”

“Yeah— I’ve never had a guy uh, like that so much. It feels like a compliment more than anything. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“C-can I return the favor?”

“Oh—I mean you don’t have to! It’s totally fine if you—“

He cuts you off before touching can finish your sentence. “I want to. Please.”

[the-kr8tor]

The Morning after

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: you spend a peaceful morning with Hobie.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (reader is mentioned to be smaller than Hobie though) TW food mentions, established relationship, FLUFF , lovestruck Hobie.

A continuation of this fic.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Hobie wakes up with his right arm aching, he groans from the weight slightly crushing his arm– wait what?

He opens his half asleep eyes with a confused look. Hobie cranes his neck down, he finally sees who the intruder is.

Hobie smiles to himself, Fully waking up, he remembers that he invited you over. He stares at your form, memorizing every bit of detail from how you clutched his jumper with a grip, your lips slightly parted as you exhale, the early morning sun shines at your back, bathing your form in a heavenly glow. Hobie moves you closer to him, as to not let the rays hit your face and disturb your peace.

He tries to move you both farther away from the edge of the bed, but he finds that your legs are intertwined with his, preventing him from moving.

He huffs, a lopsided smile on his lips. Hobie ghosts his thumb over your cheeks, the pattern from the knitted blanket leaves a mark on your skin. A sign that you've slept well, and in his arms no doubt. His forgotten comforter kicked to the foot of the bed.

He gets a whiff of your coconut shampoo, surely leaving its scent on his pillow.

He thinks about buying a proper toothbrush holder, so he could place his and yours together.

He really should invite you more.

Hobie's spidey senses wake him up from his daze– he clutches you closer to his body, carefully cradling your head. A wave from a moving boat rushes towards the houseboat, rocking it harshly. His busted alarm clock drops to the floor in a crash.

Hobie hisses as he sees you twitch. He curses whoever was in that boat.

"Ughh" you groan out, muffled against Hobie's chest. You grip his jumper tighter.

"Shit" his voice deeper than usual, you release his jumper and instead hug his torso. The waves get calmer, rocking you both softly.

"You alright?" He rubs your back just in case you feel sick.

You pop your head away from Hobie's chest, chin resting on his scratchy jumper, you tickle him a bit, but he won't tell you that of course. You open one eye to stare at him, yawning.

"Say that again?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"Are you alright?" He hides his laugh by clearing his throat.

"Hmm" you grin "I like your morning voice"

He chuckles deeply, knowing what it does to you.

"Oh, you did that on purpose, you dork" you softly say.

"Yeah, bet it got you all hot and bothered for it too, huh" Hobie pokes your sides teasingly.

"Don't start" you swat away his hand, noticing his teasing mood this morning, you anticipate his tickling.

"You look pretty in the morning, you didn't wake up early and clean yourself up secretly, right?" He knows you didn't, sleep still sticking on your eyes, your hair looking disheveled.

"Nope, it's au naturel" you quip back. It earns a deep chuckle from Hobie.

He carefully rubs off the gunk from the corner of your eye, you sigh into his touch.

"You like my morning breath too?" He tries to blow air downwards but you're ready, you clasp your hand over his mouth, stopping his teasing.

You laugh victorious, that is until he licks your hand, recoiling your hand away, he laughs loudly.

"Hobie! That's it, I'm not making you breakfast"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. For now" he grabs the back of your head pushing you back to his chest.

You move to the crooked of his neck instead, in case you're crushing him. You slyly wipe his drool from your hand on his jumper.

"I saw that" Hobie peeks downward.

"No, you didn't"

"This is vintage y'know"

"It's your own drool!" You laugh.

"Yeah! And you slobbered all over it while you used me as your personal pillow" he rubs the exposed skin on your waist, cupping the softness fondly.

"I don't slobber!" You grab his jaw downwards so you could look eye to eye.

"Tell that to my soaked jumper" he whispers, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Your heart skips a beat.

Knowing what he's gonna do next, you cover his lips over your hand, "let me brush my teeth first"

You push away from Hobie, your torso barely off the bed, he grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down. You gasp out.

"Nope" in one swift movement Hobie cups your cheek guiding you towards his lips, your lips crash against each other, you cringe when your forehead hits his a bit too loudly. Insecurity fills you when you remember that you still have morning breath.

He doesn't care though, instead he pokes your sides, making you gasp parting your lips, making him kiss you deeper.

You pull away breathlessly when you hear a rumbling noise underneath you.

"Ah, fuck" Hobie facepalms in embarrassment.

Hobie's stomach grumbles again, mocking him.

You grab his hand, peeking in "aww, my poor baby is hungry" you mockingly coo. "I'll make you breakfast, sunny side up right?" You push off him, finally noticing you're on the wrong side of the bed.

"Yes, please, love" he exhales out the embarrassment.

"How'd I end up on this side?" You point out.

"Huh, I probably dragged you with me"

You imagine what it might've looked like, you fluster. Even asleep he wants you near, you look at him adoringly, swiping away the sheen on his lips before leaving a kiss for good measure.

You leave for the bathroom, he stares at the door you entered in, a lovestruck expression on his face. Once he knows you're decent, he flips away the covers, following towards the sound of the faucet squeak open.

Hobie knocks, you hum while brushing your teeth. He opens the door, then leans against it, his arms relaxed on his sides, his sweatpants hang low on his hips.

He admires you bathe in white fluorescent light, his shirt on your form hanging loose on you. You looked out of place but at the same time fitting right in his tiny bathroom.

He thought you looked like you came out of an oil painting.

"You need to use the bathroom?" You ask as you place your toothbrush down.

"You should leave it"

"Leave what?"

"Your toothbrush, for next time" Hobie crosses his arms, a sudden shyness floods him.

"Of course" you smile, already getting what he's trying to say, "I was already planning on leaving it" you come forward, leaving a minty kiss on his cheek. "Your turn stinky" you pat his bum with a smack.

Hobie hears your laughter echo around the houseboat.

-

After washing up, Hobie opens the bathroom door, the smell of eggs and his favourite tea covers his senses. He chuckles to himself.

He could get used to this.

Hobie enters his modest kitchen, you hum along to the music from the radio, the inside of his houseboat looks a bit different than before, there's more light shining inside, fresh air wafts through the open windows, it seems that there's more life in his home.

He moves towards you, hugging you from behind. You giggle at the contact. He looks over your shoulder, he watches as you expertly flip the pancake over.

"Hello to you too" you crane your neck to look at him "I opened the windows, it's too nice outside. Hope you don't mind"

"I don't mind, we need the fresh air" he snuggles deeper on the crook of your neck. "Where'd you get pancake mix? I know that I don't have any"

"Ah, I brought it with me" you side glance at him, gauging his reaction.

"So, you were planning on making breakfast for me, hmm?"

"I did bring it, but it doesn't mean I was planning on cooking it myself" you turn off the stove, he turns you around, crowding you in between him and the stove.

"So you're making me breakfast out of the goodness of heart then?" He holds onto your hips.

"Yes, you're making the next one by the way"

"You're a cheeky one, aren't you?" He leans towards you, his lips ghosting over yours, but before sealing the deal, he grabs his mug behind you. He sips from it loudly, making eye contact over the mug.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your disappointment. "You're a menace" you give him a plate of eggs, sunny side up just like how he requested it. "Make yourself useful, and set the table"

Hobie sees his kitchen counter slash dining table, that's not gonna cut it out for you. He looks out of the window, the rare sun shining over the river, fluffy white clouds blanket the sky.

It's a beautiful morning, a shame to waste it.

He pushes the door open, leading to his 'porch'

"Where are you going?" You ask curiously.

"You'll see" Hobie peeks back inside, a smirk on his face.

You shake your head at his shenanigans, you wonder what he's planning.

The water looks calm, the cold morning air nips at his skin, his jumper barely protecting him from the cold. Hobie sees the metal table wet with morning dew, that won't do, so he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe it dry, he carefully puts down the plate of eggs and his tea, to wipe at the mismatched chairs.

Hobie wipes the wooden chair more thoroughly, since the metal one looks more worn down, he's concerned you might poke yourself on it.

He looks at his handiwork, there seems to be something missing, Hobie roams his eyes around the boat, his eyes stop at an empty beer bottle, he places it in the middle of the table acting as a centerpiece.

Then he perches himself near the edge of his boat to pick a single daisy from a neighbouring houseboat's flower pot; he's sure they wouldn't notice one missing. Hobie gingerly puts the small flower inside the bottle.

You open the door with your foot a little too loudly, you squint at the harsh sound. Hobie quickly moves to help you carry out the plates and mug.

"Thanks, Hobie," you grin, your smile gets wider when you see his little set up. The little daisy swaying in the air. "Oh, handsome" you gasp out.

You're finished, your eyes slightly glazing over.

Hobie chuckles at his new nickname, he moves the wooden chair for you to sit, hands on its back, like a gentleman.

" C'mon then, stop gawking, I'm starving" he stares at your dumbstruck face, the cold air leaving goosebumps on your arms.

You sit down, smiling, forgetting the cold air.

"Do you want me to grab a jacket?" He asks as he rubs your arms from behind.

You grab his wrist, you bracelet around it with your fingers, "no, stay, I'm okay" you sniff, revealing your lie.

"Nah, I'm not letting you freeze to death, let me grab it real quick, alright?" Hobie runs inside, eager to come back to you.

Oh, he's absolutely whipped for you, no doubt about it.

You revel in the sun shining on you, closing your eyes, you inhale sharply. Hobie sees you like this, his breath hitches in his throat. You must look heavenly, a slight breeze makes your eyelashes flutter. Opening your eyes, you notice eyes on you, you smile at him.

He's done for.

Waking up from his stupor, he wraps the dark hoodie on your head. A feeble attempt to hide the effect you have on him

"And here I thought you were being sweet on me" you tease him, knowing that he actually is soft for you.

"I've got a reputation, y'know" he sits down with a metal creak.

Hobie notices that you're sitting a little bit too far for his taste. "What are you doing there? C'mere" he grabs your chair, pulling it towards him, the wooden legs scraping against the metal of the boat.

You laugh, despite the harsh sound coming from the scraping.

"There, much better?" He leans on the arms of his chair.

You nod, a permanent smile on your face "much better" you kiss his cheek, your cold lips a contrast to his warm skin, it melts into his skin, etching in like a tattoo.

You intertwine your arm around his, speaking softly, as to not disturb your little peaceful bubble around the both of you, " y'know I thought you would be grumpier in the morning"

"Why's that?" He leans closer.

"I don't know, you seem like the type" you whisper against his lips, "you're a night owl, so I thought you would hate waking up this early"

"Only if I don't sleep well" heat rises in your cheeks at his implication, "Lucky for me I've got my very own koala latching on to me last night"

You raise your eyebrow "Really a koala, that's the best you can do, Hobart?"

"You always resort to calling me by my government name whenever you're flustered, koala works, lovey" he cups your jaw, his thumb brushes past your lips. You close your eyes, leaning in.

Before your lips could meet, you hear a gurgling sound.

You pull away, laughing loudly. Hobie lets out a small goddamnit.

"We should eat, before your stomach starts eating you from the inside" you say in between laughs.

"Yeah, yeah" he grumpily grabs his spoon.

You hide your smile behind your mug.

A/N: thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

*image above is from pinterest*

[imaprettygirl]

A drop of ink, a blot spread across time

(Vintage au)

Plot summary: It was 1950s when pen pals were popular and almost everyone had one! You used to have a handful of them but the camaraderie between you and them faded as you got older. One day, you found a newspaper on your late great-grandpa's shelves in his bedroom. Excitedly, you flipped the papers to get to a specific page and bingo! There was a section for the addresses of people who are looking for a pen-friend much like yourself. After randomly choosing, you sent out your first letter and he replied back! However, you noticed something weird in the photo he sent...

Crds to @drinkthesky for the divider!

Men I deem fit: Alhaitham, Albedo, Imbibitor Lunae/Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Diluc, Zhongli, Venti, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Sunday.

(Fck alphabetical order, I can't do that sh*t)

The amber glow of the afternoon sun bathed the room as the open windows situated at the opposite of the door allowed sunlight streams to enter the room as its panes quivered in hushed symphony due to the beckoning of the hot air. If you moved closer to the windows, you could see dust particles illuminated by the natural light. Even after the passing of your great-grandfather, the bookish scent of his cologne still lingers in his bedroom along with his possessions which were either coated with a thin layer of dust or covered with a big white cloth.

The wooden floor creaked beneath you as you walked towards his bookshelves in hopes of finding pieces of classical literature and maybe learn a thing or two from it. You delicately traced your index finger through the long vertical rows of books, leaving a trail of dust on the pads of your digit. As you peruse through countless novels only to be unsatisfied until you saw a newspaper at the edge of the shelf, untouched by the dust that plagues the rest.

'How strange...' you thought to yourself as you rubbed your thumb and index finger against the surface of the paper to determine its texture: it was sandy and rough, definitely ancient but the format was similar to the ones your dad reads in the morning so it must be a freshly produced newspaper, albeit printed in a different quality of paper.

Or so you thought...

The newspapers in your hands gave you a glimmer of hope; it was an opportunity to find a pen friend! You used to have a few ones but stopped writing to them either because they used too much colloquial words or they had at least twenty spelling mistakes in each sentence which gave you a migraine whilst trying to make out if your correspondent was writing in a foreign language or not. But this time, maybe you could hit the jackpot and find an actually nice pen-pal. Excitedly, you flipped through the papers and stopped at the specific page which had a list of names along with their addresses under the bold heading:

'Pen-friends! Make new friends around the world!'

Your eyes scanned across the list of names, allowing your intuition to guess the personality of that stranger based on their names alone. But then, a specific name caught your eye- it was uncommon which was the main reason it stood out from the rest of the names which probably were taken from 'Top 10 best names for children of this year'. You took a closer look of the address below that person's name and turned out, both of you lived in the same area! A surge of enthusiasm rippled throughout your body and immediately tucked the newspaper into the inside pocket of your coat.

~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~♡~~~~~

The curtains of your living room slowly opened as you peeked your head out and pressed your face against the glass. A day had passed after you had sent your very first letter and heck, you even went a mile far by sending a photograph of your two cats to make a memorable first impression. Then- just like you had anticipated- the postman on his bike suddenly came into view and halted his vehicle by your mail-box and placed a letter inside. You clutched the folds of the curtains unable to contain the happiness blossoming inside you. As soon as the postman disappeared out of your eyesight, you rushed outside to take the letter out of the mailbox. The first thing that greeted your eyes was the immaculate handwriting and the scent emitted from the paper.

'How sweet of him...' you thought as you continued reading the letter in your mind. The paragraphs were neatly organized and made of outdated vocabulary that you wouldn't understand had you not taken an interest in classic literature. You could tell this man practiced utmost eloquence just by his letter alone. Overall, he wrote a few things about himself and asked you about your hobbies, what you like and blablabla.

But then, something struck within you concerning with the photograph he sent and notes written behind it:

"The construction of the mall is making my ears bleed. I cannot stand the constant sounds of the drills and other sounds coming from it. I daresay, you must be experiencing the same disturbance as we are only one street apart from each other. Perhaps we should plan to meet up after the mall opens. What do you think of it?"

The more you stared at the photograph and the note, the more confused you became. The picture showed the mall with the same as the one down the street but it was still in construction according to the photo. 'Huh?' A frown stretched across your face. That specific mall had been going on more nearly a century now to the point that the community had been urging the government to shut it down in order to build a more innovative one. Didn't it finish construction like a hundred years ago? But his photo told a whole new different story.

Suspicions rose inside of you as a spiral of questions revolved around your head- you found it difficult to process it. Not missing a beat, you hurried to your room to find that newspaper you took from your late great-grandfather's shelf. You mumbled in frustration when you couldn't find it; you swore you left it either on the desk or on the bed. Finally, you found it under the bed and oh my...

The letter was published a century back in time which meant that...

"T-The man I just sent a letter...was from the past...." The newspaper dropped from your hands. Your letter had ripped its way out of the fabric of time and went into the mailbox of a man who lived in the same area as you but different time period. He was in the past, you were in the future.

Still, a part of you felt curious about the interaction between two people of different dimensions. So you decided to reply back to his letter. What could go wrong...right?

To people who are more knowledgeable in time travel or parallel universes, pls don't attack me, I know what I wrote may or may not make sense for some of you but pls don't mind me 😭😭😭

And also, not proofread because I wrote this around midnight and I'm literally on the verge of dozing off- (Ik I have such healthy sleep cycles and I have to wake up at 6 am yayyy!! Sleep-deprived-students-core😘🙆🤗)

[charcoallbaby]

fake marriage

smuttyyyyy ofc so 18+ also a lil toxic

tired asf i’ll do a spelling check tmrw thx for reading!

having a fake marriage was definitely one of the best thing to ever exist especially since i get paid to pretend to love a man who is basically heartless, well to most people he is.

i get to live in a giant penthouse in the city of boston, i get a huge bedroom, with a ensuite plus a balcony, free clothes, mostly everything gets handed to me.

as much i love being in this fake marriage, there are some cons mostly because of matt. i mostly hate hearing him fuck girls in the room next to me, when i can’t do anything like that, he’s very protective of me, he gets jealous very easily, he doesn’t really let me talk to any male being while he’s with me. he punishes me by not paying me that week which doesn’t really effect me, the amount of money i’ve made since this marriage is insane, it would take me months to run through it. but in matt’s eyes he’s somehow “punishing me.”

tonight was a black-tie event for one of his many company’s. he got me a vintage chanel dress from the 90s. it was the most beautiful dress i’ve ever laid my eyes on, i knew the price of the dress would be nothing to him, he just wantedme to look good standing beside him.

“ready?” matt asked while fixing his cufflinks on his wrist. “yeah, i just need to get my heels on.” i grabbed my silver heels from my collection of different types of heels.

“the cars outside y/n.” he looked me up and down. “fuck, can you grab my bag?” i asked slipping myheels on. he rolled his eyes and grabbed my bag off my vanity. “thank you.” i took my small clutch from his hands and made my way to the elevator.

“behave tonight,” matt whispered in my ear before placing his hand around my waist, smiling for the cameras. “i always do.” i say through my teeth. “we’ll see about that love.” he pressed a light kiss to my cheek.

everything is for the cameras and i mean that. the touching, the kissing, theres no contact between us at home. before today i hadn’t spoken to matt in probably 3 days. not that he would talk to me anyway. he only talks to his parents, his 2 brothers, the maids who clean the house(mostly flirting) and the girls he fucks in the guest bedroom, matt would never dare to fuck a girl in his own bed, he’s really weird about that type of thing, he hates when anyone goes into his room well everyone but the maids, as i said he flirts with them a lot, just to make them blush, it boosts his already massive ego. after i come home from picking up some groceries up or going to visit my friends, i hear him making up some story of how he saved an animal or how much money he gives to charity which i know he does. but he hates people, hates them other than the couple people he talks to.

mine and matt’s hands were interlinked as we walked into the building.

“how long have you guys been married?” the older women infront of us asked. i looked up at matt before speaking, “well me and matt have been together 3 years, married for 1,” i gave a fake smile to the women. “that’s just so beautiful!” she chimed. matt gave the women a small smile. “wait!” “what about kids, do you have kids?” matt’s let go of my hand and put the hand i just holding around my waist. i cleared my through before awkwardly laughing. “no, no,” “not as of right now,” i smiled. “maybe soon,” matt finally spoke. “oh really!” she exclaimed. “yes matt really!” i looked up at him, he looked down at me before looking back at the women. “maybe not soon, but in the future.” he licked his lips. “wonderful!” “it was nice talking to your mr and mrs sturniolo, i’m going to find my husband he wanders off!” she laughed. “you too.” matt gave her a straight lined smile. “bye.” i smiled.

me and matt watched her walk away. “fuck,” he took a deep breath. “having kids soon are we?” i turned to him. he moved both his hands around my waist as he looked down at me. “only said that for people to have something to talk about,” i could feel his warm hands through my dress. “it’s crazy how such a cold hearted person can make something up like that,” i teased him. he looked away from me, chuckled before looking back at me again. “you look good.” he licked his teeth. “yeah you too.” i touched his right bicep.

“thank you everyone for coming tonight,” matt awkwardly had his hand in his pocket as he gave a speech. “i would like to thank my team and my wife,” “thanks.” he awkwardly put his drink up in the air before taking a sip.

the room was filled with people loudly clapping.

“what’s wrong?” matt asked as he came down by from the stage. “my feet hurt.” i whined. “y/n baby, i didn’t marry you to whine about your feet come on let’s get a drink.” he put his hand on my back and guided me towards the bar.

“what would you guys like?” the bartender asked. “scotch on the rocks,” “y/n?” matt asked. i looked at the bartender. he smiled at me. i gave him back a small smile. i cleared my throat. “i’ll have a-” “she’ll have a glass of white wine,” matt interrupted me. “alright, that’ll be coming straight up,” he looked at me. “are you trying to piss me off?” he leaned down and whispered into my ear. “no,” i gulped. “you were flirting with that guy,” “matt i just smiled.” “we’re going home, come on.” he grabbed my hand.

the car ride was silent. matt was on his phone making the back of the SUV slightly light up. i looked out the window, mostly trying to notfall asleep.

matt pressed the button for the elevator. he stood there my heels in his hand while looking down at the marbled floor on the lobby floor.

the elevator opened, no one inside. we both walked in. matt pressed the number for our apartment before leaning his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. he looked so sexy, his jawline was sharp as fuck, his long hair falling over his eyes and his tie wrapped around his shoulders, he took it off when we got in the car. i pressed the emergency button making the elevator immediately stop. matt’s eyes darted open. he looked at me.

“why’d you stop the elevator y/n?” he groaned. “why are you so overly protective with me matt?” “you know i don’t flirt with guys especially in front of you, you love to make shit up did you see me flirt with that bartender?” “i simply smiled at him as a nice human does,” i crossed my arms. matt rolled his eyes. “what would you like to pretend that i don’t care?” “y/n, you think i care about who you flirt with?” “i actually couldn’t care fucking less, i just you know like to make this marriage look a little bit realistic,” he leaned over and re-pressed over apartment floor button. the elevator began moving again. “this marriage would be a little realistic when i have people over for you to not be fucking some girl,” i looked down at my nails. “what’d say?” “you heard me loud and clear,” the elevator doors opened. “thanks for holding my heels baby.” i grabbed the heels from his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek just to piss him off even more.

i made my way to my room before matt grabbed my arm turning me around. “who do you think you are?” matt asked. i shrugged my shoulders before turning back around. “y/n!” matt yelled, pulling me back and pressing me against the wall beside us. “come on baby, tell me,” matt roughly held my waist. “i’m your wife matt,” i looked up at him. “your my wife y/n and i would like if you actually listened to me when i talked to you,” his grip on my hips became softer. “i’m sorry, i promise i’ll listen better next time daddy,” i batted my eyelashes. his eyes rolled into the back of my head. “i’m going to bed.” he backed away from me. “sweet dreams husband.”

after the little scene matt made, i changed out of my dress and walked into the kitchen to find a snack to eat.

i sat myself down at the kitchen island, a bowl of ice cream in front of me, my phone in my left hand, the spoon in my right. i had been thinking of eating this ice cream all day and now i finallygot a chance.

i was nearly half way through the bowl before shirtless matt walked into the kitchen, he had those plaid pj pants he loved with of course the waist band of his boxers sticking out. i rolled my eyes before focusing back onto the ice cream. i could hear matt open the fridge. i quickly looked at his back. it was so defined, his tattoos making it way hotter that it actually had to be.

“do we have any spare batteries anywhere?” i spoke. matt turned around, opened-water bottle in his hand. “why?” he asked. “for my vibarator,” i popped the spoon into my mouth. matt choked on his water. “do you know?” i asked. he cleared his throat. “yeah, there’s some in the uh-in my office on my desk.” he swallowed. “okay thanks!” i cheekily smiled. matt mumbled something i couldn’t make out before walking back to his room.

i opened matt’s office door to find him sitting on one of the couch’s controller in his hand playing his playstation. hm coincidence.

“sorry i just need to grab those batteries,” i walked past him and looked around his desk. i couldn’t see them. “matt where are they?” i turned around and looked at him. “they should be there,” he said not taking his eyes off the tv. i rolled mine while looking back down at the desk. “matt it’s an empty packet,” i held it up. he finally looked at me.“oh shit yeah- i was just being a nice husband, i already put the batteries in for you there sweetheart,” he flashed me a smile before looking back at the tv. i stomped over right infront of him. “i can’t see the tv princess,” “pause it then,” i bit the inside of my cheek. he paused it, placing the controller beside him. “you went through my stuff?” “you held my viborator!” “yeah, it was a nice one,” he smirked at me. “what the fuck!” “your insane!” i yelled. “eh,” “i’m not that bad love.” he opened his legs, man spreading.

i exhaled. “why would you think that would be a good idea?” i put a hand through my hair. “it was a nice gesture, don’t you think?” he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. i groaned. “it’s fucking weird!” “your not even my real husband!” “well if this makes you feel any better i did it so it would make the marriage more realistic,” he titled his head at me. “don’t bring that shit back up matt!” i whimpered.

“come on, it’s okay,” matt pulled himself more towards me. he placed his hands on my waist while looking up at me. “matt what are you doing?” i groaned. “it’s okay.” he pressed his warms lips against my stomach. i slowly closed my eyes. his lips stayed on my stomach while he slipped a finger up my shorts and into my underwear. he slid his finger into my soaking core. i let out a moan. he moved his finger inside me. after a few seconds his finger left me. i opened my eyes. his finger in his mouth. “oh fuck, you taste good,” he moaned. “let me eat you out,” he pulled me by the waistband of my shorts towards him making me fall down onto his lap. i quickly felt how hard he was underneath me. “lay there,” he said moving the controller onto the coffee table in front of us. i nodded my head. i layed myself down. matt licked his lips before pulling my shorts and underwear off. he placed himself between my legs. he was quick to slowly suck my clit. i cried out. “all you do is touch yourself y/n, i bet your dying for this,” matt groaned against me. he slipped his tongue into my licking up all my juices like it’s the best thing he’s every tasted. my hands were pulling onto his hair while parting my mouth open in pleasure. “ma-matt!” i cried out. “nearly there baby?” he pulled away from me making his warm breath hit off the pool he was between. “mhm.” i mumbled.

matt gave me one long stride between my folds before pulling away from me. i opened my eyes and whined. i was on the edge of coming. “i wanna fuck you,” matt said feeling his hard on through his pants. “okay-okay.” i breathed out. “not here, in my room.”

matt placed me down onto his bed, his lips softly meeting mine. we’ve kissed before around people but not alone, it felt so much more different this time.

“you on the pill?” he asked pulling his boxers down. i nodded my head. “i’m gonna fuck you without a condom cause to be fair, i don’t really care if i get you pregnant, your my wife after all.”

matt was inside me, not moving. i was trying to adjust his size. “you can do it, i know you can, matt whispered into my ear. “mhm,” i mumbled. he started to move inside me slowly but then started to pick it up. his arm was hovering over me, grabbing the headboard for support “fuckkkkkkk,” he moaned. “y/n, i’m gonna fuck you until the sun rises okay?” he grunted. “y-yeah.” i let out. “such a girl good for me.” he placed a kiss to my lips. his necklace that had a horse pendant was dangling over me, i got him it for his birthday that he claimed to only wear when we have to put our act on but he wears it all time.

i clenched around matt for like the 4th time in the last 2 and half hours.

matt dropped himself down beside me. “it gets better every fucking time y/n i swear.” matt said before sucking a nipple into his mouth. “mhm, i know baby.” i closed my eyes and put a hand through his hair and down his neck.

he popped my nipple out of his mouth before looking up at me. “you wanna order food, we can fuck inbetween don’t worry, i just hungry as fuck when i have sex,” he leaned his chin between the gaps my boobs. “yeah i could eat something i’m starving,” i ran my hand over his cheek. “your choice to pick.” he said before kissing my lips and getting up to throw his pj pants back on. i looked up at him sprawled out on his bed, naked. “am i the only girl you’ve had in this bed?” i asked. “pretty much,” he grabbed his t-shirt from the ground. “i feel special,” i grinned. he jokingly rolled his eyes. “don’t worry, not gonna happen again,” “that’s what you say until you hear me moan your name while my vibartor is between my thighs,” i sat up. “you think of me?” he chuckled. i nodded my head. “my wife actually thinks of me while masturbating, im a lucky man.”

“yeah, no more sex.” i spoke before rolling my eyes.

[mybelovedwoo]

sound of love pt.1

hongjoong x f!reader

fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, work rivalry/ wc: 4.1k

warnings: arguments, alcohol, kissing

note: this is part one of my first ever hongjoong fic. hope you all like it!! part 2 is coming soon. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here!

Hongjoong masterlist - Main masterlist

The music store was a haven for audiophiles and professionals alike, a labyrinth of aisles filled with the latest equipment and vintage treasures. Hongjoong navigated through the store with purpose, his mind set on one specific item: the latest model of a high-end speaker that had been receiving rave reviews. It was the final piece he needed to perfect his home studio setup.

As he approached the display where the speakers were usually showcased, his heart sank. Only one speaker remained, perched precariously on the edge of the shelf. Quickening his pace, Hongjoong reached out to grab it.

Just as his fingers brushed the box, another hand darted out and seized it. Hongjoong looked up, startled, and found himself face-to-face with a young woman. She was about his age, with determined eyes and a firm grip on the speaker.

"Excuse me, but I believe I saw this first," Hongjoong said, trying to keep his voice polite but firm.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression unyielding. "And I believe possession is nine-tenths of the law," she replied, clutching the speaker tighter.

Hongjoong's frustration began to bubble up. "Look, I've been searching for this model for weeks. I need it for a project that's due soon."

"So do I," she retorted, her tone equally firm. "I've been saving up for this, and I can't let it go now."

Their argument drew the attention of other shoppers, but neither seemed to care. Each was determined to walk away with the speaker, and neither was willing to back down.

"Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement," Hongjoong suggested, trying to inject some reason into the conversation. "I'll pay you double what it costs."

The woman's eyes flashed with defiance. "It's not about the money. It's about principle. I got here first, and I need this speaker just as much as you do."

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Okay, how about this: I really need this speaker for a client project. If you let me have it, I'll owe you one. I can help you with your project, whatever you need."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, her expression softening slightly. But then she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I have my own deadlines to meet. I can't afford to wait."

Before Hongjoong could respond, she turned and walked towards the checkout counter, the speaker still firmly in her grasp. He stood there, stunned and speechless, watching her retreating figure.

"I'll never forgive her," he muttered under his breath, watching her leave the store.

-

Days turned into weeks, and the incident at the music store remained a sore spot for Hongjoong. His colleagues at the producer team had noticed his mood but thought it best not to pry. That was until the day their boss, Eden, introduced the newest member of their team.

"Everyone, meet Y/n, our new producer. She's exceptionally talented and will be a great addition to our team," Eden announced.

Hongjoong's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Y/n stood before him, the same girl who had taken the speaker. Their eyes locked, and recognition flashed in Y/n's eyes too.

"You?" they both said in unison.

Their colleagues looked between them curiously. "Do you two know each other?" one asked.

Hongjoong quickly composed himself and shook his head. "Only in passing," he said, forcing a polite smile.

"Yeah, just in passing," Y/n echoed, mirroring his expression.

Eden, oblivious to the undercurrents, continued with the introductions. "Y/n, let me show you around," one of their teammates offered, sensing the tension between Hongjoong and Y/n.

Y/n nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm evident as she followed her colleague around the studio. She marveled at the advanced equipment, asked insightful questions about ongoing projects, and eagerly absorbed every detail of her new workspace.

As they passed the recording booths, the sound mixers, and the editing bays, Y/n couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was where she belonged, and she was determined to make a mark. She took mental notes of everything, from the placement of the soundproof panels to the state-of-the-art software they used.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong watched from a distance, occasionally catching glimpses of Y/n's genuine excitement. Despite his initial resolve to maintain distance and rivalry, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the person behind the fierce determination he had encountered at the music store.

Finally, they arrived at the main studio room where the team often collaborated. It was a spacious area filled with instruments, computers, and a massive mixing console.

"And this is where the magic happens," their colleague said with a smile. "You'll spend a lot of time here."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement. "This is amazing. I can't wait to get started."

Eden stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, team, let's get back to work. Y/n, feel free to dive in and ask for help if you need anything."

As the team dispersed, Y/n found her designated workstation and began setting up her equipment. She was eager to prove herself, not just to her new colleagues but also to herself.

-

In the following week, Hongjoong and Y/n navigated their roles within the producer team with a mixture of competition and cooperation. While they maintained a professional demeanor during work hours, their interactions were often laced with subtle challenges and occasional disagreements.

"Y/n, I think this beat would sound better with a different tempo," Hongjoong suggested during one of their collaborative sessions.

Y/n frowned slightly, considering his suggestion. "I appreciate your input, but I think the current tempo captures the mood we're going for," she replied, her voice firm but not confrontational.

Their colleagues observed their dynamic with bemusement, unsure whether to intervene or let the rivalry play out naturally. Despite their differences, Hongjoong and Y/n's combined efforts yielded impressive results, garnering praise from clients and industry professionals alike.

It had been over a week since Y/n started working with the team, and she was gradually finding her rhythm. As the team gathered for their daily briefing, the door swung open, and Maddox, one of the senior producers, walked in.

"Maddox! Welcome back!" Eden greeted him warmly. "Maddox, meet Y/n, our newest producer. She joined us while you were away."

Maddox's face lit up when he saw Y/n. "Y/n! It's great to see you here," he said, pulling her into a hug.

Y/n beamed and hugged him back. "Maddox, I've missed you!"

Their colleagues watched the scene with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Most of them assumed this was the first time Y/n and Maddox were meeting, given that Maddox had been away when Y/n started. Hongjoong, however, found himself feeling puzzled and somewhat uneasy at their close interaction.

"You two seem pretty close," one of their colleagues commented, raising an eyebrow.

Maddox smiled, not missing a beat. "Yeah, Y/n's incredibly talented. It's great to have her on the team."

The team accepted this explanation without further questions, assuming that Maddox and Y/n had simply hit it off quickly. Hongjoong, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

As the day went on, Hongjoong found himself watching Y/n and Maddox more closely. They worked together seamlessly, finishing each other's sentences and sharing inside jokes that no one else seemed to get. It was clear they had a strong connection, and Hongjoong's curiosity only grew.

During a break, Hongjoong approached Y/n, trying to appear casual. "So, you and Maddox seem pretty close," he remarked.

Y/n looked up from her notes, her expression neutral. "Yeah, Maddox has been really supportive. It's nice to have someone like him around."

Hongjoong nodded slowly, not entirely satisfied with her answer. "You know, it's just... interesting how quickly you two have bonded."

Y/n smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Music brings people together, I guess."

Hongjoong didn't leave it at that. His frustration bubbled up, unable to hold back any longer. "Come on, Y/n. Don't give me that. There's clearly more going on here. People don't just bond like that overnight."

Y/n's eyes flashed with annoyance. "And why does it matter so much to you, Hongjoong? Why can't you just accept that we're friends?"

"Because," he snapped, "you're hiding something. It's obvious. And I don't like working with someone who isn't being honest with the team."

Y/n bristled at his accusation. "I am being honest. Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's not real."

Hongjoong took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Then explain it to me. What are you hiding?"

Y/n stood her ground, meeting his gaze head-on. "That's none of your business, Hongjoong. You don't get to demand answers from me just because you're suspicious."

Their argument caught the attention of their colleagues, who glanced over with concern. Sensing the rising tension, Maddox intervened, stepping between them.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Maddox asked, looking from Y/n to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "Nothing. Just a difference of opinion."

Maddox looked at Y/n, who nodded, her expression still tight with anger. "It's fine, Maddox. Just a misunderstanding."

Maddox didn't seem entirely convinced but decided to let it drop for now. "Alright. Let's focus on the work, okay?"

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged one last glare before turning back to their respective tasks, the air between them still charged with unresolved tension.

-

The next day, the atmosphere in the studio was tense. Y/n and Hongjoong did their best to avoid each other, focusing intently on their own projects. Their colleagues noticed the shift, but no one said anything, hoping the tension would resolve itself.

However, Eden had other plans. Late in the morning, he called for a meeting in the main conference room. As everyone gathered, Eden addressed the team with a determined look.

"Alright, we have a new project that requires immediate attention," Eden began. "It's a high-profile client, and they want something fresh and innovative. Y/n and Hongjoong, I want you two to lead this project together."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged glances, both clearly unhappy with the arrangement but unable to voice their objections.

Eden continued, "I know you two have your differences, but your combined talents can produce something incredible. This is an important opportunity for both of you to show what you can do."

Hongjoong forced a tight smile. "Of course, Eden. We'll make it work."

Y/n nodded, her expression equally strained. "Absolutely. We'll get it done."

Eden clapped his hands, oblivious to the underlying tension. "Great! The client is coming in tomorrow for a briefing. I expect you two to be prepared with some initial ideas."

After the meeting, Y/n and Hongjoong stayed behind, facing each other awkwardly.

"We need to put aside whatever this is and focus on the project," Y/n said firmly.

Hongjoong nodded, though his frustration was evident. "Agreed. Let's just get through this."

They spent the rest of the day brainstorming ideas, their interactions polite but distant. The creative process, usually filled with excitement and energy, felt forced and mechanical. As the hours passed, the studio gradually emptied until it was just the two of them left.

Y/n glanced at the clock, then at Hongjoong. "It's getting really late. Maybe we should wrap it up for today and get some sleep. We can start fresh tomorrow."

Hongjoong looked up, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Are you serious? We have a lot of work to do, and you're talking about going home to sleep?"

Y/n frowned, taken aback by his tone. "It's not that I don't take this seriously. I just think we'd be more productive if we weren't exhausted."

Hongjoong stood up, pacing the room. "We don't have the luxury of time, Y/n. This is a high-profile client, and we need to deliver something exceptional. If that means staying here overnight, then so be it."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples. "I get that, but pushing ourselves to the brink isn't going to help. We need rest to think clearly."

Hongjoong stopped and faced her, his expression hard. "Maybe you can afford to take it easy, but I can't. This project is too important. If you're not willing to put in the effort, you can leave. I'll handle it myself."

Without waiting for her response, Hongjoong turned and walked out of the room, needing to clear his head. He stepped outside into the cool night air, taking deep breaths to calm his racing thoughts. He felt a mix of frustration and guilt, wondering if he had been too harsh.

After a few minutes, he decided to head back in, determined to push through the night. When he returned to the studio, he found Y/n's workstation empty. His heart sank, and anger flared up again. She really left, he thought bitterly. Just great.

He sat down and tried to focus on the project, but his mind kept drifting back to Y/n. Half an hour later, just as he was about to give up on any progress for the night, the door opened, and Y/n walked in carrying a bag of take-out food.

"I thought we might need some fuel if we're going to work all night," she said, setting the bag down and pulling out containers.

Hongjoong stared at her in surprise. "You... you went to get food?"

Y/n nodded, handing him a container. "Yeah. I figured we'd both be more productive if we had something to eat."

Hongjoong felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had jumped to conclusions, assuming she had abandoned the project. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have doubted you."

Y/n shrugged, offering a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of stress. Let's just focus on getting this done."

They sat down and started eating, the tension between them easing slightly. As they ate, they talked about the project, bouncing ideas off each other and finding new energy in their collaboration.

Hongjoong found himself increasingly impressed by Y/n's dedication and creativity. He realized that despite their differences, they could achieve great things together. And for the first time since their argument, he felt a glimmer of hope that they might actually make this partnership work.

As the night wore on, Y/n and Hongjoong found a rhythm in their work. They shared ideas, critiqued each other's suggestions, and slowly but surely, the project began to take shape. The food had revitalized them, and the earlier animosity was replaced by a shared sense of purpose.

Around 3 AM, Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, stretching his tired muscles. "I think we have a solid draft."

Y/n looked over the screen, nodding. "Yeah, it's good. We'll need to refine it, but it's a strong foundation."

There was a brief moment of silence, the intensity of the work finally giving way to exhaustion. Y/n glanced at Hongjoong, her voice softer. "You really care about this project, don't you?"

Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I do. It's not just about the work. It's about proving something to myself, to everyone."

Y/n nodded slowly. "I get that. I care too. Maybe we just have different ways of showing it."

Hongjoong looked at her, his expression less guarded than before. "Maybe you're right. Sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Y/n offered a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of pressure. Let's just focus on getting this done."

Hongjoong nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Agreed. Let's make this the best project we've ever done."

-

The next morning, the team reconvened at the studio. Hongjoong arrived early, as usual, feeling the weight of the long night but also a sense of accomplishment. He was surprised to see Maddox and Y/n arriving together, stepping out of the same car.

Maddox waved at Hongjoong as they walked towards the entrance. "Morning, Hongjoong! How's it going?"

Hongjoong forced a smile, trying to mask his curiosity. "Morning. It's going well. You two came together?"

Y/n nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Maddox offered me a ride. We live close to each other."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and suspicion swirling in his mind. "I see. Well, it's good to be early. We have a lot to cover today."

As they entered the studio, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. He had always been good at reading people, and the ease between Y/n and Maddox seemed more than just friendly. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something he was missing.

They gathered in the conference room for a quick briefing with Eden. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they prepared to present their progress to the client. Despite the previous night's tension, Hongjoong and Y/n managed to put forth a united front, their collaboration bearing the fruits of their hard work.

Eden glanced over their work, nodding approvingly. "This is excellent. You two did a great job. The client is going to love it."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged a look, both relieved and satisfied. It was clear that despite their personal differences, their professional synergy was undeniable. After the meeting, everyone returned to their individual tasks, the studio buzzing with renewed energy and optimism.

The afternoon passed quickly as they immersed themselves in their work. Each person focused on their projects, the usual hum of creativity filling the room. Around mid-afternoon, Eden called for everyone's attention with a broad smile on his face.

"I've got some fantastic news, team," Eden announced, his excitement palpable. "The client loved the music you created, Y/n and Hongjoong. In fact, they were so impressed that they've asked us to produce an entire album for them!"

A chorus of cheers and applause erupted in the room. Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged another look, this time filled with mutual pride and accomplishment. The tension between them seemed to dissolve in the face of their shared success.

"That's incredible!" Y/n said, beaming. "I'm so glad they liked it."

"Me too," Hongjoong admitted, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "This is a huge opportunity for all of us."

One of their colleagues clapped his hands together. "This calls for a celebration! How about we all go out tonight, have some drinks, and toast to our success?"

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement from everyone. The idea of unwinding and celebrating their hard work was appealing to the whole team.

"Count me in," Maddox said, grinning. "We all deserve a break after the week we've had."

"Absolutely," Eden agreed. "Let's meet at that new bar downtown around eight. Drinks are on me."

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of excitement and productivity. As evening approached, everyone began to wrap up their work and prepare for the night out. Y/n and Hongjoong, despite their previous tensions, found themselves exchanging smiles and light-hearted comments, the success of their project serving as a bridge between them.

-

By eight o'clock, the team gathered at the trendy new bar downtown. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing and patrons enjoying their evening. The team found a large table and settled in, the mood festive and relaxed.

Eden raised his glass, calling for a toast. "To Y/n and Hongjoong, for their incredible work and for bringing us this amazing opportunity. And to the rest of the team, for always giving their best. Here's to more successes and good times ahead!"

"Cheers!" everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

As the night went on, the initial formality gave way to laughter and camaraderie. Stories were shared, and everyone relaxed, enjoying the rare opportunity to unwind together.

Hongjoong found himself next to Y/n, and he took a moment to acknowledge their recent journey. "You know, despite everything, I'm glad we managed to pull this off."

Y/n smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Me too. I think we proved that we make a pretty good team, even if we don't always see eye to eye."

"Agreed," Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. "Maybe this project will be the start of something good."

Y/n nodded, feeling a sense of hope. "Let's make this album even better than the single. We can really do something special."

As the evening progressed, Hongjoong noticed Maddox and Y/n sharing a quiet conversation and laughing together. The ease between them was unmistakable, and Hongjoong's earlier suspicions resurfaced, but he pushed them aside. Tonight was about celebration, not secrets.

The night stretched on, filled with laughter, music, and a shared sense of achievement. The barriers between Y/n and Hongjoong continued to lower, replaced by a budding respect and the beginnings of a friendship. As the drinks kept flowing, the team grew increasingly merry. By the end of the night, most of them were thoroughly drunk, including Y/n. Hongjoong, however, had only gotten a little tipsy, careful not to lose control.

Eden, who was also quite inebriated, noticed Y/n struggling to stay upright as she laughed at something Maddox said. He turned to Hongjoong, his voice slurring slightly. "Hongjoong, can you make sure Y/n gets home safely? It's dangerous for her to go alone."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard. "Why me?"

Eden gave him a lopsided grin. "Because you're the most sober of them all, my friend. And someone has to make sure she's safe."

Realizing there was no point in arguing, Hongjoong nodded. "Alright, I'll take her."

Hongjoong gently helped Y/n to her feet, supporting her as they made their way out of the bar. Y/n leaned heavily on him, her steps unsteady.

"Where do you live?" Hongjoong asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Y/n blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Not far... just a few blocks from here."

Hongjoong nodded, guiding her down the street. The cool night air helped clear his head a bit more, and he kept a firm grip on Y/n, making sure she didn't stumble.

As they walked, Y/n glanced up at him, her eyes slightly glazed. "You know, Hongjoong, you're not so bad."

Hongjoong chuckled softly. "Thanks, Y/n. You're not so bad yourself."

She giggled, the sound light and carefree. "I mean it. I know we've had our... differences, but tonight was fun."

"Yeah, it was," Hongjoong agreed. "And we make a good team. We just need to remember that."

They reached Y/n's apartment building, and Hongjoong helped her up the steps. She fumbled for her keys, eventually finding them and managing to unlock the door. Before she stepped inside, she turned to Hongjoong, her expression more serious than he'd seen all night.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said softly.

"Anytime," Hongjoong replied, meaning it. "Get some rest. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Y/n smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

She closed the door behind her, and Hongjoong stood there for a moment, feeling a strange sense of fulfillment. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but it had also brought a new layer of understanding between them.

As he walked back to his own place, he couldn't help but feel that their rivalry had given way to something far more valuable: a foundation for a true partnership, and perhaps even a friendship. And with that thought, he looked forward to what they could achieve together.

-

The next day, Hongjoong walked into the studio, still feeling the lingering effects of the late night celebration. He greeted his colleagues with a nod, making his way to his workstation. As he approached his desk, he noticed a neatly wrapped present sitting in the center of it.

Curious, Hongjoong picked up the gift, inspecting the wrapping. It was simple but elegant, with a small card attached. He opened the card first, reading the handwritten note inside:

"For your hard work. I hope you like it!"

His eyes widened in surprise. The handwriting was unmistakable—he immediately knew it was from Y/n. With growing anticipation, he carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was the very speaker they had argued over at the music store.

Hongjoong stared at the speaker, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn't believe she had gone out of her way to get it for him. He picked up the card again, reading the note once more, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Determined to express his gratitude, he decided to find Y/n immediately.

He headed to the section of the studio where Y/n usually worked. As he approached, he saw her through the glass window, deeply engrossed in her work with her headphones on. Hongjoong took a moment to steady his nerves before stepping inside.

Y/n was so focused on her project that she didn't notice Hongjoong until he was standing right next to her. Sensing his presence, she took off her headphones and looked at him curiously.

"What's this?" Hongjoong asked, holding up the card.

Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of worry crossing her face. She stood up, her hands clasped nervously. "I'm sorry, I thought you would be happy about it."

Before she could say more, Hongjoong closed the distance between them and kissed her, the action sudden and impulsive. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his shoulders.

Just as they were lost in the moment, the door to the studio swung open, and Maddox walked in. He froze, staring at them in shock and anger. "What are you doing with my sister???" he demanded, his voice rising in disbelief.

Y/n and Hongjoong broke apart, both of them turning to face Maddox. Y/n looked horrified, while Hongjoong appeared completely taken aback.

"Your sister?" Hongjoong repeated, his mind struggling to process the information.

-

(part 2 coming soon!)

[shonen-brainrot]

You’ve always had a knack for finding yourself in the most unexpected places, but sitting on Tomura Shigaraki’s lap in the dim light of a decrepit warehouse takes the cake. It had started with a chance encounter at an old arcade, where you both ended up sharing the last quarter of a game machine. Who would have guessed that the leader of the League of Villains would be a fan of vintage video games?

Tonight, you’re in an old warehouse that the League has repurposed as a makeshift game room. The space is cluttered with discarded furniture and old gaming consoles, but it has a certain charm. A single, flickering light bulb casts a warm glow over a battered old couch where you’re comfortably perched on Tomura’s lap, the two of you huddled together.

Tomura’s arm is draped casually around your waist, his fingers clutching a controller as he furrows his brow at the screen before you.

"You're surprisingly comfy, you know that?" you tease, poking his chest lightly.

He lets out a soft chuckle, a sound you’ve come to cherish. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Take it however you want, boss man," you reply with a grin, leaning back against his chest.

His crimson eyes soften as he looks down at you, a rare sight that always makes your heart skip a beat. "You’re quite fearless, sitting here like this," he murmurs as he bounces you a little on his lap.

"Guess I trust you," you say lightly, though you mean it. Despite everything, you’ve seen glimpses of a side to Tomura that make you believe there’s more to him than just a villain.

"You shouldn’t," he warns, but his grip on you tightens ever so slightly, as if he’s afraid to let you go.

"Too late for that," you whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek. His skin is cool under your fingertips, and you marvel at how he leans into your touch, seeking warmth. “Ready to lose?” you challenge, brandishing the game controller with a playful smirk.

Tomura looks at you with an amused glint in his crimson eyes. “You think you can take me down in Street Fighter? I’ve been practicing, doll.”

“Bring it on, mr villain,” you tease, pressing the start button and diving into the game.

The screen flickers to life, and the characters begin their intense battle.

The game is a whirlwind of animated punches and kicks, and you’re deeply immersed, trying to outmaneuver Tomura’s relentless attacks. His laughter, surprisingly light and genuine, vibrates through his chest as you narrowly dodge his special moves.

“You’re not half bad,” Tomura admits, his voice warm with admiration. “But you’re still going down.”

“You wish,” you retort, focusing intently on the screen as you execute a particularly tricky combo move. “Prepare to be defeated!”

Tomura’s fingers are deft on the controls, guiding his character with precision. Every now and then, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he murmurs strategy tips and playful taunts. The closeness is both exhilarating and comforting, and you find yourself laughing more than you expected.

As the final round approaches, you’re neck and neck. You shift in his lap, trying to find a better angle for your attack, which only causes Tomura to chuckle.

“Getting comfortable?” he teases, his voice low and warm in your ear.

“Just trying to find the best spot to beat you,” you reply, adjusting your position again. His free hand steadies you as you wiggle, making sure you don’t fall off.

With a final, well-timed maneuver, you manage to land the winning blow. “Victory!” you exclaim triumphantly, raising your arms in a mock victory pose, which causes you to slide even more in his lap.

Tomura groans theatrically, though the smile on his face betrays his enjoyment. “Beginner’s luck.”

“You’ll have to admit I’m pretty skilled,” you tease, settling back down and shifting slightly to get comfortable.

Tomura’s hands rest on your hips, holding you steady. He’s wearing gloves with only two fingers covered, designed so he won’t decay anything. He chuckles, “Alright, alright. You’re good. But next time, I’m winning and I won't go easy on ya.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming,” you reply, leaning back against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace. As you shift again to find the perfect spot, and you need to admit his lap is very comfortable.

He relaxes, letting out a contented sigh. “You know, this is... nice. Being here with you.”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree, looking up at him. “I think you’re not as much of a villain as everyone thinks.”

Tomura’s gaze softens, his usual guarded demeanor melting away. “Maybe."

As you turn to face him, without thinking, you lean in and press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Tomura’s eyes widen briefly in surprise before they flutter closed, his hand cupping your cheek gently.

When you pull back, his smile is tender, and there’s a hint of something unspoken in his gaze. “I think me like it, doll,” he murmurs.

[slytherinshua]

SEA BREEZE KISSES

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes specifically in tense cause i usually don't write in present tense rip. pairing. wonbin x fem!reader. wc. 757. request. no. a/n. it's taken me this long to write for wonbin which is low-key embarrassing BUT WE'RE HERE FINALLY ‼️ also watermelon by lucy is so perfect for this fic just saying <3

The fabric of the vintage denim feels rough under your fingertips— your thumbs tucked securely in the belt loops of your boyfriend’s jeans as you hold onto his waist tightly, making sure there was no chance you could fall as he pedals along the oceanside road. The wind from the coastal sea breeze sends the subtle notes of his cologne to your nose, and you relax your cheek onto his back, completely at ease.

You almost feel as if this moment couldn’t get any more perfect. You have absolutely everything you could ever ask for. Your boyfriend who you haven’t seen in almost 5 months, your favourite sundress perfectly tailored to show off your best features, the most perfect weather imaginable and the deserted beach just for the two of you. You wish everyday could be as serene as this.

Wonbin taps the brakes on the bicycle gently, slowing to a stop as he reaches the pathway down to the beach. You get off first, exchanging giddy laughter and a knowing look with him before you take off running to the shore. 

“Y/n!! It’s not fair! You got a head start!” His shouts reach your ears along with the relaxing sound of the lapping waves, but you don’t bother turning around to see him struggle to catch up to you. You know he’s faster than you anyway. Within a couple seconds, he collides with your body in a back hug as both your feet finally reach the shoreline. 

You both laugh, holding onto each other’s arms as if either one would float away if you weren’t stuck together the entire time. The water feels cool against your bare legs, but you quickly realize that the bottom centimetres of Wonbin’s jeans have gotten soaked.

“These are nice jeans, baby! Don’t ruin them.” You crouch down, not minding if the hem of your dress got a little wet. You carefully roll up the bottom of the pant legs until they hit a bit below his knees. “We’ll probably get completely soaked anyway but-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, a squeal escapes your lips as Wonbin lifts you up in his arms without warning. He laughs at you, his eyes forming small crescent moons as he spins you around before placing you back down on your feet. Your lips collide next, the sweet strawberry lip gloss you always wear transferring onto Wonbin’s lips. He doesn’t bother to wipe it off once he pulls away, but instead swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, tasting the sticky gloss.

“New flavour?” He laughs, his hands holding your waist close to him.

“It’s been 5 months. They don’t last forever.” You smile, running your hands through the long locks of his dark hair. It’s significantly longer than the last time you saw him. Before, you couldn’t think that you could ever love how Wonbin looks more, but now you see that you’re proven wrong, once again. The long wolf cut frames his face perfectly, and you quickly get addicted to the soft feeling of the strands between your fingers.

“You mean you were wearing your lip gloss without me there to kiss it off?” He teases, tilting his head to the side. You can only nod, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

“I won’t do it again, sir.” You fake salute in response which only makes Wonbin laugh louder and clutch onto your waist tighter. But his touch is always gentle, just like he is. He’s so full of love for you that it’s infectious, and you can practically feel your heart swelling in your chest.

“I love you.” You mumble once your boyfriend’s giggles died down a little. You want to save the moment in your memory forever. The way his lips curve up into the cutest of smiles and his hand squeezes your hip gently with love. The waves rushing over your ankles and the smell of fresh sea air only add to the moment. 

He whispers it back to you and captures your lips with his again— this kiss lasting longer than the first one. It’s filled with unmeasurable passion and uncountable promises, and even though it’s silent, you can tell exactly what he wants to convey to you through it. You respond in just the same way, pulling him closer to you and melting completely in the feeling of his soft lips on yours.

Wonbin proves to you, as he always does, that every moment can become just a little more perfect than it already is.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr,, @chiiyuuvv,, @evalevaeva,, @lecheugo

[dannais-dde-daneann]

Archive-2022/23: Cool winter outfit in style of 1915-16 Pa-2

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

touchin', m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook has got ten minutes and a hard dick. So he says. You learn you can't trust everything he says though.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; lovers that call themselves friends-with-benefits because JK is a fool; both parties are freaking annoying tbh; smut (fem reader, double lip piercing JK, heavy petting, standing doggy with clothes on, lots of neck making out, light nipple play, low-key forearm kink); fluff; non-idol!AU - JK is wearing the outfit from his 2023.06.29 Weverse live

--

“I have ten minutes and a hard dick.”

You rubbed your temples.

“Jungkook, why are you calling me?”

Breathless surprise, as if the man on the other side of the line didn’t realize how jarring it was to call someone announcing a time limit and a stiff rod. “I have–”

“I heard you,” you growled back, interrupting him sharply as you heard the knock on your front door. “I just can’t believe you. You’ve got plenty of people trying to get in your pants.” You unlocked the door and wretched it open. “Yes?” you blurted out impatiently.

What?

You weren’t expecting anyone decent at near midnight.

Big peepers stared back.

“But I don’t want anybody else in my pants,” Jeon Jungkook told your ear and your face.

You rolled your eyes and dropped your phone. “You look like an egg.”

He did. Black beanie jammed onto his head, his black-brown hair sticking out every which way underneath, even a dropped jaw to emulate that pointed side of said metaphorical egg. White Nike t-shirt two sizes too big for him. Loose black sweatpants. Cute monochrome black-and-white sneakers you would not be letting into your home.

He bit his lower lip, still clutching his smartphone. You noticed there was another piercing on his lip now.

“I thought… we were…”

You pulled him by the front of his shirt and yoinked him inside.

“Don’t just stand out there with your mouth agape,” you scolded gently, shutting the door. “I don’t want you talking about your hard dick to my neighbors. Take off your shoes.”

It was an awkward moment of bodies pressed together and hastily followed instruction. You had to pluck his phone from him and end the call because it seemed like Jungkook had decided his primary task was ogling you and your bare legs. A large, vintage band t-shirt was good enough pajamas for you. You bent down to shove his shoes against the wall and you were very sure Jungkook’s eyeballs were glued to your ass. All that was well and good, but what was thinking, calling you up about his hard di–

His lock screen flashed on when your thumb grazed against it.

You spotted one of your Instagram photos hiding behind the time stamp and his numerous notifications.

Huh.

You looked away.

“Take this,” you muttered, jamming his phone back into his open hand. “What are you doing out so late anyw–”

You cut yourself off once you realized how close Jungkook was.

In this entire space of your front entrance, he had picked centimeters away from your chest to be his standing spot, forcing you to look up at him and his big dark brown peepers. Seemed like he was eating well. He had a little more fullness to his cheeks tonight, although he still had his sharp jawline and that silver hardware gleaming on the right side of his lip. One hoop, one new stud.

“I… I, uh…”

You intended to deliver some firm comeback, but instead you relented under that gaze and pressed your thigh against his. Just to feel him. Not too much, but enough to have the contact and strike the friction between bodies.

“Um…” He was mumbling, struggling to think. “I have to go meet my parents at the train station. They said they picked up some stuff for me and that I should go get it.”

You frowned. “So… why are you here?”

A jolt as you realized he was closer and taking your hand, pulling it down, lower.

Lower.

“I can’t go like this…”

Pressing your hand to his crotch, his lips already on yours as you palmed his rock-hard erection through his pants.

Yeah, you can, and Jungkook could tell what you were thinking from your smirk against his kiss and the tease of your tongue. There was no reason to make this easy for him, no matter how easy he was. You smiled, avoiding too much pressure in the kiss, both to frustrate him and because you were uncertain about irritating the new piercing, but Jungkook chased you, sharpness in his inhale, following your steps deeper into your dark home.

The one light you had on was in your bedroom, but you might not make it at this rate.

Strong hands grabbing the back of your head, fingers spreading out over your scalp, pulling you closer, and you met his insistence with calm, tracing your tongue over his lips and flitting in and out. Saliva and softness, the backs of his hands roughly hitting the wall, crowding you with his larger frame as you snaked your hand up and down his length, the fingers of your other hand sliding up the hem of his shirt and hooking over the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging him to you.

He moaned into your mouth when your fingertips caressed taut skin.

“What am I gonna do with you?” you purred, teasing him, nicking at his lower lip. The heat of his body was radiating and addictive. Too many clothes for how aroused he was. “I thought you said we weren’t that serious, hm?”

His hands in your hair tightened. “I t-take it back…” he whimpered. “I told you… I don’t want anyone else…”

You touched him all over, massaging his balls and toying with his cock, smearing the pre-cum over your palm and his length, pressing your soft thigh against his hard one. Rolled your body against his, your hot breath on his chin, his moan smoke above your eyes, and now he could feel that you weren’t wearing a bra under your shirt.

He shivered in delight.

You chuckled.

“I think you would say anything to have my hand on your dick.”

Pressed your lips to his throat and kissed down, wrapping your hand around his length. His pants were falling down his legs. You felt one hand leave your head and then his pants shifted. Then his fist hit the wall, a thunderous boom amidst his shudders that you felt through tongue and teeth, careful not to leave marks.

“H… Harder…”

You snickered. “You’re going to see your parents. I can’t leave hickeys.”

He whined, but you ignored it, flicking his earrings and licking under his earlobe. Tingling kisses left behind in your wake. He smelled like his usual clean soap. The tips of his hair feathered against your temples as you kissed the space under his ear, delicately sucking on it.

That was enough.

Time crunch and all that shit.

You were about to slide down the wall, but Jungkook stopped you, grabbing your shoulder.

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow. Half-laughing inside because his beanie was barely on his head, his unruly hair spilling out. There were visible beads of sweat by his furrowed brow, but you bit your words back and focused on those lidded dark eyes and flushed pink lips gasping your name breathlessly.

“B-Bend over.”

It would have a sterner effect if he hadn’t stuttered.

The side of your lips curled up irresistibly. “Oh?”

He lifted his fist off the wall and the foil packet caught the light.

You smirked.

“You’re so fun, you know that?”

Jungkook grinned and smacked the condom into your cheek, dragging your face to his, wild black hair over his eyes as he kissed you, indenting your lip with his jewelry.

There was something extra slutty about being mostly dressed and fucking standing doggy against the wall. He pressed his palm on your lower back but you were already slipping further down the wall, your panties at your knees, ass up, and you heard him swear when the throbbing head pressed into your dripping heat.

“Fuck… me… are you a virgin or what? Fuck!”

He would know from personal experience that you most certainly were not. You neglected to remind him he hadn’t warmed you up himself. Instead, you hiked your shirt up more and tilted your head playfully. Added commentary to be extra insufferable. For fun, of course.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m not…”

Your hand hit the wall. Both palms flat, lowering more and pushing back as he pushed in, the ache viciously filled with his girth, pleasure suddenly racing up your spine and devouring the equilibrium.

“I’m not, fuck, thanking you, a-ah…!”

He was the one with his hands gripping your hips but you were the one to start off the bruising pace, sucking a breath between teeth and shoving your ass into his crotch, amplifying the power of his thrust, warmth swirling in your core, satisfaction blooming in your exhale.

“Mmmm, Jungkook, yeah, fuck, just like that…”

Your fingers curling into fists, immediate fire in your veins, clenching around his hard length and enjoying every second. Power and lust and savage sweetness, feeling his fingers dig into your hips, hearing his breath hitch, his moan vibrating in his throat. You had to stifle a laugh as you realized that he was suffocating all his sounds so he could concentrate, hm, how interesting, but you let yourself fall into the pleasure, tipping your head back and sighing, the building wave of orgasm seeping out and spreading over your lower belly, pulsing around him.

You dropped your torso a little lower and heard Jungkook groan, gripping your ass harder.

“Hah… so good… fuck…”

His name falling from your lips, with desire and grace, not hiding the feeling but burning in the fervor, remembering his insincere face telling you a bold lie, we’re not that serious, and you recalled thinking, is he just saying that because he thinks I’m intimidating or what, but you let him think what he thought and want what he wanted, his nails clawing into your back, harder, regular plans becoming more irregular, breathing heavier, hotter, until he was constantly searching for you with those shining brown eyes of his, pulling you to his embrace and trying to lock down this escape artist with his lips.

Maybe it worked.

Who knows.

You pressed your fist into the wall and let out a hiss of hot breath, clenching your core and all around him, ah, chasing that brutal fullness, that declivous slick friction with every loud smack, the prickling crawling up your legs and ribcage, come on, give it to me, your low purr intoxicated by the carnal desire and Jungkook couldn’t say anything, probably clenching his jaw and burning up from the heat, closer, his pants turning into coarse gasps, choppy and erratic, faster, hotter, throbbing, there.

He didn’t have time to warn you.

You felt your inner walls pulse and flinch, squeezing hard, the rush injected into the tension and making you gasp, thrown off by the sudden shaking ecstasy, your hand slipping on the wall. Catching yourself mid-slide and feeling Jungkook jerk, freezing your hips in place as he came in intense jerks, straining against your tightness, your name in a silvery, fucked-out moan.

Damn.

Could get used to that.

Your hair was all over your face, making the dark room even darker. “Heh. Trying not to cum too fast, huh?”

“S… Shut up…”

He barely forced it out, his hands giving out and sliding up your stomach. Oof, he was warm, his chest radiating heat onto your back, and yet you smiled as you felt his fingertips rub against your hard nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through you in the afterglow. You pushed half of your hair back, amused at seeing his beanie somehow now on the floor. He lifted you up even though you didn’t ask, slipping out and shoving his sweaty face into the back of your neck.

“Hey,” you were about to protest, but he was squeezing your breasts and nipples, making you buck against him as he sighed into your skin.

“You smell so good, mmmm…” he was mumbling, ignoring your squirming.

You tried to reorient him even though he was the one trying to distract you. “Oi, aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?”

“Wuh?”

You tried to unstick his hands from your chest but he pressed his forearms to your sides. Instantly, a tremor danced through your muscles, thundering, not allowing the arousal to subside. You sucked in a tight breath, feeling him clamp down on your waist with his arms. “What happened to ten minutes, I gotta go see my parents?”

“Oh… eh… it’s okay,” Jungkook hummed, kissing your neck through your hair. “I made that up anyway.”

Somehow, you had low-key guessed that, but there was no reason to let him get away with it. “I don’t like lying, you know,” you curtly reminded him.

“Sorry…”

He pushed your hair aside with his nose and plopped his head on your shoulder, hugging you tightly with his sweaty body. Your arms were hanging a bit limply in front of you, but that was because of his muscular embrace. It made you feel a bit like a caught kitty cat.

“Don’t do things like that,” you scolded, but he was shoving his nose in your jaw, warm breath and feathering kisses over the curve of your neck while massaging your breasts.

“Sorry… I just wanna be with you,” he murmured breathlessly. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you retorted, burning comfortably and uncomfortably from his touch and words, respectively.

“And pretty. And smart.” He was ignoring you even though he was the one making out with your ear. “I was afraid you would find me annoying…”

“You are freaking annoying,” you confirmed, placing your hands on the backs of his, but not pulling them away. “I told you to tell me when you were horny, not make shit up.”

You could practically hear his pout. “Well, I didn’t know I was until I was driving over here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

He changed the subject. Classic. “Why do you have to wear clothes?”

“I can’t answer the door naked.”

“But it was me.”

“How would I know that?”

It was hard to describe the comfortable kind of exasperated he made you. A welcome, spontaneous, borderline ridiculous distraction. You somehow managed to get him to untangle himself from you and clean up, his clothes carelessly flung in random places, and you shook your head at him, you’re gonna have to pick those up later, but as soon as he had washed up, Jungkook was pushing you down on your bed, pressing your naked body to his and sighing softly, his hair a floofy mess.

“I didn’t say yes to you spending the night,” you said calmly as he kissed your collarbones, sparks lingering from the contact of his lips. You looked down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Those round, shining eyes lit up in the semi-darkness of your bedroom.

“Like what?”

Pretending like he didn’t know, uh huh.

You shook your head and tangled one of your hands in his hair, nudging him up.

“Come here.”

He scooted up earnestly. You placed a fingertip on his lower lip as he neared, making him pause breathlessly.

“Is this new?”

You couldn’t miss the sparkling in his gaze as you mentioned it. “Y-Yeah…”

You raised your head and kissed it softly. “Should take good care of it as it heals, mmmm? So let’s just be rough down here…” you breathed, your other hand raking over his thigh, smiling as he flexed under your touch, moaning into your mouth, a sweet taste that you couldn’t stop craving, and yet you had to point it out one more time.

He had the audacity to pretend, after all.

“But we’re not that serious, right?”

Jungkook groaned and shoved his face into your neck as you laughed. “I take it back! Stop being mean…!”

There was just something about his impatient whine.

“Alright, alright…”

Bad decisions were made.

Like staying up until four in the morning fucking.

Ah, shit.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[cas-backwards-tie]

Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[soullessdianthus]

♡‧₊˚✧˖° | Biker!Alejando X Reader X Biker!Rudy

s: biker!au with Los Vaqueros and inappropriate, polygamous relationship with a younger reader, because I was asked a few times to write for perv!Ale ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I'm more than willing to elabroate on this au *wink wink*

w: age gap (reader is in early to mid twenties, ale and rudy around their forties), mentions of drug dealing and violence, nfsw (daddy kink, dp, oral m!reciving)

It all started innocently as you started working at the local diner during the summer break. The place was vintage and messy, but served the most delicious food in Las Almas. People came here at each time of the day, bringing their family for a meal or a drink. 

Despite being rather reserved towards strangers you enjoyed working there and talking to people. However, the night shifts were the worst part as you had to close the register and the diner alone and then walk to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride home. 

Everyone knew that nightlife in Las Almas was dangerous, especially for such an innocent and sweet person as you. Drug dealers sneaking around each corner, drunken bar fights and more – who knows, maybe you poured them a cup of morning coffee earlier? 

And those damned Los Vaqueros, a local motorcycle club who self-proclaimed themselves as a deputy of the locals. It was true that they did in fact condemn the cartel’s doing by smuggling narcotics and slowly were cleaning the city out, but they were smuggling weapons at the same time! 

The bikers would often come by to the diner you worked at to have a feast or just a couple of refreshing drinks on their way. They were customers like everyone else and as long as they were overall behaving decently, you weren’t opposed to serving them their orders. 

It wasn’t the first time you caught their vice president – Rudy, staring at you. However, it wasn’t a rude or creepy kind of staring, no. The man seemed quite polite and he always tipped you well. He wasn’t handsy and smiled at you each time you served him his favorite dessert. You grew to have a tiny little crush on him.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when the president himself and Rudy’s best friend – Alejandro finally noticed you too (it didn’t take that long to be honest). And even regarding the circumstances, you didn't mind their attention. You felt... kind of special? An apple in the eyes of older men who found you pretty. What was wrong with that?

One evening, when the sun had set behind the horizon and only a few customers were left, Alejandro and Rudy decided to stop at the diner. They sat in the farthest booth in the corner, tall walls separating them from the rest of the restaurant.

When you placed their bottles of frozen cola on the table, a sudden yank on your forearm made you lose your balance. It was the president of LV himself that pulled you into his lap with no shame at all. 

You had fallen onto his spreaded thighs, hand clutching onto his leather vest as you looked at Rudy sitting across the table with wide eyes. 

— So clumsy — Alejandro clicked with his tongue, a proud smirk painting on his tanned face when he noticed you blushing — and so pretty, no? I see why you like her, hermano.

— Don’t scare her, pendejo [sp.: idiot]. — His friend said, flustered by this whole situation. Rudy continued to play with the bottle’s metal cap between his fingers.

— Sir, I have to go back to work. 

You stated the truth, trying to wiggle out of his grip and to stand up. But the man was stronger and so he wrapped his bulky arm around your waist. His muscles were so soft and warm and...

— Ay, not so quickly, ninfa [sp.: young girl] — Alejandro pulled you back onto his lap, causing the hem of your skirt to roll up your thighs — my friend here, he always tips you well, yes?

The raven-haired man knew how to wrap a woman around his finger. Better, he knew how to cast spells, because when his coarse palm made contact with the smooth skin of your exposed thigh, you shivered with excitement. 

— Y-Yes? He’s very kind.

— You like him? — He continued to stroke your pretty leg as you looked at the soft look in Rodolfo’s eyes. — Don’t you think you should thank him? 

— I always… — You were extremely confused, when you retraced your head towards the president of Los Vaqueros and then back to the object of your crush. — T-Thank you, sir.

— Not like that, silly. Let him take you out, hm? How about that?

Alejandro chuckled and bounced his leg at the same time, causing you to catch an embarrassing gasp in your throat. 

— We can go to the park or grab a coffee if you’d like. — Rudy finally spoke, moving around in his seat, obviously content that you were even considering the offer of a date. 

You bit down on your lip, before responding as Ale pulled the clean napkin closer to the edge. 

— O-Okay, I’d like that.

— Write your number, sweetheart. 

The man who served as your personal chair pointed at the napkin. Without further fuss you grabbed the pen from the apron that was underlining your curves just right and wrote down the numbers. Only then, Alejandro released you from his grip and helped you get up, smoothing the material of skirt. 

— That’s a good girl. Go back to work. 

And just before you could glance at them for the last time and leave, the raven-haired biker playfully slapped your ass through the clothes, causing you to walk faster. The eggs that table number seven ordered must have gone cold by now. 

The two older men left you flustered, blushing and conflicted about your morals – they were probably twice your age! So how did they manage to speed the beating of your heart and arousal pool in your panties? 

That one, innocent park date with Rudy turned into another few meetings, but the whole “thing” started to include Alejandro as well. So now it was the three of you in one relationship. 

They clearly made it clear to the other club members that you were their girl, because none of them dared to stare at you for too long. Oh God, forbid others touching you. One of your older boyfriends would pick you up after work, so you didn’t have to take that shady bus at night. At the same time taking you for a short ride on their bikes. 

Dear heavens, how Rudy adored when you hugged to his broad back so tightly, afraid of falling off the motorcycle. Since the first meet up, he felt responsible for something as fragile as you.

When in public they always kept their arms hooked around you, caging from the dangers of the world – because you were such a sweet and pure soul, too good for Las Almas’ ugliness or violence. 

Sleeping between them in huge bed became a daily routine as much as them fucking you nicely to sleep. 

When Rudy was trying to keep the thrust of his hips steady and not too rough, Alejandro was a complete opposite. They would take you at the same time, raven-haired telling you to swallow his throbbing cock down your throat, meanwhile Rodolfo would play with your pussy until your slick dripped down his wrist and only then, he would finally stretch your cunny on his big, swollen shaft. 

— Come on, be a good girl for daddies. — Ale would be the one with the dirtiest mouth on the planet. His filthy remarks caused you to blush and feel humiliated, especially when he constantly reminded you how this relationship is deranged, because of the age difference. 

He fucking adored when you referred to him as “daddy” or clung to him, desperate for attention, basically crawling up his lap.

At the same time, Rudy would fuck you gently, both of his hands on your hips, helping you to stay put. The vice president was the one to worship you in bed and do all the work for you and your pleasure. He secretly loved when you marked him with your soft, plump lips – hickeys, bite marks, but also scratches on his toned back caused by your nails. 

There was a fine line between the personalities of your older boyfriends, nonetheless you loved them the same. For them, finding such a controversial little girlfriend to share and play with was like a new purpose sent from heaven. 

It was like walking around a sketchy neighborhood with two dobermans by your side.

[senualothbrok]

Open Hands, Open Hearts

Summary: With the Netherbrain defeated and the companions about to go their separate ways, Gale decides to be honest about his feelings for Tav.

A slow burn one-shot, featuring pining Gale, monk Tav, and agony aunt Shadowheart.

Word count: 5.4k

Non-18+. Gale x Tav (f!monk). Pining. Mild hurt/comfort.

AO3 link

A/N: Big thanks to @inglorionamy-ammy for being my beta-reader extraordinaire. I hope you enjoy some slow-burn pining and reflections on the philosophy of non-attachment. As always, comments and feedback are welcome!

She stands apart.

She cannot see you watching her. She swirls an untasted drink, her gaze drifting over the bustling merriment of the weaving crowd. You are memorising the curves of her face, illuminated in the glow of the bonfire. The gossamer scar on her left cheek, and the lilting arc of her nose. The weather-worn dips of her skin. Amidst the clatter of trenchers and shouts of laughter, she wears a faint smile like a veil. As usual, she is lost in a world of her own. 

It had been you who suggested celebrating your victory against the Netherbrain with drinks in your hands and reckless abandon in your hearts. You had been swept up in the elation of the moment, the flurry of embraces from your companions, all grins and clasped shoulders. The dizzying promise of freedom as you clutched the mark of the orb on your chest. Tav had nodded at you, smiling brightly, her dark eyes glimmering before she looked away. She had maintained her customary reserve, as she does now, as she has done at all the parties and gatherings since this journey began.

Tav has always worn her hair in a tight bun, as though any concession to beauty would be a distraction. But tonight, obsidian locks tumble over her shoulders like the feathers of a raven. Against the hard muscles of her frame, her tresses look impossibly soft. You wonder, not for the first time, how they would feel against your lips.

You throw back the wine in your glass. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

You spin towards Shadowheart’s dulcet drawl. She smirks before taking a sip of wine, then wrinkles her nose in disgust. 

“I hope it makes up for this disappointing vintage. I suppose even the heroes of Baldur’s Gate don’t deserve the best wine in the cellars.”

You shift along the bench, making space for her. “Alas, beggars can’t be choosers. We’re remarkably fortunate there are any wine cellars left, all things considered.”

Shadowheart huffs as she sinks down beside you. Her voice is light with affection. 

“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

You titter, setting your empty glass on the ground. “I auditioned for the role of pragmatist, but you'd scooped that up already.”

Her eyes dance. You can sense the intensity of Shadowheart’s appraisal as she looks from you to Tav. She clears her throat.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Gale,” she begins.

You arch an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“Well.” She sighs. “Maybe I do.”

You are all immeasurably tired, not just from your adventures, but from the lives you have led. The battles you have endured, together and alone. You can forgive any directness on Shadowheart’s part. You have grown accustomed to it, after all - maybe even fond of it. 

“You do realise that after tonight, we might never see each other again?” 

You baulk at this. You almost make a reflexive joke to dismiss it - that you are looking forward to being spared Astarion’s cutting remarks, or the overpowering evidence of Minsc’s poor hygiene. But sorrow quivers in Shadowheart's brow. You realise that the thought is anguish to her too. 

“Of course we will,” you manage. “Bonds forged in blood aren't so easily severed.”

Shadowheart stares at you. There is a heaviness in her eyes that makes you look away.

“If we do, who knows how long it’ll be before our paths cross again.”

You are reminded of your hasty farewells on the docks. You still half expect Wyll to appear beside you with a chuckle. A hearty slap on the back from Karlach. A solemn hum from Lae'zel. Their absence is a living, breathing thing that simmers between you. 

You wave your hand weakly, an attempt at dismissal. But the determination in Shadowheart's features arrests you.

“If you have important things to say to her, Gale, you should say them now.”   

You frown, backfooted. “What could I possibly have to say to our fearless leader that I haven't already said in the many months we've enjoyed together?”

Shadowheart snorts. “Come now, Gale. You're many things, but you're not subtle.”

You try to feign ignorance, but it does not deter her.

“I’d have to be blind not to catch all those longing looks and stolen glances, or notice the purple wash of your tent on lonely nights.”

You start in your seat. Fire blazes up your neck, burning in your cheeks, smouldering in your ears. You gape, resisting the urge to bury your face in your robes. 

Shadowheart chortles, patting you briskly on the shoulder. “Not to worry. We're all mature adults.”

You cough. At a loss, you fumble at your breeches, wringing your hands. You wonder if it would be unconscionably rude to misty step away from this conversation altogether. 

Amusement crinkles in Shadowheart's gaze. There is tenderness there. All at once, you are reminded that every moment left with your companions, however mortifying, is precious. And perhaps it was foolish to expect such things to remain hidden, living in close quarters as you have been, forever teetering on the precipice between life and death. You have all been stripped bare with each other.

In the end, it has been an honour. To know and be known, after an eternity of being alone.

You would not usually discuss the matters of the heart so openly. But Shadowheart is right. Who knows how long you have left? 

You clear your throat, your gaze returning to Tav like an anchor. She is crouched now, ruffling Scratch’s dusty fur intently as he nestles into her. You steady yourself.

“That ship sailed long ago, Shadowheart. In fact, it didn't just sail. It arrived at its location and returned a few times over.”

It still pains you to admit it. Pathetic, you know. You have tried, in vain, to rid yourself of your feelings. It was easier, with the constant threats to your existence, the relentless fight for survival. There was always some danger to distract you from that gnawing ache. Now, with the joy of victory, you are left with the suffering of wasted love.

What a sad, sorry thing.  

Shadowheart grimaces. “Yet you’re still waiting at the docks.” 

You stare at her, questioning. Once again, she sighs. 

“Tav’s a monk, Gale. An incredibly committed one. She was trained to deny every single desire she has. To sacrifice her every need for the greater good. You know that, right?”

She stresses every word, like it is a secret code. You strain against her meaning. 

She grizzles. “You have no idea? None at all? Truly?”

You suddenly sense where this is going. And truthfully, there was a time when you had wondered. You remember standing beside Tav, so close you could smell the tang of her sweat, the Weave flowing between you, making you one. Awe radiated from her, her vision lit up by the miracle of a magic that was not Ki, cocooning her in an altogether different kind of peace. In the purity of that instant, you were overcome by a longing to be closer. You let your eyes soak in every inch of her, the perfect balance of her body, the softness within her hardness. So much strength, always wielded in kindness, never for cruelty. So much power, always wielded for life, never for death.

You wanted to understand, then. The Way of the Open Hand, and all its tenets she held so dear. The mystery of her, in all her quiet glory. The secret behind her unwavering goodness. The resilience of her peace. Such tranquility, such certainty of purpose. Such a far cry from the rot inside you, the crushing burden of your mistakes. 

She is beautiful, you thought, knowing she would feel your thinking of it.

When the image first came to you, you struggled to parse it. The fluttering of her cut and calloused fingers over the bristles of your beard. The warmth of her bruised skin against your own. The quiver of her plump and parted lips, searching for and finding yours. A swirling wet desire, raw and piercing. 

When you realised what it was, you gasped. You stepped back. She withdrew too, her dark eyes averted, her face shadowed and unreadable. And then the connection had broken, and as you felt the Weave dissolve into the hollow night, a silence descended on you like a flood. 

Perhaps you had imagined it. She could not have felt such a thing. The desire had been so intense, so sharp, like the grasping thrust of a blade. It could not have belonged to someone whose hands were always open, whose entire being was steadfast as still waters that had never seen a storm. She was a master of the Way, a seeker of Enlightenment. She lived like she had surpassed the passions of the heart and flesh. 

You had planned to forget it. Ignore it. Pretend it never happened. But the image stirred something inside you, hot and red and hungry. It grew with every brush of her fingers as you traded tomes and scrolls, every flicker of her curious eyes when you shared musings great and small. Every evening lounging beside her as she meditated, cloaked in a peace that transcended words. 

But when you had confessed to her on that fateful night, beneath the canopy of beauty and wonder you had conjured in her honour, she had turned away. She had whispered a choked apology, her brow twisted like never before. For the first time, shame and guilt trembled in her features as she retreated. 

That had been the end of it. For Tav, perhaps, but not for you.

Shadowheart narrows her eyes. “So you didn't find it strange to see the calmest, most courteous woman in all of Faerun lashing out at Elminster Aumar, the most respected wizard in all the realms?”

You frown. It is true. Tav had been unusually animated, maybe even a little brusque, when Elminster had asked you to sacrifice yourself. You had chalked it down to pragmatism, weariness, maybe. An inordinately long day, or a torturously sleepless night. You did not have the presence of mind to reflect on Tav’s reaction, anyway, in the midst of your own devastation.

“Even paragons of virtue aren't immune to the short fuse of fatigue,” you suggest. “And cheese can wreak havoc on one’s digestive system, particularly in the amounts we consumed that evening. In fact, on more than one occasion, troubles in my breadbasket have led me to some rather disgraceful outbursts to Tara-”

Shadowheart groans. “Are you telling me that Tav disrespected the Sage of Shadowdale because she was a bit tired and had too much cheese?”

You swallow. Resolve clenches in her jaw in the awkward pause that follows. She tries again.

“You never wondered whose idea it was for me to make you all those special remedies, to take the edge off your orb pain?”

You scratch your head. “Was this a question I ought to have asked?” You are confused. “Should I have doubted your kindness and generosity?”

“Your faith in me is flattering,” Shadowheart drawls. “But we were practically strangers back then. I would have needed some incentive. Tav didn't. Your existence was incentive enough.”

A memory assails you. The aftermath of your defeat of Ketheric Thorm, when Tav was forced to draw on your ingenious resurrection protocol. Her juddering breaths as she leaned over your bleeding body. The anguished panic in her eyes. The muffled sound she made as you revived, lurching towards you and then flinching away. Her face impenetrable, her chest heaving as she withdrew. 

No. It cannot be. 

You shake your head. “You've misunderstood, Shadowheart. Tav cares for all of us. Everyone, indiscriminately and in equal measure.”

‘To walk the Path of Enlightenment,’ Tav had said when you asked her what she desired above all else. ‘To defend the weak and defenseless.’  If Tav loved anything, it was that grand purpose. There was no room for anything, anyone, else. 

“I certainly don't hold a special place in her heart. Far from it. When I…” You grimace, sweeping your hand through your hair. “Well, she set me straight in no uncertain terms. Whatever feelings you imagine she harbours for me are confined to the bonds of simple friendship, nothing more.” 

Shadowheart sucks in a breath. She looks up, as if she is appealing to the heavens for strength.

“I never thought an archwizard could be such a fool.” 

You bristle. “An archwizard would have little tolerance for unwarranted displays of discourtesy.”

At your reaction, she softens. For an instant, she looks almost sheepish. Leaning back, she gestures towards Tav. Tav is cross legged now, her head tilted upwards, seeking the stars overhead. She had marvelled, too, at the azure sky you created for her, as though every constellation you crafted carried the wisdom she so craved. 

“Do you know how hard it is to make Tav laugh?” 

There is a wistfulness in Shadowheart’s tone. A kind of recognition. You remember that she knows the struggle for joy better than most, having spent most of her life cloistered in darkness and loss. You wonder, vaguely, whether that is so different from being cloistered in the confines of virtue.

“Not that polite smile,” she goes on. “Or that little nod she does. A real laugh, like she truly feels it.”

You know. You store each peal of Tav’s laughter within you like a priceless treasure. You have beheld each occasion as a miracle, a fleeting glimpse behind the veil.

“It's a rare and beautiful sight.”

“It is.” Shadowheart holds your gaze. “And she only does it for you. Your awful puns, and what you think passes for witty observations. Your unnecessarily detailed anecdotes.”

Something is unfurling inside you. Fear and courage, swirling into something swollen that throbs with every pulse of your heart. You struggle to keep still. 

“Please just talk to her,” Shadowheart says. “Consider it a favour to me, so I don’t have to spend the rest of the night watching you drinking bad wine and pining miserably.”

You recoil. “Excuse me, but I don't pine. Pining is not something I do. In fact, I most certainly-”

“Yes, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “You don't pine, and Tav is an open book. You're both paragons of healthy communication.” She swigs her wine, pursing her pale lips in distaste. “I don't even know why you're still talking to me, at this point.” 

You huff. Turning slowly, your eyes seek Tav’s across the expanse. A strand of hair trails over her collarbone, caressing the peak of her breast. She dips her head gently towards you.

Who knows how long you have left?

You slap your knees, take a shaky breath, and rise.

******

“How does it compare?”

Her eyes are burnt almonds framed by butterfly lashes. The firelight draws out the sun-kissed olive of her skin. It has a warmth that burns within you even in her absence.  As you approach her, she bows slightly. 

You point upwards. “The celestial canvas,” you explain. “The real thing. How does it fare against my earnest imitation?”

You have never spoken of that night, not even to mention it in passing. After her retreat, you were too desperate to salvage whatever remained between you. Any bond with her, any friendship, was worth more than kingdoms, even if you could not win her love. 

But tonight, with Shadowheart's words reverberating in your mind, you feel brave. Reckless. Inexpressibly grateful. And now that you have come to the end of the road, what more do you have to lose? You may never see her again. This may be your last chance.

Something flickers on Tav’s face. You cannot quite place it. 

“The art reveals the artist, and the creation the creator, as you told me before.”

Her words are so soft, you must dip forward to catch them. The petals of her mouth curve into a smile.

“Nothing could rival the beauty of a night sky wrought by your hands.” 

You remember that conversation well, but you did not think she would. It was only one of hundreds you have shared. For a second, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that she cherishes your words with the same passion and reverence with which you treasure hers. You let yourself imagine that her words carry an affection which mirrors your own. 

But Tav speaks in formalities, riddles and proverbs. Her true feelings remain, as always, a mystery.

You listen to the rhythm of her breathing. Though even, there is a laboured focus in her breaths, as though she is forcing her intention. You recall an evening when you had sat beside her for a lesson in meditation. You had been lost in her closeness, her earthy scent, the supple arcs of her relaxed form. 

‘In times of turmoil, we return to our breathing,” she had explained. ‘The breath is an anchor. A reminder that all is temporary. Every burden, every struggle, every blessing. All is dust, and all will pass.’

Does she seek relief from turmoil now, you wonder? What burden strains against her breathing? What load does she struggle to lay down?

She shuffles a little. You gesture towards a bench nearby. She drifts towards it, her hand grazing yours as you both sit. She does not shift away. 

“So.” You fiddle with the edge of your robe. “Where does your path lead now?” 

She looks towards the bonfire. “My duty will be to return to the Order in Neverwinter.”

“Your duty.”

She nods. “It is what is expected for a monk of my position.”

“I see.” You study the stillness of her features in profile, impassive as ever. “And is that your desire?” 

She turns towards you briefly, but does not meet your eyes. Her gaze returns to the sparkling canopy above, as if the distant stars steel her soul. 

“I have always seen the monastery as my home. I know it does not serve, to cling to the idea of a home. We must be adaptable to change, to move where the Way takes us. And on this journey we have shared, I have seen and learned more than I ever would, had I remained in the monastery. Immeasurably more.” 

She draws in a long breath.

“And I would be deceitful if I said that I would not…miss….this.”

Her focus falls on the living tapestry before you, swathed in the music of joy and celebration. Astarion's fanged grin, returned wryly by Shadowheart. Minsc’s booming guffaw as Boo twirls in his palm. Jaheira’s lively gestures to a chuckling Halsin.

It is unmistakable. For an instant, Tav’s mask slips, and you see sorrow, tender and true. You had wondered if she felt the pain of parting, having always kept herself at a distance. Now, you are certain that she does.   

Without thinking, you reach for her hand. Then you catch yourself. Your fingers hover above hers.

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye.” Your voice quavers. “It would be…a great loss to me, to lose the honour of your company. A very great loss indeed.”

Her brow steeples as she looks into your eyes. Then her features tremble, her hand jerking into her lap. You retract yours briskly. 

There is a long pause. It feels like a misstep, an intrusion. A boundary you have crossed, as you had when you bared your soul to her beneath your northern lights. Mentally, you curse yourself, fretting and fumbling for an escape. And yet, you cannot ignore the tension that hangs in the air between you. The murmur of something you do not recognise, peering out from the depths.

When she speaks, you do not expect it. 

“My Masters taught me to eschew attachment. Desire.” 

She halts at the word, as though it is an admission that shames her. 

“We are to alleviate suffering, wherever we find it. Desire and attachment do not serve…”

Her voice breaks. You have never heard that before. She has always been so sure, her speech always level and calculated, echoing her constancy. You are overwhelmed, not just by a yearning to understand, but to comfort.

“They are a distraction, then,” you say. “From your purpose.”

She averts her eyes. Her sigh is weary - a weariness that has always been subsumed by her stoic exterior.   

“Everything is temporary,” she breathes. “Nothing endures.”

She closes her eyes. You watch as she lifts her hands, turning her palms up towards the constellations. 

“We are taught to live with open hands. To let all things flow through us, and never to be tethered to the current. So it is with every privilege, every gift, every… person… that comes our way.”

She opens her eyes, staring into the space above her fingers. 

“If I do not grasp it tightly, when it goes, there is no pain.”

She balls her hands into fists.

“If I hold fast to it, when I lose it, I mourn.” 

Her brow knits.

“It does not serve.”

She looks down, her hands returning to rest on her thighs. 

“Attachment only brings loss. Desire only brings pain. Everything is temporary. Nothing endures.”

The realisation is a lightning bolt that pierces you. The answer to the puzzle of her detachment. The reason for her ceaseless distance. Why she has always held back from your merry band of companions, avoiding connections beyond superficial courtesy. You see it now, as clear and certain as her kindness. It is not just a habit, the preference of an introvert more comfortable with solitude than companionship. It is not just a setting aside of distractions for the pursuit of a grand purpose. 

It is a fear of loss. Abandonment. Grief.

All this time, she has been protecting herself. The revelation fills you with a desperate urgency. 

“Does desire always beget suffering?” There is pleading in your voice. “Can attachment not be a source of wonder, beauty, goodness?”

She is taken aback by your abruptness. In this moment, you wish you still had a tadpole, so you could show her without words. You wish you could reveal how your bond gave you a reason to live when you thought there was none. How she gave you hope when you thought the only meaning to be salvaged from your life was through your death. How she brought the dawn in what you believed was an endless night.

“Your friendship, your kindness - they kept us all alive,” you say instead. “Our attachments were a source of strength. They alleviated our suffering, they never compounded it.”

You know it would be easier not to love her. If you had no attachment to her. You would not yearn for her like a lost part of yourself. There would be no agony of wanting, no suffering within your solitude. But then you would not know the wonder of her nature. The light of her laughter. The balm of her goodness and grace, unwavering as the sunrise. You would not trade them for anything, not even freedom from pain.

She is quiet, her head bowed. An ebony curtain falls around her face. You know the weight of what you are asking her to consider. But you cannot bear to see unnecessary suffering, especially not in the woman you cherish above any other.

“Is it actually possible?” you ask. “To never forge a bond with another? To remain…forever empty-handed?”

Determination hardens in her eyes as she lifts her head. 

“It is a path. I strive to reach the destination. It is a great struggle. A journey without end.” She straightens, her frame tensing. “Perhaps I am too weak and wretched to achieve it. But I must make myself worthy. Every day, I try harder.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You are the kindest, wisest, most patient person that I know. You give of yourself without asking anything in return. You saved the world,” you gesture to your bustling companions within the throng, “each and every one of us.”

When you try to hold her shifting gaze, all you see is doubt.

“You don’t see it, do you?” You resist the urge to clasp her by the shoulders. “You’re extraordinary, just the way you are.”

She shakes her head. “I am like any other soul on the Path to Enlightenment.” 

You do not allow her to avert her eyes. “No, Tav. You're much, much more than that.”

“Gale.” Her brow creases. “There are many, many more important things to consider than…my own selfish doubts and desires.”

You can see the mask returning to her features. That impenetrable fortress of sagely Tav, a vessel of virtue without self. You have come too far to return to the facade now. 

“What of your own suffering?”

Confusion twists in her face. But the truth is a tide that rushes from you, and you cannot stop it.

“What of the joy you forfeit as you watch from the sidelines? The loneliness you carry as you stand apart, shirking companionship? Denying your own desires, crushing your attachments - surely that begets a suffering of its own?”

She turns away. Anxiety flares within you. Perhaps you have gone too far. It is too much for her. You begin to wrench at yourself. You have pushed her back into her shell, an armour against hurts that you will never know. In your folly and impatience, you have lost her.  In the silence, you mourn.

And then, a confession.

“My parents gave me to the Masters when I was a babe,” she whispers. “The Way is all I know. All I have.”

You spin towards her. The torment of memory lingers in every fibre of her frame. You understand her in a way you never have before. She is a woman without a family, forever apart. She is a door cracking open now, allowing you entry.  You leap through it.

“Not so.” You lean towards her. “You have me.”

Fear roils in the black sea of her eyes. You know what you are asking. You are asking her to trust in a love that could endure the vicissitudes of life, the foibles of human lack, the everyday tragedies from which no one is spared. You are asking her to lay down every tool she has wielded, every defence she has erected against the loss that trails behind her like a shadow. 

You are asking her to trust you.

“I know I speak out of turn.” Your voice swells. “I know you’ve made it clear that there’s no place for me in your heart. But I can’t remain silent, after all we’ve been through, knowing there’s any inkling of a chance that I might not lose you forever. I can’t remain silent, when there’s a chance that I could relieve you of the burdens that you carry alone.”

She is shaking now. You can almost feel the reverberations. But she is still here, still listening. It gives you strength to go on.

“I cherish you, Tav. It's beyond desire. Beyond attachment. More than admiration, infatuation, or lust. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. To me, you’re perfect. There’s no one like you. There never has been, and never will be.”

You can hear a catch in her breathing. She has frozen still, so still, as if she would crack if you touched her. Your words are broken and tattered, but you do not stop.

“I can’t promise that I won’t age or die. That I won’t change, as everyone and everything in life does. But I promise that I will love you for as long as I draw breath. I promise that my love for you will endure. And I promise to walk the Way with you. I will never abandon you. You need not walk alone.”

Her eyes widen as she clasps her palm to her lips. You hold your heart out like an offering before her open hands. Your chest heaves as you wait, trying desperately to parse her silence. 

She turns away, lurching upwards, retreating into the night.

Her withdrawal wounds you like a blade to the gut. A muffled cry escapes you as you watch her receding back. 

It is over. 

The tears scald your skin as they fall. You wince through the rending of your heart. But amidst the fracturing, waves of gratitude ripple through you. To have beheld the glory of her, to have earnestly loved her in the stolen moments you shared, however fleeting - it was the privilege of a lifetime. An honour which will endure beyond the anguish of love’s passing. You are sure of it.

It takes you a moment to register it. She has stopped in her tracks. Her body, usually as elegant as the wind’s caress, judders as she turns back to face you. Through the mist of your grief, you see that her eyes are glistening with tears. You bound towards her, distressed beyond measure. It is the first time you have seen her cry.

She does not speak. In the waterfall that cascades down her scarred cheek, the throbbing ache in her gaze, you see an emotion that needs no words.

You surge forwards. You are so close that you can smell the jasmine notes of her hair, feel the spasm of her breath against your collarbone. You take her quivering hands and press them against your beard. Her eyelids flutter, but she does not pull away. You whirl with surprise, relief, elation, yearning - a thousand feelings you can name and more that you cannot.

“I have tried,” she chokes. “With everything I have…for so long I have tried. But I could not…”

Her words are torn whispers, panting breaths. Her fingers grasp at your bristles, dancing into your hair. Her touch is dizzying, lithe and earnest, tracing every part of you. You draw your fingers up the dip of her neck, cupping her cheeks as you have longed to so many times before.

“You don’t need to anymore.” 

Her skin feels as you have always imagined it - firm, smooth and warm. As you brush her tears away, she falls into you, and you catch her parted lips with your own. Her mouth is wet and hot, and she tastes of spring flowers and salt musk. You gasp at the pulse of her tongue, the hard heat of her body flush against yours. Her desire rips through you as keenly as your own, a whirlpool of love and longing which holds you fast.

She is everything you ever dreamed of and more.

You are not sure how long you remain wrapped up in each other, clutching, tasting, searching and finding. Hoots and hollers begin to reach your ears, familiar voices, teasing and congratulatory. You tear away from each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying breathlessly in a stupor. With her crimson cheeks and half-lidded eyes, her lips swollen from desire, it takes all the resolve within you not to whisk her away to your bedroom. 

You must steady yourself. You know that you must tread slowly. Love is a brave new world for her, and there are a thousand nights ahead of you.

“There’s a monastery in Waterdeep,” you say eventually.

Through halting breaths, she struggles for words. It is intoxicating, to see Tav’s unyielding stoicism dissolve into her need for you. You have never felt so powerful. You plant a trail of kisses from her forehead to her chin. She nibbles at your earlobe, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“The Monastery of The Sun,” she murmurs after a while. “Notorious for heresy. I have always wanted to see whether the controversy is well-founded.”

You take her hands in yours. You swallow, the last remnants of apprehension churning within you.

“Would you return with me to…”

She looks at you, wide-eyed and curious as always. A smile breaks on your lips. You know, then, that there is nothing more to fear.

“Would you allow me to take you there?” 

In your tumultuous life, you have seen many things. You have beheld the singular beauty of the Outer Plains, the unparalleled majesties of your home city, manifold vistas of nature’s bounty. But nothing compares to what you see before you now. 

Joy, plain and pure, beams in every line and curve of Tav’s features. A chord of laughter bursts from her, crisp as birdsong. She radiates with love. 

She kisses your hands, then cradles them against her heart. 

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”  *****

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