#which has already been explained to me and i have already admitted

[siriuslylantsov]

afterglow

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.

tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.

a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!

wc: 3k

“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door. 

the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.

“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.

he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing. 

“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”

your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.

“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.

joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect. 

“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.

“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”

you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.

“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me. 

suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel. 

“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.

your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip. 

you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.

“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”

-

the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand. 

when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly. 

joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold. 

“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”

-

you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside. 

“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.

you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”

“mhm,” he smirks.

you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”

he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.

“kiss me?”

he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”

his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw. 

his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.

his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.

“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down. 

you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."

he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans. 

he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.

“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping. 

“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”

“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?” 

he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”

“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth. 

a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.

he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums. 

you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing. 

“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”

“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”

you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”

he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering. 

that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”

“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”

suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him. 

you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”

you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.

“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder. 

he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh. 

“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”

maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder. 

“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”

“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”

“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.

he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync. 

the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast. 

eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.

he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm. 

before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.

“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[pandaofsecrets]

This convo got me thinking about how Ozai being a good parent and husband would actually be like (and how little that would actually change things), so here's the basics of the AU. It follows comics continuity because I think it's more impactful that way, and also because I really don't want to write two AUs for the price of one.

Okay, so first of all, how do we get here? Let's say that instead of Ozai becoming narcissistic as a coping mechanism (unlikely, but bear with me), he just kinda gives up trying to "prove his worth" and distances himself from his father and brother, distrusting them and trying to avoid their attention as much as he can.

Anyway, Azulon hears about the prophecy and wants Ozai married to Ursa, which. So much for not attracting attention. Azulon's logic here is that while he does want those strong firebenders, he doesn't want any of Roku's line to actually inherit the throne. So, marrying Ursa to his out-of-favor second son it is.

Needless to say, neither Ozai nor Ursa are exactly jazzed about the marriage. They're both essentially forced into it, and Ursa was already seeing someone, thank you very much. But they both figure that it's for the good of their country and that they can't really leave anyway, so they might as well try to make it work. Ozai works to make Ursa as comfortable as possible, and she cooperates with him as much as she can. A few months or so into the marriage, Ursa is pregnant with Zuko.

This is when Ursa notices that no one is replying to her letters. No one at all. Not Ikem, not her friends, and not even her parents. Like, she knows mail is slow, but it's been almost half a year at this point. Her parents at least should've written back by now. So, she does a little detective work, and puts together that Ozai is intercepting her letters.

Unsurprisingly, Ursa is pissed. She'd just begun to like Ozai, and he went and tore her heart into confetti. Incredibly betrayed (and also hormonal as all fuck), Ursa comes up with the very smart idea of writing a letter to Ikem in which she pretty much confesses to cheating on Ozai, reasoning that would hurt him pretty bad.

As Ursa expected, Ozai gets the letter and barges into the room, demanding to know what the hell she was thinking. "I knew it!" she goes. "I knew you've been intercepting my letters!" Ozai is like "Count yourself lucky it was me. What if it was my father? How would you have even begun to explain this to him?" He goes on to remind her that she was to give up contact with everyone outside of court, including her parents. He doesn't like his father's orders any more than she does, but he has to enforce them. He then burns the letter, telling Ursa that she can see whoever she wants, do whatever she wants, but she had better not let Zuko get caught up in any of it. Ozai makes a point to call Zuko his child, both because Ursa's letter did hurt him, and as a way to imply he cares about Zuko and Ursa doesn't.

A couple of hours later, both are feeling bad about the whole debacle. Ursa goes to see Ozai, who's in the middle of his usual "dealing with his angst by training until he straight-up collapses" routine, and they have a chat. Ozai apologizes for trying to imply she doesn't care about Zuko and for putting her in this position in the first place, and admits that he should've talked to her instead of going behind her back like that. Ursa swears she wasn't trying to get them in trouble, she was just so hurt by his actions that she wasn't thinking straight. Ozai promises her he'll find a way for her to contact and maybe even see her parents, so long as she promises to try and be less reckless. She agrees.

I'm skipping around a lot over things I haven't thought of in detail, so cut to a few years later. Zuko is around 7 and has just started his firebending lessons, Azula is around 5, and everything seems to be going pretty good. And then Azula starts firebending as well. Not only that, but she turns out to be a prodigy. Oops.

Ozai being Ozai, he immediately goes for damage control. He holds back Azula's progress under the pretext that it's going to be better for her in the long run, discourages her from attracting attention, and is generally very cagey whenever the subject of her bending is brought up. This is in sharp contrast to Azulon and to her teachers, who praise her for her talents and encourage her to develop her skills. So, naturally, Azula is really confused. If she's so great, why doesn't her father ever acknowledge it? This is made worse by the fact that Ozai can't really explain to Azula why he does things the way he does. So he just comes off as an unreasonable tyrant, which is. You know. Not at all the impression he wanted Azula to have of him. He knows what it's like to be the secondborn who is disliked by their parent, he never wanted to do that to his own child. It honestly feels like the universe is out to get him at this point.

So Azula becomes increasingly recalcitrant, and Ozai resolves to just give her space for the time being, spending more time with the one child who isn't fighting him at every turn. Seeing this as a rejection, Azula takes whatever pent-up rage she can't direct at Ozai and starts directing it at Zuko, meaning Ozai is put in a position where he has to protect one of his children from the other. Ursa tries her hardest to pick up the pieces, but that just ends with Azula writing her off as well. Azula also becomes aware of the fact that Ozai and Ursa are both pretty much powerless against Azulon, and that's where the fun begins.

It's a crappy situation all around, but it's about to get worse. Lu Ten dies and Iroh is about to return home from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, so Azulon tells Ozai that he has to give Azula to Iroh. Ozai is like, yep, there it is. There's the moment I've been dreading ever since I got married. Because due to the way this whole eugenics experiment worked, his children were never truly his. Azulon's vested interest in them meant Ozai never had any control over his own family, and Zuko and Azula were always going to be taken away from him sooner or later. But before Ozai can say anything, Azulon drops the bombshell on him. He has to kill Zuko, too. Ozai is like, fuck this. He doesn't care that Zuko was a failed experiment or whatever, that's his son. But he knows by now that his father cannot be reasoned with, so he asks Azulon to wait until Iroh comes home, buying himself time to figure out what to do. Surprisingly, Azulon agrees.

Ozai then goes to Ursa and tells her the tale of what just happened. Ursa goes, yeah, no, we can't afford to wait until Iroh comes back. Because even if they did, Zuko would still die. Ozai is like, well, there's gotta be something we can do. And that's when Ursa gets an idea. She briefly considers telling Ozai, but quickly thinks better of it. Patricide is a strong word. She knows Ozai wouldn't approve, so if she wants something done, she's gotta do it herself. Instead, she just says she knows a way, and leaves Ozai to mope.

Next morning, the palace is in chaos. Azulon just kicked the bucket, Iroh is away, and everyone is looking to Ozai for leadership. Ozai has a chat with Ursa and is like "You did this, didn't you?" Ursa is all "I don't know what you're talking about", and Ozai asks her if she really thinks he's that stupid. He then encourages her to get the heck out of Dodge, because someone is definitely going to trace this back to her and then they'll all be in big trouble, her especially. Ursa counters that she's not the same reckless woman she was 8 years ago, and that she made sure to cover all her bases this time, pinning the blame on supposed Earth Kingdom assassins. They sit in silence for a bit, and then Ozai confesses he can't believe Azulon is dead, and that he doesn't know whether to be relieved or to hate Ursa for murdering him. Ursa says that everything she's done, she's done to protect her family.

So Ozai basically becomes interim Fire Lord while waiting for Iroh to come back, and he does a pretty good job, having basically been acting Crown Prince ever since he came of age (with all of the responsibility and none of the credit, because Azulon was a dick like that). From here the AU can go any number of ways, from Iroh immediately taking over as Fire Lord, to him giving up his claim to the title, to Iroh trying to give up his claim and Ozai refusing.

I don't know if I'm ever going to actually write this AU, so I'm leaving this here, I guess? Lmk what you think.

[anghraine]

Happy WIP Wednesday, everyone! @brynnmclean tagged me and I seized the opportunity to write over 2000 words of one of the very early sections of the femslash Spirk fic. This isn't all of it, but quite a bit:

"Captain," said S'paak, her nod precisely calibrated to the degrees of rank between them. "You requested my presence here?" At this, Captain Pike glanced up. She saw no sign of illness or particular perturbation on his face, nothing unusual at all. Peculiar. "Commander S'paak," he replied, and gestured at one of the chairs. "Don't worry, you're not here because of any error on your part. I wanted to discuss some information you should know." "I do not experience worry," she said automatically, settling into the chair opposite him as her thoughts hurried onward. "I presume this information relates to my forthcoming duties as first officer, once you have moved on to your next assignment?" The captain smiled, though she wasn't sure what about her conclusion would provoke humor. "A reasonable presumption as ever, Commander." Pike cleared his throat, sitting down in the chair nearest him. S'paak found herself unsettled by this. Her position typically resulted in her standing or sitting at his left hand, rather than across the table, which had never struck her as quite so large before. Nor had the briefing room previously seemed so small. She nearly frowned at the thought, fanciful and useless—but then, she'd never bothered estimating the dimensions until now. "Starfleet Command has chosen their new captain," said Pike. "Finally. As the prospective first officer, you should have been notified already." "I was, sir, though I'm not familiar with Captain Kirk," S'paak admitted. "Did they inform you of the reason for such a long delay?" "Yes, surprisingly," he said. It was, indeed, unlike his superiors to explain themselves in any kind of substantive detail. S'paak waited. Captain Pike folded his hands in front of him, visibly uncomfortable despite his professional manner. She'd always admired him, but within the silent privacy of her own mind, she conceded that she did not consider his emotional transparency among his most estimable qualities. "No doubt you're aware that Jessica Kirk will be the first woman in Starfleet to captain a starship," said Pike. "It's always good to see us progress further towards our principles and ideals, of course, but I gather there was a certain ... inertia of tradition to overcome. The way things have always been done et cetera, even though she's unquestionably the best candidate. In any case, you've got your finger on the pulse of the crew. Do you think there will be any issues there?" "I don't place fingers on any pulses, captain," she said. "I have no particular medical expertise." His face gained a tinge of long-suffering patience that she perhaps enjoyed more than a Vulcan ought.

Without a change of expression, she continued, "That said, there may be some difficulties, yes. The crew is certainly too disciplined for undeserved insubordination, in my judgment, but the presence of anyone they're not accustomed to seeing in their command structure can provoke a certain amount of hostility and distrust without any logical rationale."

She knew she didn't need to offer the obvious evidence of her own experience, even if she'd never captained a starship and had no desire to do so. Pike grimaced slightly.

"True enough, unfortunately," he said, and glanced a little to the side at nothing she could see. S'paak thought it likely that he was avoiding her gaze; it was a habit of many humans when discussing the failings of their own kind, as if the disrespect directed at S'paak and others could be somehow lessened by not looking at them. Entirely illogical.

"Well," Pike added, "no doubt she'll earn their respect quickly enough."

S'paak raised an eyebrow. "May I have permission to speak freely, captain?"

"Of course."

His eyes had focused on her face once more, so she maintained even tighter control over her features than usual, and kept her hands very still. In a level voice, she asked,

"Was your career the price of this progress?"

Pike's eyes widened—not theatrically, but enough for her to understood that she had surprised him. Then he smiled again, though it didn't seem in amusement this time. Leaning back in his chair, Pike's entire posture relaxed in a way she had only observed around the senior officers.

"Not at all," he said easily. "I was getting moved up to fleet captain regardless, and this new voyage demands rather different strengths than mine."

S'paak doubted that. She'd never served under a commanding officer with more presence of mind, honesty, or unfaltering resolve. She could not bring herself to say that—at least not in those terms, which might easily sound sentimental, regardless of tone and the wealth of empirical evidence for her opinion.

"Does it?" she said.

Pike gave a crisp nod. "Yes. I'm sure you'll find it rewarding to discover and analyze new phenomena, but a five-year-long deep space mission into completely unknown and unexplored territories is likely to involve some very steep risks and personal danger for the captain."

"That's to be expected," she admitted. "You have faced those before, however. Sir."

"Not to this extent," said Pike. "At least, not recently, and certainly not for so long. It's ... let's say, entirely logical for Starfleet to search for a captain with more fortitude of mind and body than I have these days. They didn't want to sacrifice leadership ability or intelligence in their choice of commanding officer, yet this particular mission also calls for someone physically strong, resilient, dauntless. They're not wrong about that."

It was logical, yet she still did not altogether approve. But he laughed under his breath before she could register further dissent.

"Not that humans are any of those things by Vulcan standards," he said.

S'paak inclined her head, remembering herself as a child, accidentally leaving bruises on her mother's hands and arms and shoulders. She hadn't understood just how fragile Amanda was until Sarek explained the matter with the stark clarity that marked all of his explanations.

"Well, those criteria certainly narrowed down the list of possibilities, as you might imagine," he went on. "Kirk's a bit younger than they'd have preferred, so there was that to consider as well, but she's such a good fit that I gather the delay was really just dithering on their way to the inevitable."

"She did appear quite young in the photograph accompanying the personnel change," S'paak said. "It was small and of poor quality, however, so I couldn't be certain."

"She's only thirty-two or thirty-three," he replied. "She'll be the youngest captain in the fleet by years once she's given command. So I'm sure you can see why your role as first officer is likely to be particularly important in this transition, especially given your familiarity with the Enterprise and much of the crew and ... so on."

In general, S'paak found so on painfully imprecise, but his sudden awkwardness left little doubt about what he meant. She was a half-Vulcan woman as well as an experienced senior officer. On many occasions, others' reactions to her species and gender had proven inconvenient to the fulfillment of her responsibilities. Now, her years of navigating not only the science laboratories and bridge of the ship, but the petty, irrational, incessant prejudices of those on it, could only render her a more useful right hand to a young woman in the captain's seat, doing what no woman of any species had done before.

S'paak was not entirely sure what she thought of that. She simply nodded.

"If you've got any concerns or reservations," he said, "this would be a good time to air them."

She considered that, barely registering the cool, smooth texture of the table under her hands, or the mechanized air circulating through the room, or the dull simplicity of the briefing room's furnishings, or even Pike himself. S’paak had numerous points of … not curiosity, exactly, but inquiries that presented themselves to her mind. She would be first officer; she should inform herself well enough to be prepared.

"It seems to me," said S'paak slowly, "that an elevation so unprecedented, in so many ways, is improbable without some extraordinary cause or motive. Starfleet does not suffer such a dearth of qualified captains that no one else could have been found, had they wished to find someone else."

"True," he said, and just leaned back further, listening rather than interrupting her reasoning. She had always appreciated that about him.

"One obvious possibility is some form of ... I believe the usual term is nepotism," she said. "Her advancement might serve the interests of someone already in power, but the existence of a contact or relative with enough sway for such a remarkable elevation is mere speculation without evidence. Such a person would likely not be unknown, yet I have no knowledge of any connection of the kind, and I doubt anyone alive has the influence to receive such a favor when it comes to a mission of this importance. Nor would a captain be chosen for this particular mission to be simply the face of progress."

"I agree," said Pike.

"Logic suggests the more probable explanation is some extraordinary quality or action of Captain Kirk's," she said. "It could easily be both, and easily consist of many traits and successes. In fact, given the usual practices of Starfleet, anything else would be all but impossible."

Captain Pike straightened, his shoulders squaring even as his face returned to its usual friendly lines. "I can give you some peace of mind on that front."

"I do not lack peace of mind," she said flatly.

He ignored this. "She comes from a Starfleet family, sure enough—both parents, a brother—but none of them ever got as far as she has already. Respectable rather than influential. And you're right, nobody could pull strings hard enough to determine the choice of captain of the Enterprise. You don't need to worry about Jess Kirk's qualifications. Yes, sorry, I know you don't experience worry. But believe me, the woman's got a line of commendations and awards as long as my arm and a sterling reputation."

"I see," said S'paak. "Sterling in what respect, captain?"

He waved his hand at nothing in particular. "From what I've heard, most respects. She's certainly no maverick, but tactically brilliant and resourceful when given command. A reliable and steady senior officer when she's not. We've had quite a few diplomatic resolutions credited to her involvement; by all accounts, she's quite charming and friendly. Brutal in a fight, though. Several of those commendations are for saving dozens of fellow crewmen on foot."

To S'paak, this paragon sounded both worthy of admiration and profoundly alarming as a commanding officer. Pike himself had commanded the Enterprise and its crew with a cool, consistent competence she found soothing. The impression of Captain Kirk forming in her mind was of someone altogether more erratic and unpredictable.

Nothing could be done about it now, she reminded herself. And S'paak herself had never been in a position to affect this outcome. What is, is.

"I see," she said. "There is no logical reason for reservations then, captain. I hope to be of use to Captain Kirk once the voyage commences."

"I have no doubts on that point," he said, springing up from his chair and striding over to the computer. Rather than giving it any instructions, however, he studied the machine for a moment and then glanced back at S'paak. "I'll be handing over the keys in a week, if all goes according to schedule. You're welcome to join Number One and me for the occasion."

S'paak blinked, intrigued as usual by the human capacity to produce multiple grammatically perfect sentences that bordered on incomprehensibility, with no appearance of effort. But the substance of the conversation was clearly over. She got to her feet and said,

"I would be honored, captain. Do you have any other matters to discuss?"

"No, I just wanted to get the temperature and pass on useful information," he said. Then he lifted one hand into the ta'al. "S'paak, you've been a hell of an officer. Live long and prosper."

She felt a distinct and improbable burning in her eyes, inner eyelid notwithstanding. S'paak raised her own hand.

"Live long and prosper, Captain Pike," she said.

-----

Like @brynnmclean, I'm tagging my own usual suspects: @kareenvorbarra, @heckofabecca, @steinbecks, @incognitajones, and anyone else who wants to!

[im-a-goat-in-disguise]

I think instead of sacrificing the lives and happiness of queer people as a political ploy we should sacrifice things that are more worthless, like you.

People like you need to be blood eagled on the parliament floor if you think queer people are expendable for your political goals and I’m not kidding.

I'm pretty sure this is my first death threat(?) Or adjacent on Tumblr. Though it is generally indicative that the people who saw that post did not particularly care enough to check what I've already said regarding the tags I left and how wrong I was. Though I'm interested how killing me would particularly solve the issue of the Tory Party implementing dangerous and transphobic legislation, I'm sure it can be explained in a reasonable manner.

[fumifooms]

You’re the resident chilchuck expert, so I was wondering about it there’s any canon evidence that he did smoke or drink alcohol when the kids were younger. I always thought it was something he picked up due to the strain of long jobs, when the kids were already older, but you seem to think differently and I was wondering if there was anything in canon that made you think that way!

Now that you mention it I guess it’s true there’s no evidence he did. Smoking we literally only know he does at all because of one post-canon panel where he has a pipe, so no, maybe this stick-looking thing in the panel below too though, I’m not familiar with medieval blunts eh. We’ve only gotten one panel of him and his daughters interacting when he was younger so that’s not too insightful on that end, and every time we see him young and freckled it’s in a job context so again not really where we’d expect him to be drinking. The earliest proof (/heavy implication since we don’t see inside his cup I guess) is 3 years before canon when Laios hired him, where he’s at a bar, classily placed in front of all the bottles ✨

Yes alcohol is almost certainly a way through which he copes especially with stress, so if we go with the theory he started around when work got stressful, well… Chilchuck started working as a dungeon diver ~10 years ago so when he was ~19, making Mei, Fler and Puck ~6 and ~4 respectively, so from that draw the ‘stressful enough to start drinking’ line wherever. We don’t know what he did before that with any certainty, and it could be he did odd jobs, lived off mostly mutual aid and community work, or just focused on only raising the girls. Half-foots tend to be poor and I see a lot of that in Chilchuck specifically so I don’t think he could have afforded to not have some paying work though.

Alright, so then why do I think he did drink when the girls were younger?

I give a more complete rundown of the info we do have on his alcoholism & his family with panels and references + all the speculation I make from it here. But the most targeted and objective answer I can give is:

Of course there’s just very very little we know of Chilchuck’s life with his family, and I think that’s by design too. I think the details being up in the air is to allow more nuance of the topic, like, will trying to reconcile go well, is their relationship salvageable? We don’t know, because we don’t know. So the message of giving hope a chance even if it’s a long shot, that things could truly go either way, is more relevant, impactful and meta in that way. How long was he usually away for work travels into dungeons here and there? How did he act with them? All we can really do is "it’s likely that", it’s a game of which way we think it’s more implied. There’s no right and wrong answer, it’s all Marcille-like larping the events out.

My main reason for thinking he did is that his father died from overdrinking and Chilchuck is very aware of that. He mentions his death casually in the extra about their stance in alcohol and in his Adventurer’s Bible profile, etc. He acts towards the alcohol presumably the same way his father did: with abandon, uncaring for the health effects, probably happily too considering Chil says "dying doing something you love is a good way to go". Very nonchalant. So you see what I’m saying here right, wether he started early or late, his view of alcoholism is very influenced by what he saw of his father growing up, it’s something he’s always been aware of and saw in a mostly positive light, something that was inherited you could say. It’s something that was normalized to him from a young age. Regardless or where it goes from there I do think this part is pretty inarguable. If he views it positively and we know that in the present alcohol is his favorite food that he loveees, why would he have held out on it? Personally that all makes me think he started drinking very young, especially since I don’t think they limited alcohol to age as much as modern standards (and I mean, teen drinking is obviously still a thing). And here you could argue, maybe his father only started being more alcoholic later when Chilchuck moved out, or something! And to that there’s nothing I can say except I think that’s a strained theory, and that Chil might even have largely cut contact with his family after moving out (since he and siblings are listed as almost strangers and he doesn’t seem to have much emotional attachment to his parents, but also we know he rents out his place to "a relative"), but it’s true we have no evidence. "I’ve picked up the same unhealthy substance abuse as my father haha! No big deal right haha" repeated several times to me just reeks of intergenerational trauma, & the alcoholism gene as they call it. Like effortless sliding into drinking as if it’s second nature, it’s natural after all, it’s normal after all, it just makes sense, it makes you feel good and that’s what matters.

BUT from my interpretation then we have a whole other layer: Alcohol is of course not all bad always. I think he’s always liked alcohol and drank it on occasion and it brought him joy etc etc, but I think here the implication in the question is, how much effect did his drinking have on the family relations and how early? And that isn’t so much about when him drinking started but when the alcoholism started. Addiction is defined by a habitual need, that has negative effects from filling that need (physical, psychological, social, etc) and negative effects from withdrawal. If Chilchuck drinks to cope and he can’t not cope without it, that’s addiction, if it affects his relationships, if it’s a need he has, it’s addiction. Addiction can be very insidious or look very casual, and how much people around the person are affected by it is case by case. Cheerful drunks can be sooo annoying and uncomfortable though let me tell you. Drunks are drunks. And this sounds harsh, but even if people around them don’t mind drunks it’ll still have some effects here and there, living with one can be such a challenge, ily drunks good luck with everything much like Chilchuck you deserve good things 🫡　

Ok so with the dad thing and the "ok well maybe he’s always drunk casually but it grew worse with time around when he started working as a dungeon diver" precision made, the other bit of info we have that can inform this is that Chilchuck is on a harsh diet and that alcohol is a hunger suppressant. We know Chilchuck "used to be fine not eating for two days", that literally on screen to quench his hunger so it doesn’t keep him awake he goes to drink water, drinking is his instinct to hunger. Again alcohol is a hunger suppressant and if you want info on that the internet has a lot of research and anecdotes about it. He diets to be light enough to not trigger traps, so it’s something he’d have started after dungeon diving most likely. Between the stress and the diet, yes it’s extremely likely he started going harder on alcohol after he started working in dungeons. There’s arguments on wether two days without eating is less bad for half-foots than humans, but apart from smaller portions there’s nothing that indicates half-foots should get less than 3 meals a day. They need less food but that’s because their bodies are smaller: the need is proportional to the body, not smaller than others’ races, the % of need is similar even if the kg amount of food isn’t. There’s also a popular headcanon with support basis that half-foots run hot and have a faster heartrate and whatnot, and that points towards a faster metabolism rather than a slower one: a bigger need for eating rather than a smaller one. He has the same bmi, 18, as Mickbell, but perhaps because Chil is much taller he’s less intensely visibly underweight with ribs showing than Mick during the bath extra, it’s most apparent when he becomes tallman.

Alcohol is something so important and omnipresent in his character that I have trouble believing it’s something that was part of only a small fraction of his life. It’s his immediate go-to, his no-brainer solution to a good time, I’ve sort of always assumed especially after looking at his family that it’s something he discovered decently young. Like he just acts like someone who’s always had alcohol to fall back on and started young idk. Alcohol is one of his 5 keywords. Alcoholism is very ingrained into his world view and life, his "it doesn’t matter" stance his ‘work hard play hard’ mentality his idea that the world is harsh so you get relief where you can, so it just makes sense to me that it’s always been in his life, if not actively then at least looming.

So yes, in summary, my take: Alcohol was always something he wholly enjoyed to an unwise level, but it could have been considered casual until he started working into dungeons and his need for it on a regular basis intensified. Alcohol has always had positive association to him as far as we see, so when it started being a problem he didn’t see it as such. To quote him, "I drink anytime I get the opportunity to". Why always? Approval of father’s alcoholism. Why alcoholism at all? Diet + stress & coping mechanism & emotional stunting + relationship issues, and she decided she had enough after they went out for drinks.

Conclusion

Chilchuck having drunk from a young age makes sense to me and it’s the strongest narrative angle I see on the table, but that’s objectively a me opinion, yes! There’s no evidence, moreso there’s canon basis and supporting info, but it’s all very left up to interpretation. I’ve made my own interpretations of things from the scraps we see, like everyone else making Chilwife and daughters content. Wether you have a stance on the topic or prefer to leave it vague in your takes, it’ll be a matter of what you think makes most sense, or what you’d rather believe I suppose (which is literally fine)

There’s a lot of subjectivity in even just setting up causal links like you probably noticed during this and I was careful with my word choices, because we’re just extrapolating from what we see and unless Kui states it explicitly from a reliable mouth all we can do is have informed opinions on most things. This particular interpretation is influenced by other details I’ve come to form about my interpretation of Chilchuck too, the more psychological and emotional sides of him and the timeline and how his marriage even happened, unplanned pregnancy imo. Like I hope you see what I mean, this wasn’t supposed to be a speculation post just a quick simple answer but there’s sort of just no other and concise but complete way with the subjectivity nuance to put "maybe it could be yes because of this but maybe it could be no because of this" haha

Edit: Wait the phrasing on this… Interesting. "In recent years"— This does imply that if not just his alcohol consumption increasing then the diversity and quality of it did, so either he indeed did start drinking more (not necessarily meaning he didn’t drink before) assumedly because of his wife leaving, or he started drinking other/more different kinds of alcohol maybe due to the union he formed + his experience gave him greater salary than he had previously (and no wife and family to provide money for), a mix of both perhaps.

[frobby]

i love madoka magica however i dont think we as a fandom talk enough about how tragic madoka herself is. probably because the narrative itself steers you away from thinking about her personally. shes not a character shes a desire that homura has, shes a force of good, shes homura's foil. but those are all madoka's narrative roles but madoka herself as a person is not really looked at because we are viewing this world from an unreliable narrator(homura) who only sees madoka as those things. The best thing homura could have done for madoka was give up on her, to let her go. because every time we go back in time the image of madoka is distorted, she loses more of herself every regression of homura's as she tries harder and harder to save her. We don't even know what madoka originally wished for to become a magical girl in the original timeline. and she actually acts quite differently than the madoka we meet. shes a lot more honest and caring and bold. by the time homura's has reached the actual anime madoka has been reduced by the sands of time to a figment of herself. she has no wants or desires of her own beyond wanting to do good and help her friends and when all her humanity is stripped away is when she finally acends to godhood because thats all thats left of her. an ideal and a faith in her. madoka kaname died a long time ago and all that is left is her ghost.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-bottom vi. fem-top reader. vaginal sex. strap-on usage. rough sex. filthy.

wc; 1,256

thinking about being ex-girlfriends with vi. since the breakup, you’ve heard numerous rumors about her getting around campus, taking girls out on sweet little dates and then fucking them stupid afterwards. it would normally bother you, except you know vi’s pent up, you know she’s not fully satisfied with the sex she’s having, because you know none of these other girls have put in the effort to fuck vi. 

you’ve yet to hear any rumors about these girls stuffing vi’s hole with their cocks, and you know it must be killing her. she’s always had a greedy hole, one that needs constant attention— whether it’s from your tongue, your fingers, or your strap. 

after seeing the types of girls vi has been taking out on dates, you know for a fact that they’re not fucking her— and even if they wanted to, they wouldn���t be able to fuck her right, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her like you do.

so you honestly find this whole situation funny, the way vi is so clearly trying to rub these girls in your face. you’re not falling for her bait, you’re not going to give her a reaction, because there’s nothing to even react to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi shows up at your doorstep a week later. her cheeks are flushed and her puppy-dog eyes are round and filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. you almost laugh in her face, but you’re quick to school your emotions.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i help you, vi?”

”i just— i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” vi replies. god, her eyes are so blue, so full of hope and desperation. she longs for you to fuck her, that you’ll finally make the ache go away, the one that’s been tormenting her little pussy.

”mmm, you do?” you tap your manicured nails against your front door, appearing bored and uninterested. “will that be all, vi?” you ask, already beginning to shut your door.

vi is quick to shove her hand against your door with a loud thud, pushing it open and then peering at you with eyes suddenly full of shame. “baby, i— fuck, i miss you, okay?” she finally admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

which explains how vi ended up in your bed, the pink sheets a ruffled mess, her clothes flung across the room, and her muscular frame a trembling mess on your mattress. she’s laying on her back, holding her legs up to her chest, her cute pussy on full display, and your strap is pressed inside her to the hilt.

you can reach so deep inside her in this position, you can hit all the spots that make her shake, that make her cry and scream. not to mention, the view of her cunt swallowing you whole, her fluttering hole drowning your cock in her tangy juices. 

you can see the desperation in every line of her body, the way she’s aching to be used. it’s a sight that would have once filled you with jealousy and possessiveness if anyone else were to see it, but now as you stare down at vi, all you want to do is laugh at her, to coo at how pathetic she looks.

”you missed me, huh?” you say, driving your hips forward with a rough thrust. “that’s funny, baby. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

vi goes crosseyed when you slam against her cunt, a strangled moan escaping her pouty lips. “mmffuck!”

you run a finger along vi’s slit while keeping a steady pace with your strap, feeling the slick, warm heat of her arousal. vi shudders at the touch, her hips twitching forward slightly, seeking more contact. you giggle, knowing that no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you... nothing could compare to this.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess. none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy cunt, did they?”

vi immediately shakes her head, mindlessly moaning. “ahh, only y-you— it’s only ever been you— unhh— i swear!“

you know vi too well, you know her body better than vi knows it herself. you know that vi needs to be stretched, to be filled, to be used hard and fast and without mercy. and judging by the desperate— borderline anguished— look on vi’s face, you were right to assume that none of those other girls could give her what she craved.

vi’s feet bob aimlessly in the air, her legs spread as wide as her flexibility allows her to, and she looks like an easy whore— she looks like the type of dumb slut that would be desperate enough to beg some rando on the street to fill her up.

”poor baby,” you coo down at her. “you just needed me to take care of you all this time.”

”yes, yes, fuck! need you, uuuh—“

you relish in the desperation in vi’s voice. you know you have vi right where you want her, trembling and needy, craving the one thing no one else can give her.

the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by vi’s high, breathy moans and grunts. you know you’re hitting all the right spots, know that you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate. she’s stuck with you forever.

"fuck, baby... you're so tight," you groan, your hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “your pussy is sucking on me so hard— mmf— can’t get enough, can you?”

her creamy pussy is hugging your strap like a vise and you relish in the way her body spasms around you. you know vi is addicted to this feeling, to the delicious mix of pleasure and pain that only you can give her, to the way you stir up her guts. it’s a high she can’t find anywhere else, a blissful oblivion that vi has been desperately chasing ever since your breakup.

you watch in dark satisfaction as vi’s tough, muscular body goes pliant and soft underneath you, all because she’s filled with cock. vi’s a fucked-out disaster; her abs twitching and flexing, her arms trembling as she tries to hold her legs back for you, her thick thighs quivering.

”ohh— hnnnggff! fuck, fuck, i’m gonna come!” vi sobs, her back arching harshly, her tits bouncing obscenely with every slam of your hips. her voice is raspy and she looks sinful.

you grip vi’s waist hard enough to leave bruises as you piston your hips impossibly faster, her wetness splashing between the two of you. vi’s eyes roll back in her head, her tongue hanging out stupidly as she surrenders to the intense pleasure radiating from her core. 

“come for me, vi. who knows, ah, if i’ll ever wanna fuck you again after this, so you better come right fucking now,” you threaten.

it’s like a flip switches within her because suddenly vi’s body seizes beneath you, as if she has no choice but to obey. she’s squealing and gasping as her body tenses and shakes at the same time, her thighs trying to close around you, but you’re quick to shove her legs back open; you’re determined to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

“mmffagh! holy fuuck— ahhh! yes, yes, please!”

it’s the most devastating orgasm of her life.

(2/3/25)

[juleswritesstuff]

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n” 

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed.  You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. 

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them” 

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you. 

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others. 

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected. 

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you. 

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all. 

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know” 

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic. 

Just like him.

“So why now ?” 

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then” 

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?” 

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins on full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to pay to maintain your mental sanity, then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective” 

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash. 

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again. 

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire. 

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even. 

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied. 

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows. 

He knows. 

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him. 

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth ever did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity. 

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes. 

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n” 

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you. 

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake. 

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy. 

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore. 

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry. 

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?” 

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his. 

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one” 

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment. 

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

[lesamis]

If you're up for it could you explain what is making the Germany government stuff so funny? I can find news articles about it (a coalition is dissolving? There's been tension for a while?) but they're all fairly serious. Thx!

ohhh, sure thing! i'll do my best!

i'll say upfront: this is a pretty serious thing to happen. our chancellor fired our minister of finance, Lindner, which definitively breaks up the governing coalition. germany will likely have snap elections at a moment in which far-right parties are polling extremely well. if news coverage about it seems like people are Worried, that's because, well, they are.

however. the reason it's funny is because our minister of finance was fired. ministers aren't really... ever fired. like, it's not a done thing. i'll fully admit i didn't even know it was an option until yesterday. and our minister of finance wasn't just anyone, he was one of the most mocked and hated figures in politics to germans who vote anywhere left of center.

the coalition that governed until yesterday was made up of the green party, the social democrats, and the neoliberal party (FDP). the FDP is infamous (and i mean, my parents already raised me to hate them for that) for playing kingmaker in coalition governments: they never get all that many votes, but they get just enough that whoever they agree to form a government with will probably succeed. they then tend to force extreme concessions from their coalition partners, because hey, if we walk off, you can't govern at all! so you better play along!

for the past three years, this behaviour has been extremely frustrating for germans who voted for greens or social democrats, because policy from their faction was constantly being blocked by the FDP and often by Lindner personally. the FDP received 11,5% of votes in 2021, but to many of us, it felt as if they were the only party who really had any say in the governing coalition. it made the green and social democratic coalition partners look spineless and passive.

and now, i invite you to imagine how on the day of the US election results, the day the whole world rolled their eyes at the sheer fucking stupidity and pointlessness of it all, at NINE IN THE EVENING, just as germans are getting ready to settle in to bed to dream of nightmare global politics -

the news suddenly breaks that our notoriously invisible chancellor just decided to fire Lindner for that exact behaviour. this chancellor comes out and says, on camera, to the entire sleepy nation, that acting the way Lindner did - blocking necessary policies, refusing to approve budgets unless his party's interests were met - was childish, selfish, irresponsible, and unfit for government, so, whoops, he had to go. shame. coalition over, i guess.

so, politically, that was a long-needed but never-expected moment of triumph for those of us who think the FDP is a clown show made up of human TESLA shares, and it came at a hysterically funny moment.

on a personal level, i can barely explain how uniquely hateable Lindner has always been. he's what would happen if a stock index graph came to life. he hates poor people with a relish; he mocks welfare recipients and would ax minimum wages in a second. he's everyone's business major roommate who shows up in boat shoes fresh off a yacht to discuss NFTs with you. throughout the entire time that he's used his rich boy policy blackmail strategy, he's been smug about it, and he was never taken to task for it, and millions of germans have been longing to throw rotten fruit in his face since 2017. and now we finally get to do it. via memes. on the day of trump's election win.

so that's why it's funny.

[moonstruckme]

James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it

Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words

Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. Sirius had tried rubbing your leg and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath. 

“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes. 

In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job. 

“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him. 

You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?” 

Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?” 

“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead. 

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before. 

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?” 

“Everywhere.” 

“By your eyes?” 

“No.” 

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?” 

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.” 

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels. 

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus. 

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.” 

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up. 

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained. 

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now. 

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?” 

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his boyfriend’s heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now. 

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.” 

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.” 

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.” 

James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

If You Want To

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

-matt and readers first date ends with her on top of him in his living room

cw: minors dni making out, dry humping, praise kink, pet names and use of “good girl”, a little dirty talk, no use of y/n, one mention of Matt knocking someone out and one mention of throw up and someone dying but its just a thought :D

a/n: continuation of Vigilante this one is very fluffy then it gets a lil smutty at the end, the blue text in the beginning are text messages, not many warnings this is pretty mild

also the title is from the beabadoobee song and the notes of cologne i described are versace’s dylan blue it’s one of my favs and gives Matt vibes

˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚ ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚

A day has passed since your unexpected meeting with Matt, the entire time since has consisted of you typing out a message, rereading it, deleting all of it then promptly throwing your phone away from you.

It was sort of silly how nervous you were to reach out when it had been his idea to give you his number, but you were worried maybe it was simply a courtesy, he could’ve thought you’d need someone to recount how you got home, or you may have choked on your vomit, died in your sleep and the police would need him to explain his connection.

Your spiraling thoughts make you take a deep breath, you knew you were a bit of an over-thinker but even you found this train of thought to be utterly ridiculous. That small realization might have been the reason you crossed your room to where your phone lay on the carpet.

The text was nothing special- hey, Matt, it’s me, from the club the other night :)

You’d rather start off boring as opposed to overbearing and maybe reveal too much of your personality, more than you already did asking the guy to carry you to bed like a baby. Shaking the thought from your head and tucking your red face into your hands, you think about how different you acted that night, not different like you were playing a character, different in the way that you weren’t playing a character.

Maybe it should’ve concerned you how easily he endeared himself to you, if it wasn’t for the context in which you two met and the way the rest of the night played out, you would think he was just some serial charmer, working you over before moving onto the next one.

Something about Matt made you feel comfortable enough to let go of the barriers you put up when you’re with anyone else. Just as you start to lose yourself in your thoughts about the brunette boy, you hear your phone chime. He replied, he replied and for some reason you’re entirely shocked that he would even text you back.

Hey there, it’s good to hear from you! How are you feeling?

Reading Matt’s text makes you smile. To think that he still cared enough to check up on you, his character showed even through the phone. You reply back to tell him you woke up feeling disoriented, but you did at least remember the events of the previous night.

You also can’t help but let him in on how sweet and thoughtful it was of him to leave his number, you don’t let him know this part but you had fallen asleep, hearing him lock your door behind him, with the lingering thought of how foolish it was that you hadn’t asked for a way to contact him. Matt’s reply is swift;

I have to admit, I left my number for my own selfish reasons. I would’ve been kicking myself for the rest of my life if that was the last time i saw you.

This message has your face burning, cheesy smile splitting your face, you can’t think of a reply fast enough as you fall heavily onto your bed and roll to your stomach. Kicking your feet behind you and staring at the words on your screen, you feel emboldened by his admission.

i was too nervous to tell you, but after you left i regretted not getting your number, was worried i wouldn’t see you again… would you maybe want to go on a date with me?

Now you’re really feeling nervous butterflies, your blush moving to your chest as you await his reply, tucking your face into your folded arms. When the beep of a notification goes off a couple of seconds later, you can’t get yourself to look.

The fear of rejection when you first texted him paled in comparison to how your palms sweat and heart raced thinking of his response. After a minute of stalling, you finally pick up your phone to read the response.

I’m relieved you didn’t take me leaving my number the wrong way, I thought you might take me for a creep. I would love to take you on a date :) When are you free next?

A soft giggle bubbles out of you, a giddy feeling rolling in your stomach as you bite the tip of your finger, thinking about Matt on the other end of the line. Flopping onto your back, phone laying on your chest, you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, maybe he’s out driving around or he could be sitting at a desk somewhere diverting his attention between work and you.

Checking the clock you see it’s nearing 8 PM, but it’s a Friday so you text back to tell Matt you’re free all day tomorrow, asking if that would work for him. When Matt texts you back all he says is;

I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow?

˗ˋˏ𖤓ˎˊ˗

Waking up around 8:00 is pretty unfitting for you but you’re absolutely buzzing for your date. After Matt’s text setting the time of your meeting you both continued chatting for a bit, agreeing together to go out for lunch.

You were excited that you wouldn’t have to wait around until dinnertime like you usually would for a date, anyways you were infinitely more excited for this one than any date you’ve been on before.

Thoughts swirl of what you’ll wear and how Matt will look when he picks you up (address still logged in his Apple maps, so it was the obvious option) while you make a morning coffee. You wistfully move around your apartment, performing your morning routine as if you’re in a fairytale, head in the clouds.

As the time nears closer and the nerves once again set in, you take a long, hot shower, spending time on your skincare regime, way more time than you usually would. You even decide to crack open the expensive body oils and tinctures you keep for special occasions. Slipping on your silk robe and wringing the water from your hair, you move to your vanity, clicking on the lights around your mirror.

You apply a light smattering of makeup; curling your lashes, lining your eyes with a neutral shadow and finishing off with your favorite lipgloss, before drying and styling your hair. Slipping off your robe, you spread on a lightly scented lotion, rubbing your everyday fragrance oil from your wrist to the pulse points on your neck as well as your hips and shoulders.

Deciding to keep your outfit casual, but still elegant, you pull a mini, lace a-line dress off it’s hanger. Pairing it with a slightly cropped cardigan, buttoning it just once before slipping on some chunky socks with your favorite shoes. You top off the look with your everyday jewelry and a thin cream bow in your hair.

Checking your phone, you see a text from Matt letting you know he’s leaving now and will be arriving in the next twenty minutes, you open your purse throwing in your keys, wallet, and a small bag of makeup for touch ups, along with some other essentials you like to always have on hand. Straightening out your dress, taking a last look in the mirror and adding a light spray of perfume before gingerly walking to your apartment’s lobby to wait for your dates arrival.

As soon as Matt’s contact lights up your phone screen with a call all the nervous jitters return to you, being slightly forgotten with how busy you were to perfect your look and make sure you felt as confident as possible before leaving your front door, they’ve now come back with a vengeance.

You clear your throat before bringing the phone to your ear. “Hi, I’m in the lobby, are you outside?”, you’re pleased at how steady your voice comes out, trying not convey just how much you had been overthinking.

“Hello! I’m actually walking up to the door right now, I’ll see you soon, okay?”, his words bring a smile to your face, of course he’s not the kind of guy to make you search for his car in the parking lot. Before you can even reply you see Matt pulling open the door to your building, a blinding smile and a wave of his hand greeting you.

“Matt! Hi, it’s really good to see you… I can’t lie I was sort of nervous, seeing you I feel a lot better.” Pairing your words with a shy smile, you walk over to meet Matt as he walks over to you, he looks incredible wearing a thick black sweater, falling just above the waistline of his dark-wash jeans, paired with a black fiddler’s cap. The sleeves of his top are rolled slightly to show off his scatter of tattoos, the entire look leaves you blushing.

As you take one more timid step closer to him, he holds open his arms, confidently coming to stand right in front of you welcoming you into a hug. All the tension you felt melted away as you accept his invitation, moving to wrap your arms around his waist, his coming to lock around your shoulders.

“Hey there, ya look beautiful, no need to be nervous. ‘S really good seeing you too.”

Your smile never leaves your face as you keep your face nestled into his chest, surrounded by the scent of him. It was something you hadn’t remembered until it was presented to you again, his cologne, it was slightly oceanic. Notes of something airy, but deep, a subtle spice while still having a citrusy freshness to it.

Feeling the side of his face pressing down on top of your head and the way his right hand sits heavily in between your shoulder blades makes you forget that you’re supposed to move from this spot, that Matt didn’t come here just for a long hug and that you two were supposed to be heading on to continue your day.

Matt slightly steps back, keeping his hands on your shoulder as he smiles down to you, “Ready to go?” You nod up to him and reach up to take his hand off your shoulder and lacing your fingers through his, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. Matt’s own smile brightens at your gesture, taking one last long look over your figure before gesturing with his head for you to follow him out to the car.

You’re now both seated at a quaint diner you always walked by but never stopped at. The short drive from your apartment had been filled with Matt’s playlist (you noticed the title; Soft) humming quietly through the car, the both of you exchanging shy smiles and fleeting glances, and still your butterflies persisted; but they had calmed from the anxious variety to a subtle, exciting, murmur.

“So… what made you finally message me, I was sittin’ around all that time, waiting for ya.”, Matt’s words are said with an impish expression, jovial smile playing at his features. Once again you felt that pull, like you couldn’t lie to Matt if someone paid you, if it was anyone else this might have annoyed you but something about this boy, and the spell it seems he’s putting you under, does nothing to deter you.

“Honestly? I was kind of embarrassed about how we met, I mean you carried me to bed.” Your words are followed by a sheepish chuckle which Matt enthusiastically returns,

“C’mon you don’t have to be embarrassed about that, I actually happened to enjoy tucking you into bed.” his words are teasing but the smile he’s flashing you is warm and sincere.

Leaning onto his elbows on the table between you, getting a bit closer to your face, he looks down to your lips as he continues speaking, “Carrying you to your room might’ve been my favorite part, wouldn’t mind doing it again… Y’know, if you ever need me to.” As he says this, he reaches out to take your hand into his own, “I’m glad it was me that night, I- I just mean… I’m glad I know you now.”

Listening to his words, entranced by the way he speaks, with only one thought running through your mind. Like your mouth has a mind of its own, you blurt out; “Can I kiss you?”

The instant heat to your face and the change on his face, mouth dropping slightly, still with the same smug smile, makes you widen your eyes.

What is it about this guy that makes me want to embarrass myself?!?

“I-“, before you can get a word out, Matt’s eyes soften. Examining you for a second, he puts his free hand to your jaw, leaning just a bit closer to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

It was incredible. Slow and easy, it’s not the kind of kiss that leads to something else, he’s kissing you like it’s all he wanted, like he could just do this forever, his nose brushing against you as he moves with the way you do, tongue just barely brushing your lips as if he’s introducing you to the way he kisses, it’s making you melt.

The minute he pulls away, you feel yourself tilting forward to chase his lips. You, as well as Matt’s large hand on your cheek, stops your movement. The look in his eyes is heavy, his thumb strokes softly against the apple of your cheeks, never breaking eye contact with you while you feel your head get fuzzy, focusing on the way he licks his lips.

“Y-you’re really good at that…”, you giggle as you say it, no longer concerned with feeling stupid around him. Matt moves the hand on your cheek up to your hair, smoothing down where your locks had fallen into your face, beaming at your words.

“How’d you guess flattery works so well on me?”, he’s now moving to the other side of the booth to sit next to you. Matt doesn’t let go of your hand, just lets your locked fingers rest on his leg between you two. Smirking down at the way you’re blushing for him, he leans down to whisper closer to your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

Turning your head to face him, your nose brushes his face he’s that close. “Yes, please…”, you nod and squeeze his hand lightly. Matt stands up and leads you out to his car, holding the door for you on your way out.

Matt asks if you’d like to go back to his place, saying it’s only fair since he got to see your bedroom already. Of course, you agree. Your lips are still tingling from his kiss, the hand he was previously holding yours with, is now squeezing your thigh as he drives. You thought the feelings you had for him before were intense, but now you almost feel like you’re gonna explode if you don’t get your lips back on his.

Pulling into Matt’s garage, he turns to meet your eyes, “We’re here, my brothers are home, you can meet ‘em if you’d like?”, you nod at his suggestion, “I would love to.” You can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.

The second the door shuts behind you a voice calls out from the top of the stairs, “Matt? Is that you?”, to which Matt responds back affirmatively. “How’d the date go, bro?!”, the voice nears, then a head of shaggy hair and a backwards cap pops over the banister, looking down to you two.

“Oh-“, the boy says as he now takes notice of your presence as Matt leads you up the steps. “Sorry, hi, didn’t realize Matt had company.” the boys look changes from surprise to a cheeky smile, wiggling his eyebrows. Matt scoffs and turns to you shaking his head, before shooting a look up at his brother, “Jesus, Chris have a little decorum, dude.”, as you reach the living room and come face to face with who you now can identify as Chris, Matt moves his free hand between you two, “This is my brother, Chris, he wasn’t dropped or anything he’s just like that.”

This sentence spurs Chris into a raucous laughing fit, you can’t help but join as he breathlessly says; “God, you are funny, isn’t he funny?”, Matt is now rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the smile stretching over his face as he gently tugs your hand, leading you to sit on the couch.

Chris is on one side of the sectional sitting heavily into the cushions, still trying to catch his breath. Matt stands in front of you where you’re perched politely on the edge of the seat, posture perfect, like you’re trying to make the best first impression.

“You can get comfortable, take your shoes off if you’d like, want anything to drink?”, his reassurance is helping ease your nerves, it’s not that you’re uncomfortable, you just always felt a little awkward when in a new place with new people. Shooting a thankful smile to Matt, you slide back in the sofa to slump further against the backrest. “Yes, please, uhm I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

When Matt leaves your side to walk into the kitchen, you toe off your shoes, moving them to the side of the couch and out of the way. Chris sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and turns to look at you, as you tuck your leg under yourself, getting more comfy in your seat. “So how’d you guys meet? This kid doesn’t tell me anything.”

Laughing lightly you look over to Chris, “It’s sort of a crazy story, uh, he saw me outside that club downtown, uhm this guy was trying to get me to leave with him and your brother came up, knocked the guy out and ended up driving me home…”, you blush relaying the story.

Chris’ mouth drops open and he straightens up, looking behind you to where Matt is. “Okay so that’s why your knuckles were busted and you came home in the middle of the night, Batman! I’m telling you this guy is more tight-lipped than the secret service.”, he shakes his head in awe, “That’s insane, are you okay? Sounds pretty scary.”

You nod as you see Matt coming back to the couch, handing you a glass of water as he settles into the cushion right next to you, throwing his arm over the couch behind you. “Yes, yeah, everything’s fine now, just… probably shouldn’t go back to that club.”, you mumble out the last part and Matt moves his arm down to your shoulders pulling you closer into him.

“Nah, you should be able to go where you want to without freaks like that. Y’know our brother Nick really likes that place, if you ever need an escort. Plus he has the same face as Matt, but he’s way more vicious if you could believe it, that creep wouldn’t even look at you wrong.”

You smile at Chris’ words, finding out Matt’s brothers are just as kind and sweet as him warms your heart. “I guess you’re right, just, yeah it shook me up a lot. Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” you face your attention to Matt, who you noticed is already looking down at you, “Where is your older brother?”, the boy next to you shakes his head lightly, “‘M not quite sure, he’s always out, the total opposite of me.”, He finishes his sentence with a sheepish look.

Chris stands up while checking his phone, “Speaking of which, I’m actually about to bounce too, gonna get dinner with Sam.” Matt nods to Chris as he makes his way down the stairs, before refocusing his attention to you.

As soon as Chris is out of sight, you put your glass onto the table in front of you, with a new sense of confidence under Matt’s heady gaze, straightening up, you attach your lips to his, hand coming to rest on his knee thats bent on the couch between you. Your boldness must’ve caught Matt by surprise as he makes a soft gasping noise, instantly moving his hands to the sides of your neck and pulling you deeper into the kiss. This time it’s entirely more intense than your first kiss, which in comparison would be considered soft.

Matt’s kissing you like he’s hungry, like he has to kiss the air out of your lungs for himself. It’s messy and greedy, and you feel like you can’t keep up with his pace, but it’s turning you on in a way you’ve never been.

The feeling of being wanted so much feels so unfamiliar to you, the needy dominance he’s pouring into the kiss is making you feel lightheaded. Matt’s hands move from your neck down your back and to your thighs, he reaches under you and uses his grip to manhandle you into his lap.

Breaking from the kiss, you throw your head back, chest heaving as you try and suck in as much air as possible, before Matt is laying on his back, using one hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist to pull you on top of him and back to his mouth. A small whimper leaves you as you’re now sitting completely on top of him, chest pressed to his, and your panties are right on his belt buckle. You feel his hips rolling up into you, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud moan, “Matt- Matt…”, he moves his lips to trail over your cheeks and jawline as you tuck your face into his neck, hiding the blazing blush over your face, “Fuck, so pretty…”, his voice is an octave deeper as his breath fans against your ear, his hands are all over you, rubbing up and down your waist, moving one hand to cup your jaw, pulling you back to look at him.

“So fuckin’ good, doll… Want you to grind on me, hm? Can you do that?”, your face is about two centimeters away from his, the way he’s looking up to you, his eyes pleading and your sparkly lipgloss shimmering on his lips and chin, you couldn’t possibly deny him.

Readjusting on his lap, moving to sit directly on his hard-on, causing Matt to let out the most delicious whine you’ve ever heard. “Mmm~ yes, yeah”, nodding frantically you sit up straight, hands on Matt’s chest as his lock tightly onto your hips, he doesn’t shift you, just holds on waiting for your move.

You start by circling your hips shyly, grinding down into him, feeling his jeans get tighter, it makes your whole body hot. Looking down, furrowing your brow and whimpering slightly at the sensation of him letting himself be used to get you off, “Fuck, Matt, so hot, feels so good, thank you~”, he groans deeply, squeezing your hips and bucking up into you. “Always so polite, huh? Good fucking girl, just how you need it, just take it from me, baby… Fuuuuck, got me so hard just from your lips….”

The way he talks to you makes your mind blank, hips stuttering as you feel yourself getting closer, “Can’t- Matt, ‘m gonna-“, your words cut off as you continue grinding down onto him, his hips still working under you, matching your rhythm even as it changes, Matt pulls you by the back of your head to kiss at your face, speaking in between each one, “‘S okay, baby, I want you to, want you to come undone, doing so good, f’me…~”

Your breathing picks up as you start to fist his shirt into your hands, hips speeding up as Matt grabs at you again, helping your movements by guiding you to grind deeper into him. “Uh huh, there ya go, sweetheart, are you gonna cum, baby? Just let go~ ‘s alright…”, his voice comes out right next to your ear as your face is tucked into his chest, muffling the strangled moans being pulled from you.

One last sharp thrust from Matt is what sends you over, letting out a loud whine, burying your head farther into him as you grip onto his sweater tighter. “Fuck yeah, good job, baby. Need ya to let it all out for me… thaat’s it… good girl~”, you feel one of Matt’s hands come to rest on the back of your head, soothing you.

Your noises don’t cease as Matt continues moving under you, your body going limp on top of him, “M-matt, too much, too good… please…”, the overstimulation on your sore clit makes you shake. “Okay okay, doll. You’re alright… Atta girl”, he smooths down your hair, patting your back as you come down from your orgasm.

You catch your breath while you cuddle into the side of his neck, your hands unfurl from his top as Matt keeps an arm wrapped around your back, sitting up with you still in his lap. “Y’okay, kid?”, he whispers into your ear, rubbing up and down the small of your back, using his left hand to push your hair off your face and tilting your chin up to look at him.

When you lock eyes with him, you give him a dazed look, smiling lazily. “M’okay, that… did- did you… finish?”, suddenly you start feeling shy again, which you know is stupid since you just rode this guy with all your clothes still on. Matt chuckles, his smile is sheepish as he speaks, “How could I not have, you’re a pro…” His teasing praise makes you laugh as you sit up a bit, playfully smacking his chest, “Stop.” you once again tuck into his chest, hiding your embarrassment.

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Seriously though you do not have to worry about me, ya looked so good, princess. I like seeing you all blissed out like that, you’re gorgeous.”, he leans into you, kissing from your cheek to your jaw, coming to kiss under your ear before whispering into it, “Can’t wait to see how pretty you look while I fuck you stupid.”, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his words.

part 3

[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀 | OS

sae itoshi x fem reader ; words: 10k (10.051)

plot: having just arrived in spain, Sae notices that he's having trouble learning spanish. so he's advised to download an online game, but he never expected to play with the country's champion, who unexpectedly... is a girl?!. what if he has a crush on this girl who lives kilometres away from him?

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

SAE ITOSHI knew he was a genius, whether it was sports or anything else besides school. He was Japan's rising prodigy, having just moved countries just to undergo training that would bring him to absolute perfection. If that meant he wasn't a genius, then he didn't know what was. He had skills that kids his age didn't have, whether it was dribbling or simply passing the ball to a teammate, who was usually his younger brother Rin. He had the potential to become one of the best in the world, if not the best, at the tender age of 13, when the kids at his old school were still just starting to decide what to do as an after school job. He knew he was a genius, a prodigy

What he knew all too well was that school and its activities were not for him. Not that he did not have the ability, but objectively he had spent more time on the field than in the classroom since he was a child. The time that technically should have been spent at school was spent perfecting his technique or competing in some tournament in his prefecture, and all of this was impacting his ability to learn something new academically, like a new language. He was no longer in Japan

Japan and Spain were different

Japanese and Spanish were different

And of course, inside a football school in the center of Spain, in Madrid, he couldn't bring himself to speak Japanese anymore. For the first few days he tried, but no one understood him; then he tried with English, but that didn't work very well either. Sooner or later he would have to learn Spanish, and that moment had come true exactly one week after his arrival, when the coach had advised him to attend the free course that the school offered to foreign soccer players

He hated it, but he had started talking a little

"Mi nombre es Sae, mi apellido es Itoshi... mi deporte favorido es el futbol, yo soy un jugador de futbol de el club de el ReAl..." the boy repeats under his breath, writing down in his notebook the sentences that his mind formulates. Spanish was not like Japanese, which was written in a completely different way. It was a bit complicated, but he would never admit it out loud. Furthermore, he was the only one in his class, besides his teacher. The other foreign players had left, at least he knew that, already knowing a basic level of the language. Not him

"Still having trouble, Sae?" asks the man, leaning over to read the boy's notebook. He didn't dislike the professor, but his subject "No" says the boy, even though he doesn't yet know how to write the word 'apellido'. The teacher looks at the notebook for a few more seconds, then sighs as he sits down in the chair next to the boy, who watches him. He knew very well that he was stressing the man with his mistakes, very often made also due to few attention. He didn't blame him when he was nervous precisely because of him "You know, Sae... I think you have a problem with Spanish. I mean, you can write it pretty well and you're starting to speak it a little bit with the team members, I know that... but you're constantly forgetting it. You're forgetting the basics because you don't have something that's constantly pushing you to speak or write it" says the man, and this catches the attention of the little striker "Excuse me, what?" says the boy, seeing the man having a bit of difficulty explaining it to him "I don't even know how to explain it to you well. I've been teaching foreign members of ReAl for years but no one has ever been like you. You know, but you forget. You can say a sentence in perfect Spanish now and not know a basic rule of grammar in twenty seconds" says the man, and this makes the Japanese kid turn up his nose a little "Do you have proof of that?" asks "Can you tell me the names of the soccer roles in Spanish?" the man asks, and Sae thinks about it "Portero, centrocampista, defensor... atacante" says the boy, and the man nods "Good. And the '!' rule? How does it work?" he asks, and this time it's Sae who sighs. He doesn't even remotely remember it

The man nods, taking the notebook from him as he writes something on it "The '!' should be placed at the beginning of the sentence and at the end of the sentence, if it is an exclamation. At the beginning '¡' and at the end '!'" he writes and repeats aloud, and Sae can't help but admit that he's right. The room where they are both is silent for a few seconds, then the man writes something else in the notebook, placing it in front of him. Sae looks down, reading the name of something he has heard before "Futbolandia?" he reads aloud, and the man nods "It's an online game. It's about soccer, so you should like it. You can talk to other Spanish people while you play, or write in the chat, in Spanish of course. My daughter plays it, that's why I know it" the man says, and Sae looks at him a little perplexed "I've never played video games, not even when I was in Japan. I find them boring" he explains, but the teacher silences him almost immediately "You'll learn to love them. You want to become the best in the world, right? If you can't even beat a boss in this game, how can you expect to get to the Champions League?"

And so, in his dorm which was basically a small apartment, Sae was putting the game card into the console he had received thanks to the team staff. He still thought video games were boring, but proving the teacher right would have cost his dearly young ego. So he had spent a part of his salary to take this game online, which actually cost really little. Thanks to the internet he understood that it was simply a game where you were a soccer player without a salary, and the more you beat people online in random matches the more the teams offered money to join their team. The teams were real ones, like ReAl or the Italian Ubers, or even teams created by users. The more you entered a famous and rich league the higher your salary went, and once you reached a certain amount of fake money you could create your own team or become president of a group of teams. The game wasn't that boring, maybe

Sitting on the edge of his bed with the joystick in his hand the television turns on, revealing the game's start screen. After registration, an avatar appears that can be customized, and Sae had decided to change only the color of his hair, opting for a reddish color. He was a little more like his avatar now. He had started "play" immediately after, happening in the first game: they were all members probably newly registered like him, since they had no visible salary. There was voice chat open, but for the moment he preferred to remain silent: he heard people screaming in Spanish, and he understood little of what they were saying as they played. It wasn't time to talk

Unexpectedly, the game was more interesting than he thought. It had basic rules, but the online casual games were fun enough to play. And so, from having a zero salary, a few hours later his avatar already had the possibility of joining a team, since the real and created ones had made him offers. However, he had not yet spoken in the voice chat, still a little perplexed. As he waited for the new game to load, Sae noticed that his avatar had been matched with a much higher level team. The team was called "Kombucha Salty", which made him chuckle a bit. As the match begins, Sae notices how the team is noticeably very strong, but he also notices how the voice chat is calm, not full of shouts like he has always heard it until now. And until now he has always heard only male voices. Now, among the many, a female one stands out, and it's quite pretty. He doesn't even know why, but the calm reassures him that he can open the voice chat this time

"Hola" says the boy, and for a few seconds everyone is silent "What player are you?" asks a male voice "The number 27" replies Sae, and he can hear more than one person nodding "You're great" says someone else "Thanks" replies the boy, but he's trying to hear the female voice again, which has suddenly disappeared since he spoke. The match continues, the team scores the first goal "That was a good pass, right Y/n?" asks a male voice "It was!" the female voice replies

Sae, hearing the voice, stops moving the joystick for a few seconds. He hears the girl giggling, while she continues to play her game. It's strange to hear her talking among the many male voices surrounding her and her avatar, but it's as if he can separate her just to hear her voice. It is a particularly beautiful voice to his ears, which could easily be that of some singer; it's almost melodious, even though he has always heard many female voices, whether it is his mother's or his classmate's. But this one, this one he likes more than he normally should like a single voice

"Are you still alive, madridfan?" the voice asks, and Sae comes to life, moving his joystick "What? How did you call me?" he asks, and the female giggles "With your username. You have to earn a certain amount of salary to change it to a personalized one" she says, and her avatar passes the ball "I thought I had it set up differently. But then, why madridfan?" he asks, a little perplexed as he tries to steal the ball "The site creates the usernames by taking the position where the users play and putting the word 'fan' next to it. Are you from Madrid?" he asks, and Sae nods "I'm in Madrid at the moment" he replies, and the girl nods "Madrid is beautiful. My mother often sends me photos of the city, she lives there" the girl says, and Sae is intrigued "Aren't you from Madrid too?" he asks "No. I lived there for a little while when I was little, but I don't remember anything" the girl says, and her avatar freezes for a few seconds, then starts moving against the ball again "Do you like Madrid?" she asks, and he huffs a bit "Quite. I haven't visited it properly yet" he admits, stealing the ball as his avatar starts running, followed by the girl's "I thought you were born there. But you actually have a foreign accent. You speak good Spanish, though. You even know how to play this damn game" she replies, and he nods "Thanks. I'm Japanese, actually" he says, the ball approaching the net "Are you in Spain for a vacation?" she asks, stealing the ball "Sort of" he admits, and the girl giggles "Cool"

The game goes on in silence, proving quite difficult for both. Sae often tries to signal goals, but each time the girl's avatar steals the ball from him, passing it to another player. It's not stupid that she has such a high salary, after all she is really good. Also, the strange thing for him is that she is a woman: not that he has any prejudice, or maybe he does, but he has never seen soccer or online games about soccer as something for girls. The girls in his school preferred classic dance, instead of soccer. He has always been used to this, furthermore his prefecture did not have a women's soccer team. They were two opposite things for him, soccer and women

But this Y/n was damn strong at this game

The ball, in a last ditch attempt, is passed to a member of the team, who however has it stolen by a member of the girl's team, who immediately passes it to her. Her avatar runs so fast that it is impossible to catch up, while the ball quickly approaches the net, scoring a goal. The boys' voices explode in a satisfied scream while Sae, annoyed, puts the joystick down next to him. It was a pretty tough match, but he wanted to win, a bit like in everything he does. But when he hears the girl's carefree laughter, his annoyance vanishes a bit. The end of game appears on the screen, marking the last 5 seconds before voice chat closes. Sae doesn't know what to say, he was so fascinated by the girl's voice that he is surprised that now he has to abandon her, with the absolute certainty of not being able to hear her anymore. After all, these are random matches, there is little or no chance of ending up in a match a second time. It all started and ended in less than 15 minutes, that perhaps marked him a bit

He didn't even know why he was reacting this way, so out of character. Maybe it was the lack of home that made him react this way. Maybe the voice sounded a little like his mother's or Rin's, that's why he was so surprised. After all, he had left Japan relatively recently. Maybe this really was the cause, even if he didn't believe it was

The game officially closes voice chat, displaying Sae's profile screen, complete with his avatar and a slight increase in his salary. The girl is officially gone, her voice no longer filling his dorm room. Sae feels a strange sensation in his chest, he can't explain how and it bothers him; he's never been good with words, he knows that, but why can't he explain to himself this sudden attachment to such a trivial thing, a voice?. It's as if, since he arrived here, these 15 minutes were the most peaceful he's ever lived. He would never admit it, but his life is so complicated now that he often doesn't even have time to think. It's different from being at home in Japan, with Rin scoring goals thanks to his passes and the crowd cheering every time the ball ends up in the net. Here he has even more precise timetables than he already had in Japan, and although he got used to them right away, sometimes he finds it tiring to do everything, whether it's training or just spending time in the cafeteria with his teammates. This voice, on the other hand, seemed to have calmed him down, letting him think and breathe. It's so strange

So, while he picks up the joystick again, he decides to at least look at the girl's profile. He goes to the section of users he has recently interacted with, and clicks on the icon that resembles that of the girl's profile: what is shown before his eyes is practically the perfect account, probably one with such high ratings that he has never seen anywhere else. The account features all kinds of things available from the game, be it uniforms or special badges, while above the girl's avatar appears a writing that surprises Sae even more "#1 Official of Spain", title inserted by the game itself. He expected her to be strong, he had seen her playing, but not that strong. Yet, the title stood out on the account tab, which made Sae even more curious about the girl

On her profile she was listed as the president of the largest group of teams in Spain, president of 15 of the 25 in the league. Her salary had 10 zeros, making the number even difficult to pronounce. She was listed as having been in charge of the title for more than 6 months, while the registration had only taken place 10 months before. If this wasn't strange or surprising, Sae didn't know what was. How could she have come up with such a title in such a short time? How much time did she actually spend on the video game? Was she one of those unemployed adult women who found satisfaction in online games?

Nah, she couldn't have been an adult. Her voice was too shrill for that, maybe she was even younger than him. But this was impossible, since the minimum age of the game was 13, so maybe she was a little older than him. This did not change how surprising the result was, so surprising that Sae didn't immediately notice the notification at the side of the screen

"Kombucha Salty" offered you a new salary"

Without even seeing the offer, Sae had clicked accept. He didn't even know why he was doing that, after all, what were the chances that it was that girl who sent him the offer? Besides, only presidents were allowed to send offers, and he wasn't sure if she was the president of that team

The console screen showed the page dedicated to the team he had just joined, marking which members were active and which were not. The team's personal voice chat was open, but did not show who was in. Honestly, he didn't really care about making a fool of himself if he went in and out once he was sure she wasn't in the voice chat, he just cared about hearing her voice again and knowing she was there. Maybe he was exaggerating, after all he didn't know anything about her and the team, but there was something in him that told him he had to check, and now

Entering the chat, Sae noticed that no one was talking about soccer, but more about very random things, like school. There were about 5 or 6 people online, but he immediately recognized the girl, who was probably talking to a friend of hers. As soon as he entered many fell silent, everyone but her "You again, madridfan?" the girl asks, but not in a mean tone, more in a joking way. Sae nods, a little uncertain "Me again. Someone offered me entry to the club" the boy says "It was me" the girl says, and Sae can swear that for the first time since he's been here in Spain, he feels a small smile form on his lips. Luckily it's all online, it would have been embarrassing to see him smile "Oh. Thank you"

The girl giggles, a sound that makes the boy's muscles relax a bit "You were pretty strong in the game, I must admit! We only want strong members here, members who hate Kombucha"

This is the comment that makes Sae frown. He loves Kombucha, it's practically his favorite thing in the world. Especially the salty one, it's delicious

"The club name is misleading. I thought you liked Kombucha... not that I do" he says, and she nods "I know. That's why the group is strong, because we create confusion!" she says happily, and some of the men laugh with her. It's not exactly the answer he was expecting, he didn't even expect to lie about his tastes, but at the moment doing so seems like the right option. Sae nods, thinking a bit "I see. Cool" he says, and the girl seems a little uncertain "Don't tell me you like Kombucha" she says, and he shakes his head as if she can see it "No" he says, and she snorts "You're not telling me the truth!" he says, and Sae is a little in trouble "What would be the consequences?" he asks, and he hears her giggle "The enormous wrath of the champion of Spain" she says, and this makes him relax a little "I can't imagine how big it's. Bigger than the whole Japan" he says, and she laughs even louder "Of course! Wait, which is bigger, Japan or Spain?" she asks, and this makes the boy think a little, confused "I think Spain?"

In that moment, Sae hears his phone ring. He turns around, noticing the time on the screen: he should have been at practice for 5 minutes already, yet he is still sitting on his bed, and the coach is calling him. Before he even has a chance to hear the girl respond, he disconnects the voice chat, grabbing his phone and his workout bag, and storming out of his apartment. He was never late, he was always punctual, and yet that simple girl had made him lose track of time. He hated being late, but now he hated not being able to hear the girl's voice even more. It was strange, all

So, during the 4 consecutive hours of training, Sae did nothing but think about this strange situation. While kicking the ball he thought about how the girl could be physically and character wise, and he didn't know why but he imagined her with short black hair. She was probably a little older than him, maybe 15, but he wasn't sure. He just knew he wanted to talk to her one more time, and then another, and another. She had completely changed the cold and weird nature of the boy, who maubey was looking for a minimum of affection and compliments, the ones he was used to at home in Japan, from someone. And that someone seemed to be her, suddenly

Back in his apartment, hours later, he remembered that he had left the console with the game on. He had been running, so it remained as he had left it. It wasn't that strange after all, but as he approached the screen he noticed how there was a +1 on the private chat, something he had never used. It could have been anyone, right?

"I checked, and Spain is bigger"

The bag hit the floor as he reached for the joystick, typing the letters as quickly as possible

"I expected that. Although I think there is little difference between the two countries. Maybe Japan has more inhabitants"

"I don't think so"

She was also quick to respond to his messages

"I should be worried about having... wait, your name is Y/n, right?"

"Yeah! Can I know yours? Maybe you heard mine from other members of the voice chat"

"My name is Sae. Yes, I heard it from other members. I hope it doesn't bother you"

"Why should it bother me? I'm chiller than you think"

"I see. I expected more aggression from the country's champion"

"Only with those who don't cooperate with me during the random games. Usually I don't even bother talking, I just laugh"

"Cool"

"Do you only know how to use cool at your age?"

"You don't even know how old I am"

"I think about 15. Maybe less"

"I have 13, actually"

"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY THE SAME AGE AS ME???"

"are you 13 too?"

"YEAH!!!"

"I thought you were a few years older than me, honestly. But your high pitched voice gave my theory away"

"Is it really that high pitched? I thought you were older just because of your tone of voice, but maybe it's just the Japanese accent that makes it deeper than it really is"

"It could. Do you understand Japanese?"

"You're the first Japanese person I know, honestly. I've never left Spain and I speak English well... but that's it"

"It's not a small thing to know two languages. I know Japanese because well, I am, but my Spanish is not that good. For now"

"I think the opposite, honestly! You have really good pronunciation, maybe just a little bit in the grammar when you speak... but it doesn't really show that much"

"I have to improve. I have little time to do it"

"Before returning to Japan?"

"More or less"

"I can help you. If you have time, we can play a few games together before I go to sleep. Only if you teach me a little about Japan, though"

"Yes, it can be done. Which server?"

"Wait, I'll send you the link"

This girl was strange, but strangely so easy to get along with. Bedtime games had turned into all night gaming sessions, something Sae had never done; he held his nightly routine sacred, yet it was 2:00 AM and he was still talking to this girl on voice chat, playing yet another game. He wasn't tired, he liked listening to her talk and helping him with his pronunciation. Also, he had the chance to speak Japanese again after a long time, so it was fine with him. The conversations were calm, not going on any serious topic, at least not for that moment: the girl had told him about another girl in her school that she couldn't stand, and he had told him about his younger brother Rin, who he teased about his chubby cheeks. They were normal things, as teenagers as they both were, and yet they sounded so important to Sae's ears, that he didn't miss a single word that came out of the girl's mouth. Maybe he reacted like this, with so much attention, because he actually had no one to talk to about the normal things of adolescence, neither here nor at home

At home in Japan, he was the budding striker prodigy, already famous for his nascent career

Here in Spain the other teenagers like him were busy training for the team of ReAl

Everyone, both at home and here, treated him for what he was, a prodigy. No one treated him for what he really was but which he also hid a little because of his cold nature, that is, a simple teen

Yet this girl didn't know who Sae was, she didn't know anything about him. She didn't treat him differently. They were just chatting like two teenagers would, with an unusual, at least for him, tranquility. It wasn't a given, not at all

"I think I have to go to sleep. We can play tomorrow afternoon, if you want" says the girl after yet another match won, while Sae has tired and sleepy eyes "I don't know if I'm free. In the evening?" he asks, and she nods while her avatar goes offline "Okay. Goodnight, Sae"

The boy turned off the console, while he too was hugging the warm blankets, with the noise of the cars of Madrid in the background. He had recently downloaded that game and yet he was already thinking that it had been one of the best decisions of his life. He would think about the tiredness due to the lack of hours of sleep when he woke up

The next morning, while he was lazily getting ready for practice, he turned on the console just out of curiosity. Not for any reason in particular... maybe. Or at least he liked to believe so. And just as he was logging into the game, a notification appeared on the screen. It came from her

"You didn't specify whether you go to school or not, but if so, have a good day!"

"Thank you. You too"

And so, for the next two weeks after that night, Sae found himself spending every night locked in his dorm, voice chat on and a few drops of eye drops. He had started skipping gym before going to sleep, or rushing to dinner at the canteen, just to turn on the console before. He always played with her, both as a duo and as a team, but honestly he didn't care much about the mode, he just liked hearing her voice and hearing her laugh every time a move went wrong. She treated him like he was normal, while outside that room everyone was scrutinizing him every second of his life; it was a way to break away from the expectations of an entire nation, or maybe two, to be with her. Maybe he was getting soft, he who for 13 years of his life had categorically hated video games, all because of a single voice to which he didn't even give a face, given that in fact neither of them had ever spoken about themselves in an extremely personal way. Not that it weighed on him that much, but he was extremely curious to see who this voice belonged to, which he was starting to dream about even at night, in the few hours when the console was off

“Can I ask you something?” the girl asks, and Sae pauses the game “Tell me” he says, a little curious “Would it be weird if I asked for your phone number? We could just talk... more, if you want"

If this was the god of soccer who was pardoning him after years of pure sacrifice towards this sport, Sae had to thank him, really deeply

"It's not a problem. I'll write it to you in chat" says the boy, but he can't repress the little smile that has formed on his lips, which haven't curved like this for a while now. A small, chuckle can be heard from the voice chat, and Sae couldn't ask for more. What the hell was happening to him?

A few hours later, with his console off and one more contact on his phone, Sae was lying on his bed talking to the girl. He still had to read the messages his parents and his brother Rin had sent him, but he had promised himself that he would do it shortly before falling asleep. Talking to her through messages wasn't that different in the end, but deep down he liked the fact that it was their chat, and that no one else but the two of them had the chance to see what they were talking about. Not that they were serious topics, no, not that yet, it was already a miracle that she had given him her number, honestly if he had been in the same situation he wouldn't have trusted it online. But she was her, he didn't know her very well yet but she didn't seem like a bad person to him. He had never trusted the online world so much, in Japan it was often a place for perverts or anime fanatics, which disgusted him a little, not for the fact itself but for the way these weirdos behaved. It was a bit of a strange place, and even if he wanted to he didn't have time, at home, to be online: if in Japan there were many training sessions, here they had tripled

"Anyway. Do you have any other friends online?"

"You're the first. I've never been online, actually. I didn't have the time or the inclination, honestly"

"This is not cool. I practically live online! jk, but I spend a lot of time there. So I'm your first friend?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes"

"This is cool tho! Wait, so you don't know much about friendship stages, right?"

"Not very much. Zero"

"OH. so you don't know about face reveals or voice reveals...? we skipped the voice stage, but okay. it's normal"

"I don't know anything about it"

"Then, wait"

Before he realized it a picture of a girl appeared on his screen. It was her, it was definitely her. And hell, to say she was beautiful was an understatement, he hadn't expected that. I mean, she was pretty, sure, but this was beyond his standards. She had done it so unexpectedly that he remained staring at her for a few seconds, practically enchanted. He had seen many girls his age but perhaps now the spanish girls, especially her, had an extra place on his list. He noticed the second message after at least a minute

"This is me. It's a face reveal. You don't have to do it, just do it when you feel ready!"

And before he even knew it, he was already sending a photo of himself, one from a few days earlier. Not that there was much difference

"It's okay?"

"MORE THAN OKAY. I imagined you with dark hair, but you're cute, Sae!"

He had received many compliments, but all about his talent, about his ability to play without appearing tired. Never about his physical appearance, it wasn't common

"My brother and my father have dark hair. I could have taken after them"

"Wait, no! I like your reddish. it's special. now I understand why you put your hair that way, on your avatar"

"You are right"

It was from that moment that Sae began to realize that he had a soft spot for that girl. Y/n was simple, she didn't know who he really was, she treated him like no one else treated him. He liked being thought of as normal, at least in his room, when he was on a call with the girl. He could easily be the prodigy of Japan outside his dorm and still be Y/n's online friend. He liked the balance that had transformed during the first weeks, which had now transformed into three months. It was a bit of a special time for Sae, soon he would have his first U-18 match as a member of ReAl. He wasn't anxious, he trusted in his knowledge, but he was worried about something else, something that seemed huge to him, like a big heavy rock: he didn't know if she followed soccer. In fact, she had never said anything very personal about herself, maybe she was reserved in that aspect. Not that he cared. But it was strange, considering how extroverted she was about the rest of things. What would he have done if, by chance, she had seen him?

"Shall we play tomorrow afternoon?" the girl asks, her microphone not receiving the signal well. He has the match tomorrow afternoon, and he's worried about her finding out, not about the match "I... I don't think I can. No, I'm not there" he says, scratching the back of his neck "You usually can! You have something important, you have to meet a girl?" she says jokingly, but he immediately approaches the microphone "NO. I just have to... do some things. I probably won't be there until the afternoon after" he says, but he hears a jolt from the other end "I understand. See you then"

The girl left the game. Silence

Perhaps a more convincing and kind excuse should have been used, since he hadn't explained himself well and perhaps even seemed rude

Maybe Y/n was angry?

Holy shit.

And so, a few hours later on the ReAl bus, Sae felt practically dead. Maybe Y/n had been offended, and besides, tomorrow would be his birthday; he wanted her wishes, yet he was convinced that he would not receive them. He was worried, but he didn't show it outwardly. Not that he had ever done so in the last 13 years of his life, but that wasn't the point. Maybe he should have written to her, asked her if she was offended or even apologized directly. But that wasn't his style. So Sae played the whole match with a little discomfort in his chest, not so big as to confuse him from the main objective, the victory, which happened with a good score of 3-1, with a goal scored by him. The cameras had been filming him since he'd practically entered the field, his name had been shouted so many times by the commentators that the walls probably knew his name by now. If this was a way for Y/n to find out, even though he still hoped not, he was doing it perfectly. Damn. He was hating soccer a little bit

He didn't get his phone back until after midnight, only realizing it was his birthday. He was officially 14, and Y/n hadn't wished him a happy birthday...

"When were you thinking of telling me you were a soccer player? A good one, I must admit"

"You found out"

"Well, my sister is a ReAl fan. The game was also important. When I saw you, I had a shock"

"I can understand it"

"Why didn't you tell me you were famous?"

Maybe it wasn't the right time. But he had to

"You're the only one who treats me like a teenager. Others treat me like a prodigy, you don't. And it's nice to be normal, at least when I talk to you or when we play. I thought you'd change your attitude if you found out"

"I wouldn't have any reason to, Sae. None. I treat you for who you are, for how you deserve to be treated, I'm sorry that it's not a given for you. But you don't have to worry about me, because for me you're just Sae, not Sae Itoshi"

"It's not a given for me. Thank you"

"Please don't lie to me anymore. I hate it when people do that, especially people I care about them so much"

It was strange to feel butterflies in his stomach. For him, at least, it was strange. He didn't even know why he was reacting that way

"And I forgot, happy birthday ♡"

Maybe he knew why she was reacting that way. Maybe he didn't just have a soft spot for her

If the first months were like that, the following ones became the confirmation, at least for him, that perhaps he felt love for her, just for her: he was sure it wasn't even a crush, because he knew it was different. He was really in love, and it worried him a little. He knew about the beautiful side of love, the one where you kiss and hug; his parents loved each other, and often when they kissed he and Rin were disgusted. Sae preferred to run on the beach near the house with a ball between his feet, not to give kisses to anyone, not that he had anyone. But that was in the past, before he came to Spain and met her. The problem was that he didn't even know what love was, since he had never experienced it before: he knew the practice, but after? What happened?. But the problem was that there wasn't even the possibility of practice here, since he was in Madrid and she was in Seville, so many kilometers away

During the other months, she had told him a lot about herself: she lived in Seville, her parents were divorced but still on good terms, her parents worked between Madrid and Seville, especially his mother who was a photographer. She lived with his older sister, who was 21 years old. She was a few months younger than him and loved to keep her hair loose. Also, despite being the champion of the game, she didn't even know how to kick a ball in real life. It was all information that he had recovered over time, thanks to calls and other, but which was important to him, very important

They were separated by 530km, a distance that more than once he had thought of eliminating by using a part of his salary, taking that damned plane ticket that he had saved a few months ago. He wanted to see her, smell her hair, have the chance to hug her. He simply wanted to be for a while by her side, and not on the other side of a screen that often didn't work due to the connection. He simply wanted the chance to hold her hand, if she had ever let him

"I don't think I've ever told you something" the girl says, the screen showing her face as she paints her nails "Remember Kombucha Salty?" she asks, and Sae nods as she heads toward the team's infield "Remember what I told you back then?" she asks, and he rolls his eyes "That was 2 years ago. I don't remember that well" the boy says, and the girl laughs "Okay, we've known each other for a long time, but it seems like a stretch not to remember. Is the color nice?" the girl asks, holding up her reddish nails to the screen. Sae looks at them, nodding "Nice. What were you saying?" he says, and she composes herself "Oh, right. I told you I didn't like kombucha, because I hated it" she says, and Sae suddenly remembers. Actually, she doesn't know that it's his favorite drink, he never told her before that statement "I remember" he says, coming into the infield "Well... I lied to you. I really like kombucha, especially the salty kind! But... I wanted to look cool in front of you, I don't even know why. It's stupid, I was stupid at the time. But now I think about it and I actually never admitted it to you" she says, and Sae's eyes widen a bit "Do you like Kombucha?" he asks surprised, then goes back to his usual demeanor "I like it, I like it a lot. Too bad that here in Seville they make it disgusting, it tastes like shit" she says, and he chuckles internally at her comment "Can I tell you a revelation too?" he asks, and she nods "I love Kombucha too" he says, and this time she's the one who's surprised "ARE YOU SERIOUS?" she asks through the phone, and he nods "Very serious. They make it pretty good in Madrid, I must admit" he says "Fucking lucky, as usual. I want it too" she says, disconsolate

Seeing her like this, Sae can't help but tease her in her head. She's so damn adorable when she does that, whether it's for this or anything else

"As soon as you come to Madrid I'll take you to the place where they do it best. So you can say I'm right he says, but his comment almost seems like an invitation to a possible date. Sae notices how the girl has gone silent, but also the way she's smiling through the screen "I would love to" she says, poorly hiding her embarrassment

If only she knew how much he really wants to do this, take her everywhere, where she wants. If only she knew how much teasing her makes him laugh

"You know, I was thinking" he says, trying to fill the silence that had arisen "I was wondering, we'll see each other sometime, right?" he asks "Well. I think so" she says, yet looking a little uncertain, in Sae's eyes "You think so? Not sure?" he asks, and she snorts "I mean, it will happen sooner or later. But... I can't explain it to you. We've known each other for two years and I trust you, but it would be strange to meet you in person" she says, and this raises an eyebrow to the boy "What do you mean?" he asks, a little defensively "I'm used to the idea of you online, or rather, of the Sae I know. Not the one who plays for ReAl and who kicks the ass of some foreign team every month" she says, and even though her answer makes him chuckle a little, he's not convinced "You didn't answer my question" he says, and the girl seems to be a little under pressure "Forget it" she says, but this makes Sae a little nervous "I'd rather talk about it, and now. Don't you want to see me?" he asks

He doesn't even know why he's getting so nervous, since it's not something he does that often. But the uncertainty in Y/n's eyes doesn't affect him very well. Maybe there's something wrong that he doesn't know about

The girl looks down, nervously playing with a lock of her hair. It's like she's nervous like him, but for other reasons "I want to see you, Sae. But there are other reasons..." she says "What?" he asks

"I don't know whether to hug or kiss you"

If he had been nervous before, now his body was paralyzed. He didn't even want to understand if he had heard the words correctly, perhaps they had come out strangely due to connection problems. But no, it couldn't be. She had said what she had said, and damn, this surprised him so much that for the next 10 seconds he held his breath, as if he were underwater. But actually, since he had known her, he had always been under water: it bothered him to admit that he had grown fond of her in a few hours, that they had now known each other for 2 years, and that for the past 1 year he had considered her as more than just a friend. But Sae wasn't familiar with love, he didn't know how it worked with a person by his side, and above all she wasn't by his side. But actually, at the beginning, he wasn't even familiar with Spanish, which he now spoke perfectly. Could he do the same method with this too, even though she was so far away from him?

And then, after this, he didn't even know what she really thought. He had imagined it many times, but he had always preferred not to talk about it. He had often wondered if he even liked her a little, but she often mixed irony with seriousness, so it was difficult to understand her. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he didn't. It was in one of these moments, a fairly important one

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry" she says, a little panicked, bringing the phone closer to her face "Forget it. Pretend that I never said anything, that this conversation never started-" she says "Stop. We can talk about it tonight, calmly ?" he asks. He sees her sigh heavily, a little defeated, as she nods. The phone call ends like this, with her hanging up

The training he was participating in wasn't working. There were another 4 hours left before he could talk to her, lock himself in his dorm and finally clarify the situation: would he have declared himself? He didn't know, although he was considering the option. He knew Y/n, and beyond her usual irony, she really seemed very serious when she said it, and the subsequent panic had betrayed her false irony a bit. He didn't know how to feel, honestly: anxious, maybe a little, but more perplexed. He wasn't afraid to declare himself, he would have done it sooner or later anyway, but the sentence she had said, in that unexpected way, had completely paralyzed him. He had been perpetually anxious for months and months about making strange comments that might have made him disgusting in her eyes and she had come out like that?. Maybe he really didn't know her that well, if he hadn't read her language for so long to understand that, maybe, she had feelings for him too, like him

But if he had eventually declared himself, what would have happened? Would they get together like a couple? Would she have rejected him?

And if they became a couple, how would they make it work? There were the kilometers as obstacles, like the walls that Sae smashed, in his head, when he headed towards the net to score a goal. Would it have been an online relationship?

He was too serious a person to even be anxious about this. He was fucking Sae Itoshi, yet he was becoming a softie for a girl he met online

Maybe he had always been a softie and never realized it, ignoring it by playing soccer in Japan

So finally, without having had dinner, Sae found herself locking himself in his room, once again skipping his nightly gym time. It was anxiety, she hadn't written to him since she hung up and that was unusual, as she often texted him even when she knew he couldn't reply. Without even taking off his sweatshirt he threw himself on his bed for calling the girl, who he sincerely hoped would answer. He didn't know what was going on in her head, maybe she didn't want to talk about it

"Hey" says the girl's voice. She was lying on her bed, little plushies surrounding her while her hair was a mess. She was gorgeous. Sae clears his throat "Hey. Have you eaten?" he asks, and she nods, sighing "Look, can we talk about it right now? I've been dying of anxiety since it happened this afternoon, I've spent hours believing you hated me... wait, you don't hate me, right?" she says, sounding almost sad. He chuckles, mollified by her behavior "Obviously not. If I hated you, I wouldn't have called you back to talk about it" he replies, and she seems to breathe a sigh of relief "Thank goodness. So... what should we say?"

Admitting right away that he had loved her for so long was maybe not the right option, at least not at the moment. Even if he was tempted to do so

"You said something pretty important today" he says, a little hard to explain "It's not something you'd say to a friend, I think. You were serious or?" he continues, waiting for an answer. Through the screen he sees her in a bit of difficulty, biting her nails "Would it be a problem if I said I was serious?" she says, and he can practically feel his heart beating so hard it might pop out of his ribcage "Oh" he says, but curses himself when he sees her getting agitated "Is that a problem?" she asks nervously, but he shakes his head "No. It wouldn't be. Sorry, you took me by surprise" he says, trying to find the right words "What does that mean though...? Is that what I think?"

She didn't know the answer. Sae saw real, pure difficulty in her eyes, as if she had a block she wanted to overcome but it was too big for her

"Look. Can I speak first?" he says, trying to help her. She nods, frowning her eyebrows "Go"

Maybe it really was the right time

"I'll try to be as direct as possible, you also know how much I don't like not being precise. It's quite simple to explain it to you, but I admit that I'm having trouble too... the reality is that I like you, and quite a lot. And it's not something new, I think I've been in love for a year and a half now if not more... the truth is this. I didn't tell you before for the simple fear of distancing you, and distancing the only person who treats me like 'Sae' and not 'Sae Itoshi' might have made things a little heavier for me. I don't know exactly how you feel, but well, if you feel the same way about me I would seriously like to be your boyfriend, Y/n. Not just yours friend. But I can't read your mind, so, how do you feel about me?"

If this was the feeling of lifting a heavy boulder off your shoulders, Sae was experiencing it right now. It had taken so little, yet it had explained everything he had felt all this time. He was more peaceful, but he had yet to hear her words

"It's just that I like you too, Sae. And a lot. A big lot, I don't even know how to quantify it. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I won't deny that once I even dreamed of us kissing... maybe that's when I realized that you weren't just a simple crush. The problem is that distance scares me"

His heart was abandoning him. Maybe he was dying, but at least from happiness

“I can understand that. But I... I want to make things work. I seriously care about you, about us, about what could happen if we were a couple"

"Me too. But... how do we do it?"

“Let the time take effect and my wallet get some money out to make me come to you?”

"That might work. But..."

"I'm just as scared as you are. But I trust how I could make you happy"

That's when Sae knew he finally had his first girlfriend. Maybe he was dead and didn't realize it, but he was happy, fucking happy. He was probably so happy that in his life he had never felt a sensation like that, the one that perhaps his parents also feel when they kiss. He was with the girl he loved and he honestly couldn't ask for anything better than to have her in his arms. He really cared about her so much, he didn't want to make things difficult or burdensome for her: he seriously wanted to make her happy, the happiest

He was inexperienced, for the first time in his life he seriously didn't know what to do, many times he had doubts about how being in a relationship actually worked; but he saw you smiling, so maybe he was doing something right. You spent more time on the call, each on your own business, but you both liked the idea of having the other watching you. It was as if you were in the same room, but chilometres apart: he cooked, you did your skincare, he trained alone and you studied. Distant, but present, and you were fine with that

After less than a month, the girl was the first to say 'I love you', even though they both knew they had been doing it for a long time. But that was just absolute proof that Sae had to do what he had in mind since day one: go to her. The problem is that she was studying and he couldn't go so far from Madrid, due to special training and monthly matches. Furthermore, the campus was very strict with the players, who only rarely let them out on off days. And Sae was certainly no exception, he had the same rules as everyone

But the opportunity presented itself when they had already been together for two months: Y/n was going to be in Madrid for a week, to spend time with her parents. Sae nearly choked on his dinner food when she told him the news: they would meet, he would finally have the chance to hold her in his arms, and if she wanted, he would even kiss her. Sae's family didn't know he was with a girl, while she had mentioned that only her father knew, because he was the parent she trusted slightly more in matters like these, but he honestly didn't care. If her father would have asked him to show up, he would have done so. He didn't want to tell his family or the world because he simply believed it wasn't the time, not because he was ashamed of her: he simply believed it was his thing, his only thought, he was famous, but he also had a private life. He wanted to enjoy his privacy with his pretty girlfriend

"Are you already in Madrid?"

"Yes! the taxi is taking me to where my father works, I will stay there for about an hour and then after I will arrive to you"

"Allright. I can't believe it"

"ME NEITHER!! are we really going to see each other in an hour after spending almost 3 years writing to each other online? :<"

"It's happening. I can't wait"

"I can hug you as soon as I see you, right?"

"Only if I can kiss you afterwards"

"Acceptable. CAN'T WAITTT"

"Me neither. See you soon, love"

"You can count on it! love u ♡"

But Sae had decided that he would show up there well in advance; he wanted to get her some flowers and maybe a cold drink, since it was damn hot. As he left his dormitory and walked across the ReAl campus, the boy was realizing how it was so unexpected and yet so beautiful. He knew he loved her, that he wanted to make her happy, to simply stay by her side until the moment he could no longer due to greater forces, such as death. To him, she had become everything in such a short time that he wondered how he had managed to keep his feelings private for so long: he had deprived himself of the love of the most fantastic girl in the world out of a stupid fear, yet now they were an actual couple, she was his girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, the first for both, and hopefully the last. But to put a ring on her finger maybe he would have to wait a few more years, maybe 10, even though he was still convinced that she was the one

As he walked towards the exit of the campus, he noticed how the teacher who had made him download Futbolandia was walking towards the class he still managed for foreign students: Sae hadn't attended that class for a long time now, he now knew Spanish as like his native language, yet it was thanks to that man that he had met the one who was currently his girlfriend. He had never been someone to say thank you to someone, but maybe he had to this time. He absolutely had to

"Profe, I have to tell you-" says the boy as he approaches, but is petrified when he sees who is a few steps away from the teacher “Y/n, my daughter. How was the flight, dear?"

In front of him, less than 5 meters away, was his girlfriend, there was his Y/n, and, if he understood correctly, she was his teacher's daughter

Sae didn't need to say anything, the girl automatically turned around recognizing the sound of the voice. They looked at each other, this time without a screen dividing them; they could see their reflection in each other's eyes, smell their scent, the way they were dressed entirely. The boy's heart had left his chest, perhaps to go and take the girl's hand, who had also abandoned her body. It was as if, although surprised by the discovery, for him now only she existed, only and exclusively her among all the billions of people in the world. He was in love, he really was

"Sae, what are you doing here-"

Neither of them heard the teacher's words, as they threw themselves into each other's arms: as if automatically the boy's hands ended up on the girl's hips, while her arms tightened around his neck, in such a sweet embrace to be special. The contact, what they had sought for so long, they were finally experiencing: for Sae, the girl's smell and warmth was hid new favorite sensation, as her skin tightened under his hands, holding her as close to him as possible, as if afraid she might go back behind the screen. He couldn't believe it was finally happening, after dreaming so many times that he could do it; finally, everything he wanted was here, here with him and only him

And even before he realized it, Sae was already lifting her chin so he could kiss her, as if he wanted to finish everything off by putting the icing on the cake. Her lips were soft, sweet, fresh; if this was heaven, the world cup, anything he liked, he wanted to be left like this, with his girlfriend hugging him. It was a kiss that he had often imagined, and that he was now experiencing with an emotion that almost made his stomach weak, due to the butterflies. Everything was perfect, she was perfect, his love for her was perfect. Perfection, for him, was this moment

When they broke away, Sae couldn't help but hide the smug smile on his lips, which was small compared to her girlfriend's "Maybe you should have told me about this detail about your father" says the boy, caressing her face "Maybe. But I didn't know it either until a few minutes ago"

"You're here"

"I'm here because I love you"

Sae finally turned to his teacher, the girl still held tightly in his arms. He wouldn't let her go easily

"Did you see, Profe? I learned Spanish"

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

[keeryhours]

thankful - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You, Rafe, and Iris spend Thanksgiving with the Camerons.

Request: “maybe baby daddy rafe and y/n spend thanksgiving together as a fam? With some smut? 🤭”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, Rafe has a slight breeding kink and refers to himself as daddy 🙃

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

I seriously get so excited when you guys request things, and this one is so timely! I went back in time for this one, so hopefully that’s okay. I hope you enjoy! I’m so glad you guys are loving this series <3 Requests are still open and if you’ve already sent one, I’ll be getting to it!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“You look beautiful.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when you opened the door on Thanksgiving, ready to ride with him to eat dinner with the Camerons. You had dressed in a slightly oversized sage green sweater and a short black skirt with heeled boots. His eyes trailed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look good yourself, Cameron.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. And he did look really nice. Rafe wore a dark gray button up with khaki slacks, the sleeves of his shirt hugging his biceps deliciously.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked. You were honestly surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth.

“JJ has her,” you explained, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “He’s getting her in the car seat.”

Rafe followed you into the house and into the living room, where JJ was just finishing up tightening the straps of Iris’ seat. “All set, pretty girl,” JJ announced to the baby, ignoring Rafe’s presence.

Iris cooed happily at her uncle. She was days away from turning 6 months old, just beginning to learn to sit up on her own. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rafe, and she squealed.

Rafe grinned widely, practically pushing JJ out of the way as he walked up to the seat and crouched to be eye level with his daughter. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, holding out his hand and letting her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. “You ready for your first Cameron Thanksgiving?”

Iris blew bubbles at him, which he took for a yes as he laughed. Iris was dressed in a brown Thanksgiving-themed dress, white tights on her chubby legs to help keep her warm. She had a matching bow in her light brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked right into her father’s matching ones.

Rafe stood, picking up the infant carrier. “Ready to go?” he asked you, and you nodded in confirmation.

Rafe was already out the door and on the way to his truck. JJ gave you a hug before you followed after him. He was baby talking to Iris as he locked her seat into the base. He turned as you approached, a smile on his face.

“Both my girls look stunning today,” he said as he closed the truck door. “I’m a lucky guy.”

You blushed deeply as you both climbed into your sides of the vehicle - you hadn’t officially been Rafe’s girl in a long time, but he seemed to have no intentions of dropping the nickname.

You felt a little nervous on the drive over. It’s not like you weren’t incredibly familiar with the Camerons, but it also felt like a big deal. This was your first Thanksgiving together as a family (well, kind of), and you felt the pressure of it. Not that Iris would care how things went, she’d never remember it obviously, but you would, and you wanted the evening to go well, for the day to be special.

Rafe pulled into the long driveway of Tannyhill, the gorgeous Cameron estate that you had admired your whole life. You used to be incredibly jealous when you were younger, truthfully. You and JJ had a rough home life with an abusive father, so you both spent much of your childhoods dreaming of something better. Tannyhill made frequent appearances in your fantasies. So did Rafe.

At the time, you felt you could never admit your crush on the eldest Cameron to anyone, especially not your best friend Sarah. Because how lame would that have been for you to admit to crushing on her jerk of a big brother? It’s funny how things worked out in the end. You had dated Rafe secretly for a while, but when it came out (awkwardly, with Sarah walking in on you two in a very compromising position), you realized you had worried for nothing because Sarah actually loved the two of you together. She said you brought out the best in Rafe. For a while, at least.

You smoothed your skirt as you climbed out of the truck, watching Rafe retrieve the car seat from the back. You walked side by side to the house, nerves buzzing in your stomach.

The smell of the house hits you immediately - it smells delicious. Your mouth practically waters as you take in the smell of the different foods waiting in the dining room. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

The Cameron family greeted you warmly when the three of you walked into the dining room. Ward and Rose both gave you a big hug, followed by Sarah launching herself into your arms and an attack by a nearly-as-excited Wheezie.

You were nothing compared to the little girl bundled in her seat, though. Rafe watched on with a proud smile as his family crowded around the carrier, baby talking to Iris. Ward is the one who unbuckles her and lifts her from her carrier first, holding her to his chest and looking like the proud grandpa he is while the others crowd around. It leaves you feeling warm inside.

The food was already spread across the large table. A huge selection - a perfect looking turkey, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, any Thanksgiving food you could dream of was prepared to perfection and displayed on the Cameron’s dining table.

When it was time to eat, you took a seat next to Rafe. Iris had a high chair set up for her, but she spent the meal bouncing from lap to lap. The conversation is comfortable and you find yourself laughing through most of the meal. The food is as delicious as it smelled, and you happily eat as much of it as you can.

After dinner, a football game is turned on the huge TV in the living room. Ward retired with a drink in hand to watch, while Wheezie lounged on the couch and Sarah joined Rose in the kitchen, Iris on her hip.

You stood, about to join the girls in the kitchen, when you felt large hands making themselves at home on your waist, warm breath against your ear.

“Let’s sneak off somewhere,” Rafe whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Rafe…” you scolded, turning around to look at him. “We can’t. And we’re literally surrounded by your family-“

“We can,” he interrupted you, hands wandering along your sides, around to grab onto your ass. “C‘mon…”

He grabbed onto your hand and pulled on it, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. You looked around, making sure no one was paying any attention to you. Rafe knew you would give in, but the delight on his face when you move your feet to follow after him is unmatched.

He pulls you down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you as you flip on the light switch. You barely have time to take in your surroundings before Rafe’s pressing you up against the door, his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

Rafe’s hands explored every inch of your body he could reach, tracing over your curves, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed your ass again before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, head going dizzy already from the way he was already everywhere all over you at once.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby,” he mumbled, fingers pushing your panties to the side, rubbing against your already throbbing clit. You gasped, eyes falling shut. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you promised him, desperate for him to just keep going. You’d do anything as long as he didn’t stop.

Rafe pushed a finger into your entrance, making your head fall back against the door with a thud as your mouth fell open. He began to pump his finger in and out of your tight heat while you tried to keep your legs from collapsing.

“So tight…” Rafe commented as he added a second finger, readying you to take him. “Been missin’ me?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you confessed easily, causing Rafe to chuckle as he placed kisses along your jaw. He had you losing your mind on nothing but two of his fingers and a few kisses - you never stood a chance with Rafe.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he said lowly, mouth moving to your neck to suck and bite along all the sensitive spots he knows by heart.

He used his palm to rub against your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into your pussy, curling them deep inside to hit that perfect spot that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor if it wasn’t for Rafe’s strong arm around your waist. You let yourself melt into him as he expertly took you apart.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the feeling of your walls clenching around him in the most familiar way.

“‘m so close…” you mumbled, head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. He laughed at how weak you became for him, and how easy it was for him to get you there. He couldn’t get enough.

He thrusted his fingers faster, making sure to press against that perfect spot with every push inside. Your legs trembled, whole body electric as you grabbed onto Rafe for dear life, biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans as your release rocked through you intensely. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he worked you through it, mumbling whispers of “Good girl, that’s it, fall apart for me, cum all over my fingers pretty girl, that’s fuckin’ right…”

Rafe didn’t even care about your teeth digging into his shoulder, like he barely even noticed it. He pulled out of you slowly and you whined, a cocky smirk growing across his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a groan. “Still so sweet, baby.”

“Rafe, I need you,” you begged, legs hardly able to hold your weight as you leaned against the bathroom door. You felt pretty pathetic right now.

“Yeah? You still need my cock even after you just came all over my fingers?” Rafe asked, eyes darkened with lust as he grabbed your waist and roughly positioned you to lean over the countertop. “Greedy little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard, making you jump and stifle a moan with your hand.

You watched in the mirror as Rafe pulled your skirt up around your waist, harshly pulling your panties down your legs and stuffing them in his pocket. His eyes met yours in the mirror, mischievous smirk on his lips.

His hands quickly undid his belt and slacks, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You wanted to turn around and get a good look at it - it had been a minute since you’d seen it, but you could never forget how nice it is - but Rafe had you pinned to the counter.

He gave his already rock hard length a couple quick pumps as his other hand rested on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. He took the time to take in the view before him - his favorite view. You all bent over for him, pussy soaking wet and spread wide for him to fuck however he pleased. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He lined himself up at your entrance, thick cockhead pressing against you eagerly, precum smeared across his tip. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You started that birth control, yeah?” he asked, but he was pretty sure he was about to fuck you raw no matter what your answer was.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pushing your hips back against him. “Been on it for a few weeks. We’re good.”

Rafe didn’t think he could have stopped himself either way, but he felt relieved as he pushed his hips forward, tip breaching your tight hole. You watched his face in the mirror as he slowly filled you, his face completely contorted in pleasure. His brow was furrowed, mouth hanging open as he let out a low, quiet groan, trying his best to hold onto his restraint and not alert the entire household to what you were up to.

His hands dug into your hips harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. His own thighs were trembling, he couldn’t believe the way your pussy was holding onto him, squeezing his cock perfectly like you were made to take him.

“Good, baby?” He gritted out, looking into your eyes in your reflection. You nodded frantically.

“Yeah, baby, want you to fuck me,” you begged.

Rafe let out another quiet groan at your words - fuck, he felt like you would be the absolute death of him sometimes - but it’s exactly what he wanted to hear as he drags his hips back painfully slowly before snapping back into you.

You smack a hand over your mouth just in time for him to thrust back in, the strangled moan that escaped your lips blessedly muffled by your hand. Rafe chuckled darkly, setting a quick pace as he fucked into your tight cunt from behind.

Your free hand gripped onto the side of the counter for some kind of stability. You felt completely at his mercy, your body utterly weak and held up only by the counter beneath you and Rafe’s rough hold on your hips as he pulled your body back against his ruthless thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, take it,” Rafe grunted out quietly, unable to keep his dirty mouth from running even when you were very much at risk of getting caught. His eyes fluttered closed as his hips snapped into you at a frantic, near desperate pace.

You felt another orgasm building inside as he fucked you just right, cock hitting that same perfect spot with every movement. Rafe leaned over you, placing kisses all over your shoulders and getting close enough to hear the breathy whines and moans he was pulling from your chest.

“Sound so pretty like that…” he huffed, hands sliding up under your sweater to grab at your tits. He impulsively pulled the sweater over your head, messing your hair up in the process before dropping it to the bathroom floor. “Need to see you,” is all the explanation you get. He unclasped your bra to free your naked chest to his hungry eyes. God, how he loved your tits. Especially since having a baby - they were perfect before, but now they’d nearly doubled in size and Rafe was obsessed.

He watched them bounce as he fucked you, the sight pushing him closer and closer to his own release. He wrapped his hands around them, squeezing and playing with your nipples, making you let out the most delicious whines whenever he’d pinch at them. You wished he had taken his shirt off so you could see his gorgeous chest, the way his ab muscles would flex as he pounded into you, biceps contracting as he pulled your body against his own.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you moaned quietly, wanting to let him know how good he was making you feel, how good he always was to you. “I love your cock.”

Rafe groaned. “I know you do, baby.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you even harder as he felt both of your releases approaching rapidly. “I love this perfect pussy, she’s always so good for me…”

Rafe’s hands went back to your hips as he started chasing his release, the power and speed of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, and shoving you up against the counter so hard you were sure you’d have bruises all over tomorrow. “‘m close again, baby…” you whined.

Rafe removed his right hand from your hip and wrapped his arm around your body, fingers going right for your swollen clit to rub quick, precise circles. “Cum for me again, baby, please, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, just for daddy, please baby girl-“

The combination of his words and his actions violently shoved you over the edge, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as it crashed through you for the second time, but infinitely more intense. Your pussy clenched around his girth over and over as you chanted his name into your own hand, ecstasy coursing through your body like a drug.

Your body practically dragged Rafe into his own release and he leaned over to bury his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you up with his load as he continued to slowly pump his hips through his orgasm while you pulsed around him. “Jesus baby, holy fuck…” You hear his muffled voice against your skin, feel his shaking body laying on top of you.

You both took a minute to calm down before Rafe was pulling out of you, leaving you feeling much more empty than before. He stepped back and admired his work, fingers collecting his release that had dripped out of you and pushing it back inside, making you tremble.

“Don’t want to waste a drop, baby,” he said with that cocky grin back on his face. You’d both made sure to always use protection any time you hooked up since Iris was born, but at the same time Rafe loved the idea of filling you up, the idea of you potentially giving him another perfect baby.

Rafe tucked himself back into his pants as you tried your best to compose yourself, pulling your clothes back on and trying to make them look like they hadn’t just been on the floor and shoved around your waist. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. “To dinner,” he clarified, an amused glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. You fussed with your hair, trying your hardest to not leave this bathroom looking freshly fucked. “How do I always let you pull me into these situations?”

“It’s because you can’t resist me,” he said, hands trailing up and down your sides. He squeezed your hips one last time before he pulled away.

“I’m gonna head back out there so we don’t walk out of here together. You take your time.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your lips, then smacked your ass hard before he slipped out the door.

You sighed to your own reflection. Your hair had been thoroughly ruined, lipstick a little smudged. You did your best to pull yourself back together before you exited the bathroom and rejoined the Camerons, who were all gathered in the living room now, Rafe included, Iris on his lap.

“Where have you two been?” Ward asked, completely oblivious. “You missed half the game,” he directed towards Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes darted to yours, smirk still on his lips as he took a sip of his beer. You were grateful you were saved from having to answer when one of whatever teams were playing scored a touchdown, stealing Ward’s attention away entirely.

You didn’t miss the knowing look Sarah gave you, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh. You felt your cheeks heating.

When Rafe brought you home, Iris had already passed out. She slept soundly in her car seat as Rafe drove through the dark island, music playing softly from the truck’s speakers to not disturb her rest.

He reached a hand over and rested it on your thigh. You stared at his hand, unsure what to do, until you dropped your hand atop his and interlinked your fingers together. Rafe smiled, looking more content than you’d seen him for most of his life.

“Seriously, thank you for coming,” he said as he put the truck in park in your driveway. He still held your hand as he turned to look at you. “I know it’s still weird, trying to figure out how to…do things, how to…co-parent. But I’m glad we can get along and be a family without her having to be with one or the other.”

You smiled softly at the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad, too. I had a good time.”

Rafe smirked at you then. “Yeah? You had a good time with me?”

You felt yourself blushing - you had meant the whole event, but admittedly that had been the best part. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Rafe laughed as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your lips. The biggest part of you loved it, still cherished every opportunity to be affectionate with Rafe, to feel any part of him, to be close to him. But a small part of you wished he wouldn’t do things like this anymore because all it did was confuse feelings and make things complicated all over again. You didn’t like the way your heart fluttered in your chest as your ex boyfriend kissed you in the darkness of his truck.

When he pulled away, he looked at you like he could tell what you were thinking about. He looked almost apologetic, although he didn’t regret it. He never regretted the things you did together.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” you told him, knowing it’s Rafe’s weekend with your daughter.

He nodded. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to carry her inside?”

You thought about it. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but that carrier was heavy as hell now that she had grown so much. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Rafe hopped out of the truck without a complaint, reaching into the backseat to unlock her carrier and lift it from the car seat base. He followed you to the door as you let the three of you inside.

JJ was gone, spending Thanksgiving with the pogues. You had planned to go, too, before Rafe asked you about spending the holiday with his family. You felt a little bad that you didn’t get to spend it with your twin brother, but you knew he understood and probably didn’t even care.

Rafe carefully unbuckled his sleeping daughter from her seat. She snuggled into his chest and he rested his large hand on her back, rocking her gently so she’d stay asleep. You trailed after him as he walked to the nursery and laid her in her crib.

Back in the hallway with Iris’ bedroom door closed, you both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

“JJ probably isn’t coming back tonight,” you blurted out, not even sure why you said it.

But Rafe’s face lit up, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah? You’re alone for the night?”

You blushed, looking down at your feet to work up the courage for what you say next. “I don’t have to spend it alone.”

Rafe’s smirk only grew as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as you giggled. His lips came down to press against yours again, and you didn’t care about your relationship status, or whether you belonged together, or how much you loved him despite telling yourself you didn’t. All that mattered was that he was here now, and he was yours for the night.

You were thankful for that, at least.

[satellite-evans]

Can't pay the bills

A/N : a blurb that came out of nowhere lol enjoy

word count : 600 words ( she's cute)

Harry was sprawled out on the couch, a book in one hand and a cup of tea resting precariously on the coffee table. His oversized sweater and reading glasses made him look like the coziest man alive, completely at peace in your shared home.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your phone secretly set up to record. The idea for this prank had come to you last night, and you couldn’t resist giving it a go. Harry was so doting, so protective—it was bound to be hilarious.

“Harry,” you called out, your voice tinged with just enough worry to catch his attention.

His head snapped up immediately, the book falling shut in his lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You wrung your hands for dramatic effect, sighing as you stepped into the living room. “I need to talk to you. It’s… important.”

Harry straightened, sliding his glasses off and setting them on the coffee table. His green eyes searched your face, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “Alright, what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat beside him, biting your lip. “I can’t pay the bills this month.”

There was a beat of silence. Harry blinked at you, visibly confused. “What?”

“I… overspent. Like, really overspent,” you explained, avoiding his gaze. “And now, I don’t have enough to cover the bills.”

Harry tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Darling, you don’t pay the bills.”

You paused, thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He chuckled lightly, though his confusion was apparent. “You’ve never paid the bills. That’s my thing. Always has been.”

You tried to salvage the prank, pressing on. “Well, yeah, but I was trying to be responsible this month! Take some of the load off you, you know? And now I’ve failed.”

Harry gave you a look, one eyebrow raised. “You’re telling me you suddenly decided to take over paying the bills, which I’ve always handled, without telling me… and somehow ran out of money?”

You nodded solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

He leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms. “Alright, let me get this straight. You’ve managed to spend more than what’s in your account, on top of what I’ve already set aside for everything? Love, what did you buy? A yacht?”

At that, you snorted, quickly covering your mouth. Harry’s lips twitched, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“You’re not upset?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“I’m baffled, not upset,” he replied, shaking his head. “I mean, I’d be thrilled if you wanted to be more involved, but you don’t have to. You know I love taking care of you, yeah?”

That did it. The guilt of pranking him—and the tenderness in his voice—made you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Harry, it’s a prank!” you admitted, clutching your stomach as you leaned forward.

Harry stared at you for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. “A prank, huh? You think it’s funny to make me think my wife suddenly decided to ruin my perfectly balanced system?”

You were laughing too hard to reply, especially as Harry reached over to tickle your sides mercilessly.

“That’s what you get,” he teased, his voice filled with mock indignation. “Prank me, will you?”

“Harry, stop!” you cried, wriggling away as he pulled you into his arms, still grinning.

When you finally caught your breath, you looked up at him, his face close to yours. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Sweet, am I?” he said, his voice softening. “You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d make you pay me back by doing the washing up for a week.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, love,” he whispered, kissing you gently.

[sthilarions]

It’s been a long, miserable case, and tensions are running high already when the warlock, Dennis, captures Charles and Edwin.

He locks them in a cell - more of a cage, to be honest - and casts a spell on Rowland. Just a little thing really. Because he’s been watching them, for the same weeks that they’ve been watching him, and he knows their weaknesses.

Rowland has fury in every bone of him. And Payne, the warlock has noted, is obnoxious as hell. A little shit to the core.

It shouldn’t take much. They were already snapping at each other when they were sneaking up his driveway.

The spell, Dennis explains to his captives, is sort of like vodka, and sort of like the opposite of a love spell. His own invention, he tells them proudly, which lowers inhibitions and fills the victim with unsuppressable rage at the closest target.

He casts the spell and hands Rowland back his bat through the bars.

It shouldn’t take much. He expects the skinny gray bitch to be paste in three minutes flat.

He’s not.

The spell seems to be working - Rowland is biting out curses, clutching his bat with white-knuckled fingers, downright seething, and the other one is pressed back against the bars, as far away as he can get, but absolutely no punches are being thrown, no weapons being swung.

Dennis intensifies the spell.

Rowland’s breathing becomes desperately harsh. Dennis can hear his teeth grinding from across the room, and Rowland finally raises his fist and swings a punch - towards his own leg.

Another harsh thud and Payne dives across the cage to grab Rowland’s fist. Rowland goes immediately limp in Payne’s hands, and Dennis almost screams in frustration.

So he’s not looking when Payne grabs the bat, and swings it at the bars, and apparently it’s more enchanted than anticipated because it smashes right through and, long story short, Dennis shortly finds himself on the floor with a magic-binding curse on.

“I don’t understand,” he whines. He can admit it to himself, that was a whine. “Why didn’t it work?”

Rowland shrugs. “Oh, it did,” he says. “Made me proper furious. I just really, genuinely don’t wanna hit Edwin, mate. No amount of lowering inhibitions is gonna matter when there’s nothing there being inhibited in the first place.”

“But - but you’ve been with him for decades, and he’s - ” Dennis quickly rethinks his plan of calling Payne a bitch as he eyes the twirling bat, back in Rowland’s hands. “He’s like that! You have to have wanted to, at least once, the spell should have grabbed onto anything.”

Rowland just grins down at him. “Nah. Never wanted to, ever, even once. Now, you, on the other hand - ”

The bat swings and Dennis doesn’t remember anything else for quite a while.