#white washed beamed ceiling

[urbanney]

Family Room - Open Example of a huge eclectic open concept light wood floor and brown floor family room design with white walls, a standard fireplace and a brick fireplace

[victorienaubineau]

Eclectic Entry - Foyer Inspiration for a large eclectic marble floor and black floor entryway remodel with white walls and a white front door

[bigpoppadean]

Open - Family Room Ideas for a sizable, traditional, open-concept family room remodel with white walls, a traditional fireplace, and a stone fireplace

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Open - Traditional Family Room Huge elegant open concept dark wood floor family room photo with white walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a media wall

[jaymepollock]

Family Room Enclosed New York Example of a large eclectic enclosed carpeted and beige floor family room design with beige walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[redcherrystars]

Braids 🥀

A/n: STRONGLY based off the mullet Sylus has for Tomorrow’s Catch-22, and what he says in the dress up menu when you change his hairstyle (pulled this morning, got Caleb and then my beloved Sylus ❤️❤️ +his outfit and hair)

Content: (wc 1k) lnds Sylus x afab reader, loads of fluff, pampering Sylus, pet names (sweetie, baby, etc.), just toothrotting fluff

It’s been months since your boyfriend has gotten a haircut.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you watch as Sylus unbuttons his pressed black button down and peels off his slacks, only to put on a red teeshirt and black pajama pants with white doves on them (you obviously bought, as Onychinus’s leader would likely not purchase for himself). It was a miracle you found a pair of pajama pants in his size so you wouldn’t have to send them to a tailor.

Sylus runs his fingers through his messy white hair, the ends of his mullet like hairstyle now brushing against the top of his shoulders.

“Hey Sy?” You bounce off the bed. Unsurprisingly, you’re dressed in one of his teeshirts, so large it hung off your shoulder, revealing tantalizing collarbone and smooth shoulders

Sylus turns around to face you moments later, pulling his shirt over his head, giving you a brief glimpse of his abs. What a view.

“Yes, sweetie?” Sylus nearly purred. His hands go to your waist, holding you close as he inhales by your scalp—the man just liked your natural scent.

“I can’t sleep!” You whine, internally smiling at a clever idea you concocted.

“Can’t sleep Kitten? What would you like to do then, with all this extra time on your hands?” Sylus glanced to the alarm clock on his nightstand—it was 11:46 PM.

You grin at him cheekily. “Can I do your hair?”

“Can you do my hair now, hmm…let me think..” your boyfriend puts on a fake pensive expression, his white brow furrowing in thought. “I suppose that can be doable.”

“Can I do your skincare too?” You’re beginning to get excited, and he can feel it.

“Alright.” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his nose bridge. You giggle and beam at him, before kissing his jawline, feeling slight scratchy white stubble tickle your lips-it seems he hasn’t shaved in a few days either, not that you mind one bit.

With a giggle you slink out of his arms (much to his disappointment), prancing into the bathroom. Your boyfriend ensured his beloved lived in luxury, and the master bathroom was no exception. High ceilings, a crystal chandelier with warm ambient lighting, black marble tile, and a huge walk-in shower. There was even a clawfoot bathtub large enough for two with space to spare elevated on a black marble platform by a large window, overlooking the cityscape in the N109 zone. With tinted glass, this view was yours and his to share.

On the black shelf next to the double sink, you grab a little bag full of various skincare products, a little plastic container of clear elastics, and your pink hairbrush. Plopping down on the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor, you gesture to Sylus to come and sit between the space between your legs. Reluctantly, he sits down, and lets out a pleased moan when you begin to run your fingers through his hair, messing with the white stands. You wonder if (and if so, when) he will cut his hair, or keep it the same length. His slightly grown out—more of a wolfcut did make your knees weak.

You gently detangle any knots or snags in his hair with your brush, and he sighs with relief as the brush’s bristles massage his scalp. Then, with nimble fingers, you begin putting dainty little braids in the length of his hair, pulling the elastics you used wide with your teeth before securing the braids you made.

“Feels good, huh?” You murmur, grabbing his face with a gentle hand, turning it slightly towards you, and kissing his cheek.

“Feels good.” He confirms. “You’re too sweet baby. I should be the one pampering you.”

“Oh hush you big bogey.” You crawl over him, now sitting between his large legs. With a warm washcloth, you gently wash his face before applying a moisturizer. Sylus had absolutely no idea what the creams you were applying to his cheeks, nose, under eyes and forehead did, but it felt so nice. Once you put a pink kitty face mask on him, you let out a surprised squeak when he flips you around in his lap, and picking up your hairbrush off of the bathroom tile.

Before you know it, his warm fingers are threading through your hair, untangling knots, and brushing out any broken strands of hair. Then Sylus is braiding your hair too, deftly, and one peak in the mirror tells you it’s a french braid.

“When did you learn to do this?” You lean your head back once he secures your braid. Your hair was so long it nearly touched your butt.

“Online video tutorials. Luke and Kieran involuntarily became my models.” All of his efforts made your heart ache and flutter at the same time.

How this man loves you.

“Is this why I found many pink and blue wigs tucked away in the closet a while back?” You ask as he puts a grey crow sheet mask on your face, gently smoothing out the sheet’s wrinkles.

“Mhm. The twins insisted if they were going to be volunteered for practice, they would get to pick out their wig color.” Sylus’s red eyes crease in the corners with mirth.

“Are you sleepy now?” Sylus tilts his head a you.

“Maybe a little..” you mumbled.

“Come on, Sweetie. We can watch a movie until you fall asleep if you’d like.” He offers.

You nod, almost eagerly, and squeal when your big boyfriend scoops you up off of the bathroom floor and carried you into your shared bedroom. Sylus practically tosses you onto the red blankets of your bed, and crawls over you, before rolling under you, having you snuggled up on his chest. Pulling one of the blankets up to your waist, he presses three kisses to your neck.

Sylus puts on a cute animated movie—one you both have watched together a thousand times. “I love you.” He murmurs, tilting your face up and placing a soft chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You rest your head against his chest, your heart full, your body warm and relaxed in the embrace of his.

You should let Sylus braid your hair more often.

[a-major-love]

Night Fever

Pairing - Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Summary - Of all people you could have met that fateful night, it had to be him.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - MDNI, fem pronouns, mentions of smoking & alcohol, no use of y/n

A/N - I always imagined dancing with Michael was incredibly fun but also probably intimidating. Enjoy!

1977

Spotlights pierced through the haze of smoke filtering the air, beaming down on the partygoers. Sweat rolled off their skin, mingling with the overpowering stench of perfume and cigarettes. The men and women’s eyes twinkled at you, sparkling from pressed glitter. Their bright, painted lips mouthed along to the stream of ABBA lyrics filling the crowded space. The music pouring from the speakers vibrated under your feet. Studio 54 was lively, and terrifying all at once. 

“Friday nights are always the busiest,” your friend – Alicia –  mentioned from beside you. Her stark black hair was pulled into a tight bun, revealing her teal colored eyeshadow. The sequined dress she wore hung off her bronzed shoulders, flecks of glitter dotted her skin. 

You glanced down at the denim jumpsuit you wore, with a thick belt secured around the waist. Somehow, despite the pumps digging into the soles of your feet, you felt mildly underdressed. You scanned the crowd, biting your lip as your eyes swept over the other dancers. 

“Let’s go, birthday girl,” Alicia said, nudging you towards the center of the room. 

You giggled. “I’m just trying to appreciate the atmosphere.” 

“Well, you can go appreciate it out on the dancefloor.” 

She grasped onto your forearm, pushing through the cluster of hot bodies that brushed against you two. You could feel the men’s gazes pass over you, their heavy eyes glancing over your form before looking away. Glasses with golden liquid, and pierced olives swung around you as the people got lost in the music. 

You finally approached the middle of the dance floor, where a bright, glowing disco ball hung above your heads. Alicia broke out into a grin, her pearly white teeth pointed to the ceiling. Her dangled hearings whipped around her face as she began swaying to the music.  

It was initially her idea, at first, to celebrate your birthday at Studio 54. All you knew about the nightclub was that the entrance fee was too expensive, and the line never seemed to ease up. As much as you adored Alicia, you couldn’t find a good reason to stand outside all night – in New York during the spring – hoping to make it inside before the place closed. If there’s one thing you understood about spring in New York, it was how cold the nights could be. 

So, how in the hell she pulled this off, you were sure she would take to her grave. 

You laughed, watching her bounce around, throwing her head back. Acting as if a plethora of eyes weren’t on her. You swayed your hips, letting your eyes close as the sweet sounding harmonies of the Bee Gees washed over you. It felt as if everybody on the dance floor was in sync, breathing and moving in time with each other. 

Sharing one heart, one pulse to the music. 

Your body moved and rocked, becoming bewitched by the entrancing tune. 

“Excuse me-

You suddenly bumped into someone, startling both you and the stranger. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, whipping around to face them. A pair of oak, brown eyes crinkled at you as the strange man chuckled to himself. 

“It’s alright,” he assured, adjusting his blazer. “You’re not a bad dancer, you know.” 

You playfully grinned at him, “Have you been watching me dance?”

“I – uh didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered.

You scanned the man, taking in his wide doe eyes and large afro currently dusted with glossy confetti. A gold pendant rested between the dip of his chest, a sliver of deep brown skin peaking through the few undone buttons.

Somewhere, in the back corners of your mind, familiarity tugged at your brain. 

“Have we met before?” you inquired, furrowing your brows. 

“No, we haven’t,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. 

You opened your mouth to reply, when he stuck his hand out. 

“Is it alright if we danced together?” he asked.

Heat creeped up your face, as you took his inviting hand – his skin was silky smooth and warm in your grasp. He softly smiled at you, as he tugged your form closer to him. Swiftly, he twirled you around, giggling at your reaction as you nearly stumbled from the sudden movement. You caught yourself in time, taking both his hands as you grooved to the deep bass coming from the speakers. 

His eyes remained trained on you, as if analyzing every motion and gesture you made. The music enveloped you two, as the dance floor fell away, along with the people surrounding it. The club was nothing but a blur of color, as the hot white lights radiated down on you two. The music pulsed through your skin, reverberating against your ribcage. The sweet, lingering scent of nicotine floated through the air. It was as if the dancefloor came alive from under your feet suddenly, a pulsating heartbeat belonging to the untamable beast known as music. His hands never left yours, as he pulled you into his side, before going into a spin. 

You watched, in fascination. “You’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

He bashfully smiled. “Well, I’ve been dancing for most of my life.”

“Do you do it for a career, or something?” “...You could say that.”

He twirled you again, interrupting whatever train of thought you were processing. 

The night went on endlessly it seemed, as if time had temporarily stopped. Yet, the crowd of Studio 54 never broke off. A stream of guests revolved in and out of the space, some dressed in dripping jewels that outshined the hanging disco ball or extravagant outfits that felt expensive to even look at. It felt as if you were in a lion's mouth, a wet, breathing cage waiting to clamp down on you. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around your frame.

“Let’s get going, my feet are killing me,” Alicia groaned, already tugging you away. 

“Wait!” The man called out, feeling your hand loosen in his grip. Alicia squinted at him, trying to make out his features through the alcohol induced brain fog. 

“You look a little familiar...” she muttered.

“I’ll meet you outside,” you explained, nudging your friend back. Alicia glanced over at you, glossy lips pouting at your urgency. She finally caved, rolling her eyes as she knowingly nodded and began to maneuver her way through the crowd. 

You turned to face him. “I had a really great time, uh-

“Michael,” he introduced, squeezing your hand. 

Had he been holding it the entire time?

“Well, it was really fun dancing with you, Michael.”

His eyes flickered between yours, as if weighing something in his mind. Michael eventually sighed, reluctantly loosening his grip and letting your hand fall to your side. 

“I hope we get to do it again, sometime,” he said. With wistful smile growing on his lips. 

You returned the smile, clenching your hand from the sudden loss of warmth. Without another word, you turned and made your way to the exit. 

The bumping music followed you out the double doors and onto the bustling street of New York City’s nightlife. A breeze brushed against your bare arms, biting at your skin. Alicia was leaning against a car, impatiently tapping her foot. Her eyes finally landed on you, wearing a strange expression you couldn’t quite place. 

“Girl, I have several questions,” she started, opening the car door for you. 

You snorted. “Ask me when it’s not past midnight.” 

She sidled into the passenger seat, as you started up the engine. The bright, white lights of Studio 54 reflected off the hood of your car. 

You could still feel his presence, even during the drive home. 

[szariahwroteit]

Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 1

“Everything about this place is so dreamy,” Camille gushed as she linked arms with Giselle. Their heels clicked, almost synchronized, as they slowly walked through the opulent hallway.

“It is,” Giselle agreed, taking in the intricate hand painted design on the high ceilings.

Both women had journeyed to France on numerous occasions, but this visit held a special significance. This time, they found themselves in Europe to joyfully celebrate the engagement of their dear friend, Elise. The air was filled with excitement and anticipation as they prepared to partake in this momentous occasion, surrounded by the enchanting beauty of the French landscape.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Camille noted as she took in her best friend. Not a hair on her head was out of place, her soft makeup had been done to perfection, and her dress looked as if it had been painted onto her body, but she could still tell something was amiss.

“I'm just taking everything in. This house is beautiful,” Giselle smiled softly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes as she turned to look at Camille.

“I agree, but we should probably head back downstairs to the party and celebrate with our friends instead of gushing over Venetian decor,” she smirked, leading Giselle back towards the staircase that took them back down to the party.

The engagement celebration was a joint collaboration hosted by Elise’s parents and her fiance Jules’. Both families came from money, and the opulence of the house reflected that perfectly. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm, inviting light across the elegantly dressed guests who danced and mingled in a sea of laughter and joy.

As they reached the grand ballroom, Giselle felt a wave of excitement wash over her. She spotted Elise in the center, glowing in her stunning white gown, surrounded by admirers and well-wishers.

Elise pointed at Giselle when their eyes met, playfully waving her over. Giselle's heart raced as she weaved through the crowd, Camille at her side. There was something magnetic about Elise's energy tonight; it was as if her joy radiated, pulling everyone closer to her. Giselle couldn’t help but smile, feeling caught up in the whirlwind of love and happiness that enveloped the room.

As they approached, Elise engulfed Giselle in a warm embrace. "You look amazing! You are going to be such a perfect bridesmaid!" she smiled brightly.

Giselle felt a rush of warmth at Elise's words, her heart fluttering with the excitement of the evening. "Thank you! You’re the one who looks stunning!” she replied, stepping back to admire her friend.

Giselle and Elise met around seven years ago as teenagers when they were both booked to walk in a Dolce and Gabbana show in Milan.

Since then, both women's careers have gone from strength to strength. They have walked catwalks in Paris, Milan, and New York, their photographs gracing the covers of magazines all over the world. But tonight, it wasn't just their modeling careers that caused their hearts to race; it was the joy of friendship, the celebration of love, and an intangible chemistry that coursed through the air.

Giselle felt a familiar flutter in her stomach as she admired Elise's gown—its delicate lace and intricate beadwork seemed to capture the light in a way that made Elise radiate. "I can't believe you're engaged! This is so surreal!" Giselle exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement.

Elise laughed, her eyes twinkling like the chandeliers above. "I know! It feels like a dream, but I promise it's all real. And you have to help me plan the most fabulous wedding!"

“Of course!” Giselle beamed as Elise wrapped her arms around her once again. The warmth of her embrace sent a thrill coursing through Giselle, igniting memories of their shared dreams and whispered secrets from years past.

As the women parted, Elise was called to the other side of the room, leaving Giselle and Camille standing side by side, watching the festivities unfold. The vibrant music filled the air, blending effortlessly with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses.

"You know," Camille said, breaking the spell of the moment, "there’s something undeniably enchanting about seeing Elise so happy. It almost makes me believe in fairy tales."

Giselle nodded absentmindedly, her gaze still lingering on Elise as she twirled in her gown, laughter spilling from her lips. There was a certain magic in the air, charged with the promise of love and new beginnings. Yet beneath that excitement, Giselle felt a deeper stirring within herself—an awareness that had been brewing for some time now.

"What's on your mind?" Camille asked, interrupting Giselle's reverie.

She hesitated, her heart racing. "It’s just… seeing Elise like this, it makes me think about my own life, where I’m heading." She paused, glancing at Camille, who had a knowing look in her eyes.

“I get it. You’ve been so focused on your career. But love could find you at any moment, you know?" Camille replied, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Maybe," Giselle smiled, but her heart felt heavier than she wanted to admit. The truth was, no matter how glamorous her life appeared from the outside, there was a void that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment.

Just as Giselle was about to voice her thoughts, a figure stepped into her periphery. It was Jules, Elise's fiancé, who approached with an air of confidence, a charming smile on his face.

“Giselle, there you are!” he exclaimed, his gaze piercing through the throng of guests. “You look stunning, by the way.”

“Thank you, Jules!” she replied, her cheeks heating under his compliment.

"My parents were asking if there was anyone to toast us and Elise suggested you would be the woman for the job,” he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Giselle felt a flutter of nerves wash over her. “Me? Toast? I’m not sure I’m the right choice for that,” she stammered, glancing towards Camille, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"You’ll be perfect. Just speak from the heart," Jules encouraged, his tone sincere. “You were there the night we met.”

Giselle felt her pulse quicken at the thought of that night—the way Elise had sparkled under the dim lights, the chemistry between them palpable even then. She nodded, trying to suppress the rising tide of emotional vulnerability.

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Good! I’ll let Elise know. We’ll need a moment before the cake cutting,” Jules said before blending back into the crowd.

“See?” Camille chimed in, nudging Giselle playfully with her elbow. “Just like that, you’re in the spotlight! And it’s good practice for when you’re toasting Elise at the wedding—because let’s face it, you'll be the star of the show.”

With a deep breath, Giselle tried to eat away at the nerves nipping at her. The energy in the room was intoxicating, and Elise’s joy was contagious, yet Giselle felt the weight of her own unspoken desires loom over her.

“I guess I’ll have to dig deep for this toast,” she murmured, staring into the glass of champagne in her hand.

“What do you mean?” Camille asked, arching an eyebrow.

Giselle hesitated for a moment, before pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. Despite her inner turmoil, the party was in celebration of her friend's happiness.

“It's nothing, honestly,” she said, shaking her head as she forced a bright smile on her face. "Just a moment of introspection, I suppose."

Camille scrutinized her for a moment, sensing the undercurrents of Giselle's emotions, but decided to let it go—for now. She raised her own glass, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, whatever's brewing in that beautiful head of yours, let’s celebrate love tonight! Here’s to Elise and Jules!"

They clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing sweetly in the air, and Giselle took a sip, trying to drown out the thoughts swirling in her mind. Each sip was a reminder to embrace the joy of the night, to bask in the celebration of love and friendship.

As the evening progressed, Giselle found herself swept up in the festivities. The music pulsed around her, and the laughter was infectious. Guests twirled and danced like colorful petals caught in a whirlwind, and as she watched Elise and Jules share a tender moment, something stirred deep within her.

When it was finally time for Giselle to give her toast, she felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. She looked around at the gathered guests, spotting familiar faces interspersed with others she recognized from Elise's life but hadn’t had the chance to meet before.

“May I have everyone’s attention, please?” she called, raising her glass as she stood at the center of the ballroom.

The room quieted, and all eyes turned toward her. Giselle took a deep breath, the weight of expectation settling like butterflies in her stomach.

“First of all, I want to say how truly honored I am to stand here tonight, among all of you, to celebrate the love of Elise and Jules,” she began, her voice steady though tinged with emotion. “I’ve had the privilege of knowing Elise for many years, and let me tell you, she is a force of nature.”

Giselle’s gaze found Elise, who smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.

“There have been countless moments over the years where Elise’s passion and warmth have lifted my spirit—like that time we got lost in the streets of Paris after a show, only to find ourselves at a little café, sharing secrets and dreams until the sun came up,” she continued, feeling the memories flow through her. “She has a way of turning every ordinary moment into something extraordinary.”

She glanced at Jules, who stood proudly beside Elise, beaming with love. “And Jules, having seen the way you look at Elise, it’s clear that you cherish her heart as much as she deserves to be cherished. You’ve brought out a glow in her that lights up every room, and for that, I’m grateful.”

The audience clapped softly, but Giselle could feel the tension within her building. As she spoke, her heart ached with both joy and a yearning she couldn’t quite articulate. “Love is such a beautiful journey filled with twists and turns,” she continued. “It’s messy and complicated, and sometimes it’s as simple as the way someone makes you feel alive.”

She paused, emotions flaring, and she could sense introspection wash over the guests. “If tonight teaches us anything, let it be to cherish the moments we have with those we love, because they are the ones that create the most vibrant colors in the tapestry of our lives.”

As she concluded her speech, Giselle felt the warmth radiating from the crowd, mingling with the bittersweet longing bubbling within her. She raised her glass higher, her voice catching slightly. “So here’s to love, in all its forms—may we celebrate it always!”

The clink of glasses rang out as the guests raised their own in acknowledgment, their smiles wide and genuine. Giselle felt a flood of relief give way to a swell of pride; she had done it. She had shared her heart, and the intimate connection to Elise had breathed life into her toast.

When she stepped down, Elise rushed over, her expression a mix of love and admiration. “You were incredible, Giselle! I’m so grateful you said yes!”

"I'm really happy you enjoyed it," Giselle replied, hoping her voice didn’t betray the emotions swirling within her.

Before Elise had the chance to respond, her mother called out for the cake cutting, pulling Elise back into the festivities. Giselle watched her go, feeling an ache in her chest that seemed to reflect more than just the happiness in the room.

Making her way towards a set of doors that led outside to a sprawling backyard, Giselle stepped out, hoping to catch her breath and collect her thoughts amid the enchanting ambiance of the evening. The night air was cool, providing a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the ballroom, and the soft glow of fairy lights strung overhead created a magical atmosphere.

She wandered through the manicured gardens, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path As she walked deeper into the serene space, she could hear the distant sounds of laughter and celebration, but they faded into a comforting backdrop, allowing her mind to drift.

Giselle settled on a wrought-iron bench surrounded by fragrant blooms, their scents mingling in the air. Thoughts of her toast swirled in her mind, but more prominently, her heart tugged with the realization of her feelings.

After enduring a tumultuous and acrid breakup two years prior, Giselle had sworn an oath to herself—a steadfast commitment to never again allow anyone the power to shatter her heart as her ex had done. The emotional scars were still tender, and the memories of betrayal lingered like shadows in her mind.

Yet, as she found herself enveloped by an atmosphere brimming with authentic affection and unwavering love, a deep yearning began to swell within her. The kind of love that radiated from those around her was intoxicating, its warmth both inviting and intimidating. It ignited a desire in her that was as exhilarating as it was frightening, awakening fears that perhaps she'd never truly healed. Giselle was torn between the longing for connection and the protective walls she had built to shield herself from future pain.

"You delivered a truly beautiful speech," came a voice laced with a heavy French accent, the rich timbre of it lingering in the air. The sound startled Giselle, prompting her to pivot her head in surprise, wide-eyed at the sight of an unexpected guest standing beside her. The softness of their tone contrasted sharply with her sudden jolt, leaving her momentarily disoriented.

The man stood tall, his presence commanding yet relaxed, a charming smile on his face that could light up the night.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, taking a step closer to the bench she sat on.

Giselle felt her heart skip a beat. There was something undeniably magnetic about him; the way he carried himself, the flirtation in his smile, and the intensity of his gaze. He was strikingly handsome, with chiseled features and a glint of mischief in his dark eyes that made it hard for her to look away.

“Um, sure,” she stammered, trying to regain her composure as she gestured for him to sit.

As he lowered himself onto the bench, the air around them felt electrified, charged with a curious energy that sent a tingle down Giselle’s spine. “I’m Kylian,” he introduced himself, extending a hand towards her. “And you are Giselle, right? The toast was beautiful!”

“Thank you, Kylian,” she smiled weakly, shaking his hand.

“You didn't like it?” he asked curiously as he picked up on her mood.

“No, I really did! I just…” Giselle faltered, searching for the right words. “I didn’t expect to be asked to speak. It felt... vulnerable.”

Kylian leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “Vulnerability often leads to the most genuine connections, don’t you think? Especially in a place like this, where it is all about love.”

“What if I don't believe in love?” Giselle asked in an attempt to consolidate her own feelings.

“Juels and Elise are in love.” Kylian pointed out, it was clear as day.

“I don't think my purpose is for romantic love,” Giselle shrugged, making Kylian look at her with curiosity dancing in his brown eyes.

“Why not?” he asked; Kylian himself was a man who didn't believe he had the time nor dedication to commit himself to someone fully in the way that his friends had, but to hear it roll so casually off Giselle’s tongue intrigued him.

Giselle sighed, the weight of her unspoken thoughts blooming into the cool night air. “I suppose I’ve been hurt before, and it’s hard to believe in something that feels so... elusive.”

Kylian studied her, his expression contemplative. He understood where she was coming from, but he also knew that love existed even if it was something he himself tried to avoid.

“Sometimes, it’s the risk that makes it worthwhile,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. “That raw vulnerability can lead to unexpected moments of joy. What if love appears in a form you never anticipated, or from someone who can truly see you for who you are?”

His words hung in the air between them, thick with possibility. Giselle shifted slightly, taken aback by the depth of his insight. “And what if it turns out to be a mistake?” she countered, her voice slightly firmer despite the flutter of intrigue growing inside her.

Kylian’s smile remained unfaltering, but his eyes sparkled with a mischief that piqued her interest. “Mistakes are just learning opportunities dressed in disappointment. Besides, sometimes the most beautiful stories have a rocky beginning.” He leaned back against the bench, as if the words had painted an impressive picture in his mind.

Giselle couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his charm. “You sound like a poet,” she teased, relaxing a little into the conversation.

“Perhaps,” he said with a wink, unabashed. “But tonight is about celebration, and I believe we should celebrate the moments we have—both joyful and painful.”

As they exchanged smiles, Giselle felt her emotions ease a little.

“And I am a football player, we are just as insightful as poets,” Kylian joked, making Giselle laugh, the sound filling the air around them.

Giselle felt the last of her tension dissipate as the laughter flowed between them, warming her heart. Kylian had an effortless charm, a magnetic energy that made her feel seen and understood in this whirlwind of celebration. As they continued to talk, she found herself captivated by his stories—his passion for the game, the camaraderie of his team, and even the dreams he had beyond football.

“Do you play for a local club in France?” Giselle asked, genuinely interested.

“I play out in Madrid,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “It’s been a journey, but it’s my love. What about you? Is modelling your main focus?”

“Modelling and acting,” she nodded. “I travel a lot for work, and each project feels like a new adventure, but sometimes it can be exhausting. Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Kylian's gaze held hers, and in that moment, Giselle felt a strong connection building—a sense of familiarity and comfort that felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the glamour and nerves of the evening.

“Just like the pitch, right?” he said, leaning a little closer. “You put your heart into every performance, pouring yourself into the art of it. It’s easy to forget to enjoy the process, though.”

“Amen to that,” Giselle laughed lightly, feeling a spark of excitement flicker between them. “I’ve witnessed so many beautiful moments, but at times, I find myself lost in the chaos of everything. It’s… tiring, I suppose.”

“Then let’s make an agreement,” Kylian offered, his voice low and enticing. “Let’s enjoy tonight then, without any expectations. Just two people celebrating friendship, laughter, and how surreal it all is.”

Giselle smiled, a playful gleam in her eyes. “A toast to that!” She raised her now-empty glass, clinking it against his before placing it carefully on the bench beside her.

They fell into easy conversation, sharing stories of the fashion world and football, but as the noise from the celebration faded into the background, Giselle felt her heart race with an unspoken tension. Kylian wasn’t just a charming stranger; there was something deeper kindling between them, a conversation beyond mere words.

As the evening continued, guests began to trickle, gathering their things as they prepared to depart. The joyful ambiance was still palpable, but Giselle felt a tug in her chest knowing the night was winding down.

“Looks like the party is starting to wind down,” Kylian murmured, shifting slightly to glance around the room. “Do you have plans for the rest of the evening?”

Giselle bit her lip, her heart racing at the idea of being swept into the dance floor with him, of losing herself in the rhythm and energy that seemed to pulsate between them. “I’m probably just going to head up to bed, it’s been a really long day.”

“I can walk you,” Kylian offered, his eyes lighting up with that charming spark she’d noticed earlier. There was a genuine softness to his voice, like he truly meant his words. “I wouldn’t want you wandering these halls alone, especially after such a beautiful evening.”

Giselle felt a rush of warmth spread through her at the thought of having him beside her, the night still filled with the magic of newfound connection. “That would be nice,” she replied, unable to keep a smile from her face.

As they walked together, the chatter of guests and the music faded behind them, replaced by the clicking of Giselle’s heels against the floors as they made their way through the house.

“You don't have to walk me all the way to my room,” Giselle blushed as she slowly walked beside Kylian, the balls of her feet aching to be removed from the open-toe heels she’d worn all evening.

“My parents raised a gentleman,” he smirked, turning to her slightly. His chest warmed as he watched a smile spread across her face.

“I’m sure they did,” Giselle laughed teasingly.

“If they hadn't, I would have told you how beautiful your body looks in that dress and how much I enjoyed watching you tonight.” He paused, his French accent thick as he gauged her reaction, his heart racing just a bit faster.

Giselle's smile widened, and a hint of mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Is that so? What else would you say if you weren't a gentleman?”

Kylian shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant, though the playful challenge in her voice made his pulse quicken. “That I am dying to see what's underneath.”

“What would you do with it?” Giselle asked softly, a warmth spreading through her as she locked eyes with him, her breath hitching slightly at the boldness of their exchange. There was a daring thrill in their playful banter, and she felt an electric charge course through her veins.

Kylian's gaze intensified, his dark eyes searching her face for any hint of hesitation. “What would I do?” He stepped a fraction closer, his voice lowering to a sultry whisper that sent shivers down her spine. “I would take my time exploring every inch, savoring the softness of your skin against my own.”

Giselle's heart raced, her cheeks flushing at his words. The world around them faded, leaving only the intoxicating lure of their heightened connection. “And what if I wanted to explore you, too?” she countered, emboldened by the shared intimacy of their conversation.

Kylian grinned, clearly taken aback by her response, and then leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “Then I would let you, and I would teach you things.”

Giselle trembled at the thought, her imagination running wild with possibilities. The laughter and music of the party seemed a world away as she felt the space between them shrink even further. She could sense the desire swirling around them, blending with the heady atmosphere of the evening.

“Maybe we should find another place to continue this conversation,” she suggested breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest, emboldened by the thrill of secrecy and adventure.

Kylian’s eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk. “Come back to my place,” he suggested, his voice charged with a mix of daring and allure. “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Giselle hesitated for a moment, weighing the thrill of the unknown against the cautious voice in her mind. But as she looked into Kylian's eyes, she saw a warmth that beckoned her, a promise of adventure and indulgence. The buzz of the party felt like a distant memory; all she could focus on was the magnetic energy between them.

“I’ll have you back here in the morning,” Kylian assured her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Unless, of course, you’d rather stay longer…” He let the insinuation hang in the air, effectively tilting the balance of her caution against exhilaration.

Giselle’s breath caught, a thrill surging through her as she considered his proposition. “Elise’s bridal party is having brunch here tomorrow, I need to be back in the morning.”

Kylian’s expression brightened, clearly intrigued by the challenge. “You have my word,” he replied, leaning in slightly. The proximity heightened her senses, the warmth of his body radiating toward her like an inviting flame as his hands found her hips.

“Just tonight,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to hers, the teasing lilt of his voice stirring something deep within her.

Giselle's mind raced with anticipation. She could feel the heat of his hands on her hips, grounding her in the moment as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach. “Just tonight,” she repeated with a playful smirk, a challenge hanging in her tone as she took a bold step closer.

Kylian's eyes sparkled with mischief and barely contained excitement as he pulled Giselle flush against him, one hand sliding up to tangle in her hair while the other remained firmly on her hip. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Just tonight... for now."

He pressed a lingering kiss just below her ear, letting his lips linger and savoring her soft gasp. Then, with a final squeeze of her hip, he took her hand and led her swiftly but gently through the house and out to the waiting car.

As the driver held the door open, Kylian ushered Giselle inside the sleek, luxurious vehicle. The cool leather seats welcomed her as he slid in beside her, the door closing with a soft thud. In the intimate confines of the car, the air felt charged.

Placing his hand on her bare thigh, Kylian turned his head to her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The warm hush of the car enveloped them, and Giselle felt almost cocooned in this moment of thrilling intimacy. The rhythm of the drive was punctuated by the soft thrum of the engine and the distant sounds of the party fading away.

“Are you nervous?” Kylian asked, his voice a deep, inviting tone. There was a playful lilt to his words, but Giselle could tell he was genuinely curious.

“Not anymore,” she said, her confidence bolstered by the heat of his hand on her thigh. “In fact, I’m quite excited.”

“Good,” Kylian replied, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, and the closeness made her heart race even faster.

As the car moved through the city streets, Giselle felt the anticipation curling in her stomach. Kylian’s fingers traced small, tantalizing patterns on her thigh.

Each gentle caress sent electric shocks of desire coursing through her, pulling her deeper into a whirlpool of heat and longing. She turned to face him, their eyes locking once more, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside blurred away, leaving only the magnetic connection they shared.

“Where are we going?” She ventured, her voice low and teasing, unable to mask the thrill that enveloped her.

“Somewhere we can have some privacy,” he replied, his gaze unwavering, a playful glint in his dark eyes. “Somewhere we can explore this connection without any interruptions.”

As the city lights flashed by the window, every flicker seemed to mirror the rapid beat of her heart. She could feel the air thickening around them, their chemistry palpable, each moment drawing them closer to the edge of something exhilarating.

When the car finally rolled to a stop outside a gated estate , Giselle felt her heart race with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The grand building loomed before them, illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed lights that cast the carved stone in a romantic hue.

“Your house is stunning,” she breathed, momentarily entranced by the beauty around her.

Kylian unbuckled his seatbelt, turning to her with a grin. “Not as beautiful as you,” he said, the promise in his voice sending another thrill through her.

As they stepped out of the car, Kylian took her hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding her amidst the fluttering nerves that danced in her stomach. He led her through the entrance, where ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the lavish foyer.

Giselle couldn’t help but admire the elegance surrounding her; the polished marble floors, the exquisite art adorning the walls, and the luxurious furnishings as he led her towards a grand staircase.

combined to create a sense of opulence that felt almost surreal. Yet, it wasn’t the décor that captivated her attention the most; it was Kylian—his presence, his energy, the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

He guided her up the winding staircase, their fingers intertwined as they ascended. Each step felt like a journey deeper into a world she had only ever dreamed of. The anticipation hung thick in the air, and she could feel her heart racing as they reached the top.

Kylian pushed open the door to his bedroom, revealing an intimate sanctuary bathed in soft, golden light. The room was elegant yet inviting, with a plush king-sized bed draped in luxurious fabrics, candles flickering softly on the nightstands, and velvet curtains framing the large windows. The atmosphere was intoxicating, and Giselle felt as though she had crossed into a realm where anything was possible.

He turned to her, his gaze intense and burning with desire. “Do you like it?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his confident façade.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from him. The way he stood there, exuding both strength and charm, sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Kylian stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin—sparks igniting at the point of contact.

Kylian leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. “I want to show you just how beautiful this can be,” he whispered, his voice low and velvety, igniting a fire within her.

As he captured her lips with his, Giselle felt herself melt into him. The kiss was sweet yet possessive, a mixture of tenderness and raw passion that left her breathless. She responded eagerly, deepening the kiss as he pulled her close, his hands roaming her back, igniting her every nerve ending.

Kylian pulled away slightly, studying her face, his dark eyes swimming with desire. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice thick with longing.

Giselle's heart raced at the question, the intensity of his gaze igniting something deep within her. She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. "Yes," she whispered, the sound barely escaping her lips.

Kylian didn’t need any further invitation. He surged forward, capturing her mouth once more with fervor. This kiss was different, charged with an urgency that sent electric shocks through her body. His hands tangled in her hair as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss until she felt herself leaning into him, craving his warmth.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the intoxicating taste of him, the smell of his cologne, and the undeniable chemistry crackling between them. Kylian broke the kiss for just a moment, his breath mingling with hers as he pressed his forehead against hers, reaching for the hem of her dress as their eyes met.

Giselle felt a rush of warmth radiate through her as Kylian's fingers brushed the delicate fabric of her dress. It was as if the world around them disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of them suspended in this moment of intense connection. Her heart raced as she searched his eyes for any hesitation, but all she saw was an overwhelming desire mirrored in his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice a deep, enticing whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Giselle licked her lips, nodding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. “I am,” she breathed, “I want this.”

With that affirmation, Kylian smiled like a man who had just been given a treasure, and in the next instant, he swept her into his embrace, their bodies colliding in a heat that felt electric. His lips crashed against hers again, this kiss more intense and passionate than before. She melted against him, her hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the heat of their connection.

Kylian's hands wandered, exploring the curve of her waist and the softness of her skin beneath her dress. The sensation sent sparks of electricity through her, igniting a hunger she hadn't realized was there.

In one swift motion he pulled it over her head, tossing it aside so she stood before him in only a black lace thong.

Giselle shivered as the cool air hit her exposed skin. The remnants of the dress fluttered to the ground like petals, leaving her feeling both vulnerable and electrified. She was exposed under Kylian's hungry gaze, but instead of feeling shy, a rush of confidence surged through her.

Kylian stepped back slightly, his dark eyes roaming over her body, drinking in every detail as if she were the most exquisite artwork. “You’re breathtaking,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. The way he looked at her made her feel powerful, like every curve of her body was a canvas that he was eager to explore.

"Go and lay down on my bed,” he commanded softly, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with undeniable authority. Giselle's heart raced as she complied, the sultry thrill of the moment sending ripples of anticipation coursing through her.

As she moved toward the plush bed, the soft fabric beneath her felt luxurious against her skin, enhancing the rush of adrenaline racing through her veins. She turned to watch Kylian, who followed closely behind, a predatory glint in his eyes that both thrilled and enchanted her.

“Lay back,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. As she settled into the inviting softness of the bedding, a flutter of excitement rippled through her, her breath hitching slightly at the intoxicating blend of nervousness and desire.

Kylian advanced with a confident grace, his gaze focused entirely on her as if she were the center of his universe. Sinking onto his knees at the edge of the bed, he reached for giselle’s ankle, making her gasp as he tugged her closer.

“Can I taste you?” Giselle's heart raced at Kylian's words, a delightful shiver of anticipation coursing through her body. The challenge in his voice, laced with a sultry promise, sent waves of heat to her core.

“Y-yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. His intense gaze made her feel utterly exposed yet beautifully empowered.

Kylian smiled, a knowing grin that darkened with desire. He pressed a gentle kiss just above her ankle, trailing his lips up her leg with feather-light caresses. Every kiss left a trail of fire, igniting her senses as he moved higher, inching closer to the delicate lace of her thong.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin, and she felt herself blush under his praise.

His lips claimed her thigh, kissing and teasing her tender flesh, sending ripples of pleasure through her body. As he continued this delicious torment, she could feel her anticipation building, a molten heat pooling low in her belly.

Kylian’s fingers grazed the edge of her thong, and with a teasing tug, he slid it to the side, his lips hovering dangerously close to her most intimate places. Her breath hitched in her throat, her chest rising and falling with excitement as his gaze locked onto hers, the intensity of his expression sending her heart racing.

Kylian needed no further encouragement. He buried his face between her thighs, his mouth working its magic as he unleashed an onslaught of teasing kisses, his tongue dancing tantalizingly close to where she craved him the most.

Giselle’s back arched, her nipples hardening as a layer of goosebumps covered the surface of her skin as she felt Kylian’s finger trailed a bead of arousal that dripped from her core and down the inside of her thigh.

Kylian’s breath hitched as he traced his fingertip along her leg, marveling at the delicate dance of pleasure and anticipation that flared between them. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her body responded to his touch, and it made him crave more.

“Giselle,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, “you’re stunning.” He leaned closer, allowing the warmth of his body to envelop her, his other hand brushing her hair away from her neck as he pressed soft kisses along her collarbone.

The sensation of his lips against her skin ignited a fire within her, and she instinctively arched her back further, inviting him closer. “Kylian,” she whispered, a mix of longing and urgency in her voice as her hips shifted, her core aching for more of his touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, seeking permission, though every part of him was desperate to continue.

Giselle shook her head, her breath hitching as she felt another thrill of desire run through her. “No, please… don’t stop.”

“Such a beautiful pussy,” he drawled, his voice low and slightly strained as he used his fingers to spread her open, groaning at the sight of her puckered pink entrance.

Leaning forward, Kylian breathed in her essence as he allowed her lips to ghost against her before closing the distance between them and placing an open-mouthed kiss on her pussy, humming as he tasted her for the very first time.

Kylian groaned against Giselle's core as he savored her intoxicating flavor, his tongue delving deeper to explore every fold and crevice. He could feel her body shudder and tense beneath him, her arousal coating his lips and chin.

“Mmmm, you taste divine, mon chéri,” he murmured between licks, his accent thicker with lust. “I could eat this pussy for hours.”

His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he feasted on her, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks of his tongue against her sensitive clit. He could feel her growing more wet and swollen with each pass.

Kylian's arousal strained against his boxers, his cock throbbing with the need for friction. But he ignored it, focusing solely on Giselle's pleasure, determined to make her come undone with just his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around each of her thighs so he could hold them apart as he feasted, Kylian got lost in his ministrations, humming and thrashing his head in approval of Giselle's reaction to his touch.

Kylian licked and suckled at Giselle's clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before drawing it between his lips to suckle gently. His hands kneaded and massaged the soft globes of her ass as he did so, occasionally dipping his head to thrust his tongue deep into her fluttering channel.

The wet sounds of his oral attentions filled the room, punctuated by Giselle's escalating moans and cries of ecstasy. Her fingers moved over his short, taper, and perfectly lined hair as she held him against her, grinding her hips to increase the pressure of his mouth against her aching sex.

"Oh fuck, Kylian! Yes, just like that!" Giselle nearly screamed, her head thrown back in bliss. "Your tongue feels so good!"

Kylian could feel her thighs beginning to tremble and quake around his head, her arousal flowing freely now as it dripped down his chin.

“Jouis pour moi,” he murmured against her core, and although Giselle wasn't quite sure of what he meant due to her lack of understanding of the French tongue, without missing a beat, her body succumbed to him.

Giselle bit down on the back of her hand as her eyes rolled shut, a singular tear slipping from her as she came hard into Kylian’s awaiting mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the metal of Kylian’s belt buckle as he unfastened it, the sound sending another jolt of anticipation through her. Giselle was still reeling from her orgasm, the waves of pleasure gently ebbing away as she watched him, her heart racing at the sight of his hands working with eager intent.

Kylian's breath was heavy as he slid his jeans down, his muscles taut and defined, hunger gleaming in his eyes as they locked onto hers. He stepped out of his pants and underwear, revealing the impressive length of his cock, and Giselle couldn’t help but bite her lower lip at the sight.

“Giselle,” Kylian growled, the heat in his voice sending another thrill of excitement racing down her spine. “Come here,” he commanded as he slowly stroked his length back and forth in his hand.

“On your knees,” Kylian instructed, their eyes meeting as he silently looked for confirmation that she was comfortable with their current situation.

Giselle eagerly obeyed Kylian's command, gracefully sliding off the bed and onto her knees before him. She gazed up at him with lust-darkened eyes as she took in the sight of his magnificent body, her fingers aching to explore every sculpted plane and ridge of muscle.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she watched him slowly stroke his impressive erection, the thick shaft bobbing slightly with each pass of his fist. Giselle's core clenched with need, a fresh surge of arousal dampening her thighs.

"Mmmm, mon dieu," Kylian groaned, his accent heavy with desire as he took in the erotic sight of Giselle kneeling before him. "You look so beautiful like this. So perfect."

He took a step closer, bringing the swollen head of his cock to brush against her parted lips. The alluring masculine scent of his arousal filled her nostrils, making her head spin with want.

Sitting up on her knees, Giselle opened her mouth wider, letting out a moan as she tasted him on her tongue. Holding him steady in her hand, she licked a vein that traveled the underside of his length before licking her way back down, teasing him.

“Giselle,” Kylian hissed as his fingers found her hair, tangling themselves into her tresses as he roughly guided her movements. The initial sweetness of her touch sent shockwaves through him as he surged forward, his hips instinctively thrusting, burying himself deeper in her warmth.

Giselle's eyes widened at the sensation, the fullness of him stretching her mouth. She relaxed her throat, willing herself to take him fully as she focused on her movements. With every bob of her head, she worked to draw him deeper, sucking and swirling her tongue around his length, her instincts guiding her as she tuned into the rhythm he desired.

Kylian groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he watched her obediently take him in. “That’s it, chérie,” he encouraged his voice, a deep timbre filled with lust. “Just like that. Feel me—fais-moi un gâchis.”

He began to guide the motion, thrusting gently as Giselle matched his pace, smirking as saliva spilled from Giselle's eyes, watered slightly as Kylian thrust deeper, his impressive length hitting the back of her throat. But she didn't pull away, instead relaxing her muscles to accommodate him as she continued to suck and slurp at his cock with enthusiastic fervor.

The sounds of her oral attentions filled the room, interspersed with Kylian's deep, guttural groans of pleasure. His fingers tightened in her hair as he set a steady rhythm, slowly fucking her face as she gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, fuck yes," Kylian panted, his accent thickening with each thrust. "Your mouth feels incredible, taking me so deep."

He pulled back slightly, allowing her to catch her breath before surging forward again, the bulbous head of his cock pushing past her lips to rest in her throat.

Giselle whimpered around his thick shaft as Kylian held her head still, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual grind. Tears of pleasure streamed down her face as she struggled to accommodate his girth. Her fingers dug into his muscular thighs as she held on for dear life, reveling in the exquisite torture of being so thoroughly used by him.

"Mmmm, fuck!" Kylian groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You love having your throat fucked, don't you, ma belle? Love choking on my big, thick cock?"

He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts, each one driving him deeper into the tight, wet heat of her mouth. The obscene sounds of him slamming into her throat filled the room, mixing with the slick, sucking noises of her lips working his shaft.

Kylian could feel his orgasm building rapidly, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pressure inside him reached a fever pitch. With a roar of ecstasy, he buried himself to the hilt in Giselle's mouth, his cock pulsing and jerking as he shot thick ropes of hot cum directly down her throat.

"Oh, putain! Swallow it all, Giselle!" Kylian demanded, his voice raw with pleasure as he ground against her face, prolonging his release for as long as possible.

Giselle's eyes widened as the first spurt of Kylian's release hit the back of her throat. She swallowed rapidly, gulping down each thick mouthful of his essence as fast as she could. The taste was salty, with an underlying musk that was uniquely Kylian. She breathed through her nose, determined to take every last drop he had to give her.

Kylian watched the way Giselle’s chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, her nipples hard and begging to be toyed with as she used the back of her hand that she once bit in unadulterated pleasure, to clean her face, slick with her spit and his arousal.

Giselle's body trembled with residual pleasure as she looked up at Kylian, her eyes glazed over with lust. She could feel the heat of his release still burning inside her, coating her tongue and throat. The taste was foreign yet intoxicating, and she found herself craving more.

Kylian's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat. He gazed down at Giselle with a look of pure male satisfaction, his eyes dark with renewed desire as he took in her debauched appearance.

"Magnifique," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You took me so well."

His hands cupped her face almost tenderly as he helped her to her feet, pulling her naked body flush against his. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the firmness of his muscles pressing against her soft curves, and she wanted him.

Giselle couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips as Kylian's hands skimmed down the sides of her body, his touch igniting a fire beneath her skin. She felt boneless, yet somehow still desperate for more of him.

Kylian's lips curled into a wicked smirk as he felt Giselle's body melt against his. He loved how she responded to him; she was eager and responsive. It made him want to ravish her over and over again until neither of them could move.

"Hold on," he whispered against her ear before suddenly hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. "I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

With that, Kylian carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently on the plush comforter. He hovered over her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her spread out beneath him like a feast waiting to be devoured.

“Wet your fingers and touch yourself,” Kylian's eyes darkened with lust as he watched Giselle follow his command, her delicate fingers delving between her legs to tease her sensitive flesh. The sight of her pleasuring herself so intently, all because he told her to, sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his already rock hard cock.

"C'est ça, ma belle," Kylian encouraged, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Fuck yourself with your fingers just like that. Show me how much you want me."

He leaned down, trailing openmouthed kisses along the column of her neck, pausing to suckle at her pulse point. His hands roamed her body possessively, kneading and caressing every soft curve and dip, leaving a trail of tingling skin in their wake.

Kylian's breath hitched as he watched Giselle's fingers disappear between her glistening folds, the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room. He could feel his cock throbbing with the need to bury itself deep inside her welcoming heat.

"Mmmm, you're so wet for me," he murmured appreciatively, his accent thick with desire. "I can see how badly you need my cock."

Kylian's hands skimmed up Giselle's sides, cupping and kneading the soft globes of her breasts. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, tugging at the stiff peaks until they hardened even further. Leaning down, he captured one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before suckling it deeply.

"Oh fuck, Kylian!" Giselle cried out, arching her back to push more of her breast into his eager mouth.

Kylian's fingers curled inside Giselle, stroking along her inner walls as he sought that special spot that would drive her wild with ecstasy. He could feel her getting closer to the edge, her hips undulating desperately against his hand as she chased her pleasure.

"That's it, ma belle. I can feel you tightening around me," Kylian murmured, his voice rough with arousal. "You're so close, aren't you? Cum for me, Giselle. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

He increased the pressure and speed of his thrusts, his thumb flicking rapidly over her clit as he fucked her with deep, purposeful strokes. At the same time, he bit down on the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

"Jouis maintenant!" Kylian demanded, his accent thick and unmistakable in his lust. "Cum now, Giselle!"

Kylian's fingers pumped furiously inside Giselle's clenching heat as he felt her body tense and shudder beneath him. With a final, hard thrust, he curled his digits against that special spot deep within her, sending her flying over the edge.

"Yes, that's it! Cum for me, Giselle!" Kylian growled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He continued to work her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure until she was a boneless, trembling mess.

As Giselle came down from her high, Kylian withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her essence. He groaned at the exquisite flavor, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

"Mmmm, you taste divine," he purred, licking his lips. "I could feast on your pussy for hours."

Kylian's eyes flashed with renewed hunger as he settled himself between Giselle's spread thighs. He ran his hands along the soft skin of her inner thighs, pushing them further apart to expose her glistening sex.

"Tu es si belle," Kylian murmured appreciatively, his gaze fixed on her most intimate area.

Without warning, he leaned forward and ran his tongue along her slit, from her entrance up to her clit, humming in approval at the taste of her arousal. He did it again, lapping at her like a man starved, savoring every drop of her essence.

"Mmmm, tu as un goût délicieux," Kylian groaned against her, his accent thick with lust. "I could eat this sweet pussy all night long."

“Please,” Giselle squeaked. “I need to feel you inside of me,” she whined, her voice laced with urgency as she arched her hips toward him, desperate for the connection they both craved. The electric charge in the air was palpable, urging him onward as their bodies thrummed with anticipation.

Kylian's eyes darkened with desire as he pulled back to meet her gaze, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You want my cock, don't you? Tell me how much you need it."

Giselle could hardly form the words through her mounting need. "So much… I need you inside me, Kylian. Please!"

With a throaty laugh, he obliged, flipping her over onto her hands and knees, readying her for himself before the head of his cock pressed firmly against her entrance before he leaned into, groaning as she took him inch by girthy inch.

Giselle reclined like a sphinx on the edge of Kylian’s bed, her back arched and her ass high in the air as her head rested atop her crossed arms as she felt a warm trail of her arousal slither down her stomach and pool onto the sheets below.

Her mind was blank as Kylian gripped her hips from behind, his thrusts slow and incredibly deep as he gave her every inch of his thick cock.

"Fuck..." Kylian groaned as he savored the feeling of Giselle's tight heat enveloping his length. "You feel so good around me."

He continued to thrust at a languid pace, relishing the way her slick walls gripped him with each movement. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he held her in place, keeping her ass high and at just the right angle to hit that spot deep within her as she creamed on his cock.

“Tu es tellement parfait,” Kylian groaned at the sight, using his hands to spread her open as he claimed her pussy as his.

Kylian's hips moved in a steady rhythm, each deep thrust pushing Giselle further up the bed. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by their mutual moans and gasps of pleasure.

He leaned down, draping his muscular torso over Giselle's back as he licked and sucked at her neck and shoulders. One hand reached around to fondle her breast, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking her nipple between his fingers.

"That's it, ma chérie," Kylian panted against her ear, his accent thicker with arousal. "Take every inch of my cock. You were made for this, weren't you?"

Giselle could only whimper and moan in response; her mind lost to the intense sensations radiating through her body.

Pulling out of her, Kylian filled Giselle onto her back in one swift motion, pinning her legs to the bed so she lay completely open for him.

Kylian positioned himself between Giselle's spread legs, his hard cock throbbing and covered with her juices. He rubbed the swollen head teasingly along her slit, coating himself in her arousal.

"You want my cock, don't you, ma chérie?" Kylian growled, his voice low and thick with lust. "Beg for it. Let me hear how badly you need me."

He pressed the tip against her entrance, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm with need. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into hers as he waited for her to plead.

Giselle's hips bucked upwards, desperate to take him inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

"Please!" she whimpered, her voice breathy with desire. "I need you so bad. Please fuck me!"

Kylian's eyes flashed with triumphant lust at Giselle's desperate pleas. With a primal grunt, he thrust forward, sheathing his thick shaft deep inside her tight, wet heat in one powerful stroke.

"Fuck, yes! You take my cock so well," Kylian groaned, relishing the exquisite sensation of her velvety walls gripping him like a vice. "So fucking tight and perfect."

He set a relentless pace, pounding into her with deep, purposeful thrusts. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by Giselle's unrestrained moans and cries of pleasure.

Kylian hooked her legs over his shoulders, nearly bending her in half as he loomed over her, his muscular body a dominant presence. He gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he drove into her with increasing force and speed.

"I can feel you in my stomach,” Giselle whined as she pushed at his firm pelvis, easing the depths of his thrusts as she gazed helplessly into his eyes.

“Relax,” Kylian breathed with a purposeful roll of his hips. “Let me own every inch of your body. Let me teach you.”

Kylian's hips undulated sensually, grinding against Giselle's sensitive clit with each deep thrust. His muscular torso rippled as he moved, a sheen of sweat glistening on his sun kissed skin.

"C'est si bon, mon amour," Kylian purred, his accent thick and alluring. "Tu es si belle when you surrender to pleasure."

He dipped his head, trailing openmouthed kisses along the column of Giselle's throat. His teeth grazed her pulse point before he soothed the sting with his tongue. Kylian's hand slid between their sweat-slicked bodies, finding the swollen bud of Giselle's clit. He circled the sensitive nub with deliberate slowness, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"That's it, baby. Let go for me," Kylian encouraged huskily, his voice a sensual caress against her skin.

Kylian's fingers worked Giselle's clit with expert precision as he continued his relentless thrusts. The dual stimulation had Giselle seeing stars, her body tensing and shuddering beneath him.

"Oh god, Kylian!" Giselle cried out, her nails raking down his muscular back. "I'm... I'm so close!"

Kylian could feel Giselle's walls starting to flutter around his cock, a telltale sign of her impending orgasm. He increased the pressure and speed of his fingers, rubbing tight circles around her clit.

"That's it, ma chérie. Cum for me," Kylian growled, his voice rough with lust. "I want to feel you cum on my cock. Now!"

With a few more powerful thrusts, Giselle came with a loud cry, her pussy clamping down on Kylian's shaft like a vice as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her.

As Giselle came apart beneath him, Kylian continued to move, prolonging her orgasm and drawing out her pleasure. The feeling of her spasming around him was exquisite, and he groaned deeply at the sensation.

"Fuck, yes! C’est ma bonne fille," Kylian praised breathlessly, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. "You're so perfect when you come on my cock."

He leaned down, capturing Giselle's lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, swallowing her cries of rapture. Kylian's hand slid into her hair, gripping the silky strands as he dominated the kiss.

Kylian could feel his release building, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his pleasure. With a final, powerful drive of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside Giselle, groaning long and low as he came hard.

Kylian collapsed on top of Giselle, his muscular body blanketing hers as he caught his breath. He rested his forehead against hers, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Mon Dieu, that was incredible, Giselle,” he murmured, his voice still rough from exertion and arousal. “You are truly exquisite.”

Kylian rolled to the side, pulling Giselle with him so she could comfortably rest on his chest. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close as the afterglow of their lust-filled encounter washed over them.

He brushed a few strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a tender gesture that was a stark contrast to his earlier dominance.

“Tu m'as rendu fou, ma chérie,” Kylian confessed with a low chuckle. “The way you respond to my touch, the sounds you make when I'm inside you... it's beautiful.”

Kylian smirked as Giselle rested her head on his chest, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her smooth back. The feel of her warm, pliant body against his was utterly satisfying.

"Je suis content que tu aimes ça," Kylian purred, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. "Because I plan on giving you plenty more pleasure, I don't know how I'm going to bring you back to Elise tomorrow morning."

He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head, his lips lingering against her soft hair. Despite the intense, dominant sex, Kylian felt a kinship with Giselle; before taking an intimate turn, their evening had been filled with laughter.

Giselle's eyes fluttered open at the feel of Kylian's fingers trailing along her spine. She gazed up at him through her lashes, a coy smile playing on her kiss-swollen lips.

"You're not going to bring me back?" she teased, her voice still husky from their lovemaking. "What will Elise think if I don't show up tomorrow?"

Kylian chuckled, the sound deep and rich. He rolled Giselle onto her back, hovering over her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Let Elise think what she wants," he murmured, dipping his head to nip playfully at Giselle's bottom lip. To emphasize his point, Kylian's hand slid down her body, cupping her mound possessively.

“When are you leaving France?” he asked, his fingers tracing light patterns over her.

“I’m heading back to New York next week,” Giselle revealed, her eyes dropping to watch her hand as he leisurely played between her legs.

Kylian's fingers stilled at Giselle's revelation, a flicker of disappointment crossing his handsome features before he quickly masked it with a roguely charming smile.

"Next week? Mais c'est dommage," he murmured, his voice thickening with what sounded like genuine regret despite Giselle not knowing what he said. "We've only just begun to explore the depths of our...connection."

His hand resumed its sensual exploration, fingers gliding along her inner thigh with teasing slowness. Kylian's eyes, dark and smoldering with renewed desire, held Giselle's captive gaze.

"But perhaps we can make the most of the time we have left, non? I know I certainly intend to," Kylian purred, his deep voice resonating through his broad chest.

He leaned down, trailing openmouthed kisses along the column of Giselle's throat.

“What happened to bringing me back to Elise tomorrow morning?” she smirked, her breath hitching and eyes going round as Kylian circled her clit with his finger.

Kylian's lips curved into a slow, wicked grin against Giselle's neck. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his eyes glinting with mischief and unmistakable desire.

"I’ll bring you back to Elise and your friends if you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night,” Kylian proposed, his voice smooth and persuasive. “Just you and me?”

Giselle's heart raced at the idea of spending more time with him—endless possibilities danced in her mind before it was wiped clean as he pushed his fingers back inside of her.

“Say yes,” Kylian murmured as he curved his digits.

"Yes," Giselle breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I'll go to dinner with you tomorrow night."

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Kylian's handsome face at Giselle's agreement. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he spoke in a low, intimate tone.

"Bonne fille," Kylian purred, his warm breath sending tingles down Giselle's spine. “More?” he asked breathlessly as he felt her clench around his fingers.

“Yes,” Giselle whispered. “I want you.”

Kylian's eyes darkened with lust at Giselle's breathy plea. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her towards the bathroom, never breaking eye contact.

He set Giselle down on the cool marble counter, stepping between her parted thighs. Kylian's hands slid up her smooth legs, pushing them further apart, his eyes hungrily on her exposed sex.

Stepping away from Giselle, Kylian turned away from her to turn on the shower before he found himself back between her legs.

Kylian's eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of Giselle's glistening sex, spread open before him like a decadent feast. He licked his lips hungrily, his cock already starting to swell and lengthen at the erotic view.

"You're so beautiful," Kylian drawled.

His large hands gripped Giselle's thighs, pushing them further apart as he leaned in close, the tip of his cock resting heavily against her pussy.

Giselle gazed up at Kylian with hooded eyes, her chest heaving with anticipation. She could feel the heat radiating off his muscular body, his hard length pressed against her slick folds.

"Fuck me," she breathed out, her voice trembling with need.

Kylian's eyes flashed with primal hunger at Giselle's plea. With a low growl, he gripped her hips and eased forward, slowly sheathing himself to the hilt in one drawn-out stroke.

Lifting Giselle from the counter as if she were weightless, Kylian walked them into the shower, pressing her back against the wall as his length remained buried inside of her.

Kylian gazed down at Giselle, his eyes dark and intense as the warm water cascaded over their entwined bodies. He rolled his hips, withdrawing almost completely before driving back into her welcoming heat with a low groan.

"Tu es si serrée," Kylian praised breathlessly, his voice rough with arousal.

His hands slid down to Giselle's ass, gripping the firm globes as he set a deep, steady rhythm. Each powerful thrust pushed Giselle up the slick tile wall, the cool surface a delicious contrast to the heat of Kylian's body.

Kylian dipped his head, trailing openmouthed kisses along Giselle's neck and collarbone. His teeth grazed her pulse point before he soothed the sting with his tongue. He could feel Giselle's pulse jumping erratically beneath his lips, a telltale sign of her rising pleasure.

Giselle arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against Kylian as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Her nails raked down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake as she clung to him desperately.

"Fuck, Kylian," she gasped, her voice high and thready with need. "You feel incredible; you're so big and hard."

She rocked her hips to meet his thrusts, relishing the way he filled and stretched her so completely. The water swashed around them, creating a symphony of erotic sounds, the slap of flesh against flesh, the hiss of steam, and their rough breaths and moans.

Giselle tugged Kylian’s head back to expose his throat. She licked and nipped at his pulse point before soothing the sting with her tongue, mimicking his actions.

Kylian groaned deeply, his voice rough with pleasure as Giselle's lips and tongue worked over his sensitive throat. The dual sensations of her hot mouth and the cool tile against his back sent sparks of electricity through his body.

Abruptly pulling Giselle’s body from the wall, Kylian clung to her as he stepped out of the shower, carelessly leaving the water running as he carried her back into the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

Kylian guided Giselle to straddle his lap, his large hands gripping her hips as he settled her onto his thick shaft. He groaned deeply as her slick walls enveloped him, enveloping him in her tight, wet heat.

"C'est si bon," Kylian praised breathlessly. "You feel incredible."

He rolled his hips, guiding Giselle as she rode him. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper, and Giselle let out a breathy moan each time he bottomed out inside of her.

Kylian's hands slid up Giselle's body, cupping and kneading the soft swells of her breasts. He dipped his head, his tongue circling her nipple before drawing it into his mouth as she rode him.

Kylian grunted as Giselle's walls squeezed his thick shaft, her body moving sensually above him. He thrust up to meet her movements, driving himself even deeper into her.

“Oui, just like that ma belle, ride it just like that,”Kylian encouraged huskily, with each panting breath. His hands mapped out the curves of her body reverently, memorizing every dip and swell.

He could feel the tension building rapidly in his loins, his member throbbing and pulsing inside Giselle. He lavished attention on her breasts, suckling and nipping at the tender buds until Giselle was writhing in his lap, her moans growing increasingly desperate.

“I’m going to cum again,” Giselle gasped.

Kylian's hands gripped Giselle's hips tightly as he guided her movements, helping her ride him with deep, sensual rolls of her hips. The feeling of her slick walls gripping his thick shaft was exquisite, and he groaned low and deep each time she took him to the hilt.

"That's it, ma chérie," Kylian encouraged breathlessly, his accent thicker with arousal. "Let me feel you cum on my cock. I want to feel your sweet little pussy."

He leaned in, capturing Giselle's lips in a feverish kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, swallowing her cries of pleasure as he dominated the kiss. Kylian's hand slid into her hair, gripping the silky strands as he angled her head to deepen the kiss.

Kylian could feel Giselle's body starting to tremble and quake above him, a sign that she was on the edge of another intense orgasm.

Giselle's body shuddered and convulsed as her climax washed over her, her pussy clamping down on Kylian's throbbing shaft like a vice. She threw her head back, a guttural moan tearing from her throat as waves of ecstasy washed through her.

"That's it, ma belle," Kylian groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Cum for me. Let me feel you."

He continued to thrust up into Giselle's spasming vagina, prolonging her pleasure and drawing out her orgasm. The feeling of her pussy quivering around him was exquisite, and he groaned deeply at the sensation.

With a few more intentional rolls of his hips, Kylian buried himself deep inside Giselle's quivering core, his cock pulsing as he spilled his hot seed in her.

Giselle gazed at Kylian, her eyes hazy with satisfaction as he spilled his hot seed deep inside her. She could feel each throb of his cock as he emptied himself, the sensation prolonging her own intense orgasm.

"That was incredible," Giselle breathed out, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Kylian's as she tried to catch her breath.

Kylian's hands slid up Giselle's back, his fingers stroking over her damp skin soothingly. He gazed up at her, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

"You're incredible," Kylian purred, his deep voice rumbling through his broad chest as he stood from the bed and walked them back into the bathroom, placing her down on the counter.

“Open your legs,” he murmured softly, grabbing a washcloth.

Kylian's eyes raked over Giselle's nude form appreciatively as she perched on the bathroom counter. He stepped between her spread thighs, the warm, damp washcloth in hand.

"You're stunning," Kylian murmured, his voice low and intimate as he began to tenderly clean Giselle's sensitive flesh. "Having you like this is a gift—flushed, satisfied, and dripping with my essence."

His fingers traced idle patterns on her inner thigh as he worked, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Kylian's eyes flicked up to meet Giselle's, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Giselle gazed back at Kylian, her eyes soft and warm as he tenderly cleansed her skin. The intimate act sent a shiver down her spine, a stark contrast to their earlier, frenzied coupling.

"You're not so bad yourself," Giselle teased, her voice low and playful. She reached out, trailing her fingers along Kylian's chiseled jawline. "Having you inside me felt incredible. You filled me up so perfectly."

Kylian's eyes darkened at Giselle's provocative words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He set the washcloth aside, his hands gripping her thighs possessively.

Kylian leaned in closer, his breath hot against Giselle's ear as he whispered, "Je veux te faire l'amour encore et encore jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus marcher droit."

“What does that mean?” Giselle asked curiously.

His large hands slid up her sides, coming to rest on the curve of her waist as he pulled her flush against his muscular body. Kylian's lips brushed along the sensitive skin of her neck, placing featherlight kisses from her collarbone to her ear.

"I want to make love to you again and again until you can't walk straight," Kylian translated huskily. "You've awakened a hunger in me that I don't think will ever be satisfied."

To emphasize his point, Kylian rocked his hips forward, allowing Giselle to feel the softening evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against her stomach. His eyes, dark and smoldering with barely restrained lust, held Giselle's captive gaze.

“I don't think I can take anymore tonight,” Giselle blushed, her mind craving more despite her body screaming for sweet relief.

“No more tonight,” Kylian drawled as he leaned down, his lips ghosting against hers.

Kylian's large, warm hands gently cupped Giselle's face as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his passion and desire into it. His tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers in a slow, sensual dance that left them both breathless.

When they finally parted, Kylian rested his forehead against Giselle's, their noses brushing softly as they caught their breath. He gazed into her eyes, a tenderness in his expression that made Giselle's heart skip a beat.

"I should let you get some sleep," Kylian murmured, though his body language suggested he was in no rush to leave.

“I’m not ready to go to bed,” Giselle said just above a whisper, as Kylian lifted her from the counter so he could bring her back into his bedroom.

He guided Giselle to the bed, gently laying her down on the soft sheets before settling beside her. Kylian propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand trailing lazy patterns over the smooth expanse of Giselle's stomach.

His hand slid up to cup the soft swell of Giselle's breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple teasingly.

Staying up late into the night sounded better in theory, Giselle allowed Kylian’s hands to roam as she got comfortable in his bed, her eyelids growing heavier with each moment that passed.

Kylian gazed down at Giselle, his expression softening as he watched her drift off to sleep. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face, tucking them gently behind her ear.

"Giselle," Kylian murmured softly, his voice low and tender. "You are perfect."

He settled himself beside her, pulling Giselle into his strong arms and holding her close as they both succumbed to the exhaustion of their passionate lovemaking. Kylian's last thought before sleep claimed him was how much he was looking forward to their dinner date the following evening.

Giselle stirred from her slumber as sunlight peeked through the blinds, a soft smile playing on her lips as memories of last night's passionate encounter with Kylian flooded her mind. She stretched languidly in the luxurious bed, reaching her hand across to feel for his warm body, only to find the other side of the bed empty.

A glimpse of the bathroom revealed Kylian standing by the sink, a towel wrapped securely around his waist as water droplets clung to his freshly showered frame. Her eyes raked over his muscular form appreciatively.

As Giselle rose from Kylian's bed, a delicate tenderness spread through her thighs, a lingering echo of their intimacy the night before. The soft sheets whispered against her skin, highlighting the gentle burn that accompanied her movement, a reminder of the passion they had shared.

Sauntering over to the bathroom door, Giselle leaned against the frame, watching Kylian with a playful smile. His broad shoulders flexed as he dried his hair, droplets of water cascading down his chest and into the soft lines of his abdomen.

“Good morning,” she purred, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

Kylian turned, a towel in one hand, and his eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and delight at the sight of her. “Bonjour, ma belle,” he replied as he stepped closer, the towel falling just below his hips and exposing the muscular V that led down to where she knew he still desired her.

Giselle bit her lip at the sight of him, feeling a rush of heat flood her cheeks.

“Did you sleep well?” Kylian asked, genuinely curious as he watched her step into the bathroom, her fingers trailing along the cool marble counter.

“Like a dream,” Giselle replied, her heart racing as he took her hand, pulling her body flush against his.

“What time is brunch with Elise?” Kylian asked as his eyes traced over her body, his cock stirring beneath his towel as his hands came to rest gently on her hips. The heat of his bare skin seeped into hers, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"Brunch is at 11.30," Giselle replied softly, tilting her head to meet Kylian's gaze. Her fingers absently traced patterns on his muscular chest as she spoke.

Kylian's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the time constraint, a flicker of disappointment crossing his handsome features before he quickly masked it with a roguish grin.

His hands slid down to grip her ass, pulling her even closer until she could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against her stomach.

Lifting Giselle from her feet, Kylian set her on the edge of the bathroom sink, his body inches away from hers. The tension crackled in the air as he positioned himself between her legs, trapping her in a shared moment of intimacy that made her breath hitch.

“Just a few more minutes?” he pleaded softly, his lips brushing against hers as he leaned in closer, their breaths mingling in the warm air of the bathroom.

Giselle’s heart raced at his closeness, the world outside fading away as she gazed into his dark eyes. “And what do you have in mind for those few minutes?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.

Kylian’s grin widened, his fingers tracing her waist as he leaned in, their lips just inches apart as he reached down pulling the towel from his waist.

Giselle let out a shaky breath as his fingertips came into contact with her clit, her eyes rounding as he wrapped her hand around his wrist stopping him.

Hopping down from her place on the edge of the sink, Giselle’s eyes remained locked with Kylian’s as sunk down onto her knees.

Kylian gazed down at Giselle, his breath catching in his throat as she sank gracefully to her knees before him. His eyes, dark with barely contained lust, followed her every move.

Giselle's slender fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, stroking it slowly as she admired the impressive length and girth. She marveled at how the smooth skin felt like velvet over the rigid heat beneath.

Maintaining eye contact, Giselle leaned forward and extended her tongue, dragging the tip along the underside of Kylian's cock from base to tip. She lingered at the weeping head, licking up the pearly precum that had gathered there.

Kylian's head fell back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as Giselle's tongue worked over his sensitive flesh. His fingers threaded into her silky hair, gently guiding her as she pleasured him with her mouth.

Kylian's fingers tightened in Giselle's hair as she took him into her hot mouth, a deep groan of pleasure rumbling in his broad chest. He gazed down at her with hooded eyes, drinking in the erotic sight of her soft lips stretched around his thick shaft.

"That's it, ma belle," Kylian praised huskily, his accent thick with arousal. "Take it deeper. I want to feel the back of your throat."

He gently urged her forward, his cockhead nudging the entrance to her throat. The sensation made Giselle's eyes water, but she maintained eye contact, determined to please him.

Kylian's hips rocked subtly, fucking her face with shallow thrusts as she sucked him off. The wet sounds of her slurping and his groans filled the bathroom, an obscene symphony of their passion.

"Yes, just like that," Kylian growled, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Crache dessus,” he instructed with a strained groan. “Spit on it.”

Giselle gazed up at Kylian, her eyes glazed with lust as she followed his command. She pulled back, allowing his impressive length to slip from her lips with a lewd pop. Maintaining eye contact, Giselle extended her tongue, letting a stream of saliva drip down the thick shaft, coating it in a glistening sheen.

"Putain de merde," Kylian groaned, his voice low and gravelly with arousal. "You're incredible."

He gazed down at Giselle, his eyes dark and intense as he watched her work. His cock throbbed and pulsed in her hand, the veins prominent and the head an angry red.

Kylian's free hand slid under Giselle's chin, tilting her face up to meet his heated gaze. "I want to fuck your pretty little mouth," he growled, his accent thicker than ever.

Without need for direction, Giselle sat up on her knees tilting her head back as offered herself to him.

"Putain de merde," Kylian groaned, his voice low and gravelly as he slowly pushed his thick length into Giselle's hot mouth. "You're taking it so well, ma belle."

His fingers tightened in her silky hair as he gently urged her forward, inch by delicious inch, until he could feel the tip of his cock nudging the back of her throat. Giselle swallowed around him instinctively, the muscles fluttering along his shaft.

"Oui, just like that," Kylian praised, his hips rocking subtly, fucking her face with shallow thrusts. "Relax your throat for me. I'm going to fuck your pretty mouth."

He set a steady rhythm, his cock gliding in and out of her stretched lips, coated in a sheen of her saliva. The obscene sounds of his flesh against hers and the wet, slurping noises filled the bathroom.

Giselle felt smug as she continued to suck him, her eyes glistening with lust and mischief as she flicked her tongue over the head of his cock.

Kylian’s head rolled backward as his grip on Giselle's hair tightened and he let out a low growl of pleasure, completely surrendering to the sensation. “Keep going,” he encouraged, his voice a deep rasp as he felt his end nearing.

"That's it, ma belle," Kylian praised, his voice strained with pleasure as Giselle swallowed around his throbbing shaft. "Take it all. I want to feel you swallow every last drop."

He gazed down at her, his eyes dark and intense as he watched her work. His cock throbbed and pulsed in her mouth, the veins prominent and the head an angry red.

She could feel Kylian's grip tightening in her hair, a sign that he was close to the edge. His hips jerked forward as he hit his peak, burying himself to the hilt in Giselle's hot mouth as he came with a shudder.

Allowing his length to fall from her mouth, Giselle let out a moan as she looked up at Kylian, her face and chest dripping with a combination of saliva and arousal.

Taking hold of her dainty hand, Kylian guided Giselle to her feet, their eyes lingering on one another as the last remnants of pleasure coursed through them. His fingers traced over her jawline, tilting her face up toward his as he looked into her eyes.

Giselle felt shy under his gaze, despite the near pornographic evening they'd shared the night before she couldn't help the blush of her cheeks as they held eye contact.

"You're breathtaking," Kylian said softly, his voice laced with sincerity and desire. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender but lingering kiss. It sent warmth racing through her body, igniting a wildfire of longing beneath her skin.

Giselle melted against him, her heart racing as she deepened the kiss. She could taste the faint remnants of salt and sweetness from their earlier activities mingling on their lips, a reminder of the pleasure they had shared.

Breaking the kiss, Kylian stepped back slightly, his intense gaze raking over Giselle's flushed form.

“It’s almost time to take you back to Elise,” he smirked knowingly.

“Can I shower first?” Giselle asked.

"I'm not ready to let you go just yet," Kylian replied, a teasing glint in his eyes as he stepped closer again, cupping her face with his hands. "But of course, you can shower."

Stepping out of the bathroom to give Giselle some privacy, Kylian began getting ready for the day ahead. Pulling out a grey Nike sweatsuit for himself, he grabbed another for Giselle placing it on his bed for her.

As Giselle stepped into the shower, the warm water cascaded over her body, washing away the remnants of their passionate night and awakening her senses all over again. The steam filled the room, enveloping her like a soft embrace. She couldn’t help but smile as thoughts of Kylian flooded her mind: his deliciously deep groans, the possessive grip of his hands, and the way he made her feel both cherished and desired. He was a perfect distraction for her volatile emotions the previous evening at Elise and Juels’ engagement party.

When Giselle was done in the shower, she turned off the water before stepping out into the cool bathroom and grabbing a plush towel to wrap herself in.

As she dried off, Giselle caught sight of herself in the mirror, her cheeks still flushed from the memory of Kylian’s touch. The night they had shared felt unreal, a whirlwind of passion that had left her breathless and wanting more. With a satisfied sigh, she stepped into the bedroom, the towel still wrapped around her body, her heart pounding at the thought of what dinner with him later that evening might hold.

Kylian sat on the edge of the bed, now dressed in a snug gray sweatsuit designed for comfort. He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes widening with appreciation as they took in her freshly damp skin and tousled hair.

Kylian stood up and walked over to her with confident strides, each movement fluid and graceful. He closed the distance between them, his gaze locking onto hers with a predatory intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“When you are ready, I will take you back to Elise,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting, almost like a promise. The warmth of his presence enveloped Giselle, and she felt an undeniable pull toward him.

“Thank you,” Giselle blushed.

“You’re welcome,” Kylian’s eyes glinted with mischief as he stepped away from her in an attempt at showing restraint, grabbing the navy blue Nike sweatsuit from the bed so he could hand it to her.

Giselle took the sweatsuit from Kylian, her fingers brushing against his as she pulled it close to her chest. The fabric was soft and warm, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room. She couldn’t help but appreciate the way Kylian’s presence seemed to fill the space with a magnetic energy, one that made her heart race.

“Thank you,” she said again, a shy smile playing on her lips as she turned her back to him to slip into the sweatsuit. The sight of her in his clothes, albeit they were sizes too big, made Kylian’s breath hitch somewhat, his eyes lingering on her form as she dressed.

Giselle could feel Kylian's appreciative gaze on her as she pulled the sweatsuit over her head, the fabric enveloping her in a cozy embrace. It was oversized, and she found it amusing how it draped over her, accentuating her figure in all the right places. A sense of comfort washed over her, both from the clothing and the lingering warmth of their earlier intimacy.

As she turned around to face Kylian, the corners of her mouth lifted in a playful smile. "How do I look?" she asked, feigning a model's pose, her hands on her hips.

Kylian's lips curled into a smirk, a spark of admiration flickering in his dark eyes. "Absolutely stunning," he replied, his voice thick with sincerity.

Giselle laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through her cheeks.

Once she was dressed, Giselle and Kylian made their way downstairs to the lower lever of his home and into his kitchen that looked as though it should have been in Architectural Digest.

“We were a little occupied when we got here last night, but your house is beautiful,” Giselle gushed as she looked around the sprawling state-of-the-art kitchen.

“Thank you,” Kylian smiled as he poured two cups of coffee, handing one over to Giselle.

"Here you go," he said, his eyes sparkling as he watched her take a sip. Giselle relished the rich, bold flavor of the coffee, the warmth spreading through her.

"This is perfect," she said, her voice softening with appreciation. "Just what I needed this morning."

Kylian chuckled, leaning against the counter as he observed her. "I aim to please," he replied with a playful grin. "So, what’s on the agenda for today before brunch?"

Giselle thought for a moment, her mind racing with possibilities. She wanted to savor every second she had with Kylian, knowing that their time together was limited. "Can we stop at a pharmacy on the way to Elise?" she asked, her cheeks flushing. “We didn't use any protection last night.”

Kylian's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his handsome features. He set his coffee cup down and took a step closer to Giselle, his tone turning serious. “Of course, we can. It's important to be safe,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

Giselle appreciated his immediate response. It made her feel cared for, and she relaxed a little. “Thank you,” she replied, her heart racing not just from their earlier encounter but also from the thought of being responsible.

Once they were ready to leave, Kylian grabbed his keys and offered Giselle his hand, interlacing their fingers as they stepped out into the crisp morning air. The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the streets of Paris, making the city look even more enchanting than usual.

As they walked side by side, Giselle couldn’t help but steal glances at Kylian, appreciating the way his confidence radiated with every step. The way he carried himself, combined with the lingering heat of their night together, sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“So, are you excited for brunch with Elise?” Kylian asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them as they sat in his car.

“Yes, I’m so happy for her and Juels. I can't believe they're engaged,” she smiled as Kylian pushed his foot down on the clutch and his engine roared to life.

Kylian's expression softened as he glanced over at Giselle, clearly enjoying her enthusiasm. "It's a big step," he said, shifting the car into gear and pulling out onto the street. "They seem perfect for each other."

Giselle nodded, her excitement bubbling over. "They really are. I’ve been friends with Elise for so long, and seeing her happy like this just makes my heart swell. I can’t wait to celebrate with them."

As they drove through the picturesque streets of Paris, Giselle felt a sense of contentment wash over her. The city was alive with energy, and she was grateful to share this moment with Kylian. The car ride was filled with light conversation, laughter, and stolen glances that ignited a warmth in her chest.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of your time in Paris?” Kylian asked, his eyes focused on the road but a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Giselle pondered for a moment, her mind racing. “I have every intention of just going with the flow,” she admitted.

The journey to Elise’s parents' house was pleasantly brief, and before they knew it, Kylian and Giselle found themselves parked in the picturesque driveway of a charming Parisian home. The elegant facade, adorned with intricate moldings and vibrant flower boxes, exuded a welcoming warmth. Surrounding the house were lush green trees, their leaves whispering gently in the soft breeze, setting the perfect scene for a visit filled with nostalgia and warmth.

“Last night was amazing,” Giselle softly, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks.

“And I promise to make tonight even better,” he smirked, his eyes lingering on her plump lips.

Giselle's heart raced at his words, the promise of more nights steeped in passion igniting a flame within her. Tinged with excitement and a hint of trepidation, as she sat with Kylian in his car outside of Elise’s parents' home.

Unbeknownst to Kylian and Giselle, they had attracted a small audience. Elise and Camille discreetly watched from a window that gave them a perfect view of the pair as they sat in the car, wrapped up in a world of their own.

Elise leaned in, nudging Camille excitedly as both women giggled like schoolgirls at their friend, neither of them were aware of the magnitude of her feelings toward romantic love, but they were aware of her disregard for it, so to see her embracing whatever this new connection was made them giddy to say the least.

"Look at them!" Elise whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment. "I know you said they left holding hands last night, but I didn't expect this!"

"I know, right?" Camille whispered back, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "They definitely fucked,”she continued, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, clearly relishing the juicy gossip.

Both women scrambled away from the window and towards the door as Giselle got out of Kylian’s car to scurry towards the front porch, her dress from last night in one hand and heels in the other.

A soft laughter escaped from Camille as she and Elise hurried to open the door, excitement bubbling in their hearts. They had been waiting for this moment, and seeing Giselle on the threshold, a radiant smile plastered across her face, made it all the sweeter.

“Tell us everything!” Elise exclaimed as the door swung open.

[peachiejeongin]

Sleepless Storytimes | Jeongin

Day 5 of the 12 Days of Staymas!

Synopsis: Jeongin cannot sleep on Christmas Eve, so you read him a bedtime story to help him doze off.

Pairing: bf!Jeongin x reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: None!

Notice: Hello, darlings! Welcome to day 5! Enjoy this cozy story, and make sure to go check out the other fictions!

Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the darkened world in a layer of stillness that could have lulled anyone to sleep. Yet, Jeongin was not just anyone - not tonight, at least. He sat curled up against the headboard, his legs tucked under the red-and-white plaid blanket. He had a faint pout plastered upon his lips, which was illuminated by the overhead light of the ceiling-fan.

He traced patterns onto his pajama pants absentmindedly, his fingers moving as if they had no other place to reside. The weariness in his eyes contrasted the playful grin he had beamed all day as he helped decorate the Christmass tree, snuck cookies from the kitchen, and hummed Christmas carols under his breath.

You stood in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He did not notice you; he was too caught up in his silent battle against insomnia.

"Innie?" you called softly, breaking the silence. His head snapped up, his dark, tired eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," he replied, his voice just above a whisper. "Hey." You stepped inside of the room, the wooden floor chilled under your socks; you gently glided to the bed.

"Still can't sleep?"

Jeongin shook his head, his hair falling messily over his forehead. He looked almost younger like this, as if he was a vulnerable, innocent child.

"I don't know why," he admitted, the pout in his voice matching the output of his lips.

"Well, you'll never fall asleep just sitting there," you teased, perching on the edge of the bed. "Scoot over."

"What are you-"

"Just scoot!" you insisted, grabbing a book from the nearby shelf as Jeongin reluctantly made room for you. You slid under the blanket beside him, the warmth immediately seeping into your skin. The two of you fit snugly together, and the faint scent of Jeongin's shampoo drifted towards you; it was fresh and soft, like pine needles dusted with snow.

"What are you doing?" He looked at you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Hopping into bed with you," you responded innocently, cracking open the book. The cover gleamed faintly in the fluorescence: 'The Night Before Christmas.'

"You think a story will help?" Jeongin quirked an eyebrow.

"Absolutely," you retaliated, settling into the covers. "Now, hush. I'm doing this for your sake."

Jeongin huffed, but leaned against you nevertheless, his head resting on your shoulder. As you began to read, your voice soft and steady, his body relaxed bit by bit. The story wove a cozy spell around you both, every word painting vivid pictures of sleigh bells, snowy rooftops, and a quiet household.

At some point, Jeongin had shifted, draping an arm lazily across your lap.

"You're warm," he mumbled, his tone heavy with drowsiness.

"You're clingy," you teased playfully, though you did not pull away. His cheek pressed against your chest as he turned, and your heart stuttered at the feeling of his breath ghosting over your collarbone.

"Not like you care," he murmured, a faint smile washing over his lips.

You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair without thinking. It was softer than it looked, and you could feel the tension melting out of him with every pass. The weight of him against you was comforting, grounding, as if he was anchoring you in this silent moment.

The story continued, your voice filling the silence, but you were not sure he was even listening anymore. His breaths were slower now, his body was slack against yours, and his lashes were resting against his cheeks. His expression was so peaceful, and it made your heart speed up.

"Baby?" you whispered, not wanting to wake him but feeling an urge to check. He hummed in response, his arms tightening slightly around your waist.

"Don't stop reading," he uttered, half-asleep.

"You're already asleep." A soft laugh escaped you.

"Mm-mm," he protested weakly, nuzzling impossibly closer to you. "Almost, though."

It was impossible not to smile as you fixed the comforter overtop the both of you, tucking it around his shoulders. The lights cast a halo around his face, highlighting the soft curve of his lips and the faint flush on his cheeks. You traced an imaginary pattern along his back, marveling at how perfectly he fit there, curled up against you like a missing puzzle piece.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, muffling the world in a peaceful hush. It felt like nothing else mattered - not time, not the place - just the two of you cocooned together in warmth and solitude.

As Jeongin's breathing finally evened out, you leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to his temple.

"Merry Christmas, Innie," you whispered gently, caressing his cheek softly.

His lips curled into the faintest smile, and though he did not reply, the way he held onto you said everything he could not.

You stayed like that for the rest of the night as the comfort of darkness wrapped you both in its embrace. You glanced down at Jeongin once more before you yourself fell into dreamland.

He was silent, perfect, and entirely yours.

[cherryslyce]

Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment. 

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves. 

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well. 

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you. 

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture. 

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend. 

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship. 

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors. 

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment. 

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often. 

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape. 

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both. 

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes. 

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.” 

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first. 

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water. 

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before. 

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.” 

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.” 

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words. 

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words. 

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you. 

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers. 

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments. 

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm. 

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.” 

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures. 

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.” 

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty. 

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events. 

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?” 

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.” 

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky. 

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.” 

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment. 

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.” 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth. 

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?” 

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost. 

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath. 

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again. 

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations. 

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest. 

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him. 

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.” 

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.” 

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room. 

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.” 

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you. 

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.” 

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you. 

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.” 

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.” 

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?” 

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs. 

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?” 

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity. 

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.” 

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder. 

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm. 

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression. 

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.” 

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.” 

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room. 

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain. 

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses. 

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture. 

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy. 

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you. 

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you. 

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness. 

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers. 

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress. 

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again. 

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness. 

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy. 

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm. 

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand. 

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well. 

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?” 

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.” 

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue. 

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes. 

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear. 

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat. 

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out. 

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper. 

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him. 

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.” 

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt. 

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory. 

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname. 

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”  

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare. 

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.” 

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn. 

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?” 

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you. 

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides. 

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all. 

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.” 

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words. 

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.” 

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both. 

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours. 

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist. 

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck. 

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up. 

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box. 

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees. 

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band. 

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease. 

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band. 

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy. 

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.  

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips. 

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.” 

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours. 

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.” 

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don't know about this 1931 home in Rancho Palas Verdes, CA. 5bds, 5ba, 4,040 sq ft, asking $2.5m. But, look at this:

The listing says: ***Recent conditions have changed and land movement has swept through much of the area. The owner has fought back, having "helical" piers recently installed. The piers appear to be working and the house shows very few affects of the movement. As further insurance to save the home for posterity, engineering plans have been developed for putting the home on steel beams and are available to use should the piers not suffice. The home is offered for a fraction of its pre-movement value. So, does the new owner have to pay for these steel beams? Take a look inside.

Entrance foyer. It's been in the same family for 60 yrs., and now they're selling it "at a fraction" of it's worth. How much would it be?

I don't know what to think about this. The sitting room has a great fireplace, some built-ins, but they painted the wood paneling white.

Here's a hall with doors to the garden and a skylight ceiling.

Large home office with a great garden view and doors to the patio.

Family room with glass walls and patio access.

I don't know, the house looks like it needs a refresh, in addition to the steel beams. The dining room is very large and has doors to both patios.

It's cute that you enter the kitchen thru an opening in the cabinetry, like a little archway. It looks like every room has doors to the patio that surrounds the house. This is a no-nonsense kitchen with professional appliances.

Entrance to the primary bedroom.

It has a nice fireplace, and those doors to the patio.

Then in the bath, there's a newer shower and a vintage tub. From the tub you can see the ditch outside.

So many doors in this place. I guess b/c they've been digging trenches or the earth's been shifting, the house needs a power wash.

Looks like this bedroom is reached by those stairs. The bed appears to be blocking doors to a closet or something.

This oddly shifting lot measures 1.14 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/85-Vanderlip-Dr-Rancho-Palos-Verdes-CA-90275/21356627_zpid/

[deansdelicate]

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER V: IF THEY NEVER FOUND US OUT

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [13.9K]

warnings: no use of y/n, two idiots dancing around their feelings, no angst besides reader and seth doubting themselves, basically a fluffy domestic chapter ;)

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: half asleep, taking your time in the early mornings of Chicago, you finally come to realize seth was the one who made sure you were safe and sound. despite knowing good and well you shouldn’t become so attached to him, it just happens...something you and seth cannot avoid. a morning spent together turns into an entire day, and never in your wildest dreams did you know how it was going to end.

The sun beamed down on the town and the bustle of the outside world could be heard past the hotel windows where you still slept soundly before your senses began to rouse.

Your body twisted against the sheets, a groan falling from your chapped lips, and your limbs stretching themselves out, and suddenly the ringing of your cellphone was finally something you comprehended—the real culprit of your wake up.

You blindlessly slapped the vicinity around you until you felt the familiar screen against your fingertips. Disconnecting it from the charger with a stiff tug, you answered the phone and planted it against your ear without checking who was calling to begin with.

“H-Hello?” You croaked, eyes pinching shut, curling deeper into the blankets not wanting to lose the warmth just yet.

There was a heavy huff on the other end, before a striking voice cut in.

“Young lady, your father and I have been trying to reach you for hours! Where are you?”

The voice belonged to none other than your mother and she sounded worried sick, the kind you hadn’t heard since you were a teenager.

You immediately snapped your eyes open, realization washing over you that you had, in fact made it to Chicago, but with little recollection of how you got up to your room.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to remember while reassured your mom, guilty over the fact that she and your dad were probably up all night thinking something bad must have happened to you.

“I’m fine, mom. I must have fallen asleep after I checked in and forgot to text.” You rubbed at your eyes, silently trying to retrace your footsteps.

The last thing you recalled was dozing off as you stared out the window through the drive. Seth had mentioned something about stopping for food somewhere, but you hadn’t paid it much attention, too busy slipping into sleep to the white noise of the car ride and his voice alone.

“So you did get to the next town?” She let out a sigh of relief as you hummed, confirming, “Thank god.”

You yawned, listening as she passed down the message to your dad who you assumed was somewhere near her.

The ceiling above you blurred the more you rubbed at your eyes, trying to rid them of slumber before you finally got the strength to push the covers off and get the day started.

“I actually ended up catching a ride with Seth.” You told her, going to open the curtains and letting the sunshine of the city into the room.

“Oh,” she sounded surprised, clearing her throat before speaking again, “That was nice of him.” ultimately grateful that you made it safe and sound to your destination.

“Very.” You replied, spotting your luggage near the accordion closet doors and heading towards it.

Balancing the phone against your shoulders, you laid it down on the floor with a soft thud, unzipping it to grab some fresh clothes and your toiletries. You desperately needed a shower not only to wake yourself up, but to rid yourself of yesterday, wanting to start the day without feeling the extra weight of the stress you’d gone through.

“I’m gonna go get ready for the day,” you told her, hugging your items to your chest and heading for the bathroom.

“I have to film with Xavier then I’m gonna try to find Seth to thank him.”

“Sounds good sweetie, have a good off day okay?” She said lovingly, delighted that you were keeping yourself busy on the road and making friends.

“Thanks mom, tell the girls I miss and love them.”

“Will do, bye-bye.”

While the water warmed up, you took a look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes weren’t as prominent as they were hours ago thanks to the sleep you managed to catch, soothing them halfway gone. Your hair was surprisingly not as chaotic as you thought it would be, manageable enough for you to comb through it with your fingers before tossing your locks up in a bun so it wouldn’t get drenched.

You still sported Seth’s zip-up, loose around your body basically swallowing you whole, and it still smelled like him despite you tossing and turning in it. Stripping it off, you abandoned his your clothing in a heap on the floor, stepping into the steamy shower and getting ready for the day ahead, hoping you’d run into Seth at some point.

The hotel gym didn’t have the fanciest equipment, but it made do for the three men who almost always got their morning workout in even on their rare day off.

Sweat dribbled down Seth’s neck and there was an enjoyable ache in his limbs as the barbell weight rested on his shoulders and he continued lifting his heavy set.

“You dragged her through the hotel lobby up to your room?” He asked incredulously, drowning back a laugh at the mere fact that he missed seeing it for himself.

“Let me get this straight,” Dean spoke from behind, taking a break and gulping down his water.

Seth grunted, finishing the set and dropping the weight against the padded floor with a heavy sigh. He looked over his shoulder irate, shooting Dean and Roman a pointed glare for bringing the situation up again.

He hadn’t planned on telling anyone what had happened, but with Roman bearing witness to the whole thing, it was only a matter of time before the story was passed down to Dean, and now the whole morning had been spent with a million burning questions being thrown his way.

“Okay, you’re making it sound bad. She was dead asleep, and I needed to get her into an actually bed.” Seth shook his head, swiping the sweat off his forehead.

“And for your information, I did not drag her. I carried her up there.” He corrected, insulted that Dean would think he would act less than a gentleman no matter how odd the situation was.

Roman snorted, replaying the scene in his head that was damn near ironic at that point.

Your limbs and Seth’s were practically tied together in the cramped elevator where they had nowhere else to look besides at you both. If they hadn’t known any better, they would have all suspected you two were seeing each other, but that was exactly the funniest part of the entire ordeal.

You saw each other all the time.

Whether you both were keeping track or not, it was blatantly obvious you two had more than just on-screen chemistry. It didn’t matter if you or Seth were nowhere to be found at each other’s side, at some point you both would find a way to be next to each other, lingering or not. Everyone else had caught onto it, and it was strange that neither of you hadn’t realized it yet.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that you both went into the same hotel room and you let her sleep in your bed,” Roman reasoned, looking over at Dean who agreed with a plain nod.

If anyone else would have caught Seth in the innocent act of making sure you made it safely into the hotel room, they might have assumed something else was going on.

Paul’s phone would have been ringing nonstop with the notion of them believing you two were really seeing other and that couldn’t have ended well for Seth especially.

“What would you have done?”

Seth accused defensively, resting his hands on his hips, waiting for their response. He knew damn well they wouldn’t have let you sleep in the hotel lobby or worse left you to fend for yourself.

His friends looked at each other with a knowing glance silently communicating that they had successfully gotten under Seth’s skin without even trying too hard. It was like the two older brothers ganging up on the younger—very reminiscent of the early Shield days, but it was always in good fun.

“Well, for starters, I’d not ask myself for a death wish and termination of my job.” Dean quipped, making the him groan.

Seth waved his hands in the air dismissively.

“Look we’re both adults. She knows just as well as I do that we’re friends, and friends help each other out, especially when she’s new to the scene and needs someone to take her under their wing.”

No matter how much he explained it, Seth knew they wouldn’t be convinced so easily.

Roman just grinned, slapping him on the shoulder, “I give it a week before she’s under you.”

“Or he’s under her.” Dean snorted, adding another on his chest.

The two grown men on either side of him laughing about the matter like it was some teenage love-fest.

“You guys are so bored.” Seth muttered, shrugging them off and going to grab his water bottle to take a drink.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.”

Roman threw his headphones back on to finish his workout while Dean did the same.

Comically enough, Seth did dream of you last night. It was the first time he had ever done so, and he could still picture it vividly in his head—just the two of you, laughing and talking through a car ride that appeared to last forever. It was simple, but enough to get him through to the morning where his eyes instinctively blinked open to reveal the sight of you across the room still fast asleep.

He wanted to blame it on mere exhaustion and the fact that you were the last thing he saw before he dozed off, but it still didn’t change the way his heart battered a little harder in his chest, and the blood that ran hotter through his veins at the simple thought.

The feeling didn’t shake when he went to do his final set, and it certainly didn’t help when the burning questions ended, and he was left alone in the silence of his thoughts—his mind echoing your laughter and smile on a loop, frantic to get back to you.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you slipped into a flowy dress that ended just above your knees, keeping things casual since you still didn’t know what you were going to be up to after filming.

Loosening your hair from the bun, you opted for a sleek, low-effort look, sectioning the crown and clipping it out of your face.

After completing your skincare routine, you applied a light layer of makeup—just some concealer, blush, mascara, and a tinted lip balm to brighten your face.

Gathering your dirty clothes, you tossed them into a separate laundry bag within your suitcase, making a mental note to get a load of laundry done as soon as you made it to the next city. You flipped it closed still keeping it laid on the ground of easy access, before returning to the bathroom to grab a bottle of lotion so you could moisturize your legs.

Propping your foot up on the bedframe, you pumped some product into the palm of your hand, emulsifying the lotion before spreading it over your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, Seth had wrapped up his morning workout, already outside of the hotel door with the room key in hand as he swiped is across the reader and opened the door without thinking anything of it.

The soft creak of the door opening caused you to snap your head in its direction, eyes widening in shock and your limbs freezing as all you could muster was a scream.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, flinching back and dropping the bottle, nearly backing into the bedside table in the frenzy.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” He immediately recoiled, apologizing profusely as he held his arms out, trying to prevent you from stumbling over despite being on the other side of the room.

There was a wave of relief that washed over you the second you realized that it was just Seth and not a total stranger plotting to kill you. But it still didn’t change the fact that you were still in shock at how he managed to get into your room.

“Oh my god,” You caught your breath, brushing your hands over your dress as you stared at him still rattled.

“How did you get in?” You sought, bending down to retrieve the bottle of lotion that toppled onto the floor.

He swallowed thickly, closing the door behind him as he tried his best to explain the situation without making it awkward.

“It’s umm, it’s actually my room.” He confessed, feeling embarrassed that he didn’t knock beforehand.

He completely overlooked the fact that you could’ve woken up while he was gone, but he had just assumed with how tired you were, you would be spending the day catching up on sleep and needing to push your filming with Xavier to a later time. Seth hadn’t even planned on waking you up to get the room to himself. In fact, he was set on letting you stay as long as you needed.

You blinked rapidly, confusion covering your orbs as you furrowed your brows.

“Wait, what?”

“Last night I couldn’t wake you up, and when I tried to check you, the lady at the front desk couldn’t give me your room key, so I just checked us into my room and let you crash here.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly.

“Are you serious?”

The news hitting you like a ton of bricks.

It was all beginning to come together. The reason why you were so stumped on how you got up to the room that wasn’t even yours was because you did none of it yourself. Seth had taken care of everything, making sure you not only had a room but a comfortable bed to sleep in.

Mistaking your pure shock for horror, he shook his head nervously.

“No, it’s not like that, I gave you the bed and I took the pullout over there,” He pointed to the other wall where the couch was pushed against.

“I swear.” He promised.

You looked in the direction where he pointed, totally oblivious to his bags that were tucked away in the corner, and the folded blankets that rested on the cushions all this time. If it had been anyone else, you’d be freaking out, but for some odd reason you weren’t spooked at all, instead feeling oddly secure knowing he’d never hurt you.

Catching the concern in his voice, you went to shake your head, letting out a small embarrassed laugh.

“No, that’s not what I was worried about,” you sighed, “I’m so sorry I was such a hassle, really I feel terrible.”

Seth had already lent a helping hand more times than you could count, often without you needing to ask to begin with. He was always hyperaware of your wellbeing, and the last thing you wanted him to feel was as if you were his responsibility.

“You weren’t a hassle at all. I know you were just tired and I don’t blame you.” He reassured you with a gentle smile.

You looked at him skeptically, eyes darting to the lumpy couch where he’d slept.

“You had a match last night, and you slept on…that?”

You gestured to the pullout, and he shrugged casually.

“It actually wasn’t too bad. I’ve slept on worse.” He said with a small grin, but you could tell he was downplaying it as a means to not make you feel worse, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

You frowned, reaching for the hotel phone before you plopped down on the edge of the bed, looking at him as you spoke.

“I’ll call the front desk and have them give you my room instead, and I’ll take this one for the night.” You began to dial the number to the concierge.

But before even a single ring could sound, he took a big step over, swiftly removing the phone out of your hands and placing it back onto the receiver with a clack.

“Stop.” Seth laughed, shaking his head.

You stared up at him with a pout, determined to pay him back in this small way for all that he had done for you.

“Seth, it’s the least I could do, please.” You insisted, attempting to pick up the phone once again, but he didn’t budge, firmly planting his hand on top of yours.

He looked at you, eyes full of sincerity, knowing that all you wanted to do was repay him, but he didn’t need you to return the favor at all. Everything he did for you was genuinely out of the goodness of his heart, like an ease that came with his being just wanting to make sure you were in good hands.

“You take your suite and I’ll stay here tonight. It really wasn’t a big deal at all.” He said, watching as guilt still covered your face.

“If it makes you feel better, I had to lug a drunk Roman all the way up six flights of stairs and that was hell.”

You began to giggle, eyes crinkling and your chest deflating as your hand eased up under his.

"Okay," You breathed, staring up at him still laughing, "That makes me feel a lot better."

He grinned, moving his hand away going to set beside you while you started at him warmly.

“Thanks again, for everything.” You said softly, wondering if there was ever a way you could repay him, and even then how he would manage to let you.

“Woods said he’s kicking your ass in Mario Kart today,” Seth teased, nudging your side with his elbow.

You dropped your jaw and gasped dramatically.

“Did he really say that?”

He cackled, shaking his head. “Not entirely, but he is known to be the king of the Grand Prix.”

“Are you gonna come watch?” You wondered, hoping he would just so you had an excuse not to part ways.

“Cleared my schedule and everything just for it.” He announced splaying his arms out as if it was the most important thing in the world to him. 

But it mattered to you. Deep down even if it was just some silly video, he had made the time to be there and it made your heart thump like an idiot as you tried not to get too lost in his kindness. 

“Have you eaten?” You shook off the feeling, taking note of his work out attire. 

“I just had a protein shake before my workout. You wanna order some room service?” 

You tapped your temples, grinning at him. “You read my mind.”

Reaching into the bedside drawer you retrieved the room service menu checking out what they had to offer. 

“I’m gonna hop in the shower.” Seth stood, heading to the other side of the room to grab some clean clothes for himself. 

“What did you want me to order for you?” You looked up, watching him kick off his shoes. 

“Surprise me,” He smirked and you nodded contemplating what he would like as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

You settled for strawberry french toast with a side of hashbrowns while you decided to get Seth something savory—bacon, eggs, and a side of breakfast potatoes. You ordered both of you black coffee with some creams and sugars on the side. 

After you hung up the phone, you tidied up the bed–fluffing up the pillows and straightening out the sheets as if they were untouched knowing Seth would be sleeping in your place tonight and the last thing he needed was an unmade messy bed. 

In the meantime you took it upon yourself to snap some photos and selfies behind the large window that overlooked the city. Seth’s room faced the westside of Chicago, where a bunch of shops lined the busy streets, and you were hoping you had enough time to check them out before you left town. 

After scrolling on social media and checking your emails, a knock sounded on the door. 

“Seth food’s here!” You called out, walking over to the door and squinting through the peephole just to be sure.

“Coming!” You heard him shout back. 

You undid the deadbolt, sliding the extra lock loose and grinned as you opened the door wide and greeted the hotel service. They rolled in the cart of food towards the small table near the window and you watched as they set up the plates. You were instructed to leave the finished dishes on the cart, and roll it outside of the room where it would be retrieved during their hourly sweeps. 

After tipping them, you settled into a chair, eager to fill your empty stomach but holding off until Seth joined you. In the meantime you took a few more photos of the food, wanting to post a photo of how your time in Chicago was going, even if it was just room service. 

A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened, and there he stood, dressed in a black graphic tee and shorts. He ruffled a towel through his hair, ridding it of the excess water as you stared on before quickly snapping your eyes back to your phone not wanting to be caught gawking.

“Oh no, you’re the type that lets the camera eat before you.” He tsked as he pulled his towel away, noticing the phone in your hands. 

“What can I say? Food porn is my guilty pleasure.” You whistled, snapping a few more overhead shots of the dishes. 

“Very explicit.” Seth chuckled, opening the closet to retrieve a hanger, clipping his damp towel onto it to hang dry.

Exiting your camera app, you opened up Instagram, picking one of the shots and letting the app crop the image into a square ratio as you thought up a caption. 

“Savory to my Sweet” You typed followed by a bunch of emojis that were fitting, before clicking post. 

“Okay, I’m officially ready to dig in.” You chirped, setting your phone down and glancing up at Seth who took a seat opposite of you, rubbing his hands together as he inspected his plate. 

“How’d you know I don’t like sunny side up eggs?” He smiled unwrapping the fork and knife from the clothed napkin roll.

“Wait what?” You asked surprised. 

“Yep, can’t do it, or it at least has to be over medium.” 

“Aren’t wrestlers supposed to love raw eggs? You guys drink them for fun.” You argued, watching as he made a face funny and stared at you offensively. 

“I’m offended you think I would ever do something so deranged.” He retorted, making you laugh. 

“Well I’m glad you aren’t.” You quipped, cutting into your french toast and taking your first bite with a hum. 

Seth picked up a piece of bacon, taking a single bite before wiping his fingers clean and reaching for the packets of sugars in a small dish. 

“Two sugars and two creams right?” He looked at you, remembering how he made your coffee a few days ago, but just checking to be sure. 

You chewed, nodding your head as you watched him rip the packets open, pouring the contents into your cup, and grabbing a clean spoon to stir. He repeated the same thing with the creamer cups, mixing your cup, before sliding it over to you. 

“Let me know if it’s good.” He said, beginning to work on his cup that he took with one sugar and one cream. 

You sipped the liquid, letting the flavor roll over your tastebuds, before scrunching your nose. 

“It’s alright, but I feel like hotel coffee always sucks.”

“You would think that because this hotel is so fancy, they would at least have decent caffeine.” Seth shook his head, giving his own cup a taste, only to grimace. 

“You need another sugar,” You giggled, reaching over to rip open another packet, pouring it into his mug and hoping it would be enough to wane off the bitter taste.

“I don’t know if this stuff is gonna keep me up all day or if it just tastes disgusting.” He said, shaking his head and going to take a sip of his water to rid himself of the initial taste. 

“Probably a little bit of both.” You smiled tightly, nodding him along to eat. 

The both of you continued breakfast over conversations revolving around anything and everything. Seth got you caught up on what you had missed the night prior–or as Jey coined it, “Modern Day Stephanie and Triple H circa 1999.”

It was safe to say you were mortified, not because Seth had to carry you through the parking lot all the way up to the room, but because they had witnessed you in such an embarrassing predicament.

But again, as he always did, Seth reassured you that it was nothing to be worried about. He had your back and it was anything less than embarrassing in his eyes.

Eventually the two of you wrapped up with breakfast, loading your empty dishes onto the cart and Seth rolled it outside the room before you both began getting ready to head out to meet with Xavier and the rest of the boys.

You stared indecisively into the full-length mirror, swaying from side to side.

“Are you sure this isn’t too casual for the video?” You said aloud, debating if you should make a last-minute outfit change. 

Seth, who was in the bathroom getting his hair sorted, peeked his head out, catching your eyes in the reflection and shaking his head.

“Trust me, UpUpDownDown is very forgiving. Half of Woods’ videos are filmed with us in sweatpants.” He told you, twisting his hair into a low bun. 

You let out a breath of relief, allowing your stiff shoulders to fall.

“Maybe I should try that next time.” You half joked, spinning on your heel and strolling to the doorway of the bathroom. 

He slicked back the top of his hair with some water, before tossing on his hat and turning to you.

“Does it look alright?” He watched as you tilted your head at him, a grin playing slowly over your lips. 

“You’re just missing that blonde streak.” You pouted, letting your finger glide down your cheek as if there were tears coming down. 

He shook his head at you, failing to conceal his laughter as he switched the bathroom lights off. 

“Come on, you gotta kick Woods’ ass.” He chorused, holding you gently by the shoulders, guiding you backwards out the door as you giggled excessively without letting up. 

The New Day stayed in an en suite, a few floors above where you and Seth were. Xavier had already texted you the room number and shot you another one, letting you know you could come up early. A quick elevator ride, and you both were already there. 

You knocked firmly, hearing some rustling and talking before the door opened up. 

“Hey—oh!” Xavier paused, staring surprised, when he realized you weren’t alone. 

Seth could tell he was holding back some slick comments, watching as his friend quickly regained his composure before you could notice anything odd about his demeanor.

“Come in you guys,” He said, stepping aside letting you walk in first, before smirking and widening his eyes towards Seth when he came in behind you.

“Knock it off.” Seth muttered, causing Xavier to chuckle quietly to himself and shut the door closed.

You looked around the room, which was a little more spacious than Seth’s, allowing them more room for the makeshift set up. It was impressive how they managed to make it look so put together, but you couldn’t be too surprised seeing as though they started with empty arena rooms that they brought to life themselves. 

“You likey?” Kofi sing-songed, crossing his arms over his chest with a prideful smile. 

“A lot. This is so fancy.” You said excitedly.

Big E flexed his muscles, nodding towards the camera that was set up on the tripod.

“Part time wrestlers and part time production crew.” He winked, making you laugh.

“I gotta get you guys on my crew.” You claimed, opening your arms with a smile to give him and Kofi a hug. 

Xavier instructed you to take a seat in one of the chairs, checking the camera to make sure it was focused and everything was in frame. He handed you a wireless mic to attach onto your dress so that he could capture crisp audio while you both gamed, and then he went on to prep the Nintendo controllers. 

You brushed some of your hair behind your shoulders, getting ready for the camera to roll. 

“I don’t have any strawberries in my teeth, right?” You asked, running your tongue over your teeth before smiling wide. 

Seth stepped forward, leaning in to get a good look before laughing and holding up a thumbs up. “All good.”

Big E was in charge of making sure the camera was still rolling, while Kofi got to ‘referee’ the game and Seth…he was there for moral support. 

“Welcome to UpUpDownDown and today is a very special episode, because we are joined by the one and only princess of WWE.” Xavier gestured over to you with his arms in the air as the guys hooted in the background, making you giggle.

“Hi!” You waved, smiling at the camera as Xavier introduced you to the channel.

As the two of you picked your characters and modified your karts, Xavier asked you a few basic questions just so that the viewers could get to know a little bit about you before he got to the more exciting questions. 

Seth sat behind the camera wearing an unwavering smile as he shot you encouraging looks when you would look past the camera lens from time to time, but he was sure you didn’t need it. You were a complete natural in front of the camera, and especially now that you weren’t live playing a character it gave you the chance to be you. 

Then the race was on: you found it only fitting to pick Princess Peach and Xavier choose Yoshi. The track was selected by you after you won a game of rock, paper, scissors. Despite the two of you being laser focused on the race, you both managed to keep up the conversation as you went. 

“So, growing up with Triple H as your dad, were there any intimidation tactics he used?” He wondered, cursing sharply under his breath when you hit him with a turtle shell to get into the lead.

“On me?” You suspected with a snort, shaking your head, “Never. I don’t think he ever wanted to come off as intimidating, at least not with my sisters and I.”

“Fair, fair, but what about dating? Bullies and stuff like that?” He added curiously.

You sucked in a deep breath mostly because your kart slid off the track.

“You know, I didn’t have many boyfriends, but the few I did have were pretty scared of my dad. They didn’t last very long with me because of it.” You confessed.

“Really, now?” He replied, surprised.

You nodded, attempting to catch up to him, “Yeah, I don’t know many people who would be crazy enough to date me knowing who my dad is.”

“I do.” Kofi hooted from behind the camera, prompting the boys’ eyes to shift towards Seth.

The room went quiet for a second, as Seth stared at all of them sharply, before Kofi continued.

“Probably a lot of people who are watching this video right now.”

You were too immersed in the game to notice what was happening. Celebrating to yourself when you managed to use your mushroom to speed up and pass Xavier who was too busy trying to hold in his laughter along with the boys who were cracking up behind the camera. 

Suddenly, a ringing started to echo, prompting the boys to look around while you and Xavier kept your focus on the game. 

“Who’s phone is that?!” Xavier screeched.

“Boss Lady.” Seth replied, looking at your screen that laid on the side table lighting up with an incoming phone call from Eddie.

“Pause!” you shrieked anxiously, not wanting to lose your place, and Xavier hit the button on his controller. 

You got up, retrieving the phone from where Seth held it out to you.

“I’ll be back,” you spoke, quickly slipping out of the room for some privacy. 

“Excuse us while we take a quick intermission. My opponent had to take a very important phone call,” Xavier cleared his throat, gesturing everyone to come into the frame with him. 

“If you guys were wondering who’s we have here with us today, it’s none other than the current UpUpDownDown madden champion Seth Freakin’ Rollins, and of course my buddies, E and Kof,”

Seth took a seat in your vacant chair, waving towards the camera with a smirk.

“It’s a very exclusive fan club when it comes to the princess of WWE,” Kofi joked to the audience.

Big E, glanced over at Seth with raised eyebrows, “I don’t know. Do you qualify as a fan of hers?”

Seth puffed out a breath of air, getting into character as he grumbled.

“After what she said to me last week? Man, I’m here to watch her lose, but it turns out Woods’ isn’t as good as the princess after all.” He sucked in sharply, causing them to holler.

You paced the hotel hallway, hearing the clamor coming from inside the room in one ear as the other had your phone pressed up against it while Eddie apologized excessively. He had just woken up to your many messages and missed calls from the night prior and he was panicking, thinking you were still stranded in the last town.  

“Eddie, I’m fine. I told you it’s not your fault,” you assured him with a light laugh. “I caught a ride with Seth and we got here just a little after midnight.”

Suddenly he withdrew his relentless apologies and the worry in his voice shifted to surprise.

“Wait—just you and Seth?”

You rolled your eyes, envisioning the look on his face, “Yeah, just me and Seth. Roman ended up riding with his cousins and Naomi.”

“I’ll save my interrogation questions for when we see each other in person.”

“Oh god no,” You shook your head not wanting him to make a big deal out of nothing. 

“I’ll let you go, but I’ll forward you all the flight information after I get it done.” He assured you, knowing there was only a day before you’d be on the road again.

“Wait,” you interrupted before he could hang up, “Maybe hold off on that,” your voice a little wavering as you bit down on your lip. 

“Why?”

“I uh, I can ask Seth if I can tag along with him for the rest of the week. I kinda like being on the road instead of all the flights.” You explained, trying not to sound too excited despite the fact that you really enjoyed traveling with Seth–even if you weren’t awake for most of it. 

“Hmm okay sure,” He said a little teasing, making your cheeks heat up, “just let me know by tonight okay?”

You could tell he wanted to ask more. To get into the nitty-gritty details of what possibly you and Seth could be doing other than talking that could be so fun for you. But he held off, knowing he’d see you on Monday and you’d catch him up then. 

“Okay, thanks, Eddie.” You ended the call and headed back inside.

“And she’s back,” Xavier clapped, seeing you walk in, closing the door softly behind you.

“Back to kick your ass,” you joked, shooing Seth out of your seat.

The boys “oh’d” as Seth held his hands up, rising out of the chair. He brushed his palm over the seat cushion for you, as if you were royalty, before extending his arm out for you to take so you could sit down with poise. 

“Get out of here, Rollins, before she kicks your ass,” Xavier hooted, wagging a finger in the air.

You picked up your controller, handing off your phone to Seth as you nudged him away.

“Next episode it’s gonna be you versus me.” You declared, narrowing your eyes at him as he pointed at you ready for the challenged.

“Oh, you’re on Boss Lady.” He gloated, peeking his head around towards the camera as he stuck up his fist, before retreating behind it once more. 

The video continued on for another half hour, finishing up each track as Xavier asked you more questions. You talked a little bit about your passion for writing and storytelling, and delved a little more into what life was like growing up surrounded by the business. 

You ended up placing #1, jumping out of your seat as you shouted and celebrated. Kofi and E joined in, slinging their arms over your shoulders as the three of you hopped in excitement. Seth, standing behind the camera, grinned and discreetly held out his arm for a high-five, careful not to let it get caught on film.

As Xavier closed off the video and you waved goodbye to the viewers, telling them to stay tuned for more to come in the future. You stuck around a little longer, Xavier telling you about how long editing would take before it would be finally uploaded.

“Ready to go?” Seth asked, casually looking over at you.

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, turning to give each of the guys a hug. “I had so much fun! Thanks for having me.”

“I’ll text you the link when I get it uploaded!” Xavier told you and you nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

Seth exchanged handshakes with the guys. “Catch guys all later.”

“Stay out of trouble you two,” Kofi warned, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the both of you stroll towards the door.

You and Seth looked back and waved it off with a smile, heading out of their suite not realizing that they were beginning to notice just about how close you two were getting outside of work.

Strolling down the hallway, Seth pushed the button down for the elevator before turning towards you. 

“Important plans for the day?” 

You shook your head, sighing, “Actually no. I was just planning on wasting my day away in my hotel room.” 

Really, you did plan on just checking into your actual room, and spend the day watching whatever was on the hotel channels and ordering an absurd amount of room service. 

“We can’t have that.” Seth frowned as he shook his head disappointingly. 

You looked over at him, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

The elevator doors opened, and you both stepped in. 

“We could drive around the city? Sightsee? Maybe do some shopping?” He wiggled his brows, knowing you couldn’t waste a day like this on just staying in.

You bit down on your lip, smiling. “That sounds a lot more productive than what I had in mind.”

“Are you up for it?” 

“Yeah, why not.”

You two headed back up to your his room, so you could grab your purse.

“Should I change my shoes?” You asked, walking through the door he held open for you.

He took a look at the kitten heels you had on.

“Nah, I think you’re fine. I’m not taking you to trek through mountains, don’t worry.” He joked, shutting the door behind him, and going to sit at the end of the bed as he waited around for you.

“Ha ha ha,” you grabbed a smaller, more casual purse out of your suitcase and transferred the necessities into it. 

“I’m so excited. I always wanted to explore Chicago.” You bubbled, looking up at him where he sat and watched you.

“Lucky for you, I’m your guy,” He bragged, gesturing to himself. 

“Where are we heading first?” You finally stood up, pulling your purse over your shoulder, nodding to him that you were ready to go.

He followed your lead, patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone, wallet, and room key. “It’s a surprise, but just in case, do you get seasick?” 

“Nope.” you shook your head.

He grinned, “Great come on, we need better coffee.”

You sat in the passenger seat as Seth drove a little deeper into the city that way you guys could stroll through town instead of worrying about finding parking at every stop. Luckily for you both, Seth found a decently priced parking garage, leaving the car there. 

You walked side by side on the pavement, Seth showing you to one of his favorite coffee spots in town that also had a lot of personality to it. It was a horror themed coffee cafe called The Brewed. You got excited when he told you about it on the walk there, pleased to not only get better quality coffee into your system but see an out of the ordinary shop that wasn’t the typical rustic theme. 

“Welcome!” a friendly voice said from behind the counter, exchanging a smile with you and Seth as the bell chimed when you entered.

The floors were black and white, checkerboard style with lilac painted walls that were covered with horror movie posters. The shelves were also decked out with various VHS tapes of said films and other collectables. It really was the most eccentric coffee shop you had ever been in, and Seth, who had been many times before, found himself more intrigued by the way you took everything in.

He talked over the menu with you, deciphering what you’d like based on your taste. You didn’t like your coffee overly sweet, but then again you also didn’t like it as bitter as Seth did. Once you decided what you wanted, you ordered, quickly followed by Seth who then tapped his credit card against the reader before you could protest.

“I told you I would return the favor.” He reminded you, sliding his wallet into his pocket while you grinned faintly and walked off to the side, checking out the rest of the shop while you waited. 

“You’re lucky I have bad reflexes.” You retorted, scanning the display cases full of horror memorabilia. 

He choked out a laugh, joining you. “Your reflexes aren’t bad. I just couldn’t let you pay again.” 

You couldn’t disagree with him, even if you wanted to. Seth was a gentleman inside and out, and he’d be damned if he didn’t go out of his way to repay you or make you feel as safe as he did. There was that selflessness about him that you appreciated and was beginning to become accustom to.

Soon your order was called, and you retrieved your drinks before taking a seat at the empty table in the back of the shop. He encouraged you to snap a few pictures before you dug in, making you giggle at how he let the camera eat before himself, but in his words ‘coffee is an exception’ and you couldn’t object there.

“How would you rate this one?” Seth proposed, sipping his drink slowly and keeping his eyes on you for a reaction.

You swished the iced cold drink around your mouth, smacking your lips together for extra effect causing Seth to chuckle. 

“I would say, a good eight and a half out of ten,” You nodded, taking another sip through the straw, “It’s way better than catering coffee and hotel coffee combined.”

Seth agreed, breaking off a piece of the oatmeal cookie he got for the two of you to share, chucking it into his mouth. 

“Hate to toot my own horn, but my cafe is gonna blow your socks off.” He dusted his fingers off, sitting back comfortably.

“Do you know when we’ll be in Iowa?” You rose your brow, going to break off a piece of your own. 

“I think right after Connecticut. It’s gonna be back-to-back hometowns for us.” He pointed out, making you smile.

The mere thought of being home again in just a few short weeks was something you were looking forward to, but even more so getting to see the place where Seth grew up and his coffee shop that he took a lot of pride in. It was something that you noticed about him—the pride that he carried surrounding everything he did, from wrestling to sticking to his roots. You liked that about him, that he carried it not so much with ego, but like an extension of himself, wearing on his shoulder so freely.

You rubbed your lips together, crossing your legs under the table.

“I unfortunately do not own a coffee shop, but there’s this dive bar near my apartment and I think you’ll like it.” You proposed, hoping he’d be up for it.

He nodded without any hesitancy interested in your favorite spots in your hometown too.

“So it’s a deal. I’ll take you to 392 Davenport and you’ll take me to…”

“Spigots.” You clarified.

You hadn’t been to Spigots in a while, mostly because of your lack of reason to be there. You were, however, there a lot back in your college days, which weren’t all that long ago. The drinks were fairly cheap, not that it mattered, but it often felt lonely especially when your friends and couples alike would flood the place, and leave you wallowing in the corner, nursing a watered down drink. But you this time you wouldn’t be alone. Seth, your friend, would be joining you, and that would make it all worth it.

“I’m not much of a drinker, but I’m down for one good beer on a special occasion.” Seth revealed. 

“Bad hangovers?” You suspected, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Hangovers are always crap, but I just was never was a big drinker, even when I was a teen and was supposed to like underage drinking.” He shook his head at himself, smiling at the memories of trying different drinks and spitting them out as his stupid friends made fun of him for it. 

“But there was this one time, I was forced to get shitfaced.” He added.

“Forced?” You repeated half confused and concerned, “By who?” 

“Some veteran guys when me and the boys came up to the main roster. They didn’t like us too much because we were young and taking up TV time, so we had to prove why we should’ve been hanging with the big dogs.” He said casually, as if it was no big deal. 

You, on the other hand, looked rather disturbed, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, and leaning towards him. 

“You should’ve told them to eff off, they’re so fragile in their masculinity.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

For a moment, you were angry, an emotion Seth never saw on you, which sorta surprised him in a way—a good way, nonetheless. But he realized it was more of your protective nature coming out, even if it had been years since the incident took place. You just cared so much that you didn’t fathom the time that had passed, but stayed focus on the feelings he must have had experienced and how you wished he didn’t need to go through that just to fit in.

But back then, Seth didn’t know any better, and the last thing he or his friends needed was to be the rookie targets in the locker room and become potentially buried during matches when they didn’t want to put them over.

“And get our rookie asses kicked?” Seth rebutted lightly, causing you to sputter out a laugh realizing that’s exactly what would’ve happened. 

You had heard about it, the ‘culture’ of the locker room back in the day. It was notorious for petty drama and even pettier reasons one would decide to leave the company. Perhaps it changed now that your dad was in charge, but you knew somewhere deep down that had it not been for your dad taking over, you wouldn’t have stepped foot anywhere near the company, and even if you did, that environment would have probably taken everything from you before you got to work with Seth.

Thankfully, time ran its course, and you had gotten so much more than you could have ever imagined…someone more, too.

“There’s a picture out there somewhere.” Seth waved off, hating how permanent the internet was, coming across the photo on his feed now and then. 

You held your chin up on your fist, staring at him coolly, “Well, I’m glad you and your liver are alright.”

“Yeah, hopefully I make it out of Spigots alive.” He rubbed his stomach, shooting you a pointed look.

“Oh stop it, of course you will. I won’t leave without you and your liver intact.” You promised with a smile, watching as he looked pleased, sipping his drink. 

After coffee, you and Seth strolled the streets, venturing through the different shops that ran up and down the avenue. There were a few stores the two of you had decided to walk into, doing some light window shopping and mostly snapping pictures of the unique things the city had to offer. 

Somehow you two ended up walking further out of the main area where the shops were, heading down a back street where one side stood with houses and the other a large brick building. It appeared abandoned, until you and Seth crossed over, getting a closer look at the little sign posted up on the door. 

“Beyond Grandma’s House.” You read aloud, puzzled as to what it could be. 

Seth stopped for a moment, cupping his hands over his forehead as he squinted through the tinted glass windows.

“It’s an antique shop.”

“Oh!” you squealed, reaching for his arm and tugging him along. “Come on!”

He followed your lead into the store, which was more like a warehouse,d considering how much space there was to offer. It really didn’t have any set decor or theme. The donated items spoke for themselves and made the place come alive. It felt like walking into your grandmother’s basement that had absolutely anything and everything you could ever need. 

“This is my heaven.” You buzzed, dropping his arm, and looking around the place that was filled with all things vintage. 

An older lady towards the back of the store smiled warmly, greeting you both as you walked around the different sections attempting to take everything in. 

“It’s pretty neat…and very dusty.” Seth picked up a photo album from one of the antique wooden tables, which half acted as shelves.

You stood next to him while he flipped through the tattered pages. Photo upon photo was exposed with no traces of whom it could belong to—just a nameless book that held so many memories, yet was at an antique shop being sold. You weren’t going to lie; it was decently priced for strangers’ photographs, but there was that feeling inside you that felt a little wrecked inside for the owners of the book.

“I always wonder how these things end up here. How could someone ever let these memories go?” You murmured wistfully, shaking your head at the continuous photos that came with every flipped page.

Seth passed, peering toward you with a frown that understood where you were coming from, “Probably just no family alive to claim it.” He answered.

“I hope someone finds it someday.” You added, nodding him along as he flipped through the rest of the pages where each picture told a story of its own.

“Awww, this one is so cute.” You pointed to a specific photo on the page, smiling at the scene.

It was a couple standing in the driveway looking snazzy as ever beside a vintage chevy.  

“Prom. 1958.” Seth made out the muddled words written in the corner. 

“Let me get a picture.” You pulled out your phone, instructing Seth to hold the album still so you could get a good shot. 

It seemed as though the photo album was a collective time capsule for the couple in the pictures. Every little memory, such as the purchase of their first home and the welcoming of their children was captured and sealed behind the plastic sheets of the book. It didn’t feel right to take home and make yours no matter how vintage and special it was–you’d hope that some way a stranger would stumble in and return it back to someone, perhaps a great-grandchild who would appreciate the memories of their grandparents. 

Eventually, Seth placed the book down, encouraging you to explore the other things the store had to offer. With little to no room in your luggage, you decided to skip over the clothing section not wanting to tempt yourself, so instead you went over to the knick knacks.

You were like a kid in a candy store, and it was an endearing sight to see. Excitedly, you picked up little trinkets, inspecting them closely before pointing out all the details he would have never thought to pay any mind to until you spoke it. The real gold trim on vintage dinner plates, intricate cross stitch patterns slowly fading away in color, and the hidden inscribed initials underneath decorative pots.

He was sure you could spend hours running around the place, talking about every single thing, and he’d listen to every word you had to say. You were talkative when it came to things you were passionate about, just like any other person would be, but Seth found your version to be his favorite. Whether it was vintage items or your writing, he loved hearing you talk about things you cared deeply about. He didn’t know why, he just did. 

“Look,” He spotted a section of the store you hadn’t been to yet, pointing to the coat rack used to display vintage cameras. 

“No way!” You gasped, making a beeline towards it, as Seth smiled and trailed behind to catch up before you were already picking up one of them to see. 

He watched you, carefully sifting through the different types, inspecting the machinery to make sure they weren’t damaged before squinting as you looked through the blurry viewfinder. 

“You gotta buy one.” Seth crossed his arms over his chest, staring right back at you through the cloudy lens with a smile on his face. 

You lowered the camera, looking at him apprehensively before picking up a different model that had a floral neck strap attached to it.

“You think so?”

He made a sound, nodding his head. “It’s your first time in Chicago and you’ve been wanting one for a while now. It’s the perfect way to commemorate it, if you ask me.” 

You did the same thing to the camera, wiping the lens with the fabric of your dress and making sure there was no damage before letting your shoulders fall. 

“Okay, I’m convinced.” You grinned, settling on the one in your hands. 

You two looked around for a couple more minutes before finally going up to the cash register located at the back of the store. The same older woman who greeted you was there, tidying up behind the counter before she assisted you. 

She kindly offered to check out the item herself, wanting to make sure nothing was broken before you purchased it and you happily obliged, letting her wipe down the camera with a clean cloth and check the components. 

“How did this place get its name?” You marveled, looking around at the area.

“My grandchildren, funnily enough.” The lady replied warmly with a small laugh. 

“No kidding?” Seth spoke, intrigued. 

She nodded full of pride, wearing a smile.

“I was a bit of a hoarder back in my day, and my grandchildren told me I oughta have better luck selling things and making some profit, so I said why not? My husband and I opened this store up and I get to collect these beautiful things, but watch them get another life somewhere else.”  

“That’s so sweet,” you said softly, placing a hand over your heart. 

“I’m a very lucky gal, and you are too, because this camera is in pristine condition.” She revealed as you squealed and clapped your hands together. 

“Awesome! You don’t happen to sell any film here either, do you?” You asked, not getting your hopes up too much since it was just an antique shop. 

But to your surprise she nodded, walking a short distance to a set of drawers she pulled open. “We sure do. I can get it loaded up for you if you want?” She offered. 

You nodded thankfully. “That’d be perfect, and could you show me how?” 

She let you come around the counter, instructing you on how to properly load the camera up and get the most out of your film. 

Seth leaned against the counter, watching as you followed her instructions carefully, nodding along as she pointed out all the different parts of the camera and how they worked. 

“How long does it usually take to get the pictures developed?” He piped in.

The woman looked up, tilting her head from side to side as she pursed her lips, “It depends on the store, but usually for this kind of film it’s two weeks. Are you guys from here?” She asked, probably about to suggest a local photo lab nearby. 

“No.” You both replied, shaking your head. 

Seth gestured to himself, keeping up the conversation as you loaded in the film roll. 

“I’ve visited a few times before, but it’s her first time.” He pointed out. 

“Well, you have to make sure the pretty lady sees all the prettiest spots in town.” The lady winked, placing a warm hand over his on the counter, as you were busy away trying not to mess up.

Seth nodded assuringly, patting her hand. “Oh, I intend to, don’t worry.”

You blushed hard from your spot behind the counter, fingers nimbly shutting the door of the film compartment, trying to seem as if you didn’t hear what Seth said. You walked back around, standing next to him as you paid and stayed a little while for small talk with the woman before saying your goodbyes. 

She hoped you both would come by again sometime soon to catch up, and you both promised her you would the second you’d be back in town. 

“You love birds, take care.” She waved, watching as you two walked on. 

Your eyes met Seth’s comically, trying not to laugh as you both didn’t bother correcting her and just returned the wave before exiting the shop. 

You moved your hair out of the way, slinging the camera around your neck as you looked around. 

You pointed to a fence covered with a slew of flowers growing over it. “Go stand over there.”

Seth stared at you puzzled, eyes skimming to the camera laying against your chest. 

“I’m your first shot?” 

You nodded with a smile, gesturing to follow you to where you wanted him to be. 

“Are you sure?” He asked again, debating on whether you wanted to use your limited film on him of all people. 

You looked over your shoulder, sighing as you nodded.

“You’re the perfect subject.” You assured him, eyes dancing over his biceps, a smirk fitting onto your lips playfully.

“I feel objectified.” He feigned stung, before smiling and situating himself where you wanted him to stand.

You took a few steps back, picking up your camera and peeking through the viewfinder to make sure he was in the frame.

“Great, now pretend I’m not even here, and appreciate the flowers.” You spoke, trying to hold back your laughter at his attempt to look as candid as possible. 

He fidgeted awkwardly with his hands, looking at the flowers as if they were his mortal enemy—so much for being an actor.

“Hey! Are you making fun of me?” He called out, finally relaxing a little, easing up on his hands and looking offside instead. 

You quickly snapped the picture, catching him in a natural state, knowing it would be the perfect shot.

“I totally wasn’t.” You replied, standing up straight and walking towards him. 

He chuckled, shaking his head, “I bet I look stupid.” 

“No, you don’t,” You poked his side.

“You look like a local Chicagoan who should be showing me around all the prettiest spots.” Staring up at him merrily, wanting to know what else he had up his sleeve for you.

“Come on,” He held his arm out for you to take, “We’re almost to the best part.” 

You smiled from ear to ear, hooking your arm in his as you let him lead the way back to the main part of the avenue where you originally started.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” You glanced over at him, pouting as he shook his head.

“Then that would totally spoil the surprise.” He said ridiculously. 

“No, it wouldn’t,” you reasoned, lightly leaning into him, “I promise I’ll still be amazed.” 

He looked at you skeptically before shaking his head. “I’m still not spoiling it for you.”

“Booo!” 

“I’ll tell you what though, it’s going to be beautiful, so try not to use up all your film beforehand.” He warned, straightening out the strap over your shoulder that was slightly twisted.

“I can do with beautiful.” You beamed, relaxing into his side.

“Soon, but we’ve got some time to spare before that.” 

You two stumbled upon an Art Alley, deciding to kill time there to check out the vivid murals and graffiti that covered the walls. You were careful with the photos you took on your new camera, deciding on three of your favorite pieces of arts you wanted to capture.

Seth took one of you posing in front of the iconic “Welcome To Chicago” sign and then you took one of him kneeling in front of the dragon mural, acting as if it was breathing fire on him. The last photo was just the art itself: two hands clinking drinks, a woman with a glass of wine and a man with a beer.

Before you knew it, Seth was leading you back to the car and patiently you sat in the passenger seat, wondering what he had planned up his sleeve.

He wasn’t kidding when he said it was going to be beautiful…it was damn near breathtaking.

Your hair rustled in the wind, a slight breeze blowing through the open waters where the boat waded through the lake at a leisurely pace. Seth made sure to get you guys a decent spot near the bow, wanting you to have the best view for your first time in Chicago and your photos.

But you were doing everything but that.

In fact, you were dead silent, eyes busy on the scene in front of you with a smile glued to your face just as you had been in the antique shop hours prior. It was cute, in a lot of ways, in the fact that you were a simple girl who didn’t need anything extravagant to be woo’d in the way you were right then and there.

Seth was sure he could’ve taken you to a mediocre bus tour and you would’ve been just as impressed, but he was glad he went the extra mile for you because you deserved it.

“You haven’t even snapped any photos yet.” Seth finally spoke up, letting his fingers skim against yours that held on tight to the railing beside his.

You tore your eyes away from the skyline, letting your shoulders fall with an awestruck expression.

“It’s just so pretty out here. I don’t want to miss a thing.” You breathed in, shaking your head in amazement.

The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but purples and pinks danced with the clouds, appearing as an ethereal backdrop to the city’s skyscrapers. You had already been over the moon happy when you realized Seth was taking you on a boat tour of the city, but nothing could have prepared you for how scenic it would be.

“It’s way different from the movies, right?” He shifted his eyes around, trying to take in the view he had seen a handful of times already instead of watching you, like he had been doing for most of the day.

You hummed, nodding. “Very. The movies make it seem so hectic, but it’s surprisingly calm.”

“Dang it, I was totally hoping to recreate Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” He groaned, snapping his fingers.

You giggled, tilting your head onto his shoulder while you laughed and shook your head at him.

“Our version was a bit more laid back, and we didn’t wreck a car…not yet at least.” You whispered, looking up toward his past your lashes where he shook his head and turned his attention to the view.

“I’m guessing this is going down as the best part of today?” He speculated.

“This and the antique store.” You added, and he hummed in agreement, happy to know you were able to experience it with the little time frame you all had there.

Slowly but surely, the sun began making its way down, setting on the horizon. You figured it was the perfect time to capture a few pictures. Noticing a woman and her husband snapping selfies together, you tapped her on the shoulder, offering to take some standing pictures of them before she offered to take some for you in exchange.

“Thanks! Could you take one on this camera and a few on my phone?” You asked, slipping off the camera around your neck, to her it along with your phone.

Walking backwards, you caught Seth sliding a few feet away, causing you to furrow your brows and shake your head.

“No, come on, get in the picture.” You insisted, gesturing to him to take his place back beside you, not wanting to leave him out.

And of course, he did so, but not without question.

“You sure you don’t want a solo shot?” He raised his brow, slinging his arms around your back comfortably.

You fixed your hair over your shoulder, smiling as you nodded.

“I wouldn’t be here without you.” You explained softly, letting yourself relax in his hold, not minding at all the lack of space between you.

It was enough assurance to make him grin, feeling your arm wrap around his side and looking towards the camera, smiling widely. The woman encouraged some silly photos, causing you two to laugh, happy to have an assortment to look back on.

She put down your phone, switching to the film camera.

“How about a kiss?” She happily suggested.

You could feel his hand stall around your waist for a brief moment, clearing his throat and stuttering out an answer that never came. He looked at you, wondering how to navigate the situation, despite clearly being able to flat out tell the lady you were just friends…but neither of you did that.

It would be too easy and for whatever reason it was you and Seth didn’t like correcting people who assumed you were a couple, apparently.

“What if I kiss your cheek?” You glanced at him, waiting for permission, hoping he wouldn’t find it weird.

It was going to open up a can of worms, and the two of you were smart enough to know it, but that kind of worrisome feeling didn’t cross either of your minds.

“Yeah, that works.” He agreed, bending his knees a tad to make it easier for you to reach the distance.

You pushed yourself up on your tip-toes, pressing your lips softly against this cheek, brushing over the stubble of his beard just ever so lightly. He smiled wider the second your lips made contact with his skin, probably looking like a lovesick idiot, but he didn’t care whatsoever.

It felt right despite the novelty of your touch. A different one compared to your fingers brushed against each other or the simple action of a hug. There was an ache in his bones, the feeling of already missing you despite still having your lips glued to his skin, knowing it wouldn’t last forever.

“Adorable.” She said from behind the camera, “Now you.” She directed, pointing for Seth to do the same.

Pulling away felt like a burn. You apologized and giggled all in the same breath, reaching your thumb up as you noticed your lip gloss had transferred over.

“No worries,” Seth reassured you, bending down a little more so you could clean his cheek the best you could.

“All better.” You sing-songed, giving his cheek a soft tap.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes dancing over your cheek before meeting your eyes. “Can I?’

You nodded with a smile, “Yes.”

You turned away from him, giving him easy access to mirror your actions, hoping to god he couldn’t feel your skin burning beneath his touch.

His lips came down a little firmer than yours did, arms pulling you closer into him, so much so that he took you off your feet for a brief second. The action alone made your heart skip a beat, uncontrollable giggles exiting your mouth as you closed your eyes and felt like you were floating.

It was too good to be true, and you realized that the second he pulled away and left you falling back down like it was nothing. You snapped out of it, shaking your head and keeping the smile plastered onto your face despite wanting to tell him to make it happen–to make it real already.

“Thank you so much!” You bubbled appreciatively, allowing her to hand you back your things.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy Chicago!” She gave you both a warm smile, her husband waving to you both, as they returned to their spot on the boat as the tour began to finish up.

“I have to get these developed as soon as I get home.” You said, draping the camera back around your neck, biting back all the things you really wanted to say to him.

“Send me a copy will you?” He proposed, letting his arms stay slung over your shoulders.

“Mhm,” you hummed, grabbing hold of his wrist gingerly, “And I swear, the internet won’t see this one.”

“I appreciate it.”

The car ride back to the hotel took a little longer than expected with peak hour traffic happening, but it wasn’t anything your voices could fill. There was laughter and aweing as you scrolled through the photos on your phone and Seth was already planning the next adventures you two would take when you were back in the city.

But like all good things, it had to end.

When you arrived back at the hotel, you finally got checked in, retrieving your room key from the same front-desk attendant who had checked Seth in the night before. She still wore that confused look when he stood beside you, waiting patiently as you smiled sweetly, thanking her.

Seth brought you up to his room so that you could retrieve your things, yet he didn’t want you to leave. He watched from the foot of the bed as you packed your belongings up, wondering if he should speak up to make you stay.

It was wrong to even think about making you stay in a way that would end up with you finding out he felt more than just friendship for you. You had spent so much time together that, of course the feelings would develop eventually, but he just didn’t think it would ever come down to this.

He had spent so much time preaching to his friends that you two were just friends. That you were the forbidden fruit he could never even think about having despite not giving a shit about the rules. If him saying something were to ruin everything, then it would’ve been his biggest regret, and he couldn’t ruin this…not you.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I got everything.” You huffed, breaking him out of his thoughts as you zipped your suitcase shut and stood it upright.

He blinked quickly, rising from where he sat. “Did you want me to walk you up?”

‘Way to go for not being clingy,’ Seth mentally cursed himself.

You were on the 22nd floor, a suite and a few minute elevator ride up from where he was staying. It wouldn’t have been much of a hassle for him, but he had already done so much for you—the least you could do was get yourself up to your room without his help, even if it was just to steal a few more moments with him. That could wait.

Plus, the last thing you needed was to become too attached to him, but that ship had already sailed. You knew it.

“I think I’m okay.” you shook your head, walking towards the door, glancing over your shoulder where he was trailing behind. “But thank you.”

He nodded understandingly, not wanting to insist though he really wanted to. You stopped, not leaving just yet as you stood there face to face with him.

“And thank you again for today. I had so much fun.” You smiled affectionately, eyes meeting his and holding him there with you.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders shrugging lightly, “I’m glad I got to take you around. It was fun being your tour guide.”

“Maybe we can do it again sometime?” You suggested hopefully, hating how gummy you were getting inside.

“Yeah, for sure. It’d be fun.”

You suddenly remembered your promise to Eddie about the travel arrangements. You should’ve ended it there, saying your goodbye to Seth and heading back to your hotel room to tell Eddie to book your flights for the remainder of the week. You needed to put space between you and him, or else you’d end up with a dilemma on your hands.

But you didn’t.

“Oh, and before I go, I just wanted to ask you something, and don’t feel pressured into saying yes, alright?” You bit down on your lip, cautioning him.

“Hit me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is it okay if I travel with you for the rest of the week? I just really like being on the road as opposed to always flying, and I figured I travel with you because Roman is with his cousins, but you can totally tell me if you don’t–”

“Woah, slow down,” He cut you off, bringing his hands up to grasp your arms gently, “Of course you can travel with me. Remember, I said you’d be my best road partner?”

You were fucked.

You took a deep breath nodding with a relieved look. “Thank you, again.”

He nodded, letting his arms fall from your skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.

“Yeah,” You agreed without thinking twice, “Tomorrow.” you promised, taking a deep breath as you went for the door, letting yourself out.

He shut the door as you walked away towards the elevators, cursing under his breath as he tossed his hat off and closed his eyes tightly. There was no reason at all for him to even think about opening his mouth and messing it all up–it was for the better. He’d just have to swallow his feelings, bury them deep inside, and hope it would die.

He couldn’t have you.

The doors slid open, revealing Kofi, Big, E, and Xavier on the other side.

“Hey,” you greeted, thanking them with a nod as they made space for you.

“Are you going up?” Big E questioned, wondering why you had your bags on a random floor.

“Yeah, 22 please.” You nodded, noticing the confused looks on their faces, “I–I um, got the wrong floor by accident.” You lied, hoping they wouldn’t suspect anything else.

Thankfully they just nodded, Kofi clicking the button for you, as the ride up was filled with comfortable silence until it stopped on your floor. Seriously, you didn’t need to lie, but you figured it would save both yours and Seth’s ass if they hadn’t known you stayed with him last night. Roman and practically his entire family already knew, and the last thing you wanted was for it to get out of proportion.

Finally, the lift stopped on your floor, and you waved goodnight to them, heading to find your room to get settled for the night. Switching on the lights, you locked the door behind you, setting your things down and digging for your cell phone, only to find it dead upon a click.

“Fuck me,” you cursed, going through your purse to find your charger.

Seth had been pacing his room for a good two minutes, the kind of anxiousness that hadn’t loomed over him in so long that he forgot how to act for a moment. That is until he noticed the white cord hanging off the bedside table where he plugged your phone the night prior.

He shouldn’t have done…he knew that if he went up to your room, he’d crack open the can of worms and ruin it all by saying something stupid.

Fuck it.

He plucked it out of the outlet, not caring to check if you had left anything else as he exited his room and headed straight for the elevator. His foot tapped against the carpeted floors, pushing the button incessantly, until it finally opened.

“Oh..hey.” He cleared his throat, noticing his three buddies.

Xavier groaned, pointing down, “Dude this thing is going down, please tell me you’re going down.” He sighed, their second attempt at going down to the lobby being halted.

“Sorry. It’ll be quick I swear,” Seth apologized, fingers pressing the 22nd button, catching all of their attention.

“Wait, where are you going?” Big E raised his brow suspiciously.

Seth shrugged, lifting the charger up to show them, “Roman left his charger with me. He let me borrow it earlier at the gym, but I forgot to return it.”

He turned away, facing the doors tapping his foot impatiently while the three friends exchanged skeptical glances. But before they could question him, the door suddenly opened, and he was out of there like air.

Walking down the halls, he recalled your room number. 2205

“Twenty two, twenty-two, twenty–finally.” He stopped, taking a deep breath in front of your door.

His first came down firmly, knocking three times.

You furrowed your brows, looking where the sound was coming from as you were on the ground, sifting through your luggage still trying to find the cord. Crossing the distance towards the door, you looked through the peephole, surprised at who was standing on the other side.

Your heart felt like it was racing out of your chest, hitting the pavement and opening the door wide before you could even fathom what you expected was going to come out of his mouth.

“Seth–”

“You forgot this,” He blurted, sticking his hand out between your bodies, holding out the item for you to take.

“Oh…” You spoke half surprised, hesitating for a moment before taking it, “T-thanks, my phone literally just died.” You laughed awkwardly, cursing yourself for how weird you were being.

He scratched his neck, nodding along. “Yeah, I uh, just found it and figured a dead phone would really be the last thing you needed to deal with.”

“Lucky me.” You replied, causing you both to laugh, but with a kind of restraint that felt painfully awkward.

He was hesitating, borderline regretting even making his way up there to you because of how pitiful he must have looked.

“I should probably go…” He started.

“Yeah…wait no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You backpedaled embarrassingly, shaking your head with widening eyes, “I just meant like, you’re probably tired so you should go get some rest.”

“No, I know what you meant.” He laughed, reassuring you, the anxiety slowly leaving his bones.

You breathed out a weak laugh, thankful he wasn’t misinterpreting you though you wished he was in front of you for a different reason other than a stupid forgotten charger.

“I’ll uh, let you go now,” you spoke softly, tapping your fingers on the door.

“Yeah, okay,” He nodded, giving you a small smile before turning on his heel.

You frowned, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you went to close the door, hating yourself for thinking anything more was going to happen. He was just a friend, and that’s all he could ever be to you.

He had only walked a short distance before his footsteps stalled, fists clenching and unclenching wondering if he should do it.

“Damnit,” His voice called out, loud enough for you to hear before the door shut fully, “Hold on.”

You pushed against it, sticking your head out as you watched him march back towards you. The look on your face held restraint and you could feel it–the same kind you had twisting in your stomach.

“I like you okay? I know it’s wrong and screw me if I’m messing this crap up, but I had to say it or else it’s going to eat me alive–”

The charger slipped out of your hands, thudding to the ground. Your fingertips reached out and clutched his face gently, bringing him closer to you. Inches left between you turned into nothing when your lips crashed onto his, moving desperately so whilst he caught up with you, hands grasping around your frame.

It was needy, heavy, and delicate wrapped up in one feeling. A kiss that starved off whatever gut wrenching conflict you had stirring inside you. You didn’t know who needed it more, you or Seth, but in the ways in which you two were kissing each other like your lives depended on it, you’d assume it was equally necessary.

You were all-consuming, stealing his breath away, until for his own sake he had to pull away, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, not daring to strip himself from you completely.

“I think you can tell I feel the same.” You panted, searching his eyes that burned through you.

“Yeah,” He nodded, lips brushing against yours and he spoke, “Yeah, I’m about positive now.”

You bit down on your lip, shrugging your shoulders behind you. “How about coming inside?”

“A thousand percent positive about that.” He said without skipping a beat, connecting your lips once again as you threaded your arms around his neck, letting him walk you backwards into the room and kicking the door shut.

The elevator doors opened, finally stopping at the lobby level where the three men were headed out to grab some food for the night. Surprisingly enough, there stood Dean and Roman, waiting for a ride.

“Sup,” Roman and Dean greeted them with a handshake before entering the elevator as the other three exited.

“You weren’t just in your room?” Kofi rose his brow towards Roman who shook his head.

“Nah, we just got back from dinner,” He replied looking over at Dean who lifted a bag of takeout he got for Renee.

“Why?” Dean questioned suspiciously.

Xavier stuck his hand in the doorway, preventing it from closing. “You staying on the 22nd floor?”

Roman shook his head. “No, I’m on the fifteenth.”

“And what about you?” Xavier spoke, looking at Dean wondering if Seth confused him for Roman.

“I’m on the tenth. What the hell is going on?” He asked, beginning to hate the mystery around whatever it was they were talking about.

“Oh shit,” the three said in unison, eyes going wide as they slapped each other on the arm and chest.

Roman grunted, “What? Come on, man, spit it out.”

No words were spoken, as the three men just looked at them. Their eyes holding that same knowing look which could only mean one thing.

“Oh, shit.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: holy shit...yeah...holy shit! it took me forever to try to come up with the perfect kiss scene because i know it couldn't be *simple* thank you for sticking around if you made it this far and i can't wait for you to read next chapter <3

taglist: @ellesmythe @wonderharryy @southerngirl41 @eringobragh420

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Not if but Who

Circa: April/May 1944

WARNINGS: 18+, typical universe warnings apply + rampant Nazis Eugenics ideology, strongly suggested, referred and mildly shown medical experimentation and abuse ❌

Johnny knew it would end up like this. Not even end up, it would start off like this and stay like this and the only likely change was some escalation of this.

And while he was sorry for it, and tired of it, and aware his course of action had been cryptic and perhaps unworthy of a honest, obedient, rule abiding inferior officer these last months but he also knew it would be like this.

So he’d done what he’d done.

And still, it ended up like this.

Him and Cleven, sat in this claustrophobic little shack with its pristine white walls, an absence of color that evoked sterility and tidiness back home but here in the muddy stalag it was positively off putting, with the sun beating in and the fan whirring in the single large window. There were smaller windows all along the ceiling like in a jail cell, and it made the bright white of the room positively garish at certain times of the day. It wasn’t time for that yet, it would take about an hour more for the sun to slant in right where it would reflect off the opposite wall and then beam right into Brady’s eyes and fucking glitter off the utensils.

The tools.

The medical shit, in its shiny metal tray with its squeaky metal wheels and its white terry cloth towel.

Johnny knew this well. This place with its noxious smells of copper and acetone, the sterile implacability was familiar, the sunbeams regular visitors he knew exactly when they would come calling. And the doc’s monologues too, they were very familiar. Johnny didn’t mind them half as much as when he stopped. When he stopped talking that meant he expected something from Johnny -a reaction of some sort. And worse than a bored kid in Sunday school, Johnny usually had floated far away from the subject at hand while the guy talked. First he’d gone horseback riding in his mind, even indulged in memories of brushing and washing and saddling Hector until his beautiful thoroughbred was a shiny black. Then when those reminiscences grew too gentle and meek for the accompanying feel of the doctor’s real life handling of his carcass, Johnny went to his fort, to training and to bailing, it kept the blood up and his heart rate racing.

The doctor liked those symptoms.

Johnny had learned to think of things that would do it, mimic the fear the monologues did not produce in his chest. He’d learned to mimic many things over the months. Some he’d not ever had practice with but he was clever at improvising. And some things he didn’t need to fake. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that but he wasn’t much into feelings these days. Feelings were the doctor’s preoccupation and Johnny had begun to associate them with him.

Or with Ida.

But mainly he improvised. He was good at it.

They said that in flight school, not too good of a pilot but a decent crasher.

But Major Cleven was the best at improvising. And yet, sat here opposite the authoritative little desk and its self soothing bully in a lab coat, it went to waste. Because the doc hadn’t grabbed for a speculum or a hammer or a needle even, he’d not even felt for swollen lymph nodes under Cleven’s chin or in his armpits. Not even taking interest in the twin cuts on his cheeks, the sickly gray circles under wide blue eyes- courtesy of a week in the cooler. Brady watched Cleven and tried to wonder why he wasn’t appealing, he was more impressive and more senior than Brady and yet remained unmolested. So far the doc had only talked. Talked and talked. Johnny knew it would be like this. And that’s why he’d done what he’d done all these months. Cleven wasn’t gonna beat this any better than he had.

Not while the guy kept talking. A strange punishment, this, for covering up his sister’s pregnancy. They’d not seen her yet. They’d not seen Bucky either. Cleven had enough sense or the self preservation to let them both go, allow the guards to take them away, submit himself to a moderate punishment. It landed him out of the cooler and about the barracks sooner than the two other components of the triune, and it caused him to be in here of all places, his brain being slowly roasted alongside Jack’s with pseudo physiological babble.

Right about now, it was anyone’s guess which of the Americans the doc was addressing. Brady figured both. Likely both of them. Mentions of Catholicism halfway through the first fifteen minutes of the doc’s bone numbing self articulation seemed pretty pointed towards himself. It went something like:

“This one is a religious man, yes? Catholic, I have seen his crucifix. Yes some men feel they are special because they are loved by a god, they are protected and dignified above the rest by this divinity. They do not expect to suffer nor are they allowed to enjoy certain things, because they are, like their god, above it.”

But then it veered, something more like:

“And then there are men, ones who do not think of things as forbidden or allowed, they only have wants. But will they act on them? No. But they do want. And it is odd, no, what will make such a man finally act on those wants?”

The latter question hangs there in the air, Brady suspects, intentionally aimed and poised metaphorically over Gale’s head, as strongly as any physical threat. He assumed it’s pointed at Cleven, since the man with wants is contrasted to the Catholic. Brady knows himself to be the latter, he wasn’t sure he’d classify his Major as a man with stark wants but surely all men, even Major Cleven, had wants.

“I don’t know what the hell you're on about.” Cleven sounds very measured to Brady‘s ringing ears and he finds himself letting out a breath of relief that the Major is still so damn composed. Maybe all is not lost.

“-I don’t mean for you to understand.” The doctor emphasized his subject by giving Gale an unimpressed look, “I am speaking of your friend, the large man, very loud yes? And very fond of you. The one that wants you.”

“No he doesn’t.” Brady finds himself blurting out before Gale can even inhale. To even bring this up, to haul whatever priceless chemistry their majors have into this rat shack and call it ugly, make warped -it isn’t something Brady can take, not like the needles and the electrodes and the rest of it. “He doesn’t -don’t you dare.”

His sudden rush of fury is like a gasoline fire lapping at the surf. Whatever this is, this quasi interview that feels ever more like a villain's cinematic crescendo, the doctor had his trajectory planned, nothing seems to put him off.

Johnny knew it would be like this.

“You know in Germany we sterilize men with unnatural wants.”

Brady can feel Gale go pale next to him. That’s more frightening than even being in this horrible place, seeing Gale Cleven lose his nerve.

“That what happen to you?” Brady felt rash in the wake of Cleven’s blanching and he took it as a score when Gale whipped his head up at the dig. It struck Brady as funny anyway, the way the doctor always had his experiments and his shots and his intimate exams but never required anything back. Not like that. Maybe he had been gelded that way. Maybe -Jack had thought of so many maybe’s these past months his brain was sore with them. None of them ever mattered, what mattered is what the guy wanted and required. Which suddenly seemed to have grown in ambition.

“I used to be a psychiatric pediatrician, in Munich. Before the war.” The man changed track, reminiscing in the face of Brady’s insult and it resulted in making him feel like everything bounced off a wall and hit him back in the face. Intentional on the doctor’s part, no doubt.

“Poor kids.” Brady muttured for the sake of obstinate morale and in genuine discomfort at the mere concept of this man in such close proximity to innocents.

“And I was excellent at my craft.” the doctor went on, “Do you know how many children the state had to take in because their mother’s were unfit, masculine? They had jobs, they were political, unwomanly. It ruined the children, only the greatest care could retrieve for them some vitality, have them to where they could give back some worth to the state. Do you know how we cured this ill? How we cleaned our country of women like that?”

Neither man had a jest or a guess. Answering seemed a very risky thing, and guessing was terrifying.

“They too, were sterilized.” the doctor laid his hands out, palms up in a familiar gesture of what was once common sense.

Johnny wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything more sickening. Gale for his part, had gone very still.

“I have here authorization,” the doctor lifted from his desk a file which had been lying there neglected all this time, stamps and lettering making its cover look quite official, “to enforce these measures for your female officers. The recent pregnancies in multiple of your officers makes this issue unavoidable.”

Neither spoke again. If they’d have bothered, they might have guessed that beyond the thinly veiled suggestions of homosexuality and fraternization there was something more intent here. Just as both men knew this wasn’t the end of the subject, otherwise, why bring them in for it? To tell them? To taunt them? The entire thing held the tone of one of Ev’s riddles, like there were two answers out of this thing, but damned if Brady had any idea if he was working with all the clues or only the first.

“I have already implemented it in your lady colonel.” he added, like an afterthought.

The ringing in Johnny’s ear had turned into a raging surf. “You- you didn’t-“ he heard himself croak before he could swallow his panic down; he thought of Ida and and he thought of father and he thought of mother and the grandchildren they’d never have and somehow he ended up thinking of Bucky and his throat closed up. He wanted Bucky right now, it was stupid thing to want but Cleven was too quiet in the face of this outrage and Bucky at least had cried with Jack when they buried that infant alongside the dead dogs and typhoid victims.

“I have an order to conduct the same with the rest.” The doctor continued, “I have some presentment that you gentleman would find this measure unfortunate, no?”

Gale’s finger had begun to drum a nervous rhythm on his chair arm, the one nearest Brady. Johnny stared at the tapping digit with detached intrigue, incorporating it into a piece he’d been arranging that morning before they got called in for this shitshow of a monologue. Maybe Cleven could be roped in as drummer, he could be taught by Christmas. Nothing else to do in this place. Except humor this fucking white coat.

“We wouldn’t allow it, sir.” Cleven spoke up at last, and it wasn’t apologetic but neither was it fierce, he seemed to be trying to match the conversational tone the doctor had adopted.

“Do you allow things now, Major?” the doctor inquired, amused. “See, I told you I know men like you, it is not what is allowed or disallowed, it is only want and the acting on it —or not. You do not have freedom to act, Major Cleven, not here, you know that already. I wish to teach that neither do you have freedom not to act, if what I want is for you to act.”

“Whadda’ya want?” Cleven repeated.

It was always going to be a bartering, since they stepped in here, somehow Brady thinks that he and the major both knew that, and in a frightening sort of malaise, he mourns the closing act of suspense as to what the currency is.

“I miss my practice, Major Cleven.” The doctor almost sounded as if he expected sympathy, Brady had heard him use it before, “I miss my craft, I was wrongly accused and demoted from my place and I find myself here with little to intrigue a mind as complex as my own. I can care for physical maladies, I can heal a boy’s shoulder and I can make his legs strong until he can lap this compound faster than the national record, yes? But it is not the mind. I miss minds, Major. Do you not think your own sufficiently damaged to need my expertise?”

Cleven’s eyes had squinted into slits, knowing and challenging, he didn’t deviate, “I said -what do you want.”

“You see then,” the doctor’s face beamed, “you do not allow or disallow. You can only -negotiate, yes? And that even, is a privilege that tomorrow? -we can take away. So do not, Major Cleven, make me take it away.”

Something in his Major’s face showed a meekness that was as horrifying to Brady as it was pleasing to the doctor.

“You see this,” the doctor was eager to go on, lifting the dreaded folder, it had Lu Smith’s face paper clipped to the front, and began to theatrically bury it beneath other papers, “this can stay here, if I am otherwise occupied. If more pressing matters require my skill. You have a woman with you of ethnic race, bronze, black hair -I can overlook her for these orders, even in the likelihood of the SS taking over, I can overlook on a few conditions.”

Brady could tell Cleven was hard at thought by the frantic twitch in his jaw, even as his eyes stayed mild and his mouth soft, he seemed to be trying to find that riddle answer. Brady felt sorry for him. There never was one in this place.

“You play many games to pass the time, you and your men, yes?” The doctor spoke again, having spent the past few deadly silent moments enjoying Cleven’s futile calculations, “I want you to play a game with me. I will not monopolize your time. But things must be fair, I cannot endlessly provide my expertise with no recompense, you cannot go on in your current state. The body flags, does it not? Once you have felt what I can do for you, you will respect my craft.”

Gale Cleven didn’t think he was likely to forget anytime soon those Adrenalin shots he’d seen Brady endure, or their symptoms of panicked sweating and tight chested jitters worse than any flak shakes, the utter inability to sleep. Or its side effect of thudding blood in his temples and his armpits and in his groin. The way Brady’s arms were littered with the puncture wounds. The obvious sight of the boy’s headaches that had him swaying in agony at roll call.

Maureen hadn’t been pleased about any of it, she’d said she knew of those kind of stimulants and they could kill a man by stopping his heart, said he should never take them. Certainly not to please her. Maureen was very far away from this hut and its gargoyle of an overlord and she needed to stay that way. Smith, he felt, was closer by the specter of her physical description.

“Games?” Cleven repeated and he felt rather than allowed his own mouth to smile, likely a wide and disbelieving thing because his heart might not accept the obvious here but his mind knew exactly what sort of games these would be. “We sure do.” he balled his fists on his arm chair to keep away the impulse to tap, “But I think you’ll find some of us -what did you call it? Allowing? I’d raise you; experienced. At these games.”

The doctor looked puzzled for once and on his own part Brady was sure he looked idiotically confused, although he felt the aura of Cleven’s meticulous precision in the air, some miasma of intent and calculation that made him snap to it and try to play along. Cleven’s smarts and intents were like that, tangible as a pet monkey on his shoulder but every bit as impossible to intelligently converse with.

“Sir,” Cleven leaned forward in his seat with that disarming cordiality that Brady had only ever seen him use on women or new recruits, “you and I know this game, s’why invite amateurs?” his meaning hung thin and obscure for a brief moment before he sucked in a breath and added his addendum, Brady should have seen it coming, “I can make it worth your while, a-and uh, and I am the one in need of treatment, like you said. Three's a crowd, sir. Send him out,” he didn’t even glance at the boy he was trying to save, just a callous jerk of the head to indicate his subject, “and we’ll play this, you and I -man to man.”

Brady felt his eyes smart, a wronged sort of gratitude jarring in his heart as he recognized the play. It was an emotion he’d only felt before in church at the thought of a perfect God allowing himself to be murdered for sinners. Gale Cleven, however less boisterous in his goodness to Brady than Bucky, was forever reliable in his sacrificial leadership, to be counted on to offer his back to be used as a stepping stone to get the objective done. Brady didn’t know him as well as Bucky, a matter of squadrons, but he always thought what everyone else thought- he was the closest thing anyone could get to Jesus Christ on earth with a toothpick. Something now about the savior’s scant loin cloth and the contouring rivulets of blood and the often omitted throng of mocking scoffers at the foot of the cross felt as shaming as it ought to have been all along. He wouldn’t let this sick fuck of a doctor see him cry, not when he could mistake gratitude for fear. Brady closed his eyes, neither of the negotiating parties were looking at him anyway.

“Oh, you mean for me to send him away?” The doctor repeated, comprehension feigned heavily in his voice, it came on stronger to Brady’s ears with his sight withheld, “But I am not a player, Major Cleven, I am artisan. It is for you two to produce what I direct. Don’t be rash, Major, don’t forget that even bargaining is a kindness I grant at my discretion. Your boy knows. See how white he has gotten. He shows more in his cheeks, you in your eyes, no? You would have made a fine contribution to our movement if you had been enlightened soon enough, Major Cleven, you are impeccably kaukasische.”

Gale gave him a sorry grin, one pained from something besides a lost chance. “But I’m not. Enlightened, that is.” his jaw shifted forward in a subtly cocky challenge, “So games. That your price?”

Brady had only seen the doctor look so pleased once or twice before, but this was a quiet, bone deep sort of satisfaction, no doubt only scored when having defeated someone as strong as Cleven. “Religious revulsion - pragmatic repression.” the doctor mused, looking to Johnny with the first epithet, then to Cleven for the second before smirking dreamily, “Clash them and who prevails? Mix them, and who absorbs who? Who wins?”

Cleven stared off just shy of the guy’s ear, at the window, a shift to boredom taking over. “Whadda you want us to-“

“Fascinating what can be found through reflexes, no?” The doctor rose for the first time and came round the desk, retrieving the small and now familiar little padded hammer before standing beside Brady, the also familiar feeling of the man’s hand settled heavy and reminding on his shoulder, right where it joined his neck. “One little tap, Major, and we can elicit a response the receiving party does not even think of, muchless grant permission for. See? Tap, and ah- there goes the arm.”

Nothing about the little taps to the elbow and the knees and the tops of his feet ever hurt, even when they were repetitive again and again some days. The bruising was minimal and the pain not to be categorized as such it was so trite. Far worse was the suspense of escalation, the graduation from elbows to the neck, to the jaw, or knees that climbed to the thighs and higher.

Cleven watched this mild experiment with the face of a man who knew it was a prelude and not a main event. “Fascinating.” he repeated politely with the wryest imaginable pronunciation. Brady didn’t manage to hold back a small laugh, all his discipline being engaged to keep from trembling under the doctor’s hand.

This only pleased the doctor who beamed between them as if a point had been proven. “He responds to you, already. Come, you will be my assistant, Major.” Gale’s brief look of horror was gratifying to Brady’s own but then that faded like a spark into an ever growing comprehension. “In my esteemed practice in Munich, we dedicated much time to this.” the doctor continued, “My assistants I trained to be meticulous, to let nothing affect their aim or their goal, there is a field of human responses Major Cleven.” the man warmed to his topic so transported that he seemed to expect Gale to convert right then, “All range of responses. We as a society have been taught to view some as bad or good, as incentives to action or inaction, compassion or anger. In medicine, it is only chemicals in the mind. Emotion becomes -chemicals. It is so beautiful, Major, to elicit without these boundaries. It is to view humanity as a God.”

Feeling already relegated like a corpse to the operating table, Brady glanced over to find Cleven giving the doctor a very unimpressed stare that would’ve fit well on horseback, staring down some Wyoming cow that had slipped its barbed wire and gotten itself into free country only to have its leg chewed off by a coyote.

“God, whatever he is, sure as shit feels more than you.” Cleven offered, mildly mannered still, he seemed conscious of the line between provoking and remaining entertaining, a cat finds no sport in an inert mouse. “I’m sorry I can’t be your assistant sir, but I’ll happily let you bang around on my tendons. Or -or let Jack here, he’d make a fine assistant. He’s been mine before.”

Assistant at the radio, where his quick mind was a whiz at translating Cleven’s chicken scratch and Morse dashes into news reports for the camp. The kid actually perked up at the praise and Gale felt his stomach go sour -more than it already was.

The doctor smiled at Cleven's repeated rebellion with strained forbearance. “Major, it is you who are to be my assistant. It is for the superior to break the propriety of his rank to heal his mind. It is the believer who I intend to dissuade. His religion makes him revolt to such touch, it is only societal shame that hinders you.”

Brady could feel the man’s hand jangling the chain of his dog tags, ones the man knew had a cross on them.

“Pragmatism and revulsion, Major, perhaps the two of you will switch places when this metamorphosis is complete. Or perhaps you will become one, and adapt, as all evolving creatures should. And as I have said, his face is telling, I was compelled to watch it from the moment I met him.” he extended the harmless little hammer to Gale. “Tap at my command, Major.”

____________________________________

He kept saying -Brady, Jack, the kid kept saying- with every thump and jerk, kept saying in an assuring mumble “It doesn’t hurt sir.” -like that made anything better at all.

Jack said it again when they both stumbled down the hut’s outdoor steps, both of them squinting into the beaming glare of the setting sun, the last hours of their day already used up unpleasantly. Jack was rolling his sleeves down, he was muttering “doesn’t hurt at all” as he hid quarter sized bruises along his forearms beneath drab olive, fastidiously fastening the buttons at his wrists. His hair looked close to black it was so drenched from sweat.

“Brady.” Gale insisted on a halt before the kid rushed right back to the combine. It didn’t feel right to have this chat on what was practically the quack’s front porch, but then, where better? “Look at me, stop a minute and- Jack.”

Brady never had been anything less than excellent at eye contact, poker face too. The doc was right, though, his cheeks gave him away. Especially when he was mad. He wasn’t mad now, not that Cleven could tell, Cleven wondered how many months of this it took for the anger to fade into whatever this brusque apathy was.

“Major?”

Gale itched at the bridge of his nose, his own sweat drying there. “This hasn’t got a damn thing to do with your pain tolerance.” he reminded, “Or that -that fuckin’ little hammer.” They both allowed a moment of disgust to pass between them before he went on, hands on his hips and all the old bearing he could summon, “Brady, he’s goin’ for our minds, you know that. Better than me. This hasn't got shit to do with pain and I need to know-“ Gale sniffed, rough and angry, rather like a bull himself, eyes frustrated and wild like Johnny had never really seen them, “Jack, I need to know what else. Because, he’s not gonna stop here. S’not gonna be just little hammers till we get out. He’s gonna want more and more and there’s not shit we can do besides-“

When he failed to submit to the reality of it all verbally, Johnny muttered it for him- “Besides give it. So they don’t have to. Any of them.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s jaw kept ticking but his maddened eyes were sagging with fatigue, without Bucky, even without Ida, Cleven was like a toy soldier sticking to the form of the drill without cognizant rationale for the need of it, he’d run out of ways to lie to himself. “I’m gonna try with the Commandant. But, they say the SS gonna take over anyways and-“”

Brady scoffed, nothing against Cleven it was only he’d been thinking of Fritz, of how even some of the guards weren’t free of the fucking lab coat, how the orders for sterilization were already here, how his sister was already mangled by them. “-That could backfire.” he observed, because he’d thought about it time and time before; and decided against it every time.

Cleven just shook his head. He was likely going to try. And that was kind of him, very like him to try to make another appeal to the Kommandant. And probably useless all the same “I’m sorry ‘bout your sister.”

Jack’s face folded into a grimace, ugly lines all around his sharp nose, looking fucking ancient for a brief minute in his grief. “I dunno what to- what to tell my folks.”

“Don’t.” Cleven suggested; none of them even knew if she was still alive, no need to write she was sterile if worse news was coming up right behind it in the mail.

“‘kay.” the lines smoothed a little.

“You in this?” Cleven asked Jack after a beat, “Really in this? For whatever they push? Because I’m not sure two American boys like us can think up what he might ask. And when he does, I need to know beforehand.” The bitterest look crossed his face before he added, “I wish I coulda spared you. I’d like to have, liked to have had you gone for a lotta reasons but, it’s not to be, so, are you in?”

Brady was already looking at him with more than agreement, more even than resolve, there was a fatigued compassion there that Gale didn’t know how the kid had retained through months of this. He also looked very young, suddenly, the shift made something in Gale’s soul twinge uneasily. “To the bitter fuckin’ end, sir.” he says with a man’s resolve, and Gale thinks of the boy’s father, and what that man might think of Gale for not managing to protect his son from this. He thinks of Ida and of her curious, hurt eyes, the inventory of their collective failures she keeps and does not judge, of Bucky who carries it all on his shoulders without noticing the particulars, Maureen and her sudden harrowing sobriety.

He wonders if company in this degradation will be the end of Jack or the saving. He has never been close to the boy, not like Bucky or even Benny, but he never did like him better than right now. Never wished better for him than right now. Never noticed his cold eyes had flecks of green when the sun slanted just so, they were warm in the light of a dying day and Gale tried to remember that, how they were, in case he ever needed to remind him. In case that died out, too.

Jack’s eyes had green in them once. And Gale was to blame for this. Whatever this might be.

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The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 - Anger | Chapter 5

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 7.4k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

When the sun started drooping in the sky, Sukuna finally pulled out of your cum engorged holes, and streams of white gushed free. You let out a slight sigh of relief as it all drained from you. Your belly had grown a slight bulge from trying to contain all of it. You both lost track of the amount of times he came in you, but it had to be a lot given the pool of white that spread within the red. He watched in amazement as your holes healed and went from gaping to normal. Both still slightly twitched from all the stimulation they had gone through.

Sukuna never thought he would be able to fuck someone like that without them tearing apart. He had always either broken or held back with his concubines, never getting to do all the things he wanted. And there was still plenty he wanted to do, but he knew you would be there to take it. He was in no rush. He looked down as your blood soaked body started to get up and stretch. No sign of the mindless, shaking mess that was beneath him just minutes ago.

“Where are you going”, he asked, back to his usual authoritative tone.

“Uhm, probably to my room to bathe. What were you wanting a cuddle”, you asked with a smile as you teased him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “You are coming to my room tonight, we will wash there”, he said while getting up and coming over to you.

You crossed your arms, “What if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t care,” he said as he reached out and touched you, teleporting both of you to his chambers.

Why wouldn’t you want to come with him? Most people would be tripping over the opportunity to go to his chambers. Hell, not even Uruame has seen the inside of them. You were his and you would stay with him.

You let your eyes wander around his chambers. They were not what you had expected. You had kind of expected a villain’s lair. Dead corpses and bones scattered about. Ominous lighting showcasing the horrors within. Instead, you were standing in a room that had a ceiling lined with light, natural colored wood, tucked away by black support beams. The walls were a dark charcoal gray adorned with black trim pieces partially hidden by large paper sliding doors. In front of you stood a wide circle archway that led to a private bathing area complete with a hot spring.

“It’s pretty in here, completely different from the rest of the palace”, you said as you continued to look around.

He looked at you and scoffed a little while pulling you towards the water. “So the rest of the palace is not pretty, then”, he asked as he led you down into the bath water. The bath was filled with the overflow from the hot spring, making it perpetually warm.

You smiled while looking up at him, “Yes. It’s hideous and should be torn down. Not to mention egotistical. I mean, when I look up all I see are your past glories”.

He quirked an eyebrow up while joining you in the reddening water. “Should I have them put new conquests up there? Perhaps, your naked body submitting to me, squirting out my cum, sucking on my finger”, he asked as he ran his fingers over your body. He didn’t know why but he loved touching you. He wanted you to always be there for him to touch, never leaving his grasp.

You laughed at his comment before you kicked his legs out from under him and watched as he fell fully into the water, dodging his hands when they reached out for you. Did he really have you? Were you really his? He didn’t and you would show him that. His head ripped up from the water with confusion and anger etched on his features. He grabbed for you again and again, but you kept yourself just beyond his reach. He was about to teleport to you when you disappeared and reappeared behind him, holding him. You ran your hands in opposite directions along his abdomen. One landed upon his hip bone, nails grazing over the slight protrusion. The other landed between his pecs, your thumb petting the skin gently. He reached to touch you, but again you disappeared.

He looked around for you but you weren’t reappearing. He started worrying that you had actually left when you emerged from under the water, your hair draping over your form as water flew through it. “Was it you who conquered me, my King,” you said, turning to look at him, diluted blood tracing down your body. You walked back towards him, turning the water beneath your feet into steps. You were slightly above his eye level as your hand slipped under his chin to tilt it up. “I may have been on the bottom but it was you who fulfilled all my commands without hesitation. You wanted to please me, I could feel it. So who conquered who”, you teased.

He grabbed your throat, “You think you could conquer me”, he laughed as he squeezed your throat harder. “Just because I fucked you and brought you here to bathe you think you hold power over me”, his grip started to crush your windpipe and make your eyes bulge.

You were just playing around, but of course he couldn’t take a joke when his fucking ego was at stake. You just laughed at him, “I hold power over you because you let me. I don’t even have to use real magic to get you to submit to me. It shows in your eyes every time you look at me, even when you hurt me,” you said through gurgles. You had figured he would resort to hurting you instead of owning up to his own emotions.

Pissed. He was seething. He was going to have a nice bath with you, fuck you again in the water. Make you feel good, special even. All you had to do was be good. Now, he was snapping your neck. He felt blood trickle down his hand as bone shards splintered through your arteries and skin. You were still fucking smiling. He clenched his hand further and your head popped off and into the water below, your body following it. That you had not expected. You anticipated him hurting you, making you bleed, but killing you? You didn’t think he would take it that far. He stood there for a few minutes still panting with anger. He conquered you, not the other way around. He couldn’t be conquered, couldn’t be owned.

Your body floated up, red pouring from the base of your neck. He stared at you waiting for you to reattach yourself but you weren’t. Surely you weren’t dead, right? He waited several agonizingly long minutes before panic started to set in. This wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to be able to break. You were supposed to be able to take all of his strength, all of his anger.

“(Y/N)”, he called out while pulling your body over to him. All of your energy was gone. Inside you was completely stagnant, empty. He started breathing quicker as he held your headless corpse. No, no, no this isn’t right. Why weren’t you coming back? You needed to come back to him, you weren’t allowed to leave him. He had never felt a negative emotion about death, but he was quickly being swallowed by them. The water around him started boiling as his energy ran rampant in it.

“(Y/N)”, he shouted over and over while shaking your cadaver.

“Yes, my King,” you said laying on the edge of the tub, feet dangling in the air and arms propped under you.

His face snapped to look at you before looking back to your “corpse”. It slowly turned back into water and slipped through his fingers. You hadn’t come out of the in between before. The figure he saw emerge from the water, was only that— water. You didn’t feel like being hurt, so you let it take the brunt for you. You were playing with him and it was making him seethe. He appeared on top of you, knees on either side of your body, cocks grazing your upper back as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

“Why do you hurt me? You are so sweet to me until I stop playing your game. You even went as far as killing me over a silly debate”, you say, your smile falling as the words come out. He was so sweet in earlier hours. Kissing up and down your body as if he worshiped you. Caressing your skin so softly it was like he was scared you would break. And now he was breaking you on purpose. You knew his intentions. He would hurt you over and over until you became the perfect doll for him. Now that you made him feel the way he did, he wanted to put you in a cage for only him to enjoy. You didn’t want that. You wanted to be an equal if you were going to be in a relationship, and you didn’t even know if you wanted him that way. You had just wanted sex and now he was making it more.

“Because you need to learn how to be good for me”, he said as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head further back till it forced your lips to part. He used the hole as a receptacle for his spit before kissing you. Why couldn’t you just be good? He could give you everything, more than anyone else ever could if you would just behave.

“I don’t want this.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What if I ran away”, you asked, watching as his face grew dark.

“I would hunt you down and break your limbs until they didn’t regenerate. And if I couldn’t find you, I’d go after Nanami or Shoko. I’d make them scream until you appeared”, he replied while kissing your hair line.

You teleported beside him, rushing him into a grapple. Two arms reached up to grab you but fell to the ground as they disconnected from his body. Tentacles of black shot through the bones in his legs and held them down. A dark mirage of wings contorted themselves from your back, the talons on the ends slamming down through his wrists and into the stone below. Your face was right above his and your scleras were darkening, teeth turning pointed, saliva turning black. Inhuman noises that sounded like strangled growls rang out everytime you breathed. Your energy was consuming you and he could feel it. Like a bomb waiting to go off.

“Don’t you ever. threaten. them. Or I will show you a world where you live as a human, not a lick of cursed energy in your veins. I will beat you over and over until you’re just a pile of viscera. And then, I’ll turn you into a curse and you’ll be forced to bow before me. The once terrifying King Sukuna turned into a mindless dog on a leash”, you say spitting black liquid onto his face.

The black tentacles continued to spiral up his legs to his abdomen. Poking him full of holes and binding him to the stone. Your consciousness was fading, you knew you needed to calm down before you went ballistic.

Sukuna had never seen you like this. Even your energy felt completely different. It was dark and cold like death, but also chaotic and fiery like hell. The longer it lasted, the less of your energy remained and the more the new one replaced it. He started to get the feeling that he might actually die if it took you over.

“Get off me, brat.”

You hated him. Every inch. He was so fucking up his own ass that he couldn’t interact with others in any intimate capacity. “This, whatever this is, is over. You will not fucking touch me again. I am not yours, you are not mine. I will work as planned and that is where our relationship will end”, you said giving him one last hateful look before disappearing.

“I’m sorry.” He said after you had disappeared. He hated himself for feeling the need to say it, hated himself even more for not being able to say it. He could have just killed you again and put you in your place. But he could feel the pain that radiated from you when you had watched him kill what he thought was you. It wasn’t physical, but emotional. It was supposed to feed his sadistic pleasures, instead it felt like he stabbed his own heart. He never wanted to feel that again. Never wanted you to feel that again. He knew you didn’t want to be chained down like he was now. He even knew it was selfish of him to force shackles on you. You were powerful in every sense of the word. You knew more about curses than anyone he had met, could do more than anyone. He should be proud to have someone he didn’t need to coddle. He was very old, but you were showing him things he had never seen before. Making him feel things he had always looked down upon. He could feel the feelings you had for him too. They were healing him in ways he never knew he needed. He didn’t want to lose them to hate.

Sukuna laid there for a while after his restraints dissipated, gaping wounds left in their place. He kept thinking of the look in your eyes. The hate in them was deeper than when he tore apart your hand. He wondered if the damage he had done was beyond repair, if you would look at him the way you used to again.

You had returned to your room still naked and partially covered in blood. You put a robe over you before peeking your head outside your door and asking your attending to start you a bath. They looked at you with mild horror from your appearance before hurriedly getting to work. Once it was ready, you sat and tried to relax but ended up angrily scrubbing your skin. Asshole. Dickhead. Dumbass. You wanted to hit him in the balls so hard he would sneeze cum. But through all the anger you were crying. You couldn’t believe he threatened them. You hadn’t really felt trapped here until he said that. You could always get there first and run away with them, but that wasn’t fair to them. They had people they cared about too and you knew Sukuna would wipe your whole town off the map if you ran. You could kill him, but you also couldn’t. You didn’t know why, but the thought of doing so made your whole body shake with grief. He killed you so easily, though. Without a second thought. You were stupid for getting close to him, letting him fuck you.

You got out of the bath and dried yourself off before putting on a nightgown. It was a long black dress made up of sheer layers. You tied a robe over it and sat on your bed. You were sitting there stuck in your thoughts when a knock rang out on your door. You could feel it was Geto but asked who it was all the same.

“It’s Suguru, I brought you dinner. I didn’t know if you had gotten the chance to eat.”

Your stomach growled at the thought. The last thing you had eaten was Sukuna’s finger and you wouldn’t even call that a meal. “Come in.”

When he entered he saw you on the bed, hair still wet and eyes slightly red. “Do you want to eat there or at the table”, he asked with what you noticed were two servings of food in his hand.

“Are you eating with me?”

He shrugged, “If you want me to. If not, I’ll eat in my room.”

You shook your head. Having his company would probably make you feel better, clear your head and give you perspective. You moved over to the table where you motioned for him to sit.

“Do you want me to move it back so you can sit across from me or?”

“Sitting beside you is fine. You’re not too smelly”, he said with a soft smile while sitting down, waiting for you to join him.

“I was asking out of hopes you would move given that you’re the smelly one. But I guess I can put up with it, since you come bearing food.” You sat down next to him and started eating. The food was delicious as always and warmed your body, but noticed he kept looking over at you and the way you sat while you both ate. “What is it?”

He just smiled and shook his head before putting an elbow on the table and propping a leg up just like you, “Nothing.”

“Asshole”, you said while shaking your head and smiling.

Silence grew between the two of you as you finished your food. Awkward tension bloomed within the air, you knew he had questions about what happened at the training grounds. You didn’t want to talk about it and he wouldn’t ask, but then the awkwardness would stay. So you gave in.

“You look like you have questions, it’s okay to ask.”

He looked at you with a sad look, “What happened when we left? Are you okay?”

You didn’t realize it, but tears started falling when he asked that. You weren’t okay. You felt like your whole world had shrunk to this tiny room and it was suffocating. You didn’t want to see Sukuna ever again but knew you would inevitably have to, and have to speak with honor when you did. You hated it. Hated it here. Hated him.

Suguru wiped your tears with his thumb before slowly pulling you into him. He smelled like cedar and jasmine. You wrapped your arms around him and let it all out. It had only been a few days and everything was already so messy and fucked up. You hated yourself for letting it get to the point it was at. Hated Sukuna for treating you like an object. Hated Uruame for attacking you when you hadn’t done anything. Hated the human part of you that felt these weak emotions. The emotions that kept you from just killing Sukuna and solving all your problems. You didn’t love him, but fuck you couldn’t deny the way he lit you on fire. The way your energies curled into one another until you felt like one. You were weak. You thought of the dagger the mother gave you, thought of your promise. You decided you would be human tonight and only for tonight. Tomorrow you would go back to being a monster. Tonight you were just a woman that hated herself.

You awoke to the sound of your servants knocking on your door. You faintly remembered Suguru laying you into the bed after crying into him for at least an hour. You stuck your palms into your eyes as you cringed from how you cried into him. You rolled around in your bed as you tried to fight off the memory before letting out a very long sigh. You told your servants to come in while sitting up in your bed.

“Good morning, ma’am. The King has sent for you. He said your training will start in an hour and you’re not to be late”, they relayed while bringing in your breakfast.

You dropped your head back and let out a groan. He was the last person you wanted to see. But you told yourself that you wouldn’t be dictated by feelings today. You would do your job, keep your head down, and act like nothing had happened between the two of you. You ate your breakfast and got ready, repeating that in your head like it was some sort of life-fixing mantra.

You were told to meet the King in the throne room instead of the training grounds. You weren’t sure if that was because of what happened yesterday or if it was preplanned. You approached the throne room and took a moment to collect yourself just like the last time you were here. Do your job, keep your head down, act like nothing happened. Servants swung the door open and you could feel Sukuna looking down on you from his throne while you entered.

He looked you up and down. You wore a black button up crop top, adorned with gold buttons, red trim, and his sigil on the back. He had requested it be put there when he looked over your clothes order, so that everyone could see you belonged to him. Under it, sat a black, fitted bodice that sank below the waistline of your pants. Your pants sat towards the tops of your hips and were loose around your curves. The slack bunched around where they were tucked into your steel toed boots. Beautiful girl.

“I heard you had summoned me, my King”, you said, keeping your voice professional.

“I did. Your training is going to begin today, or well not so much training as your first day on the job. I have a meeting with a few generals, at least one of which I am sure is plotting against me. I want you to get into their minds and write down who the traitor is and their plan. At the end, I will read it and gauge the others' reactions. Should they quickly condemn them, they will live. If they hesitate or defend him, they will die”, he explained.

The concept was easy enough. Get into their minds, find the traitor, discover the plan. “Are any of them sorcerers?”

He let out a little chuckle. “Gods no, they’re all weak little humans. I only keep them around because it keeps their troops in line. However, with you being here, the loss of some troops is not a big deal”, he said, trying his best to show you that he acknowledged your power. Acknowledged you.

Realistically he could cut down most of his troops and replace them with your curses if it was that much of a hassle. What better army than one that couldn’t be detected by most of the population? One that had powers overshadowing any human capabilities. You contemplated telling him about that option.

“Is there something on your mind?”

You looked up at him before shooting your eyes back down to the ground. “Well, I am not against your plan. I think it is good to make an example of the traitor, but it can also put contempt in the other generals’ hearts. I think it might be good to have a curse shadow the remaining ones. I would give them the ability to see it and tell them it was there to keep an eye on them. That only they could see it and wouldn’t be able to tell any of the troops about it. I think it would keep them in line with minimal effort on your part.”

“My, my, maybe you are meaner than me”, he said with a proud tone. He wanted to see you smile from his joke, but you didn’t. In fact, it felt more like you grimaced. But with your head down he couldn’t tell for sure. “Where do we get said curses?”

You twiddled your thumbs a little bit, something to look at and remind yourself to keep your head down. “I can summon them and order them to watch the generals”, you said flatly.

“You can summon curses? How will they know what they’re looking for? The curses I have seen haven’t had much of a brain”, he questioned while two of his arms crossed and the others rested on his chin and knee, pointer fingers tapping in contemplation.

You sighed not really wanting to go through all the details but going through with it anyway since you brought it up. “I can create curses from cursed energy. If there is a fear of something, I can use the energy and craft a curse that embodies that fear. Previously, I would use my magic to create hysteria around things I wanted as curses. Like zombies for instance. I wanted one so I used my energy to make it look like people’s loved ones had risen from the grave and were attacking the town. The word of flesh eating, undying creatures that should have already been dead spread to surrounding towns and thus energy for a curse was created. I took it and put it in a doctor that had been hung for experimenting on his patients. He was intelligent and knew about anatomy so he was the perfect vessel to put it into.”

He just stared down at you for a minute, processing the fact that you just said you created a zombie. Does that mean vampires could be real? Tch, he couldn’t believe you joked with him about that and made him feel so stupid. “So, to be clear, you can create curses. And you were behind the fall of Nanmoku? And the zombie hysteria? All because you wanted a pet zombie.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

He just laughed. You were fucking crazy. He rubbed his hand over his face, still slightly chuckling, his tongue feeling the inside of his cheek. “Show me him.”

“Okay, but you should know he is not exactly all there. I mean he is intelligent but crazy as hell. Like we will look sane next to him”, you said while summoning him. Black smoke pooled on the ground as hands with long overgrown nails reached around the edge and started tapping.

“Enough with the theatrics Miro”, you said while tapping your foot.

He pulled on the ground, shooting up and landing on the floor as the portal closed. “Yes my Lady, my apologies. I humbly offer my body to beat for my transgressions”, he said while crawling down in front of you. His back offered up to you in an arch, head shaking in anticipation as suppressed giggles fell through his teeth. His hair was stringy and white like a spider’s web and fell over his eyes. Eyes of light blue and dark brown that he had confiscated from his victims. His skin was pale with multiple holes carved between his neck and collar bones, making the the edges look like a connection of veins. His lips were pink and curved higher than they should up his cheeks revealing a perfect set of teeth, teeth that all seemed a little different. His abdomen was scrawny, the skin pulled taut across his muscles and dipping where his stomach was. Burn marks that resembled X’s went across each of his nipples and an O was scorched over his heart. A taunt for enemies to hit him there. He wore bandages that reached halfway up his abdomen and baggy pants that hung low over them.

The King looked down at him with lips curled in disgust. “So, what does he do?”

Miro looked up at the King as if just realizing they weren’t alone and sneered. “I can do anything my Lady asks of me. I can gut others, I can gut myself. I can bring people’s loved ones back from the dead and play house all day with them. Ooo I just love the way the little ones shake and sniffle and how the older ones comfort them and put on a brave front. None of them wanting to upset their returned family member. I play with my toys until they bore me and then I get rid of them all to make room for new ones. Some toys I keep, those that are strong. I keep them in my collection and use them to fight for my Lady. To keep her safe. To make her happy”, he said, getting more and more excited with each word. His whole body vibrated as he laughed.

You kicked him in the gut, his body rolling from the impact. “He didn’t ask you which meant you didn’t have permission to talk. Now pick yourself up and quietly sit beside me on your knees with your head down”, you said as your annoyance with him grew. You had always wanted a zombie but this one became crazier than you expected. Begged you to beat him, to experiment on him like you and Ieiri used to. The only upside of the crazy was that he was fully devoted to you.

He moaned out a laugh as he crawled next to you, tucking his knees under him, head down. You rubbed your face in slight embarrassment as you halfheartedly said, “Ta daa”.

You weren’t lying when you had said he wasn’t all there. Sukuna wondered if you had done something to make him that way or if that was just how he came. Crazy aside, Sukuna could feel a good amount of energy coming off of him, your energy mixed with another. It was undeniably stronger than any other curse he had ran into, and with intelligence he was all the more lethal. If you could really create and control curses on that level, he wondered just how many you had stored away. And how many people had died for your pleasure.

“You have more like him”, he asked.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Like him? No. Intelligent and strong? Yes.”

Sukuna sighed while looking up. “Who would you send with the generals?”

“It would depend on what they feared most. I would give them a curse born from their greatest fear, makes my curse stronger and them more obedient. Plus, watching a human consumed by terror is always fun.”

Little monster. “We will try it, but you will replace the army with curses if it ends with me having to slaughter the troops.”

You had already considered that an option so you had no qualms with that idea. “Works for me, my King.”

He hated that you weren’t letting him hear you say his name. Such a simple yet effective way to punish him. He got up from his throne and started descending down to you. Miro looked up at him before you smacked the back of his head, making him look back down. “You can dismiss him. He is not needed for the meeting”, he said now standing a few feet in front of you.

You looked down at Miro and he began to sink through the floor, back where he came from. Now that it was just you and Sukuna, the room felt awkward. Each step he took to close the gap made you feel like you were suffocating. You could see his black socks and sandals stop in front of your boots.

“Look up at me”, he said softly. Hand moving to touch you but not completing the motion.

You looked up at him, his eyes looked like they were withholding endless words that his mouth would not let out. “I shouldn’t have killed you”, was all he said before walking away and motioning you to follow.

In the war room, you sat beside the King, paper and quill in hand. The generals filtered in with their heads down greeting Sukuna with utmost respect. There were eight of them in total, four sat on each side of a long table with you and Sukuna at the head. They talked about various matters in politics that made you want to shove the quill through your ears. You were thankful you didn’t really have to listen and started poking about in the general’s head closest to you. He was a large man, not like Sukuna, but larger than most humans. He had a daughter and wife back home that he seemed to dote on. You could tell he did not like the King, but would never rebel for the sake of his family. You looked at memories of how his daughter ran into his arms when he returned home, just like the woman who contracted you. They both had wrapped their arms around their children with such care, hearts warm and full. You hated it.

The next man’s head was so bald it hurt your eyes to look at. It was like a mirror that refracted light right into your eyes, a very sweaty mirror. He had a wife that abused him regularly. Calling him names, hitting and throwing objects at him, sleeping with other men. He liked it though, got off on the abuse. A well respected general secretly a masochistic cuckhold. What a cliche, you thought. He had no thoughts on Sukuna. He was used to serving people and didn’t seem to care much about who as long as he had money to give his wife.

The man after him had long blue hair tied into a low ponytail. It looked better than yours and had you curious about what he used to get it so soft looking. You found out that he was one dark ass motherfucker when you went looking for the answer. He kept a haram of younger men at his mansion and tortured them regularly. Sometimes he even made them torture each other or themselves. His hair was so soft because he soaked it in a blend of his discarded servant’s organs and cum. He had heard hair needed protein to look nice and that was his solution. Cleaner methods existed but to each their own you figured. He liked Sukuna more than he should. He wanted to be chained up by him and used. He would follow him off a cliff as long as he continued to meet his gorey ideals. If Sukuna slipped up, his thoughts would shift to owning him instead. Sukuna not being a monster didn’t seem like an issue, though.

Next in line was a very buff yet very small man. He had a long red beard that showcased intricate braids. The hair on his head was also tied up in various styles and bright red. He hated Sukuna. You didn’t even have to really dig to feel the hatred he felt. Apparently, he had gifted Sukuna his daughter when she turned 18 and hadn’t been allowed to see her since. Ιt seemed he owned a massive farming setup that provided most of the food for the region. He had given up his daughter as an offering so that the King didn’t destroy the operation and condemn the region to starvation. He wanted to kill Sukuna, but would never make a move for the sake of his daughter and people. Pathetic. Not like you could really judge, though.

The fifth man had black hair that was cut close to his scalp and a scar that interrupted his hairline. It was him. You could hear all of his thoughts so loudly. Sukuna had murdered his daughter and son after his wife spoke out against him at a festival. You remembered hearing about it. He had strung the woman up by her own intestines for the whole festival to see. When her children saw it they cursed the King and exploded where they stood, a warning for all other viewers. He had lost his whole family that day and had to sit there quietly like a coward while they were killed. He planned to team up with the 8th man sat down. He had also lost his family to Sukuna because his baby would not stop crying at a different festival. Sukuna took the baby from the woman’s hands and bit its head off before throwing the corpse back in the mother’s lap. Ιt was then mother who wouldn’t shut up, so he silenced her too. Her head fell off without any movement from Sukuna. He turned to look at the general with his baby’s blood still flowing down from his mouth, challenging him to look up at him or step out of line. He even spat what was left of his son’s skull in front of him, but was met with no reaction. Pleased, he walked back to his seat.

Their plan was to poison the King at the next festival by dosing their newborns with poison as well as their new wives in hopes he would repeat his previous actions and ingest their blood. Sukuna may have been a monster, but they were no better using others as bait to be sacrificed for their petty vengeance. You wrote down what you learned and Sukuna’s lower left eye watched as you wrote. You slid the paper before him on the table. The generals eyeing it with curiosity. You sat there, bored and disgusted with the men before you, casually doodling on the leftover paper as you waited for the meeting to end.

When it came to an end and the generals were paying their respects Sukuna spoke. “So, what kind of poison did you plan to use, General Sho and General Ayato?”

The color drained from their faces as they froze. The others sat in confusion, but completely still as they noticed the air change.

“King Sukuna, whatever do you mean”, Sho, the man with short black hair asked with a clearly shaky voice.

The King smiled as he read out their plan and reasoning, their bodies shaking as they realized they were screwed. Sukuna looked to the other generals, “What do you guys think we should do about this little problem, hmm?”

Some closed their eyes, others smiled, but they all said “Punishment for treason against the King is death for the guilty and their family.”

Sukuna smiled as he looked at the other two, their heads finally raising to look at him, “Then I guess we have a decision gentleman”. Lines of blood appeared on their bodies before they fell into piles of pieces. “And before the rest of you go, my assistant has a gift for each and every one of you. You may look up.”

The remaining men looked up at you as you smiled, then they saw the monsters within the room with them. Weaponless, some of them started swinging before their assigned curses restrained them. “Now, I don’t think that is anyway to receive a gift from the King’s palace”, you said. “You’re supposed to smile and say thank you.”

Some of your curses pushed the men’s faces up into a smile and whispered the words in their ear, instructing them to say it. Fear filled the room until the air was thick. Some of the men saw what happened and immediately started thanking you profusely with wide smiles. The mother’s smile.

“You’re very welcome. They will accompany you every hour of the day to ensure no other coupes are designed. They will not interfere with your lives in any way. Only you and your fellow generals will be able to see them. Once you leave this room, you are to never mention them again. This is an order from the King. Failure to comply will be considered treason and death will be carried out immediately by your new friends.”

Their eyes were all wide, thoughts erratic and viciously mean, hands shaky, breathing short, but heads nodding in understanding. Sukuna told them they were dismissed and they all left trying their best to not acknowledge their gift’s presence.

Once the door closed, you let out a sigh and stretched your back. The meeting was boring, but the end was fun. Different from the work you used to do, but not entirely.

“That was excellent”, Sukuna said while looking at you. You peeked a look back before looking back down. “You can look at me”, he said hoping you would.

“I am okay my King”, you replied. You were still upset with him for killing you, even if he apologized.

“It wasn’t a question”, his patience with you was growing thin. He knew you were mad, and he guessed you had a right to be, but he was getting tired of it. He didn’t like the way you were making him feel. He would’ve just hit you until you acted better, but that approach was what got him here. He didn’t really know any other way to approach it, though. Never had a need to, never had feelings to hurt.

You looked at him, irked with the way he ordered you, “Yes, my King?”

“Stop calling me that”, he said as he scooted closer to you.

He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You didn’t want to, but part of you just wanted to give in and lean against him. “What would you liked to be called then? Huh? Lord Spooky?”

He just stared at you. Repeating the name a few times before he laughed. “I will let you call me Lord Spooky if you forgive me for killing you.”

“Did you hear the words that just came out of your mouth? You think letting me call you a pet name makes up for taking my head off?”

He pursed his lips together and shrugged, “I mean if you think about it, I technically didn’t kill you, I killed something that looked like you.”

You raised your eyebrows, lips twitching in anger as you slapped him across the face. He didn’t move much but blood did trickle from his cheekbone. From the look in your eyes, he knew he said the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was trying to make a joke. I just wanted to see you smile. I don’t like you being mad at me. It makes me feel weird and I don’t know how to deal with it without hitting you. But if I hit you, you just become more mad at me and I am starting to think you might go ballistic on me if I continue. I don’t want to fight you. Which is also weird for me”, he said. It was the first time you had heard it talk so candidly. It was hard to be spiteful towards him when he was being so open, made you feel like a child. So you rubbed your hand over your mouth and decided to be just as honest.

“I don’t like it when you hit me. Most people don’t appreciate being hit just saying. I also don’t like how hot and cold you are. One minute you are telling me sweet things and the next you’re literally killing me. I don’t want to be owned either. I know you think I am yours because you enjoy the way I make you feel, but I am no one’s. Not ever again will I be owned. Threatening me is whatever, but if you threaten my friends again, I will make good on the threat I made. I know you’re the King and have to keep up appearances, and if I actually did something majorly wrong, then I would understand hurting me the way you do. But don’t say you care about me and want me to open up and play around with you and then punish me for it. It isn’t fair and I won’t tolerate it. I don’t want to fight you either, but I will if it comes to it”, you told him while making eye contact. He sat quietly for a few minutes while processing what you said.

“I won’t hit you, unless you commit a great offense. I want you to joke around with me, but you may only do it when we are alone like this. Otherwise you need to respect me as a King and follow the rules”, he hesitated, whatever he was about to say proving difficult for him, “I am- I feel-… I regret threatening your friends and killing you, truly. I want you to be mine, and me to be yours. I can’t promise I won’t be possessive, but I will try my best to not control you. I want you to be happy when you see me, not full of hatred. I do care about you and I want you to enjoy your life here. As pathetic as it sounds, I would like you by my side. Today, you were phenomenal. The way you asserted yourself over them, toyed with them, it was so attractive.”

You could tell he wasn’t lying or speaking in half truths. These was his thoughts laid bare. You reached out and grabbed his hand, fingers holding it from both sides as your thumbs ran up and down his palm. “So where does that leave us, then?”

He didn’t really know. He had never been close to someone like he was you. You weren’t an enemy, or a toy to play with, you were you. An anomaly he never saw coming. “Wherever you want us to be”, he said as he moved one of his hands to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to go slow. Everything up until now has felt so chaotic, so rushed and messy. And I mean, don’t get me wrong, there were good parts. Some very good parts”, you smirked at him, “but we need more. We need to figure out how to be around each other without any hidden intentions, how to relax in each other, before asking for more.”

He caressed your face looking at your lips but holding back, “Okay.”

Notes: hehe this chapter was a pain to write. Hopefully it comes off clear and not confusing to read :0 Extras v v

- Miro would 100% fight Sukuna for the reader. Miro loves the reader unconditionally and has an arsenal with some faces we all know that will be revealed later, making him quite the pain to fight. He is also hard as hell to kill, because his whole existence is made from being undead and “unkillable”. Sukuna could do it, but it’d definitely take some effort.

- Poor bb Geto. He doesn’t know the King and reader fucked. He thinks that any screaming he heard was from you two fighting/you being tortured and that you started crying because it was too hard to relive. He regrets being the one that brought you here.

- Sukuna is finally learning how to use his words. He would never let anyone else know, he would tell them he beats you because that’s somehow more acceptable than talking to you. He will still have outbursts in the future and there will still be more hateful sex to come, but he is trying. When he thought you were actually dead it felt like his whole world stopped. The breath left his lungs, gravity felt too heavy, his body felt weak and hot, he hated that feeling. He hated how you felt looking at him holding your fake corpse too. He doesn’t want to ever feel that again. He is fr being forced to learn empathy.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 47.3k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.

[scribiel]

thank you is also a form of saying i love you

Jujutsu Kaisen! Suguru Geto x fem! reader tags: Suguru Geto x fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of insecurities (suguru's feeling a little insecure), written in first person (reader's) point of view

Suguru, when you told me, “I have flaws, it’s weird you know … to know that you are okay with that.” 

I stopped folding my laundry and took a look at you. “We are human, Suguru. There’s no way we can be an all rounder, no sharp edges kind of thing, Suguru.”

You laughed; I heard the bitterness in the air. “I know, Love. But you understand that sometimes, even if it’s not possible, we want to be perfect for our loved ones?”

I nodded. “I understand, Suguru”—I looked up at the ceiling—”I remember you really loved the mirrorball at our senior prom.”

You answered, “I do recall.”

I shifted my gaze at you. “You said it was so beautiful.”

“I did. Indeed.”

“Mirrorball is a sphere-like object. It’s almost a round thing, but almost. It’s not smooth; it has sharp edges, but it’s beautiful. Whatever it reflects, it’s beautiful. It may not be a perfect thing, but to its surroundings, it’s beautiful.”

You stopped for a while, eyes widened a little, and then a chuckle slipped out and heard in the air. “You remember I love mirrorball. That’s so very sweet.”

And then, there was a wave of delightness washed over me. You smiled as you added, “I only love the mirrorball and thought it was pretty because I saw you in that dress, under the flashy light of mirrorball. You were looking for me. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Suddenly, I felt like the air had escaped my lungs, I choked on my own saliva. Funny. But it caught me off guard. Oh Suguru, now you must know that. I can associate you with many beautiful things to ever exist on earth, but none of them can actually represent and match the beauty you bear; soul, physical, and mind. 

Maybe because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but let me tell you something: that you are pretty like sunset. Not the bright sunset, but the soft orange that comes along with gray clouds. And I am only the surface of the sea; for what all I am, is only able to reflect the magnificent view of yours. 

You and loving you feel so phenomenal. 

Like the rain on a summer day; raindrops under the beaming golden sun. It’s captivating. And when with you, I never not want to dance in the rain. Spinning in my best dress. And later, the golden sunray is scattered from the raindrops, and then comes many colors. Rainbow. Sometimes more; it’s so colorful, that whenever I shift my gaze, the colors are there. All of them at once. Iridescent. 

Like seeing roses bloom upon the cold white snow. It’s so distinct that no one on earth can question what lies before their eyes. No one on earth will question the love I have for you. 

You were born in February, you are the beginning to the ending of the cold, harsh, and ruthless winter. You bring spring into my life. Melting my frozen heart. You are the beginning of spring. Then, as the ice melts,  you can hear the river flowing; you can walk with a light coat with flowers and greens before your eyes; you can feel something so close to home, and then all you know is you are home. 

Although I have put you on a pedestal, you put me on something higher, perhaps you put a present on my altar, perhaps you think of me as something so deity when you say, “But you are more beautiful. No, let me correct that”—you make your way to me, putting your arms around my body; making me feel so many things, but the only thing that comes up in my head is home, because I am home, somewhere safe and sound—”you are the most beautiful thing. And I could never thank you enough. So, Love, thank you.”

I kiss your cheek gently, then whisper into your ear, “I love you too.”