#workplace stools

[paperconsumption]

we need to cure the epidemic of having to stand at every job

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to <3

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you. 

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally. 

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was. 

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries. 

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly. 

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet. 

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen. 

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away. 

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify. 

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat. 

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing. 

It almost felt like something a husband would do. 

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat. 

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you. 

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since. 

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry. 

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous. 

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work. 

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin. 

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip. 

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh  before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing. 

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy. 

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest. 

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit. 

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated. 

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought. 

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him. 

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again. 

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants. 

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum. 

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided. 

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night. 

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment. 

The ring of his phone was the break. 

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. 

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call. 

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon. 

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move. 

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt. 

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop. 

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay? 

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants. 

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem. 

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long? 

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me. 

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt. 

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes. 

Suddenly, you stand. 

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway. 

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down. 

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. 

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before. 

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer. 

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes. 

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can. 

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do. 

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice. 

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you. 

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs. 

He fucking laughs. 

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down. 

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before. 

You dash the spark of hope that it causes. 

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away. 

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours. 

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you. 

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat. 

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice. 

But he does, of course he does. 

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to. 

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm. 

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed. 

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants. 

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught. 

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you. 

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling. 

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements. 

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss. 

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair. 

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back. 

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it. 

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you. 

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts. 

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss. 

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay. 

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible. 

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world. 

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well. 

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it. 

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat. 

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing. 

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants. 

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can. 

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters. 

This is going to be miserable, you think. 

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help. 

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best. 

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable. 

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him. 

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you. 

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you. 

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact. 

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy. 

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side. 

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again. 

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs. 

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel. 

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you. 

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything. 

“What’re you huffin’ about in  here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight. 

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited. 

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly. 

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back. 

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you. 

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling. 

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do. 

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras. 

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them. 

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice. 

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back. 

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are. 

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people. 

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking. 

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue. 

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. 

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.” 

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back. 

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink. 

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses. 

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person. 

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient. 

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on. 

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance. 

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed. 

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body. 

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him. 

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him. 

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm. 

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties. 

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat. 

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve. 

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away. 

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes. 

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it. 

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body. 

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light. 

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night. 

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything. 

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about. 

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy. 

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone. 

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him. 

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely. 

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying. 

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.” 

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…” 

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you. 

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away. 

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom. 

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him. 

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head. 

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them. 

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material. 

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious. 

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take. 

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him. 

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh. 

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand. 

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants. 

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced. 

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good. 

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal. 

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug. 

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your  breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp. 

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious. 

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap. 

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are. 

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze. 

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body. 

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him. 

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again. 

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows. 

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger. 

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention. 

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. 

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside. 

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange. 

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock. 

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him. 

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it. 

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself. 

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body. 

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him. 

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away. 

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good. 

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair. 

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard. 

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat. 

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud. 

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum. 

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake. 

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes. 

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy. 

But it’s you. You’re special. 

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different. 

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy. 

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit. 

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you. 

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. 

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out. 

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it. 

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock. 

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you. 

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop. 

But you don’t. 

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you. 

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail. 

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax. 

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix. 

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation. 

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper. 

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good. 

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure. 

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips. 

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there. 

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge. 

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts. 

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant. 

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy. 

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises. 

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life. 

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again. 

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him. 

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock. 

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot. 

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still. 

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt. 

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours. 

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you. 

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you. 

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute. 

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you. 

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further. 

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much. 

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it. 

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact. 

So he does it again. 

And again. 

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it. 

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels. 

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock. 

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down. 

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk. 

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him. 

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent. 

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together. 

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him. 

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it. 

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him. 

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him. 

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

[indig0trolls]

The amount of hoops I'm going to have to jump through to get my foot looked at properly, I'm starting to think maybe I should have just spent 16 hrs at the er for a non emergency

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[pearlymel]

A Dragon and his Muse— Neuvillette

SUMMERY : As days turn to weeks, a wordless routine develops. You arrive, set up your workplace, then you lose yourself in your art. Neuvillette takes his usual seat, sometimes pretending to work but secretly admires at your creations.

WC : 8.5k

WARNINGS : Neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a painter, fluff, smut, crack, a sprinkle of angst, love at first sight (?), inexperienced Neuvi, NSFW mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, premature ejaculation.

NOTES : this is one of my favourite piece out of everything I've written, probably because neuvi is my main and he's very sweet <3. I wish it was more slowburn but i suck at thoseI hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it.

His office is too quiet. His mind is too loud. Too messy.

Everything seemed just not in place, it was the constant overwork and less appreciation, not that he’s really complaining. But it was taking a toll on his energy nowadays.

Constantly for 400 years.

A thud on the glassy window wasn’t enough to grab his attention, but once the noise continued, he finally turned his attention away from the papers

Ah, it was a bird. Knocking on the window using it’s beak.

oh dear, it’s friend joined, but rather than knocking on the window, it flew straight into the glass and fell down.

Neuvillette stood up slowly from his stiff cushioned chair, walking towards the large window, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

Upon reaching the window, he gazed contemplatively down, lost in thought, his gaze was drawn once more to the two birds. The first bird, still pecking at the glass with a persistent curiosity, seemed undeterred by its previous failure to gain entry. The second bird, now recovered from its fall, fluttered its wings and joined its companion, pecking at the window with renewed vigor. There was something almost endearing about their determination, a small yet poignant reminder of persistence and companionship.

He reached out to open the window, so they can fly away. This place isn’t suitable for them after all.

His eyes fell to a certain melusine, unmoving. Just like a statue.

And there you where, someone he didn’t recognize, he noticed how your hands were covered in all sorts of paints and stains. Your hair had random streaks here and there, and the look on your face… you were enjoying yourself, despite looking a bit serious.

Hm, he tilted his head and continued to watch you paint the melusine, it was a bit relaxing to say the least, though he couldn’t help but observe your features more and the way you dressed up.

You definitely weren’t from Fontaine.

Perhaps… a tourist? He thought then leaned against the edge of the window, crossing his arms.

He was too lost in thought that he didn’t notice the paint on your fingers that are now on your face. A smudge of dark blue paint right under your eye.

The dear melusine abruptly stood up from the wooden stool chair, and it’s like she was able to read Neuvillette’s thoughts, she gestured you to bend down so she could wipe the stain off your under eye.

You both laugh, a sound that seemed to break the tranquility of the room in the most gentle way, although not quite audible from above, it was calming to hear such noise. Neuvillette observed this interaction with a faint smile, feeling a strange sense of warmth in his chest. It had been a long time since something so simple had brought such a calm feeling to his chaotic mind.

This is embarrassing…

With a shake of his head, he took one last glance down then returned back to work, where he unfortunately belonged.

—

he doesn’t even know why he’s standing by the window again, it’s been days since he admired, observed you painting.

One day it would be the nature, the next another melusine, then a random couple or a best friends.

But you weren’t there today like he expected you to be, it’s has only been a week since he was watching you, did you already leave Fontaine?

He sighed, he knew it wouldn’t be forever to watch some random stranger have fun with the colors, but he was a tad bit disappointed to find you gone so soon.

And now be finds himself in lyney and lynette’s magic show, sitting with the crowd on the front row, hands resting politely on his lap while he waited for the preparations and people to join in.

“I’m so sorry,” he hears a voice from behind him, followed by a gentle thud, the person most likely apologizing for bumping into somebody, he doesn’t pay much mind to it to turn around.

This person walks through the narrow row, carefully stepping past other seated passengers, muttering quiet ‘excuse me’s’ with each step. They finally reach his row and, with a polite nod, maneuver past him, their bag brushing lightly against his arm. After what feels like an eternity, they let out a long sigh of relief as they settle into the seat next to him, adjusting their belongings and making themselves comfortable.

Today is crowded, he thought, glancing around the packed space.

He blinked in surprise when there were fire poles starting at the stage, everyone clapping and gasping in excitement. A laugh emitting from next to him, followed by the rapid claps of their hands.

The laughter rings in his ears, it was almost familiar, listening to it in the air… relaxing as the colors splash—

Oh,

Oh.

Neuvillette is too afraid to even look to confirm it was you, sitting next to him all along. He was frozen in place, gloved hands gently clenching on his thighs as he kept his eyes glued to the stage.

Wait, why would he even be nervous? Maybe it was odd because he kind of knows you in a sense, but you don’t.

He finally got the courage to glance at your way, trying to be as discreet as possible. And there you were, the same paint-stained fingers now clutching your bag, probably full of brushes, eyes wide with wonder at the magic unfolding on stage. You turned slightly, catching his gaze for a brief moment, and he felt like he was caught in his act, both of you awkwardly staring at each other for a good five seconds before you awkwardly speak.

“It’s like a cinema,” you utter out to him, and he’s bewildered. A… cinema?

You both then awkwardly adjust back to your seats, continuing to watch the magic unfold like nothing ever happened.

Maybe he should’ve said something instead of leaving you hanging like that.

At the end of the magnificent show, the crowd claps in sync, and Neuvillette notices how your eyes shined in awe at the twins bowing down.

“Your first time?” Neuvillette decides to speak this team with a lot of thinking through.

“yes.” You nod, “I've never seen something like this…”

And he hums, observing how you were excited over this little thing he sees occasionally. Was it that rare?

“I feel like it is rude to be speaking to you without letting you know of my name,” he clears his throat, “I am Neuvillette.”

Such a unique name, you think. “I'm…” you say your name out firmly, “I'm a painter or an artist.”

“i know.”

You raise both of your eyebrows in shock, have you gotten famous already?

Upon seeing your expression, Neuvillette's eyes widen slightly in horror, it now sounds like he was some sort of stalker watching your every movement.

“What i meant is that.. that I've seen you paint.” he clarifies quickly, keeping his voice smooth and composed.

Seems like you've really earned yourself a medal.

“It's nice meeting you, Neuvillette. But i have to go…” plus you suck at small talks, so this was a good excuse.

“right, my apologies. Be careful on your way out.”

Neuvillette feels… odd, to say the least as he watches you leave in a hurry with your bag slinging over your shoulder.

You seem interesting, like a new breath of fresh air, and he wanted to know more about you. Anything to talk to you more to ease the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Alas, he doesn't have time to make new friends, he'll only have to hope to bump into you next time.

—

Another broken quill.

Neuvillette watches as the ink runs down on the paper, completely ruining it, and he sighs to himself.

The weather is awful today, the rain just continues to pour down because of today's trial. What even is justice anymore?

He pushes himself out of his chair, maybe watching you paint will ease the amount of work—

But all he's met with is the harsh rain, remembering that obviously you wouldn't paint in such weather.

I ruined their day, Neuvillette thinks. And it only causes another frown to appear on his face, although the frown leaves as quickly as it came when he narrowed his eyes outside the window, watching a figure sitting under the building, seemingly waiting for the rain to pass.

Upon the realization it was you, Neuvillette doesn't hesitate for a moment. Without a second thought, he leaves his office with quick movement, the rain is still falling heavily, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is reaching you.

There you were, sitting unbothered right outside, your legs stretched on the concrete with a notebook on your lap.

“You…” it was the first thing he managed to utter, and yet it was enough to catch your attention. “Oh, it's you.” You smile at him, standing up while dusting the dirt off you.

He should've told you to stay seated, to not bother you.

“I'm sorry about our last encounter, i didn't know you were the Chief Justice of Fontaine.” You quickly say out, your hands behind your back and your head lowered.

“No apology is needed.” He tries to reassure you, “I am more concerned about your well being. The weather is inconvenient for your art.” And the slightest frown appears on his face again, but you surprisingly don't seem as sad as he was. “When the sun comes and the rain stops, the prettiest rainbow and sight touches the sky. And it's worth waiting for—besides, I'm not bothered by it at all.”

Neuvillette only stares down at you when silence follows after, he feels reassured back that the rain, caused by his emotions, didn't make you upset.

And you notice, the way his shoulders seem to relax, his eyelids no longer weary, showing the slightest softness to it, and the downward curl of his lips disappearing in a matter of seconds.

The rain.

“Oh,” you watch as the rain starts to slowly stop, leaving only a few patters and drops of the earthy scent lingering in the air. “The rain stopped.” You seem more cheerful, he noted. You sat back down on the concrete, watching the sky brighten once again.

It's been a while since Neuvillette had seen something so simple and pure. And he would like to join you this time as you talk about your love for colours.

“I'm not sure if it's appropriate to ask someone like the Iudex to sit with me,”

“… i would love to join you. But please, just address me by my name.”

—

Today's sight was different, it was more colourful, more cheerful, was he the only one who was cooped up in his office while missing out the fun?

Neuvillette looks around, left and right, there are melusine's with colours and drawings adoring their faces, adding a bit or—more personality to each Melusine.

Even children and adults.

"Good morning, Sedene," he talks to the melusine right outside the door of his office, his eyes lingering on the butterfly painted on her cheek.

"May I ask what the face paints are for?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. “It's from the artist, Monsieur. One person asked for their face painted, so everyone wanted one.” She responds instantly, pointing at the drawing on her cheek. Neuvillette's eyebrows raise in surprise at Sedene's revelation. It seems your artistic skills continues leaving a lasting impression on everyone.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he processes this piece of information. "I see," he murmurs, his curiosity only growing stronger. "And where might they be at?”

Sedene hums, turning around to point outside, “they should be right outside.” his gaze flicks to the entrance. So you're nearby, and he can't deny the flutter of anticipation he feels at the thought of seeing you again.

He clears his throat, "thank you, Sedene," he says before nodding in farewell and making his way towards the entrance.

There you are. Giggling while talking to each one in a soft matter, and the Iudex can't help but be mesmerized by the way you work, the concentration and care you pour into every brushstroke.

The sight of you amidst the children and melusines, their faces adorned with vibrant colors, is both heartwarming and intriguing.

“Monsieur!” Neuvillette visibly freezes when you call out for him, and he glances at you, your hand waving for him in the air.

He must've been too occupied admiring your work.

His legs seem to lead the way towards you on command, watching how your smile only brightened, “take a break, want me to paint your face? Or maybe your hand?” You ask, gesturing him to sit on the stool infront of you, and the others giggle.

“i suppose I can't say no…” he replies softly, taking the glove off his left hand to stretch out for you.

“and what symbol would you like?”

“a water droplet, perhaps?”

You begin almost right away, taking some blue and white paint, blue for the colour of the droplet, and white for the shiny details.

Your hand envelopes around his, and while it's a normal gesture, it doesn't stop Neuvillette to make him have weird feelings stirring in him, how your fingers brush against his skin, he notices that. Or when you squeeze his hand unintentionally to focus perfecting the shape, he also feels that.

“you have nice hands, Neuvillette.” You whisper while now adding some white highlights, and this time, he squeezes your hand unintentionally. “Thank you.” He manages to say something back to your compliment.

Just a normal compliment, nothing to overthinking about.

“All done.” The warmth of your hand leaves his, and he raises his hand infront of him to look over at the final finish.

A symbol that represents his love for water, he couldn't be more satisfied with it.

“I will see you next time.” You wave once again at him before tending to your other ‘clients’.

Next time, it's like you're also wishing to see him again.

That day, Neuvillette tried not to wash off the symbol on his hand, wanting to keep it on for as long as possible.

And now, here you both are again, about the next day.

Neuvillette listens intently as you talk to him over a cup of tea, his eyes fixed on your face as he absorbs the details of your story. The mention of your journey from one nation to another makes him sit up a bit straighter, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, that sounds like quite the long and eventful journey," he muses out loud, "But to uproot your life and come a lomg way here, it's quite a bold move.”

You take a long sip from your tea cup, “how so?”

"Well," he begins, "it takes a certain amount of courage and determination to leave everything behind and embark on such a journey. It's a significant change and a leap into the unknown, which most people tend to shy away from.”

To be fair, it was your first time travelling out of your nation, you never intended to visit Fontaine first, but you heard about the lovely views this nation has.

"I understand, for me... I just needed to see the other nation's aesthetic and culture. So I won't be staying here forever."

Won't stay. That's all Neuvillette heard that came out from you, "Ah," he whispers, his voice stiff, "I see. So you don't plan on staying in Fontaine permanently, then?”

You shake your head, "Oh no, i plan to stay for a certain time before visiting another nation... Maybe sumeru next.." you continue talking, not noticing how stiff the Iudex has gotten, mindlessly speaking and spouting about your next travel. Each word out of your mouth about your future travels and eventual departure from Fontaine causes a hint of disappointment to grow in Neuvillette's chest. He listens in silence, his expression growing more sullen with each passing moment.

He had grown accustomed to your presence, enjoying your cheerful banter and easy conversation. The realization that you don't plan on staying in Fontaine for good is a bitter pill to swallow.

—

“Monsieur, you have a gift.”

Neuvillette remembers Sedene delivering a vase filled with white flowers earlier, she says it's a gift from you.

And until now, hes continues glancing at the vase sitting on his desk while he handles some papers. The question was, what was your intention behind this beautiful gift? Or was he perhaps overthinking the whole situation? Maybe you just gave it because it has art or some meaning behind it… sure, he could think of that.

But he wants to think that you gave it because of something more, because your heart raced everytime you both talked, or how his whole mood would change when he hears you laugh as he makes a silly joke to try and be light-hearted.

Poor Neuvillette, he doesn't understand these feelings that he felt for you, he thinks he's being a creep with you.

What if you weren't comfortable in his presence? He doesn't know, he wants to understand, understand these human emotions he was feeling deep in his heart.

He feels hot from overthinking, even though the weather is good enough to walk around without sweating, his hands clench against the sides of the tables.

He can't concentrate.

Neuvillette calls for the melusine again, informing her that no one is allowed to enter his office for the next three days.

—

“he's sick?” Your frown deepens when Sedene explains to you to why she barricaded your way from entering the Iudex’s office.

“Monsieur Neuvillette told me not to let anyone enter for the next three days.” Sedene says cautiously and you both just stare at eachother. “What if he needs medicine?”

“he insists he doesn't.”

“Being sick isn't good, what if he's unconscious right now?”

“oh no, don't worry.” Sedene smiles to try and reassure you, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “… can you send him this instead then?” You hand her a paper bag filled with different desserts you both agreed to try—for a break.

“Right away.” She takes the paper bag and skips her way through her desk to put it on the back.

You're so evil for this, but you're determined.

You hurriedly and quietly make your way inside his office while she was distracted, and when she peeked her head up to see you gone, she just shrugged it off, thinking you left already.

You don't move further when you see his head resting on top of his desk, his hair splayed out messily and his arms under his forehead.

You're concerned, just how could anyone leave the chief of justice to suffer all alone when he's done so much? It didn't make sense.

You don't mean to startle him when you were by his side, your fingers brushing over the burning skin to check his temperature and your eyebrows furrow.

But your wrist were suddenly being grabbed by him, and you gasp. His eyes half-lidded when he starts examining your wrist, still unaware that it was you in this very room with him.

When Neuvillette takes in your scent that seems to linger on your skin, his eyes snap up towards yours and he pushes himself away.

“I-i’m sorry—” Neuvillette was quick to fix his disheveled self, one you've yet to see. The Iudex that always kept a presentable appearance seemed to be dazed at this very moment.

“I'm sorry,” you echoed his apology, not meaning to entirely frighten him with your sudden appearance. “I heard you were sick, so i wanted to check up on you.”

Neuvillette had one had gripping the wooden desk to the point his knuckles turned white, and his eyes diverted his attention away from your face, “i assure you.. I'm fine.” he stands up, hurriedly, turning around to somehow avoid you.

Only if you know, you'd be disgusted from him. He needs to drive you away from here—or else you'll drive him towards insanity.

“can i.. check up and take care of you?”

damn it. Who is he to refuse? Especially when you asked so nicely.

Neuvillette is now seated on the couch per your instructions, a blanket wrapped around him because you were convinced he felt cold despite his fever.

Sedene is now not even surprised you didn't listen to her, she only sighs as she brings the herbal tea you asked from her.

“It won't work.” Sedene tells you flatly at the door, but you take the cup anyway, “call me if you need anything more.” She says one last time before you wave her off.

“here, herbal teas are the best when you're sick.” You carefully hand him the tea cup, “it's hot.” You warn him softly, and he takes the cup just fine—thanks to his gloves.

“did you get the tea from Wriothesley?”

“… who?”

“no—nevermind, thank you.” He offers you a weak smile before nearing the cup close to his lips, then inhaling sharply to take in the scent of the strong herbs, just anything but your scent.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You ask while adjusting the blanket around him and he only nods while taking a slow sip.

Leave. He wants to tell you, it's already dizzying.

He crosses his legs before clearing his throat loudly, almost like coughing on purpose.

And you are already scooting closer while patting his back, you're doing the complete opposite of what he's trying to let you do. “Are you okay?” You tilt your head to take a better look at his face, his neck twisting to the other side. And you notice just how red the tips of his ears were.

“How about i fetch you some cough medicine?”

“I will be just alright without it, thank you.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, he seems to be refusing everything. Or maybe he's just stubborn when sick?

“you need to eat,” you stand up to grab the paper bag filled with croissant that you bought earlier from a nearby bakery.

You don't know what his favourites were, so you bought a variety of things.

“this one is not sweet, it's buttery.” you rip a small piece for him to try, but he still keeps his head away from you.

You are already frowning, “Neuvillette, are you upset with me? Could you please look here? I just want you to get better…”

That's all it took for him to snap his head back to your attention, he would hate to be the source of your sadness, and that little change in your tone said it all.

You smile when he faces you, “say ‘ahh’.” You laugh quietly to yourself as you near the piece closer to his lips, and he only watches in amusement at first.

“i didn't poison it.” You joke, and it manages to make his lips curl, “I'll eat it first to prove it to you,” you now piece of croissant between your teeth before on it with your mouth closed while humming.

The remenats of the croissant lingered on your lips, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away from your bottom lip.

You notice, of course. Assuming it was crumbs, you glide your tongue along your lower lip, leaving a glossy sheen to your lips.

You weren't even trying, his mind just decided it was attractive coming from you.

And his breath quickens, his pupils dilate, his hand slides along the couch right to your side, and god you smell just so swe—

“Neuvillette?” He blinks, and he's met with your confused face. Just then he realizes his head was tilted to the side, gestured to leaning in.

Oh god. You're going to so hate him.

“leave.” He abruptly stands up, brushing the blanket off his shoulders to walk towards the window, opening it for him to breath some fresh air. “… please.”

“Okay.” You don't argue back, you respect his privacy of being alone. And you stand up to carry yourself out of his office before shutting it close.

Sedene wants to ask you what happened, but she doesn't bother when she sees how your hand is resting above your chest to feel the quickening of your heartbeat as you slowly make your way out.

What was that?

—

“I owe you an explanation.”

“you literally don't owe me anything,”

“Do you hate—”

“Neuvi, i don't.” you tap at his arm, giving him a sincere smile before laughing. “It's not a big deal. Sick people tend to be stubborn.”

Neuvillette has healed after a week, and he immediately asked for you to hang out together again after he fully recovered, and you suggested you both talk over a picnic.

That's how you find yourself under a tree, above the cottony blanket beneath both of you with a basket of goodies on the side. You also brought two canvases with you, because why not?

Neuvillette contemplates whether he should tell you about his true nature, he fears you'll never talk to him afterwards.

“Something's on your mind,” you mindlessly speak as you put the canvas on his lap, “let's paint together, I'm sure it will ease our minds a bit.”

He now focuses on the way his brush strokes the white canvas, now filling it with different colours, he wants to try every colour, and you encourage for him to do so.

“i am not who you think to be,” Neuvillette starts as he continues gliding the brush.

“Mm, do tell. Are you a fairy?”

You earn a chuckle from him, and you chuckle right back, “or perhaps a merman?” You raise an eyebrow, yet your eyes don't leave your art.

“neither.” He sighs, “I am the… Hydro Dragon Sovereign.” He mutters under his breath, and he could see from his peripheral vision how you seemed to stop your work.

Both of your eyes meet, his of worry, and yours of curiousity and shock.

“no wonder,” your voice lowers and his eyebrows furrow before his eyes widen when you reach to brush your fingers along the shape of his ear. “It makes sense now. This is very interesting.”

He's at a lost. You were not upset, nor angry or anything, you were more amazed than any of these pessimistic emotions.

His shoulders relax, he was worried about nothing. It was you after all, the most understanding, gentle human being.

“thank you for telling me.” You now keep your hands to yourself, “as for me,” you turn to hold your canvas again to show him your newly art piece.

“I'm actually a turtle.” You try not to burst out laughing when you show him the detailed drawing of a baby turtle next to a pond, he looks quite shocked and mortified.

“… i would not like you to be a turtle.”

“why? Because they're slow?”

He shakes his head while trying to hide his smirk, “That's one,” he quips before it was his turn to show his canvas, “you remind me art.” You witness his painting, and you think it's the most beautiful sight.

It's a brown canvas with all sort of colours that blend well together, and you could clearly see the flower at the bottom of it, showing that it was growing. “I'm jealous,” you pout, “i should've painted a dragon, had i known you were one much earlier.” You groan before making a mental note to yourself of what your next art should be.

Neuvillette laughs. A genuine sound coming from him as his hand finds his cheek to try and hide any signs of redness. The sound makes you feel the familiar feelings whenever you were around him, shyness, happiness and the racing of your heart.

He calms down after a breath before speaking again, “I trust you won't spread our secret.”

“The secret will die with me.” You reassure him. “though i am curious now, maybe i should buy books about dragons?” You speak your mind while smiling mischievously and he shakes his head in response, “you shouldn't tire yourself with such matters.”

“it's not tiring, it's more interesting.”

"I understand your curiosity," Neuvillette replies with a gentle smile, his eyes softening at your enthusiasm, and he keeps his attention to you, since you're everything he ever thinks of these days.

“I will miss this.” You prop your elbow on your thigh as your chin rests on the palm of your hand, “i know you're a busy man, and having the privilege to meet you like this so often… i feel lucky.”

No. You? Lucky? He's the lucky one. You're the only person he's excited to see after a long trial. The only person he's enjoyed having company with in a very very long time.

He had grown quite fond of you in the short time you've known each other, he forgets that you'll leave soon, "When... when do you plan to leave Fontaine?" He asks, his voice reluctant.

“… in two weeks.”

Neuvillette nods slowly. A week... That's all the time he has left with you. He's quiet for a moment, processing the information. Then, he speaks up, his voice quieter than usual, "just a week, huh?”

You can feel his mood shift, and you can't help but be upset. You think you have upsetted him a little too much, you want to reach your hand out to him… but you keep them to yourself when you see how he seems to ponder in his own thoughts.

—

The weather is bad. You note, the clouds seem to darken as you continue your walk, a few droplets falling from the sky and right on your cheek, and you quickly hold your bag close to you, you can't afford ruining your art supplies now.

You wanted to pass by Chioriya Boutique, you hear it's a popular fashion label, but with the current change of weather, you will most likely postpone your plans to tomorrow.

Oh no, you need to seek shelter. Rain is pouring harder now, and you witness how the citizens expressions turn to disappointment.

The kids playing nearby stop their feet from kicking the ball around as well.

“hydro dragon, hydro dragon! Don't cry!” You're surprised to hear one of the kids chant and run, was this some fontanine thing that you didn't know about? Come to think of it, you heard it once when you were painting on one rainy day, but you didn't pay much mind to it.

You smile at the silly words as you try to imitate them, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't…” your smile drops when you realise something, and your eyebrows furrow.

Hydro dragon? Crying? Could the rain possibly be—

You don't waste time when you begin running towards Neuvillette's office. The only place where you're guaranteed to see him.

The rain is pouring harder now, drenching your clothes and hair, the puddles splashing from your feet and dirtying your shoes and pants, but you're too focused on getting to him to care about your condition.

Finally reaching the doors to his office, you barge in, panting slightly from the rush.

“Neuvillette!”

Neuvillette turns away from the rain-soaked window, his eyes widening with surprise and a little startled as you burst into his office, panting and calling out his name. He takes in your drenched appearance, confusion and surprise etched across his face.

"Are you okay? Hurt?" He asks, striding towards you. He's worried. He's afraid of what must've happened to you.

"N-no but—the rain, are you.. upset? Is the rain from you?”

Neuvillette's eyes flicker away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. He had hoped no one would catch on to the connection between his emotions and the weather, but you being here, figuring it out after that children's chant, means he can't deny it.

His heart aches, yet he doesn't want to lie to you, "yes," he admits, "the rain is... it's a result of my emotions.”

You take a step forward while water drips from your hair strands, “is it my fault?”

He shakes his head vigorously as you blame yourself for his upset. "No," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's... it's not entirely your fault. Yes, you're leaving, and I'm... I'm not taking it well, but my emotional outburst isn't your responsibility." He, as well, moves closer to you, his fists clenched to his sides.

“i don't know, i don't like upsetting you.” You frown.

Seeing the sadness in your eyes, he reaches gently to touch your damp hair, his fingers brushing a few stray strands out of your face, "you're not upsetting me," he reassures quietly. "I... I'm just struggling to accept the thought of you leaving. That's all. It's not your fault.”

Your arm reaches out for him, Neuvillette stiffens a little when he feels you wrap your arm around him. Your shivering body against his own, your face buried against his shoulder... it's both soothing and stirring.

His heart races in his chest as he gently returns the embrace, one arm encircling around your waist, and the other holding you close, it's comforting, you feel warmer, even when you feel your eyelashes dampen a little.

His hug is gentle, tight, it's as if he's hugging your soul. Just when you were the one who wanted to comfort him.

“I will miss you.”

“so will i, although I'm just a normal person.”

“No, you're not.”

“how so?”

Neuvillette presses his lips together, "You make me feel things I've never felt before," he confesses quietly. "You make my heart race, my palms sweaty, my mind confused... yet, in a good way. You make me feel alive.” you lift your chin from his shoulder, your hand coming up to caresse the smoothness of his face, and your lip curls upwards.

“Can i…” your eyes are glued to his lips, and you don't sense yourself nearing closer to his face. Neuvillette's were wide when you come closer and closer to his face, his hand fisting the fabric of the back of your clothes too tightly, and he gasps quietly as your cold, damp lips meet his own.

he's too stunned to respond.

But as your lips remain pressed against his, he slowly melts into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. This was his first kiss, and it was with you, the person who'd stolen his heart in such a short span of time.

Neuvillette can't believe what's happening. Your lips against his, the way they fit together perfectly, it makes his heart race in his chest, his head spin. He reciprocates the kiss, his lips moving gently against yours.

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to push yourself closer, your fingers brush at his hair, and it makes him shudder.

you kiss him harder, your lips ravishing his own. He follows your lead, his inexperience showing in his slightly clumsy, but enthusiastic response as you smack your lips in soft kisses over and over again.

You seperate your lips away from his, but it doesn't last before your thumb parts his lips gently, “open your mouth.” You whisper, he obeys, slowly opening his mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

An involuntary moan escapes Neuvillette's lips as you plunge your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. He's never experienced anything like this before, his arms tighten around your waist, his fingers digging slightly into your hips, as he responds to your kiss, his own tongue clumsily trying to match your pace.

It's addictive. His taste, his touch, you feel selfish enough to want him all for yourself.

You both pull away when you fell the oxygen run out from your lungs as you inhale back sharply. Your hazy gaze meets his half-lidded one's and you think you've never seen such a prettier sight.

“… have i gone overboard?” You whisper, and he swallows thickly before resting his forehead against yours to close his eyes, “no..”

The rain has stopped, the pattering against the window nothing more than a soft drizzle.

He runs his fingers through your damp hair, feeling how it clings to your face, and how your eyes seem to lit up.

A soft smile plays on his lips as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. The world outside seems to have calmed along with his emotions, mirroring the peace he feels in your presence. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, savoring this intimate moment between you.

“you have your own life, your own path to follow. I can't keep you here, it's not fair to you.” He wants to keep you to himself, he's too selfish, and he knows it.

And you're greedy, and you know it.

You part your lips to protest, but his eyes tell you everything. He just wants you happy, to continue living your human life and not waste it.

That he, will be just a memory to you. A precious one. Just how you will be the most treasured memory that he will keep in his heart.

—

“Monsieur Neuvillette, i got you the macarons.” Sedene taps his desk lightly to grab his attention as sets the plate and water cup in front of him.

“Ah, thank you, Sedene.” His fingers pull at the plate to take a better look at them, ever since you left Fontaine about a month ago, Neuvillette never stopped ordering the sweets you used to give him every now and then.

Every day, Neuvillette finds himself missing your presence.

He goes about his duties, attending to his role as Iudex, but his mind is often elsewhere. Despite his attempts to focus on his work, he keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to you, memories of your time together replaying in his mind.

At night, he lies in bed alone, the silence in his quarters almost deafening. He finds himself reaching out, almost subconsciously, as if looking for a body that isn't there.

Or when his fingertips brushed along his lips to try and feel your cold lips that day, was it a goodbye kiss?

“Is it about that artist?” Sedene speaks her mind when she notices how dull the Iudex gets as the days go by, even though he tries to act unaffected per your words. He wouldn't want the nation to drown in his tears just because of his own reasons.

“This reminds me,” She takes out an envelope from the pocket of her uniform before standing on her tip toes to hand it to him before making her way out.

The envelope was neat, with a pretty designed stamp on, Neuvillette opened it carefully before taking out it's contents.

It's you. Or, a photo of you. Smiling brightly with the aranaras, it makes him smile to himself as he traces the photo. You look even more charming than he remembers.

There's another note with the photo, but it's a vague message. A written location here in Fontaine, with a specific date and time.

Neuvillette is confused, was this a message of your return? And based on the date, it's three days from now. He will try to clear his schedule for the set time, he doesn't know what to expect, maybe a gift awaits for him, he wishes you wrote more, but that was the end of it.

—

Neuvillette stands in front of the wooden door, hesitant to knock on it. This is the place, the exact date and time. The sun is disappearing for today, and it's the moon's turn to show it's face.

He knocks twice, the sound ringing in the still air. Just as he was about to go for another knock, the door opens, and he barely comprehends what's going on before he feels a hand pull him in, and he gasps.

He's startled in the moment, but all of Neuvilette's worries and frustrations melt away when he realizes it's you who threw their arms around his neck, he wastes no time in returning the embrace, pulling you tight against him.

He holds you close, his arms practically enveloping you as he buries his face into your shoulder, relishing the feel of you in his arms again.

“Such a vague message you sent me,” he tries to speak light-heartedly, and you giggle in response. He's now assured it's your laugh.

“I've missed you.” He whispers next to your ear to make sure you hear the words, “I've missed you more.” You whisper back, mimicking his gesture.

“impossible.” he retorts, the corner of his wrinkling from how much he's been smiling.

And the moment your lips meet his to shush him, Neuvilette feels like he's come alive again. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him.

He knows how to kiss you now, hopefully he does it the same as the last time.

He kisses you passionately, now devouring your lips, hungrily trying to make up for every moment you were apart. The taste, the texture, the feel of your lips against his, it all floods his senses, reigniting the spark that's been missing since you left. And he remembers it all.

Neuvilette follows your lead, stumbling a little as he's guided backwards towards the bed. His mind is filled with a haze as you strip off your coat, he finds his hands roaming over your body while panting softly as you staddle his lap. His emotions are a mess, but what he knows is that he needs you more than he's ever thought.

“Neuvillette,” you utter his name in a soft, low tone. It makes his jaw slack a bit when you kiss at the skin of his neck, and he tips his head back to give you more space. He's all yours.

He thinks he's about to go dizzy, it's all unfamiliar, he's overwhelmed that he doesn't know what to feel first. But you going slow for him makes him want more and more—

His head goes blank when your middle and ring fingers slip inside his black glove to feel his skin against yours. You slide the material off with each to intertwine your fingers together.

You're incredible, he thinks—knows.

“Can i go further?” You ask, and he doesn't hesitate to nod, “paint your lips on my body.”

He expected to feel the graze of your teeth along the curve of his collarbone, what he didn't expect was for you to palm his bulge, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. The tips of his ears grow redder and this is the most embarrassed he's ever felt. He can feel himself growing harder with each touch, his body reacting instinctively to your ministrations, and he can't help but thrust upwards.

“M-mon amour, i… i—” he cannot bring the words, not when you're showing him too much love and affection all at once.

He's never experienced such intense pleasure before, and the thought of reaching his release so quickly is both exhilarating and terrifying. He wants to savor every moment, to prolong this incredible feeling, but his body apparently had other plans.

You stop when you hear him almost whimper, it takes you by surprises. When your eyes search for his—all you're met with is his half-lidded full of lust gaze. You realize what had happened when you felt the damp spot sitting on the fabric.

he grabs the back of your neck gently to pull your face right in his hair, “give me… a minute.” He clears his throat before giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“May i?” He mutters, “mhm,” and his hands beginning to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts, which makes your grit your teeth together because you know you'd be moaning too fast with whatever of his touch landed on your skin.

His fingers trace the lacy edge of your bra, feeling the material before Neuvillette's lips find yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and his hand slips beneath your bra to cup your breasts. And this time it successfully managed to make you moan against his lips.

One clasp, and your bra falls from your body to reveal your bare self, he thinks it's a sin to stare at such a perfect body.

“you're perfect,” he rasps against your skin. His hands map the contours of your body, memorizing every dip and swell, as he trails lower.

Neuvillette's mouth finds one pert nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand cups your other breast. He lavishes attention on your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and gentle nips, until you are arching into his touch, your breathy moans and whines filling the room.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers dancing along your hip bones before dipping between your thighs after having rid of the unecessary barrier between you both.

He wants to touch you in the way you like it, and so sensing his hesitation, you take his hand in yours, and he groans at the wetness he finds there, his fingers gliding easily through your slick folds.

When you guide his fingers through your slit, you stop at your clit, and he takes it as cue to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb which ultimately makes you moan louder, your hand leaving for him to take control.

Neuvillette captures your lips in a searing kiss as he keeps your thighs parted for him when he feels you wanting to close them together.

Your heart races, with each tight circle around your sensitive nub, it makes you pant softly, your lips parted before gasping in surprise when you feel him slowly pushing one long finger inside you, relishing the way your walls grip him tightly.

It's warm, it's tight, how would he even fit inside you?

He experimentally curls his fingers repeatedly before setting a steady rhythm, curling and thrusting his finger to hit that perfect spot inside you. He was already so hard that it was starting to ache and throb, he wishes to have some self control just for now.

“gonna cum—” the minute he heard you say that, he withdrew his finger out of you which makes you whine at the loss. “Wh—” the words die on your tongue when you watch him undress, his hand holding his prettily flushed cock right at the base to position himself between your legs, “I am an impatient and greedy man, forgive me,” his voice is soothing as he pecks your lips before you feel his fat tip starting to stretch you at your entrance, and you both groan in relief.

Your hot and tight walls clamped around him when he thrusted forward to bury all of himself in you at once. Which literally, almost makes him cum if not for the way his gripping your thighs so harshly.

He presses your thighs down until they reach the sides of your ears, it makes your back arch, and your cunt swallowing all of him as he buries his face into your neck, “H-hah please relax—i can't, you're going to make finish sooner again—” you listen to his quiet pleas, and you try to relax your body, you also want this to be a lasting moment.

Neuvillette's heart pounds in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts, he can feel your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rocking to meet his movements. The sounds of skin slapping together in the air is so lewd that he tries to divert his attention elsewhere.

His thrusts grows sloppier by the minute as he breathes heavily, his cock twitching inside you before he starts increasing the pace to reach both of your release, one hand leaving your thigh to rub circles around your swollen clit, and suddenly, you're crying out, your body convulsing beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans, the shivering sensation of your cunt squeezing aroud him sends his face into your neck, muffling his cries of ecstasy as he empties himself inside you. He cums harder than the first time, as if emptying everything he has to give you until a white ring forms at his base.

Your eyes roll back when you feel so warm and full, your legs giving out tiredly as you both relax in the comfort of one another.

Yeah, you're tied to him now.

—

“I'd like for you to treasure this painting.” Neuvillette frowns when you gesture towards the large canvas that took you months to finish.

It's you, and him.

Living with Neuvillette feels right, although he doesn't steal your freedom and passion to continue travelling around different nations, as long as you come back to him, your home.

you wish for him to travel with you one day. He already promised you to after all.

“It's marvelous,” he comments, almost breathlessly. He'll have to hang it where it's only visible to his and your eyes.

He knows why you do this, why you create simple art that's a memory of both of you. Favourite food? You'll draw it. Favourite hobbies together? You'll catch the moment right on the canvas with extra vibrant colours.

“One day when i—” he doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to hear how one day you'll leave this world permanently and he'll have to live on. Painful years after years without you.

“I want to treasure every second with you,” he lifts your hand up to his lips, for him to kiss the back of your hand before his thumbs rubbed over your knuckles.

You give him a reassuring smile, “you are going to be a wonderful experience until then.”

“and you… will be everything to me, even after that.” Neuvillette smiles back before exhaling deeply.

[accioscarheadthings]

Oooo Kenji Sato x a curvy girlfriend please? I wanna see how emi and kenji are upset and “arguing” who’s turn to cuddle the reader while she and professor Sato are eating snacks

heree youu go, hon. sorry abt the wait. enjoyy<33

She's mine

kenji sato x curvy!fem!reader

this contains: fluff, cuddling, silly banters.

summary: kenji amd emi quarrel for your attention.

masterlist !

"you think they'd stop this nonsense anytime soon?" professor sato asked you, pushing the box of donuts towards you.

you picked one with the strawberry filling, "highly unlikely," you bit into it, watching the drama unfold in front of you with professor sato.

kenji and emi arguing by the workplace, voices raised and hands moving around exaggeratedly.

kenji's finger was pointed directly at emi as she adamantly flailed her arms in response. her face was drawn down in distress, clearly feeling frustrated and unheeded by his stern demeanor.

"you had her last week!" kenji argued, "now, it's my turn,"

emi squealed in protest, flopping down on the ground with a cry.

"oh really? you think you can have her by throwing a fit?! not gonna happen, princess,"

you rolled your eyes at the scene, lips tugging upwards in amusement.

"no can do, missy!" kenji hollered at the kaiju baby, "she's mine. i got her first! you came around like what, a few weeks ago?" he pretended to think, "get in line, young woman!" he jabbed a thumb behind his back.

growling in frustration, emi sent a ray of sound waves his way. kenji barely dodged it at the nick of time, gaping up at emi. at the nerve to do so.

"this is so stupid," you face-palmed, sliding off the chair from professor sato's side and headed towards the children's quarrel.

"okay kids," you got in between them, speaking sternly, "mommy's here. behave yourself-" you yelped when you were pulled into kenji's arms, made to stand in front of him.

emi pouted, making grabby hands at you, cooing in need.

kenji pulled you into him in such a way your back was flush with his chest, "i don't even need to argue or explain myself to you whatsoever, emi," his palms splayed on your love handles, holding you possessively, "she's mine," he kissed your neck possessively, making your squirm in place, his fingers curling on your soft skin of your stomach.

emi's cheeks wobbled her and shoulders sagged in defeat, assuming you had picked him over her.

her cheeks wobbled and emi wailed loudly, kicking her legs on front of her.

he scoffed at her, "you think she's gonna coddle you- honey, don't coddle her," kenji uttered to you when you slipped out of his arms and headed towards emi.

you strode towards her, climbing the high-rise stool and sat cross-legged on it, "my poor baby, c'mere," you cooed at her, stretching your arms put in front of you, "s'okay, my love,"

"i thought i was your love," kenji mumbled lowly, ducking his head. but you heard it.

you shot him a stern glare that spoke 'not now, kenji,"

your boyfriend groaned loudly, stomping over to his father's side and sat on your seat. he grabbed a donut, stuffing his face to cope up with the annoyance that was bubbling in him.

"shh, shh, i'm right here," you hands spread on her cheeks when she leaned towards you. you pressed a loud smooch to her orange beak, making her sobs stop instantly.

kenji rolled his eyes, "cheap trick-ow!"

professor sato hit his son at the back of his son with his cane, "get it together!"

you had cuddled emi to sleep, her arm slung over your lap. you brushed your palms on her round cheeks to ease her into sleep.

you carefully slipped out, heading towards the corner of the basement where kenji was making his daily coffee.

he heard you approach and looked at you over his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief, "can i have you to myself now?"

you gave him a nose-scrunched smile, arms held wide for him.

kenji rushed into your awaiting arms, pulling you into him. his face burying into the crook of your neck, "finally, all mine,"

you slipped your hands into the hair at the back of his neck, "you need to grow up,"

you stilled when you felt him kiss your jaw, muttering desperately, "missed you so much, baby. you have no idea," he huffed into your chest like a needy child, clinging onto you.

he sat on the couch behind, pulling you on his lap. his hands were at the back of your thighs, making you straddle him.

his fingers squeezed your thighs, as though to make sure you were actually with him

"kenji...?" you rested your hands on his shoulders, your tone questioning.

"shush, sweetheart," kenji silenced you with a kiss to your lips. your chest against his, both hearts beating in sync, "you're not going anywhere. and m'not gonna lose you to a kaiju baby, for god sakes,"

[eshieslovemaze]

𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 | kth

summary: you only wanted to get wasted at a club after getting dumped, but ended up fucking a total stranger.

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉.

pairing: taehyung × fem!reader

genre: smut, one night stand, one shot, fluff but tiny

rating: 18+

word count: 4k

warnings/includes: smut, drinking, lots of kissing and making out, boob play, fingering, penetrative sex (protected), and that's all, i guess..?

note: hi! first ever post here, so kinda nervous. added to that, it's literally the first smut i wrote, so i am sorry if it's cringey. also, english is not my first language, so please ignore my mistakes. hope you guys like it! ^^

🎀🥂✨️

it takes you a lot to accept that you got dumped in your first ever relationship attempt. not like you were attached to the guy, but it is disheartening and embarrassing. needless to mention, it is also a direct attack on your ego. whatever, it happened, and you should move on from the incident.

and that is how you found yourself in front of one of the popular clubs of the city. it has been a while since you last visited a club, and whatever incident happened today is the perfect excuse for you to be here.

for the first time in a while, you dolled up like you never had before. also chose the dress which you never thought would actually wear - a beige, spaghetti strap, satin short dress, which hugged all the right places. you also did some makeup and decided to leave your hair open for the night. you decide to check your face in the front camera of your phone before getting in. quite obviously, you look gorgeous.

not wanting to tire your feet anymore with those long, white heels, you finally walk into the club after adjusting your dress.

the pink, purple, and blue lights reflect every spot your eyes could see, and the smell of freshly brewed alcoholic cocktails hits your nose. you see a crowd swaying themselves to the beats of the pop song that is playing in the club, excited groans and drunk bodies grinding on each other, as if the people turned blind eye to whatever that was happening except themselves and are completely chained to the rhythm.

the major part of the people inside are seated in the tables, and some are in the private booths; waiters and waitresses scurrying everywhere to meet their demands.

sighing, you make your way to the bar, and sit on one of the tall stools, immediately ordering a vodka. the bartender gets it with a sweet smile, serving it while showing some of his tricks. you get the drink after muttering a 'thank you' to him with a polite smile. you finally take a sip, feeling the liquid rush down your throat with a slight burning sensation. you let your eyes stare into the void, swirling the glass of vodka in your hand and occasionally taking a glance or two at your surroundings. your eyes catch a couple making out at a corner. you sigh, feeling down yet again.

you feel lonely. in this city, in this club, at your workplace, and even at home. most would say that it's normal, and it takes time for one to get habituated in the city they just moved in. while that is true, you couldn't help but feel loneliness crippling your insides more as the days go by.

shaking your head, you decide to not think about it anymore and just get wasted for the night. you chunk the rest of the vodka in one go and order another shot right away. this week was probably the shittiest of your career. of course, you deserve to enjoy and spoil yourself this weekend with no sappy thoughts. you grab the second shot of vodka and make your way to the dance floor after gulping it down in a few sips.

you sway your hips to the beats, already feeling several eyes on you, on the parts where the dress hugs your body tightly. maybe it was the vodka, but you're really enjoying the attention you are getting.

you know you're doing great when several heads turn to look at you.

taking that as a boost to your confidence, you move myself with the rhythm, running your hands through your throat, chest, and stomach to enhance your performance. you feel someone sneak up to your back and circle his arms around your waist, but mindful that he isn't touching you too much to make you uncomfortable. you turn to face the man, and to say you are shocked would be an understatement.

he has to be Aphrodite's son to be this handsome and breathtaking. you take your sweet time studying his face, slowing your movements to do so. his sharp eyes - one monolid and the other doublelid - seem to be staring right at your soul. his nose was high and slender, skin flawless. he has got wide lips with the perfect cupid's bow to ever exist, and you had to control every bit of yourself to not pull him in and kiss those. he sported a black see-through shirt with white abstract designs all over, pairing it with simple, black jeans; which was tight enough to highlight his muscular thighs.

it feels mesmerising. the way he towers over you and looks right in your eyes made you feel too naked under him. you try to get a hold of your mind, trying to push the gush of unholy thoughts away as he is a total stranger to you. his movements are now slowing, matching the beats of the song slowing down as it nears to the end.

"done checking me out?" his voice, naturally baritone and husky, sends shivers down your spine. it fuelled the growing sensuality inside you, which lit the moment you saw him. flushing quite a bit, you chuckle breathily before giving him a reply.

"i can ask you the same," you say. yes, you can notice the way his eyes move practically all over you, lingering longer at those places. while his hands around you itch to hold you closer. even now, it feels like he is resisting the urge to press you to himself and feel you up.

the song ceases, and the speakers are quiet for a while. you two take this moment to scurry yourselves through the crowd to the bar. you both sit down on the stools and look at each other deeply. your gazes are dark, and words are not necessary to understand what you both want.

"kim taehyung," he speaks, extending his right hand for you to shake. he now has a very alluring smile on his velvety lips, openly checking you out under the comparatively brighter lights of the bar. you take his hand and introduce yourself, using your tipsy and sultry voice, letting your eyes do talking for the desires that arose.

you have the hots for each other, and you both know it.

he smirks, seemingly getting your point. "wanna have a talk over some soju?"

"i don't see why not", you reply as he unclasps your palm and casually places his on your knee. that little ounce of hesitation flies away when he sees you being fine with it. he chuckles as he sees the tint of blush on your cheeks deepen, turning to the bartender to get your drinks.

sipping on the soju, you talk and also flirt quite obviously, his hand never leaving your knee, thumb even making little circles over the skin from time to time. by this time, you were both quite tipsy but not drunk enough to be out of your senses.

"would you like to get out of here?" he finally suggests, making your heart do several somersaults with his low, husky voice. his eyes are now anthracite dark, as if hypnotising you to get drowned in them.

"surely, it's quite cramped in here now," your reply made him smirk instantly.

he gets up and extends his hand for you to take, which you gladly do, and guides you to the stairs leading to the rooms on the next floor.

just as you reach the dimly lit corner of the staircase, he pushes you to the wall, caging you between his arms. you feel your heartbeat pick-up since he leans his face to yours, lips almost brushing. from this closeup, you notice all the tiny details of his face, the mole under his eye, the one on his cheek, one right above his nostril, and lastly, the one on his lips.

somehow, the mole makes his lips look more kissable than they already are.

not having the strength to control the pulsating urge any longer, you pull his collar and kiss him hungrily. you feel him smile through your lips, kissing you back with the same desire. when the kiss grows hotter, he bites your lower lip slightly, making you gasp. instantly, he pushes in his tongue, tasting every inch of your mouth.

he pulls away only to drop his head to your neck, placing open-mouthed butterfly kisses all over on your shoulders and collarbones. you couldn't help but pant and slightly moan with how he is making you feel. your heart is on fire, butterflies in the stomach, and you start to feel very light-headed from the excitement.

he licks a spot under your ear before hurriedly latching his mouth on the spot, sucking it like his life depended on it. you throw your head backwards with a gasp, completely leaning on the wall for support as your legs are already so wobbly. your hands automatically snake to his nape, fingers clutching the roots of his hair. he lets out a groan, and you shudder when the warm breath hits your skin.

he moves one of his hands to grip your waist, his thumb circling the skin from above the fabric of the dress. his other hand holds your jaw, angling it in a way that would provide him the perfect spot for his lips to do their job on your neck, throat, and collarbones. you already feel too addicted to his lips; he read well how well your body reacts to him, and he was enjoying every bit of it. suddenly, having the urge to kiss his petal-like lips, you softly hold his face and make him face you, moulding your lips with his in a passionate kiss. his grip on your waist becomes tighter, deepening the kiss even more.

you two pull away after a few moments, trying to stabilize your ragged breaths when he picks you up in bridal style and enters the nearest room. he puts you down, presses your back against the now locked door, and continues leaving love bites on your collarbones. sinful sounds erupt from your throat, and you lost all your self-control as your fingers begin to unbutton his shirt hurriedly. he groans, feeling your fingers on his skin, and you feel even more excited to understand that you make him feel this good.

the next few moments are a blur, your clothes messily lying on the floor in a pile and both of you naked, skin-to-skin on the bed, having the most intense make-out session of your lives. by now, most of the skin on your neck, throat, collarbones, and chest are filled with the reddish-purple marks of his hickeys. you also keep leaving a fair number of love-bites on his shoulders.

his kisses get lower, finally attending to one of your breasts. his mouth do wonders there, lightly tugging and sucking the nipple while his fingers kneaded the other one. you whimper, desperately moaning, wanting to feel more of his touch, more of him.

your fingers occupy themselves by nestling into the roots of his hair and tugging on the locks, making him grunt. he looks up to see your face, and fuck, you're beautiful.

he felt himself twitch, too needy to be one with you. however, he decided to stretch the foreplay longer, wanting to see how long you both could go on.

he pinched your bud, wet with his saliva. you roll your eyes to the back of your head with pleasure, moaning like you never had before. he is extremely good at what he is doing. you inhale sharply when he licked the middle of your bosom and immediately goes to the unattended boob, mercilessly sucking and leaving marks on the soft flesh.

your breaths were becoming shorter, and you could feel the wetness between your thighs grow, impatiently pressing them together to get some sort of friction.

taehyung notices and looks up to your eyes, smirking.

"shall we move on with the next part, princess? do you feel ready?"

he comes back to your neck, burying his face in its crook as he speaks, and he can feel your skin shiver when his hot breath hits it.

you nodded, eyes closed and chest heaving.

"words, princess."

you never knew getting immensely turned on by just words was possible, until tonight.

"mhm, y-yes."

you hear his husky chuckle, which is something you have heard countless times since the last few hours, and yet feel your breath hitch. you look up to his eyes when she feel the weight on your neck evaporate, only to see him smirk a bit as he throws his body weight to his right side.

"spread your legs for me, princess."

it is as if you are charmed by his dark, lusty eyes since you spread your legs instantly.

trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach due to the pet-name, you focus on his large veiny hands as they pull apart her thighs wider, exposing you bare for himself.

"now, just lay back and relax, princess."

saying so he starts rubbing his thumb over your clit, in an agonisingly slow pace, yet you have to bite back a moan.

his eyes move back and forth, from your wet folds and your face, not wanting to miss any expression you make for him.

"already this wet for me, huh?"

"who w-wouldn't be?"

an amused chuckle vibrates from his throat, enjoying what you just uttered.

"you turn me on so bad darling", he says with mischief dripping from his voice, holding that steamy eye contact.

"you do the same to me," you say in a breath, not trying to stutter more and just drown in the pool of euphoria he is giving you.

his index finger now begins making a line to the wet slit, finally stopping at your entrance. ever so slowly and teasingly he pushed his finger in, your back arching against the mattress due to the feeling.

"fuck, you are so beautiful", he says, unaware of the butterflies he just erupted in your stomach.

heart drumming in your ears, you loudly moan as he fingers faster, rhythmically moving his finger in and out as he adds another of his long fingers in, stretching your lower lips wider, now dripping wet from arousal slick. he began pushing his fingers into you even more, exploring most of your inner walls. he slightly curls one finger while moving the another one slightly, discovering a new spot. you suddenly writhe, becoming a moaning mess. one of your hands holds onto his bicep that supports his body, and the other fists the sheets like your life depends on it. he stimulates that spot even more, adding another finger into your folds swiftly. almost immediately, you start to feel a knot that begins forming in the pit of your lower abdomen.

"taehyung, i t-think i-i'm close," you already feel lightheaded from what is yet to come.

"oh, princess, you shouldn't be," saying so, he pulls out his fingers, very wet from your juices. you miss the feeling of his fingers inside you and shamelessly want to feel more of him.

"fuck," you curse loudly, choking on your own breath when he licks your juices clean from his fingers, sensually putting them in his mouth, eyes looking into your soul.

he lowers to your lips to press a searing kiss, making you taste yourself in it; hovering above you by the support of his hands beside your head as both groan into the kiss. you unhesitatingly buckle your hips towards his bare groin, not being able to contain your excitement when his hardened tip brushes against your stimulated clit. you shudder, feeling it press on your sensitive spots down there.

"i'll get the condom," he informs you before moving to the edge of the bed, hand finding his wallet from his discarded clothing. he pulls out the silver packaging, casually throwing his wallet over the pile of clothes after. he comes back to you, eyeing your naked form as you take his sizzling presence in. he is not too muscular but has a lean and strong looking physique, which makes him desirable in so many ways. he is undeniably handsome, attractive, and everything a woman would want her ideal man to be. his honey skin shone from the thin layer of sweat under the dim lights, making the sexiness in his aura increase, if it was even possible; by now you honestly wondered where he has been until tonight.

you are pulled away from your trace of thoughts about the person before you when he rips the silver packaging open with his teeth, with a squeaky noise. you watch him pumping his already hardened dick a few times before slipping it in the condom, precum dripping from the head as it twitches while he covers it. you do not fail to notice how prominent the excited veins look, making it appear thicker and longer than it already is. your breath quickens with the visual, veins full of adrenaline, as he brings himself back to you.

He lifts himself up on his knees, biceps bulging as he hoists your legs above his shoulders in prompt movements, strong palms on your lower thighs to hold you in position.

aligning his dick with your entrance, he pushes his tip into your folds, groaning in the process as you breaks into a loud moaning mess for the nth time the night. your drenched folds welcomes his girth as he slides in halfway.

"aghh, taehyung!"

"right, princess, scream my name."

he just loved  how vocal you are. his calculative eyes read every movement and every body language of yours with ease, satisfied for both giving and having a good time.

as the two of you breathe heavily, he gives you some moments to adjust to his size. even though he did a wonderful job at stretching you during the foreplay, you are still tight, and it is good; it felt good.

he tries to go as deep as possible, actions sending you over to the edge. he rests for a few seconds when he found your deepest spot, and drags his dick back to the tip only to slam it back again, in a pace you had never imagined of ever before, your pelvises pressing together.

the room seems to fog up with the smell of sex and sweat, also filling up with the unholy sounds released with every breath they exhale.

it was oddly exhilarating.

neither of them thought that they would get laid tonight, but they don't regret it at all. it's their best night of their lives.

the hands that supported your lower body as he is ramming into your insides, now start to itch, to touch more of those places of your curves; the places he couldn't seem to get enough of.

he squeezes the arch of your waist and then dips his head to place more hickeys on your collarbones. he gladly admits that he is addicted to them, to the high feeling that comes when he sees his marks blooming in dark shades on your skin.

he slows his pace a little, focusing on the skin of your collarbones for the time being. you mewl, your fingers almost digging into his shoulders to anchor yourself. he goes above to lick a stripe on your jaw.

he keeps going slow, hitting the spot he found the most enigmatic response on, while you tighten your grip on him, running your fingers through his glistening skin.

he then uses a thumb to fondle with her clit, teasing the sensitive bud as he increases the pace with every thrust.

"i t-think i'm gonna c-cum," you stumble on your words through the overstimulation.

he only replies to you with a breathy chuckle, a little nod, and by thrusting harder.

the knot in the pit of your stomach finally comes undone, your orgasm rippling out in waves as you break out into a loud, shaky moan. he keeps slamming into you through it, chasing his own orgasm as his seed fills the condom. he groans, pulling out himself out of you and pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

he takes the condom out, makes a knot by the opening, and disposes it off in the trashcan before dropping on the bed right beside you.

you both pant heavily for a few moments. he then gets up, drinks some water from the bottle on the nightstand and also helps you drink from the bottle, supporting your shoulders.

"we should get cleaned up," he speaks, baritone voice soft, a total opposite of the voice from before.

"too tired, just wanna sleep," you mumble, eyes drooping, and he almost cooes. he places a peck on your forehead smilingly, deciding to let it go as he lies on the sheets next to you. just as he covered both of them with the duvet, you snuggle into his side and hug his arm in a cuddling position.

he feels the warmth that bubbled in his heart with your action and brings an arm around your back, now both facing each other and cuddling into each other.

tired from the prior activities, you drifted to sleep almost immediately, finding comfort in each others' arms.

you stirr awake when it seemed like it has been a few hours into the morning already. the faint sunrays that filtered through the curtains were the only source of light in the room.

feeling the hand encircled around your bare waist, the chest pressed against your back and the breaths on your neck, you remembered all that happened last night.

now that the alcohol and hormones wore off, you felt incredibly shy and attempted to curl to yourself from the giddy feeling of having a good sex the night before. you aren't at all horrified. you both knew that you wanted it.

sensing your movements, he wakes. e pulls you closer to him and buries his face on the crook of your neck, breathing my scent.

he's making you feel things.

"good morning, princess. had a nice sleep?" his morning voice is dangerously husky and very pleasing to listen to first thing in the morning, making your breath hitch.

"i did, you?" you ask, still not facing him, timid to show him the blushed up face.

"best I've ever slept in a while, since i had you to hold on to."

not being able to hold yourself, you turned around and placed an innocent peck on his lips. but what he does next shocks you, in a good way, though.

lightly snaking his fingers around your nape, he pulls you forward and kisses you softly, your lips stretching in a grin as you feel him smile through it.

when you part and face each other, he holds eye contact for a bit before speaking.

"we should get going, i think it's around nine already," he gets up, pulling you up as he did. you rummage through the pile of clothes for your phone, and indeed, it was five minutes to nine.

you suddenly remember that you were still naked, the thought making heat rush to your cheeks.

"we should get dressed," i shyly speak, fingers playing with the duvet.

"why? is all the boldness from last night gone now?" he smirks.

you lightly hit his arm, "shut up," but he only laughs.

by the time you get washed up and dressed, it got awkward all of a sudden.

'does it end here?'

'will we be just acquaintances who fucked one night now?'

'will it be okay to start from here?'

'is it weird to want to be close just after a night of casual fucking?'

these were your thoughts. you yearned for more, but did not know how to address it.

"uhm taehyung, would you be free for lunch later?" you are the first one to initiate, hoping with everything that he doesn't deny, and you don't end up embarrassing yourself.

"sure, put your number in, i'd pick you up," he says with his wide boxy grin, handing his phone to you, his eyes showing how much he appreciates you for bringing it up.

"of course."

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[pixiesfz]

part 2 of this

moving on j.r x reader

plot: you are an adult now and move to Manchester

warnings: in this jill never played at Arsenal and also this has some heavy themes of SA and toxic relationships

Years later you had gotten out of your family home, earning enough money to fly out to Manchester and own your apartment, leaving your family behind.

You had healed.

You were openly out and had made many friends in the city. You sometimes went out to watch the soccer, men's or women’s. It gave you the comfort that reminded you of Jill.

You had seen her Instagram, your finger hovering over the follow button for far too long.

Career-wise your life had been doing amazing, all your singing writing as a teenager had paid off as you sold your songs off to famous singers and heard them sing them on stages.

You had recently finally settled into your apartment, just adding in a small detail here and there.

Your favourite part of owning your own home was the control you had, picking which sheets you used, choosing what paint color you would paint your bedroom walls, and finally choosing who you let in.

You never told your parents where exactly you were moving, you just said Europe and left.

You didn’t want them trying to control you in your own home.

It was about your fifth week in Manchester when you met Ellie, you were walking from a local furniture store with a rugged stool in your hand, you thought it wouldn’t be a hassle to walk but when he offered you two for the price of one you took it.

And now you couldn’t see where you were going.

Ellie was walking nearby and noticed your struggle immediately, walking over and offering to help you.

“I’m Ellie” she introduced herself once she placed the stool in front of your door

“Y/N” you smiled before looking at the door and then back to the older girl “Would you like to come in?” you asked, a blush roaming over your cheeks.

Ellie nodded “Yeah I would like that”, you nodded back before opening the door for both of you as you placed the stools down nearby.

You had swapped numbers that night, an obvious connection being created as you saw each other more.

You had created some friends in your workplace, sharing fun ideas with each other and sharing stories.

“You and Ellie are so perfect it’s like a movie” Olivia gushed as you told her how she brought you flowers last night. “I know, she’s amazing” you laughed, placing your papers down.

“It’s good being able to love in person, not behind a door” you told her and she nodded, already knowing about your past life when you lived with your parents.

“I’m happy for you”.

You had been so infatuated with Ellie that you never heard of the news of Jill’s move to Manchester City from Wolfsburg. Personally you were following Manchester United but Ellie was big on City so when she dragged you to a Manchester derby you were a tad bit excited.

You had also invited Olivia and her husband to come with you as you all sat down in the stands. The game was starting soon as you cheered for the girls in red, you knew they would most likely lose from how good you heard City were doing but you still had hope.

Jill had walked out onto the field, shaking her hands to rid of her nerves, she craned her neck round after before shaking her legs, a small ritual she did as she walked onto the ground.

There wasn’t a big crowd today, due to the earlier game time but she didn’t mind, usually, when she played in small games she was more aware of all her options.

You were watching the united girls warm up in front of you, joining into chants here and there, your girlfriend refusing to sing the chants with you.

“Oh C’mon babe just one” you whined, pulling out your finger to represent the number “You sing a city one then” she shot back and you shook your head “Only if you sing united”

“Ok what about Roord, she’s my favourite player” your girlfriend said and your skin went pale.

“Roord?” you question and your girlfriend smiled “yeah Jill, she plays for your international team, I’ll teach you all about soccer babe it’s fine”

You reached your head around to see the City girls and there she was.

She was taller, her hair was blonder and she was still as gorgeous as ever, Jill.

Your Jill.

You choked on your water, throwing a thumbs up when Olivia’s husband asked if you were okay.

When the game started you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, fortunately, Ellie was too into the game to notice your very obvious stare at the Dutch player.

When the game ended 2-0 City’s way you watched as your girlfriend ran back to the stands to grab a pen.

Jill had started her lap around the oval, deciding to go do it herself instead of with Kerstin because she didn’t want to stand through another lovey-dovey conversation between her and her girlfriend.

You had been talking to someone behind you when she heard a Dutch accent, being intrigued to find a Dutch person at a game but when she looked up to you she was frozen, ignoring the fans calling her name.

“Y/N?”

You turned around from the sound of your name only to be met with the eyes that you fell in love with years ago.

“Y/N?” another voice popped up and you turned your head to your girlfriend who had knocked her head in the direction of Jill.

“Oh, Ellie uhm- “

“Do you want that signed?” Jill asked, directing her hand to the City jersey Ellie held in her hands before she nodded

“How do you know my girlfriend?” Ellie asked before you looked at her weirdly, Jill also looking up with shock

“We went to the same school” Jill smiled dryly before passing back the shirt “Uh it was nice to see you,” Jill said to you before walking straight to the tunnel, skipping the rest of the fans.

You shared weird looks with all of your friends. Ellie’s eyes looking down at you. “Why did you never tell me you knew one of my favourite soccer players?”

You shrugged a fake laugh escaping your lips “I guess it just never came up.”

The car ride home was silent, Olivia and her husband left in an Uber from the game to go to her parents house, which left you and Ellie in the car alone.

Usually, this wouldn’t matter to you. You and Ellie are in the car together all the time.

This felt different. She hadn’t looked at you since you got in and her knuckles were turning white at the steering wheel.

“Ellie-“ “When you told me your parents found you with a girl once was it Jill?”

You were taken back from the question “Why does it matter?” you ask and she rolled her eyes “Was it?”

You scoffed “I don’t see how it’s any of your business but yes, yes it was”

You saw her knuckles turn even whiter as she turned into her apartment. A pit forms in your stomach “Can you drop me home to mine?” you ask and she turns to you “It’s late y/n, you know I don’t like driving at night”

You pursed your lips nodding “alright” you said and got out of the car.

You decided to shed some light on the situation as you went in “Do you want to watch some Netflix, you can pick a show and I’ll make popcorn” You smiled and Ellie nodded, a slight smile on her lips as she kissed your cheek and made her way into her bedroom.

“That’s not the living room!” you joke but you hear no reply.

Once you finally finished the popcorn you walked into the living room to see no Ellie “Ellie c’mon housewives is on!” You yell out to your girlfriend who finally comes back in with black trousers on, she looks a bit blushed but you ignore it.

“hey” she smiled at you before sitting next to you “What were you doing in your room for so long?” you asked softly and she shrugged “Got distracted on my phone I guess” she shrugged and you nodded

Minutes later your fatigue started to take control of you as you rolled to the pillow next to you, Ellie watching with a smirk.

“I have a surprise for you” she whispered and you hummed “What is it?” you asked and she smiled up against your ear before kissing your neck gently “Here”.

You pushed away when she pressed her body against your back and you felt it. She must have put it on whilst she was in her room.

You just wanted to have a rest on the couch “Not tonight El” you told her, taking her hand and kissing it gently.

But Ellie didn’t seem to like that idea because she pressed harder against you “please I just want you so bad”

You shook your head “I’m not that into it tonight” You shrugged and tried to sit up but your girlfriend's arms pushed you back down before she hovered over you.

You panicked “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” she said and started kissing your neck as you tried to push her away but instead, she grabbed your hands and pulled them above you “Stop fighting it you wanted it last week”

“Get off me,” you told her, now using your legs but they were no use as she sat on your lap “Ellie stop-“

You were silenced as her palm hit your face “Shut up”

“I’m going to fuck you and you are going to like it”.

[thatanimewriter]

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 - 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩.

next chapter →

❝ 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. ❞ ── 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

you used to be a bodyguard for sunday and robin, but after a certain accident involving robin, you've been stripped of your job to work for siobhan. you've never seen sunday or robin since until this year's charmony festival.

── 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 + 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the clink of ice against glass disturbed the silence that would've rested in the air. your eyes glanced at the clock as you poured drinks into the glass for yourself. 1:23 am. a sigh left your lips as you put your utensils in the sink for you to clean later. condensation gathered on the outside of the glass and slipped down the stem of the glass to soak into the coaster beneath.

everyone had long gone to bed, even in the dreamscape where escapism was a drug and the serotonin took the guests 10 years into their past. even the oldest of guests seemed suspiciously youthful when you left your den that you call a workplace. you envied their freedom, but you'd been shackled to an underground bar where your interaction with humans was minimal.

slipping a sprig of mint into your drink, you pulled a couple crates out from underneath the bar to create a makeshift stool. you looked at the clock again and yawned. 1:25. your shoulders slumped as you rested your elbows on the countertop to take a sip of your drink.

the soft patter of footsteps on carpet brought a wave of dread that crashed against your bones that quickly turned into rage. your eyes narrowed at the halovian man walking towards you with an irritated expression not unlike your own.

"5 minutes until close," you muttered, rolling your eyes and taking another swig of your drink.

sunday took a seat in front of you, frowning at you with overwhelming disdain. "slacking off, i see. typical."

you slid your drink to the side and stood to gain some height on him. "i would turn you away, but you'd get me fired and boot me off to some other job, hm?" your fingers drummed against the surface of the bar when sunday scoffed at your remark.

"if you'd done your job correctly, i wouldn't have fired you," he defends.

"need a drink for that filthy mouth of yours?" you grumbled, turning to prepare something that you would begrudgingly give to one of the most important members of the family.

"it's far too late for me to be indulging." you took slight pride in offending sunday, but kept the smile to yourself as you polished a glass.

"oh, but it's the height of the night if you're here right on close," you taunted. "didn't even let me finish my drink before you came barging in."

"oh, i'm sorry, i thought it was work policy not to drink on the job," sunday snapped, crossing his arms. "i'm not here for a drink."

"i know, i'm not mentally deficient," you responded, turning around to glare at him. "it's too late to rekindle things if that's what you're after, it's been years."

sunday rolled his eyes and you swore his little wings twitched at your comment. "i wouldn't be here if i didn't need something from you," he grumbled, running a gloves hand through his hair.

"interesting..." you pursed your lips at his words and took your seat once more, tracing a finger around the rim of your glass. "shame that i'm 'no longer proficient' at my initial job. can't help you, sir."

the man sighed at your attitude before giving in and exposing his intentions. "robin's dead." you paused and looked him in the eyes, looking for a sign of a lie, but you found nothing.

"i hate to say it, but maybe she wouldn't be if i was still her bodyguard," you mumbled in a sing-song manner.

"you-"

"i've not seen her since i was fired, i hope you haven't come here to accuse me of murdering her." you scowled at sunday when he hesitated to deny your claim. "that's low, even for you."

"i have nothing to go off," he said, wings drooping at his lack of information. "i need information to find the culprit and make them pay."

you shrugged and skulled the rest of your drink. "not my problem, but i am gonna have to ask you to bump it. we're closed and i'm off the clock."

as you turned away to clean your glass and pack up, sunday's eyes remained on you. he traced your figure with his eyes and he found himself at a loss for how different you both had become. ambient silence replaced the venomous conversation you had shared and he eventually stood from his seat and left the bar. as he reached the stairs, he looked back at your spot at the counter only to find you gone, and the lights off.

"damn it..." he hissed, continuing on his way home.

you rubbed your eyes as you woke up the next day, tucked under the fluffy comforter and hair a mess. you reached for your phone to check the time and sighed when you saw you had a text from siobhan.

SIOBHAN 10:26 am hey [name], do you mind covering my shift this afternoon? i have some business with gallagher and the astral express crew to attend to. YOU 10:32 am alright, but you owe me dinner now. SIOBHAN 10:32 am deal, thanks!

you pulled the comforter up to your chin and put your phone down, closing your eyes again to kill time until your impromptu shift. you weren't granted sleep as you pondered your conversation with sunday last night. another flare of rage sparked in your chest as you remembered his silent and reluctant call for help, despite casting you out and never speaking to you again in years.

"what a stuck up asshole," you grunted, throwing the comforter off of you and heading to your bathroom to prepare for the day.

by the time you'd made it to work, there was a short line of your regulars along the bar seats. you smiled as they conversed and slipped behind the bar to begin your shift. the hum of discussion reverberated through the room and last night's frustrations melted from your bones as you catered to your clients.

as if your limbs were being moved by puppet strings, you served the monsters their drinks and indulged in the occasional gossip. muscle memory overtook the shell of your body and you allowed your soul to shine through with your conversations.

as you worked, sunday ascended the stairs again in hopes of finding siobhan. his pristine white coat absorbed the light as he walked to the bar, adding to his angelic aura. as he stood in the doorway, he paused. you weren't siobhan.

his feet turned to take him away, but his eyes remained on the scene in front of him, burning the vignette into his mind. the easy smile that graced your features and the joy that decorated your face pulled at his heart in a way he was unfamiliar with. perhaps it was rage. you got to live carefree without the grief that your sister was now dead. maybe it was admiration. he hasn't properly looked at you since he effectively ruined your career.

his wings flapped lightly and he forced himself inside the bar. the monsters' discussion died down, as did your smile. this expression was far more comfortable for sunday. he knew how to handle your anger.

"these guys didn't do it either if that's what you're here for," you comment, finishing another drink.

"where's siobhan?" sunday demanded, not daring to come right up to the counter. you seemed to have more energy than last night and he didn't want to risk stains on his clothes.

"out."

"out where?"

you pouted as you pretended to think about your answer. "ask gallagher." a grin spread across your lips at sunday's exasperated sigh.

"i should've known you would be useless," he groaned, spinning on his heel to hunt down the security officer.

"leaving so soon?" you teased, beginning to grab him a glass. "haven't even had a drink."

sunday glared at you over his shoulder. "why would i need a drink? i should be finding gallagher."

you sighed, throwing your head back and gesturing to the monsters sat at your bar. "you haven't made very good use of the resources available to you."

"you don't know anything that can help me," sunday retorted. the last thing he wanted right now was to spend even more time around you.

"nope- actually... maybe i do," you said, tapping a finger to your chin obnoxiously. "talk to these guys first and maybe i'll think about telling you."

sunday remained silent for a moment, for he couldn't deny you were right. that, and also you drove a hard bargain if you did have information for him.

"fine," he relented, taking a seat in front of you. you opened your mouth to ask him for his order, but he raised his hand to silence you. "make me what you want. i just want to see if you're better at this than being a bodyguard." he smirked at you and the monsters gasped to themselves at his unexpected sass.

"i'm better than you, that's for sure," you huffed, scanning over the ingredients you had left.

as he conversed with the current guests at the bar, he watched you work with unwavering focus. he'd never seen you work, only drink and bicker with him; and he wanted to make sure you didn't poison him for revenge.

"cosmic turbidity for a mr. sunday," you announced, sliding his drink to him. "because you're blue."

as he looked at his drink in the glass, he prayed that it might be according to his tastes and not just blue because of his colour scheme. "thanks."

the light bitterness danced along his tastebuds and tickled his throat as he swallowed the liquid, but he found his previous stress alleviated by the refreshing drink. the tension left his shoulders temporarily and the drink served as a nice distraction from his current predicament.

as he hinted to "death" in the dreamscape, the monsters gossiped among themselves as they tried to solve this hypothetical-not-so-hypothetical situation. he chuckled awkwardly at their gusto and energy, glancing to you for assistance. instead, he found you smiling gently at their conversations as you polished glasses. when you caught him staring, your lips fell back into a straight line, if not a little bit grumpy.

by the time your shift was over, your guests had left and sunday was the only one remaining. you waved hello to the next worker who would be taking your place for the night shift and grabbed your bag to go home.

as you made your way down the stairs, sunday grasped your shoulder, causing you to turn your head with an unimpressed gaze.

"you have to uphold your end of the bargain," he reminded.

"i do believe i said i'll think about telling you," you countered, patting his hand condescendingly.

he opened his mouth to speak, but released a sharp sigh. "you are successful as a bartender, is that what you want?"

your lips pulled upwards and you shrugged his hand off of your shoulder as you continued down the stairs. "'death' doesn't exist in the dreamscape," you said, not caring to look behind you to see if sunday was following you.

"i know," he answered, quickly catching up with you as you headed out of the building. "that doesn't explain what happened to robin."

you gave him a quick side glance and hummed to yourself. "you're looking for the wrong thing. 'death' doesn't exist in the dreamscape, something else does."

sunday stopped in his tracks at your words, but your pace never faltered. you gave him a half-assed wave without looking at him, and he watched your body get smaller and smaller the further you walked until the door eventually closed behind you.

he let out a frustrated groan, running a hand down his face. "this sucks..."

TAGLIST:

if your username is bold, i couldn't tag you :((

@galagarts @junyueyin @i-am-tiredd @caeruslumiere @abyssmal-skies @jellofishuu @axerrri

[help-me-im-in-the-fandom]

When you stare into the Abyss: Origins

Masterlist

Next part

It started out pretty simple, almost three months after he had began his career as Batman, intent to save the innocent just as much as punish the criminals of Gotham.

“Batman is still just a man, he’s not a god.”

He had overheard the words at a gala the first time, when airhead Brucie is drinking and flirting with all the pretty girls he can see.

The words of course, don’t visibly effect him, don’t make him pause in his step or his voice calling towards a nearby heiress falter.

However, his heart beats in his chest even as he cozies up to the woman.

Because in truth, Batman was just a man, a rich, overly trained and incredibly intelligent man, but a man nonetheless.

He tries to ignore it, but as he keeps hitting the streets to dig out the rotting tendrils of corruption in this horrible place, he keeps hearing it.

A pair of smokers outside a club known for the fact no woman ever escaped without being drugged to hell and back, talking quietly about the rumors of the Batman that had began picking off their friends one by one.

“I ain’t scare’ o’ i’ jus’a man inna cos’ume.”

“He’s a de’il I ‘ell ya, ‘ere ‘o ‘ollect ‘is souls.”

Batman stays still on the roof above him, but even days later with both men in costudy and the bar shut down for health code violations, his mind keeps going back to the conversation.

It’s whispered in alleys and under bridges and inside packed clubs, the words a mantra the criminals begin to say like a prayer.

It’s sneered with distaste inside the mansions and museums of the rich, joked about inside their ivory castles covered in blood.

It’s said fear inside workplaces and coffe shops, whispered in schools and parks for their only protector.

Batman is just a man.

It agitated Bruce, he doesn’t know why at first, because it is the truth, he is just a man.

Then he sees a blurry photo a the Gotham Gazete with a humanoid shape of shadows, it’s nothing more than a Bigfoot sighting, blurry and pixelated and might just be a trick of the light.

But it makes his stomach curl, because he knows he might not be that lucky next time, and how long would it take for people to start looking for Batman, if they think he is just a man and have a photo to prove it?

Bruce, after a decade of crime fighting, will tell anyone he regrets the decision he made that night, what it created.

His family will hug him and tell him he couldn’t have known.

Because in the bar stool of the kitchen where Alfred is plating an enormous plate of breakfast to make up for the calories lost the night before, he makes a decision.

Batman needed to be more than a man, perhaps not a god, but something close enough no one would ever accuse air-head Bruce Wayne of being the terror of Gotham’s underground.

Alfred will tell what followed was a three day whirlwind of creative insperatikn and sleep-deprived insanity mixed with an over caffeinated Billionaire’s pocket money.

Bruce would say it was three days of careful planning and precise research as well as dozens of mock up designs.

In the end it takes longer than a month for Bruce to implement the changes to his original suit design, practically scrapping it and starting over between dodging board meetings and stalking the streets.

But eventually, Bruce finishes his design, and that night the screams of terror are stronger for quite a while, after all, Batman is no longer just a man.

[felassan]

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 1. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 2]

general: the Lighthouse looks so cool, it's beautiful 🥺 I can't wait to explore it fully and see the companions' areas change over time.

outside many of the windows are pieces of floating rock and odd architecture, a feature of Fadey scenery.

This can only be Emmrich's room. :) the giant skeleton statue on the left is exactly like the ones in the Necropolis Halls. the hanging lanterns have hexagon shapes, which I've become convinced is part of Nevarra's visual design in this game. the slab-like table in the foreground looks suspiciously like it's meant to hold a corpse/skeleton, and we can see Emmrich doing just that here. the room is filled with lots of flasks and other glass vessels, reminding me of the artbook concept of apron!Emmrich holding a smoking glass flask. I wonder if any of the jars/vases are more like urns and canopic jar kinda deals? there's a big scroll on the desk and lots of books and scrolls everywhere, as you might expect from a scholar and a professor. there's lots of skulls and skull-themed decor everywhere, even affixed to the wooden part of the upper floor, as you might expect from a necromancer. Emmrich really said okay I'm moving in now and my huge collection of skulls is coming with hhh. in the righthand corner of the room it looks like a giant skull (the bottom part of it looks to me like teeth), and on one shelf there's even a ribcage.

do the statue-figures on either side of the fire look like humanoid figures holding their heads in their hands to anyone else, only their heads are like vase-shaped?

maybe he sleeps upstairs somewhere?

the big spiral staircase is beautiful and so is the sunlight beaming in through the windows from above. :) the fireplace looks cozy. in the arches of the windows you can see the curves of ancient elvhen architecture. the view from up there must be so pretty!

This item on the top of one of the shelves caught my eye. I can't place it atm but haven't we seen this shape before?

This room can only be Neve's. :) in the bottom left is a stand with a different leg on it, the same as one of the ones shown in her artbook concept art. there is serpent imagery. I think diamond shapes and pointy objects like the wall-lights are part of the visual language design of Tevinter. the hanging lanterns look magical, a common thing in Tevinter. the rug is pretty and incorporates her turquiosey color palette. on her desk there is a turquoise pot (teapot?) - if you look closely, its coloring and the swirling designs on it are very similar to Neve's teacup here. :) there are various teapots and decanter-type things around the place that she could use for coffee.

it's smart room design, the big ceiling-high windows give the room the impression of a workplace office, like something out of a crime procedural.

Neve's casework wall. wanted posters/mugshots/suspect/missing person (they could be any of these) pictures, lots of notes, papers that look like they could be maps, strings linking together different papers in a clues-board like this meme, papers that it looks like Neve has annotated in red ink while studying them (circling and underlining things). a nice touch is that one or two of the papers are drawings of snowflakes, fitting for an ice mage. :)

I'm curious, what is this and what is it for? Bellara has one of these in her room as well, as does Lucanis (see Part 2).

these hanging objects are also interesting. they look like glass cases containing pieces of parchment on which a snake is drawn.

This room can only be Bellara's. :) it's filled with floating ancient elven magic-tech triangles and in the middle it shows the detached head thing from her artbook concept art. (he looks like if you activated him with the blue crystal or something that he could talk..). the room has a workshop vibe; she has a workbench and a stool, different instruments and gismos, and there's an array of artifacts on the shelves. the orange wall hanging on the right is triangular, flanked by two arrows in the nets and contains the skull of a deer/halla or similar animal. this must represent the Veil Jumpers given that many of them use archery, the triangles and the fact that their faction logo is a deerlike skull. it's a nice touch that even the structure of some of Bellara's furniture, like the sidetable on which the head rests, are triangular in design.

All the picture frames everywhere - are those mirrors? could they have something to do with investigating eluvians, or the network?

this looks like this halla statuette asset from DA:I. :) there's one of these in Taash's room too.

the ancient elven face motif, like on Solas' Trespasser armor and the Temple of Mythal Sentinels' armor.

hanging bone hh?

Left: what is this contraption? the ear is human Center: very ornate box. what's in here? maybe the animals on the top of the lid are stylized mabari? Right: Fereldan mabari banner.

Left: this pattern of walls and the triangle pattern on them is a feature of ancient elven architecture. Right: the way the walls (behind the frames) are designed here, it makes it look like pipes. Bottom: curious that we cannot see the ceiling.. :)

This looks like a sort of magnifying glass or microscope-type thing that would allow her to closely examine things she finds.

What does this do? :D

This (left), along with the head, feels like a focal point in her room. this hanging thing almost looks like a model of a planet or solar system - a planet in the middle, a ring of asteroids or something around it, smaller orbs around the place like moons. we've seen part of something similar before, in the ancient elven ruins in Arlathan Forest in the screenshot on the right. compare these bits; the rings, the paired triangles.

looking at the wider structure of the thing in Bellara's room, it also reminds an awful lot of this place (whatever it is), which even has the ring of rocks going around it.

feels important. :D

I feel like this is Harding's room. :) it's pretty and cute, a nice rustic space (suits her). the simple bedroll under a cloth canopy propped up with some sticks has the vibe of something a shepherd and scout might rig up to rest in when out in the wilds. the pond / water feature transforms it into an outdoorsy, nature-y space, as do the leaf-strewn floors and the plants growing up the walls. there's vegetation everywhere - potted plants and some areas which look like raised planting beds, basically little indoor gardens. this includes windowboxes, flowers and even mushrooms (I know that's fungi. yk what I mean hh). this makes so much sense for Harding - we know she loves nature and plants, and Ali Hillis mentioned that Harding also raises plants. I wonder if as the game progresses, she will grow more plants and the ones she has already will grow some more? like maybe she'll finish planting up the area around the pond the whole way round? and I wonder if her lil pond has fish? that would be so neat. please can I buy some beautiful koi for Harding to put in her pond to raise? also I wonder if any of the things she grows are edible? like imagine Bellara and Lucanis cooking with e.g. salad greens grown and raised here by Ms Harding :D and/or healing herbs we could use in the field?

this plant for example resembles the model for elfroot in DA:I!

I think maybe this is Taash's room. first off, near the middle of the room it looks like a makeshift weights bench, and we know that Taash is a gym bro. the hanging rings nearby that remind me of these. even the 'horizontal ladders' on the ceiling look like you could use them as monkeybars - if you look on the left, there are even ladders in the form of rings protruding from the wall that you could use to climb up there to access them.

even these frame things look like they could be used for some kind of physical workout/climbing situation.

on the table to the left it looks like piles of big coins, fitting for a Lord of Fortune. elsewhere in the room behind the weights bench it looks like there might be some gold bars. in the background is a hammer leaned against a crate.

this crate has her color scheme - the tealy hue, gold pieces and red ropes.

a Qunari symbol, in drapery that has her color palette, the teal with the red ropes. btw, comparing this and its location to the new screenshot of Taash, I think that this banner is the thing in the background that I was talking about here (the "something blue-green"):

in the background to the right is something blue-green with what looks like red rope hanging off it. a belonging of Taash’s? maybe this shot is from a quieter moment, somewhere in the Lighthouse, maybe her space? if you look here (Arlathan, the ruins are ancient elven), it has the same sort of repeating zigzag patterns on the same sort of arch-like curves as here. it makes me think that this shot is set in a room with ancient elven architecture. (and the Lighthouse was Solas’, so it would have ancient elven design).

If you look at the banner with a wider crop you can even see the "arch-like curves" with the zigzag patterns that she's standing in front of in the new screenshot. this area has fire to the left of the arch, which would cast the warm firey glow you can see from stage-left in the new Taash screenshot. so it looks like in the new Taash screenshot she was standing somewhere around here:

And that my guess of the setting of the new Taash screenshot was correct. :D

crate of some kind of weaponry or bones, including a map with a knife I imagine you'd use to mark spots on it with. :) piratey vibe.

clever room design btw, it has the vibe of belowdecks/the bowels of a ship.

horned statue or carving, like an ogre.

Top: the silver shield-like things on the wall have the same sort of scale-mail appearance as Taash's field armor. Bottom: this thing reminds me of a boat in shape. like a small fishing boat or something.

I wonder why Taash has a Grey Warden shield and an eluvian in her room? maybe the shield is just general decor (like the Fereldan banner in Bellara's room? unless Bellara is from Ferelden??). maybe the eluvian ties into why she apparently has some involvement and a strong interest in a main story mission set in the far reaches of Arlathan Forest, as described by Corinne Busche during the second Discord Q&A? -

"I was out in Arlathan, actually doing, on my way to do a main story mission, and I get to the far reaches of Arlathan Forest, and I already knew that Taash wanted to help me with some of the challenges of that arc. Well, Taash is right there waiting for me, so I actually chose to instead like, ah, Taash seems impatient, I’m gonna actually jump on that story arc right now instead of what I intended to do"

And what is this? Looks like a sun or an owl. ^^

I ran out of image allowance on this post so I'll put the rest in another post!

[Link to Part 2]

[gam3-b01]

winter

pairing(s): jeon wonwoo x reader

genre(s): angst

wc: ~1.3k

warnings: suggestive content (hankypanky related activities), just sad hours in general, minors dni just to be safe

(a/n: my first post on this blog, this was one of my earliest drafts and i needed to get it out of my system ahahsjdnd. the way some people might know who i am because i used the term hanky panky is concerning but also hilarious, if you see this i love you bro sorry for angst hours i stayed up too late to make sane decisions sorry i had to. song inspo for this fic is winter by two feet)

It's not a thing, right? This hasn't happened before.

But the familiarity with which you look up at him from under the covers slaps Wonwoo in the face before he has the time to process the content haziness clouding your eyes. His tense frame relaxes involuntarily, and he slips in beside you but not before checking your bare skin for any bruises he might have accidently left after almost soldering you to the mattress barely ten minutes ago. As he slips an arm around your middle and you tell him without any kindness whatsoever that his hands are way too cold for you (and that he should probably get checked for anaemia because, and he quotes, "even hell freezing over generates more fucking warmth than you do"), he realises he has to stop lying to himself and acknowledge the fact that realistically, this has actually definitely happened before.

This exact night, every single frame of it, happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one? No, the both of you were still together back then. Probably. What year was three years ago? Time was always a muddy, comically abstract concept when it came to each other for the both of you.

Maybe it would be easier for him to count the years winter to winter. Because when Wonwoo visits his hometown at the beginning of every December, a series of events occur. He sets his bags down at his place and spends the first week in radio silence recuperating with his family, ignoring the 20 odd messages he gets from Mingyu about his dog and updates (read: gossip) from their shared workplace. The next week usually is spent catching up with old friends mostly out of obligation, and the third week is occupied by Christmas. The fourth-ish week is when all of his friends asking about you begins to get to his head. By around the 28th of December, he's sick of lying awake in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to forget things that should never have happened in the first place. Eventually he sits up, runs a hand through his hair, puts on his glasses, and spritzes on something that you liked to call "sandalwood crack" before shrugging on his jacket and heading out.

Where to though? He pretends to think for a while before giving up. And when he steps into the bar after paying for his cab, he is never, ever surprised or secretly relieved when he spots you sitting in the stool furthest away from the air conditioning. You look wasted, but the soda cans strewn about you indicate otherwise. You've stopped drinking after the breakup. You're doing well with sobriety. He opens with that like the asshole he is, and you have the decency to cuss at him like a sailor and pass him a stool as you say something vaguely self-depreciating as a joke about the near-alcoholism you contracted back then. He opts for silence. And you ask him to take it easy despite him having opened the fire. Ever tolerant. Like the gentle undercurrents of a river (not like you didn't have a temper on you, you just tended to be nice when you saw him after long periods of time. Was it because you missed him? The mere thought had him shrivelling up a little inside). Wasn't he supposed to be the water sign between you both? He remembers the natal chart phase you had when you were nineteen, which reminds him you were his best friend of nine years before the both of you stopped talking. He expertly shoves that piece of information away before it tries to hurt him one more time.

(...What kind of best friend asks, no, begs him to leave and never contact them again? Maybe the kind whose best friend actually proceeded to do exactly that without ever putting up a fight? Fuck.)

Things somehow, without fail, end up leading you both to the nearest motel when one of you ends up saying something incredibly reckless and all the other person can do is gape hopelessly, words murdered in cold blood right when they were about to be bailed out from their throat. The rest of a night is a senseless, irresponsible blur, and then?

The rough part begins.

One of you is going to leave in the next thirty minutes if Wonwoo's doing his gut arithmetic right. He wished he sucked at math sometimes, he really did.

However, he blinks a bit. Something feels off, something feels different. You're not leaving (is it his turn this time..?). Instead, you're turning around, eyes vulnerable and still blown a little wide as you touch his hair with a flavour of fondness he could not imitate even if he tried his damndest to.

He freezes for only a second before his lips seek yours out of habit. He truly loathes the way he groans at how much it affects him, but what else is he supposed to do when he knows you're trying to hold back that little sound you make when you get desperate for him? He's almost willing to let you take the lead because he feels like his system is going into overdrive, willing to let you finally ruin whatever's left of him, but sanity prevails by a hanging thread as he takes back control from you with a firm hand on your jaw. His grip is gentle unlike earlier, and despite knowing you like it when he's mean to you, his eyes shine with something completely different when he breaks the kiss for a moment to take in everything he can about you right now and burn this anomaly into his memory.

(Because what else will he be ever be able to think of on every single cold, miserable night for many years to come after that look you gave him before he kissed you? That look that made it look like you still loved him, why did you have to do that?)

You're staring at him like you've been burned, and he's trying his absolute best not to flinch away when he sees raw, unabashed hurt begin to filter through your soft irises.

"Don't look at me like that." You start.

"Like what?"

"Like you-", you gulp nervously, eyes quickly losing the content sheen radiating off of you earlier.

"-like you actually want me or something."

Externally, the tenderness in his eyes is instantly replaced by whatever the fuck he usually looks like, but internally, he's trying his best not to scream. Your words are unfair, cruel even. How can the one person who knows him like the back of their hand not grasp the one fundamental truth that makes up his very core?

The alarm system inside his head built just for you tells him you feel sick, just like he does. He knows you've gleaned that much as well, and makes no effort to stop you as you slip out of the bed with the sheets hugging your chest in one fluid motion.

"I feel so sick, Wonwoo."

"I know."

Your heart is as tangled up as his is, and no matter how many times the both of you manage to land into each other's arms, neither of you seem to be capable of unravelling the other without tearing everything apart.

He watches you collect yourself before turning to him, face stone cold, with eyes that now look foreign to him as you deliver the parthian shot.

"I think that I should go."

[loggiepj]

YOU'RE NOT MY TYPE

Summary: Wanda mistakenly rejects you when you try to ask her out.

And now she regrets it because you're definitely, undeniably her type.

Seeing your ex-girlfriend kiss someone else in your workplace felt like hell.

It was as if love broke you. The ability to function hindered only by one organ in your body. And even if it was so tiny, once it was hurt, it would hurt you like a ton.

Through the first weeks, the breakup affected your work. Finding yourself stuttering through discussions or staring blankly in space during meetings, it was as if your life stopped and you began to question on your existence.

What is the meaning of life if not to love?

Your boss even requested for you to take a leave because he said you deserved it. And you wondered which thing you did deserve, the leave or the breakup.

Maybe both.

When your friends started to notice you being all depressed and mopey on your table while your ex from another department was smiling like crazy as she prepared herself for a date with the new guy, they immediately felt the need to console you with food, drinks and company.

That was why on your 7th week after the said awful breakup, your friends managed to pull you on your feet and dragged you with them into a bar owned by the sister of one of your  friends.

After gulping down your second shot of whatever drink your friends offered to you, you finally stood up and declared.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today-"

But Natasha, your somewhat close to bestfriend, stopped you. "Cmon Y/n, we barely even started."

"Yeah, Y/n," Steve, Nat's boyfriend, added as he made you sit back on your stool. "Plus, the reason why we're here is so you can find yourself a gal and move on from that stupid ex of yours."

"She's not stupid," you immediately argued, making Steve raise his hands in surrender. You didn't even know why you were still trying to defend her. She hurt you. "Sorry... She's just, complicated. That's all."

"Enough about your past," Pietro butted in. "Steve's kinda right, you know? You have to realize that there's still plenty of fish in the water and your ex was just a tiny plankton."

"That's not even a fish-"

He stopped you midsentence. "What I'm trying to say is that there's someone out there waiting for you to ask her out. And all you need is a one big push. Maybe you'll even thank your ex someday."

You only shook your head as he offered you another shot.

"Unless... you're scared," Pietro added.

"Oh... This is good," Tony meddled in. "Did you just call Y/n a scaredy cat?"

"I am not scared to flirt, okay?" You defended yourself, straightening the collar of your shirt. "I just... Well, I'm just not in the mood."

"Fine, if you're not scared as you say you are... I dare you... To ask that bartender out," Pietro suggested, pointing at the woman mixing and serving drinks at the bar. When you turned your head to glance towards her, as if on cue, Stand By Me by Ben E. King blared from the speakers in the background. The woman had brownish blonde hair tied up in a bun. Her emerald eyes glinting as she smiled at her customers. You could tell right away she wasn't the kind of bartender who'd sport a fake smile, she was a genuine one, like a beautiful flower in an open field of buckwheat.

You thought Pietro had good taste because the woman was so breathtakingly attractive. But you knew there was no way she'd say yes being asked out in a place like this. She had probably received a lot of offers, too. Looking like that, most people would just objectify her. While you would worship her.

You couldn't blame her if she'd say no though.

So you agreed to Pietro's dumb dare. "On one condition. If she'll say no, I am going home."

"That makes no sense. We're here to party for you.... And what makes you think she'd say no? I mean, you're beautiful, I'm not blind, Y/n, and she looks like an angel in hell," Pietro said, his arms flailing before you to explain.

"I just know she wouldn't, okay? She deserves to be asked out, but not in a place like this," you reasoned out.

"Deal, then!" He agreed after a moment of silence. "But please put a little effort, too."

"I'll try," you mustered up a bit of courage, as you stood and made your way to the bar. Her last customers just left with drinks in hand as you slowly approached, hands in your pocket.

"Hi!" You must have greeted her enthusiastically because it made her jump on her spot. You couldn't deny that she was more beautiful up close and it made you forget why you were there in the first place.

"Hey, what can I get you?" she asked, her voice so sweet and lovely.

"Just a can of coke, please," you replied, smiling.

She only giggled, not expecting you to order something nonalcoholic.

Once she placed a can, a glass full of ice and a napkin before you, you immediately added, "Oh, you forgot something."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, wondering if she served the wrong can.

Then you handed out a napkin to her and said, cringing internally, "Your number."

After five seconds of painful silence, she broke out into a loud laughter. And you smiled because she had a beautiful laugh.

"Sorry," she managed to say after trying not to laugh for a second, covering her mouth. "But you're not my type."

"So you're straight?"

"No, I'm bi..," she hesitantly admitted. "But just because I'm half gay doesn't mean you're my type."

And you released a soft chuckle, nodding back at her with understanding, because you were right all along. Internally, you were rejoicing because you won Pietro's dare and a soft warm bed awaited you at home.

"And you find rejection amusing too, first time," she went on, now with an awkward laugh.

You licked your lips as you said. "Sorry, turning serious now.. Okay, I'm hurt." You placed your hand dramatically on your chest. "Both physically and emotionally... What's your type then?"

She was now wiping a clean glass dry as she replied. "Someone who doesn't give corny pick up lines in a dingy bar like this."

You let out a laugh because your thoughts about her just matched and it intrigued you even more.

"Actually... I don't pick up girls from bars like this. I was just dared to by my friends," you explained.

"Ohh, and you know why I know you're not my type?" she asked with a smirk.

"Enlighten me, please."

"Because I knew you'd say that. Exactly those phrases. What are we? Highschoolers playing truth or dare?"

You only smiled, giving her credit for that. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably do the same thing too.

"My name's Y/n..," you introduced yourself. When she wasn't responding, you added. "And yours?"

She only chuckled at you. "And... I'm working."

"Hi, Working! That's a pretty cute name. For sure you hate your parents for that though."

Giving you one last laugh and a shake of head, the woman tended to another group of new customers and you decided to leave her in peace.

When you came back to your table, your friends laughing and awaiting for your return, you only punched your hand in the air in victory.

"I told you she'd say no," you said, as you grabbed your bag from your seat, slinging it on your shoulder.

"What?!" Pietro exclaimed.

"And because I won, I can go home now," you added, leaving a couple of tens on the table. "Thank you so much for the company guys."

Little did you notice that the bartender was staring at you, wondering why you were suddenly walking out the door with no one in hand even though you were undeniably attractive and literally could have anyone. Did you really just flirt with her and only her?

"Hey, Wanda! My lovely sis!"

When she saw her brother, Pietro, leaning in front of the counter, Wanda immediately shrugged him off, telling him he already had too much alcohol.

"Why did you say no to my friend, Y/n?" Pietro groaned like a kid as he took a seat.

And Wanda's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Oh, so you are the one who tried to set me up with your friend," she complained. "Sorry, Piet. She's just not my type, okay?"

And Pietro glared at her as if she had said the most offending thing ever.

"What? Y/n is definitely your type."

"You're unbelievable, you know that? I have standards and her asking me out like that in a bar like this is just a no-no for me." 

Pietro sighed as he leaned, resting his head on his folded arms. "Look... She's just not trying hard to ask you because I dared her to. And she didn't want to ask you really. Actually, she was opposed to the idea. She made a deal about it that if you'd reject her, she'd leave and go home, which made her happy to be honest."

Wanda grew confused as she placed the cleaned glasses back on the shelf.

"So you forced her to ask me out, even when she doesn't even want to?"

Pietro smiled apologetically. "Sort of... But I am telling you, sis, Y/n is your soulmate... She's just going through some stuff right now. And you rejecting her would definitely not boost her confidence."

Wanda only laughed. "Oh, from what I witnessed earlier, she didn't need that much help."

When Tony walked into the conversation just to order refills, Pietro immediately included him. Him and Pietro were childhood buddies and knew Wanda since little.

"Hey Tony, what about you? Do you think Y/n is Wanda's type?"

Then Tony's eyes widened in realization. "Oh my God, you are right! I've never thought of it before. I think they're soulmates."

Wanda only scoffed, ignoring the sudden churn she felt in her stomach. Did she make a mistake?

"See?" Pietro exclaimed, then she pulled Natasha when she happened to pass by along the bar. "Nat, you know my sister, Wanda, right?"

And both of the girls smiled and acknowledged each other.

"Wanda said that Y/n is not her type," Pietro went on.

Natasha only raised her eyebrows. Then she looked at Wanda in shock. "What? But Y/n is a hopeless romantic, Wanda. And a complete nerd if you ask me. She's definitely your type."

"She goes to musicals," Steve suddenly butted in, as if their table just teleported to the bar.

"Oh, and she likes to watch-"

"Interstellar!" Both Natasha and Tony screamed as they giggled.

"She must have watched that movie for the thousandth time," Pietro added. "More than Wanda had seen it... There were times I couldn't get the movie soundtrack to leave my head for weeks-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Wanda interrupted. "Y/n and I have common interests. But I just don't like to be asked out in a bar... and besides, if she's really that amazing as you tell, how come you just talk about her around me now?"

"Because she just got out of a 5-year relationship," Pietro slowly answered as they all grew silent. "And she's still hurting."

Upon the revelation, Wanda's heart ached for you. You were hurting and she was rude to you, she didn't even give you her name.

When the topics have changed, Wanda couldn't stop wondering what if she did say yes. Would you take her seriously?

She had previous relationships that she didn't even want to remember because of too much trauma and red flags. And she didn't want to relive those moments.

Pietro knew she had been single for almost a year now, not being able to find time to date, and when she did have time, it was either a no show up date or a bad first impression date. She wondered if you were her first mistake, the one who got away.

Even after her shift, Wanda's mind always drifted back to you. To the point when she saw Pietro help her arrange the tables after the bar closed, she relented.

"Do you have her number?" Wanda sheepishly asked.

And Pietro only smiled at her as he pulled out his phone.

But Wanda hadn't found the courage to text you until a week after. She was about to send out her drafted message, probably the 11th version, to you when you accidentally bumped into her on the streets.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there," you immediately apologized. Then upon recognizing her, you greeted. "Hi, Working! I haven't seen you in like what was it, a week now?"

Wanda bit her lower lip to suppress a laugh as she replied, her insides squirming. "Careful there, one might think you're counting."

You only chuckled back then you noticed the groceries she was carrying. "You need help with that?"

But without waiting for her reply, you grabbed the bags from her. "So where to?

Wanda must have blushed but she tried to hide her face by looking down the pavement. "Nice try, showoff... To the dingy bar, please..."

But you only smiled as you two walked along the streets, knowing the bar she was referring to was just two blocks away.

"What are you doing in the food market on a Sunday, anyway?" Wanda curiously asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I went there for the food," you answered honestly, smirking at her.

"Yeah, very smart, smartass," Wanda smirked back.

You continued. "There's actually this store that sells a variety of nuts-"

"-which you can choose the quantity of each type at the same rate!" Wanda finished, then she realized what she did, nerding out on nuts.

"You like nuts that much, huh?" You joked. You found her cute, though.

"Ha ha... very funny."

"Hey, I meant the food," you quickly explained.

Wanda couldn't stop the smile from widening on her face.

When you finally arrived at the bar Wanda was working at, you noticed how she pulled a big keychain from her bag, numerous keys dangling around.

"You own this bar?" You asked, slightly intending the question as a joke but curiosity killed you.

Wanda hesitantly nodded. She didn't see now why she needed to hide.

"Wait," you muttered, connecting the dots. "So your brother must be Pietro Maximoff, then. I'm one of his dear friends."

"Yeah, he's my twin brother, actually."

After entering the bar, you followed her to the kitchen where you placed the groceries on top of the table.

Wanda suddenly grew nervous, now that you're both alone in a small room. "Do you like something to drink, a refreshment of the sort maybe? As a thank you," Wanda asked, nerves started to kick in.

"Oh, no it's okay," you instantly replied, shaking your head. "I have to go home anyway and feed my cat."

You thought she looked disappointed at the moment but you could just be imagining it.

But Wanda was indeed disappointed.

Before you turned to leave, you added. "Sorry about that night, though... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable like that. If it was anyone to blame, you should blame Pietro. He was the one who dared me to ask you out."

Wanda only chuckled softly, her heartbeat racing.

"No, it's fine. That's just my brother. He's just silly and all."

You nodded and smiled. "Okay... I won't keep you long... Have a great day, then, Miss Working Maximoff."

It took Wanda to get the joke and when she laughed out loud, you were already gone. And she regretted not giving you her number. Because she still didn't have the courage to text you first.

The next time you saw each other was at a common friend's wedding two weeks after that short interaction. You didn't want to come but Tony would kill you if you didn't.

And then you saw Pietro's sister looking like an angel, a beautiful flower in a sea of grass.

She was dressed in a pretty white dress and her eyes never looked so greener than before. To be honest, you thought she looked more beautiful than the bride herself, no offense to Pepper, Tony's bride-to-be.

"Hi, Working!" You greeted behind her.

Wanda should be angry at being teased at but when she recognized the voice and the joke, she couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach.

"Hey, Y/n," she greeted back. Then she leaned forward to kiss your cheek in greeting, which made you jump and melt at the feeling of her lips on your skin. Wanda couldn't help but feel entranced by the way you look that day, she didn't even notice her brother was talking.

"Why is she calling you Working?" Pietro asked.

But the ceremony just started and he was immediately shushed out.

At the reception, you found yourself dancing to your favorite song when it came up. It was Wanda's favorite too.

When she saw you dancing, Wanda immediately went to ask her friends to the dance floor, needing an excuse to bump into you. But it was to no avail. Her friends were still full from the meal they had eaten.

Someone coughed behind her, making her abruptly turn. Then her lips curved into a smile as you looked at her, your hand held in front of you. "I heard you have troubles finding yourself a dance partner."

Wanda sheepishly took your hand, as she answered. "Well, now I don't."

And you both had the time of your lives as you and Wanda danced to the lively song followed by another pop one, then a rock song. When Lunar One by Seventeen Evergreen played on the speakers, you both tried to catch your breath as her arms slowly snaked  around your shoulders while yours wrapped around her waist.

"I have a question," you began as you swayed to the song, smiling at her.

"Yeah?"

"If you've finished working, does your name change into its past tense Worked?"

Wanda didn't even know why she was laughing at such a corny joke but she was, tears warning to get out from her eyes.

"What if you're in England," you added. "And someone calls you Job, would you acknowledge that person or correct him and say that's not your name?"

Chuckling so hard, she punched you lightly on your shoulder as she said, "Stop it. I believe now you know my real name."

"I... may have stalked your brother's social media."

"And what have you seen?"

"That you have a beautiful and a very unique name.... but not as unique as Working though."

Wanda shook her head in laughter, her eyes suddenly drifted to your lips, wondering what it felt like against hers. But the moment ended when Wanda was suddenly asked out to a dance by one of the guests. You happily, but deep inside disappointed, let her go.

What you didn't know was Wanda's eyes follow you after that.

When the night ended and everyone eventually started leaving, Wanda expected you to see her afterwards, knowing you both had a moment.

She knew you were feeling it too. And then she would just ask you out right there because you didn't seem to have the courage to.

But Pietro said you already left because you were catching a ride with your friends. And Wanda's wonder and insecurities started to rise.

It was almost winter when you got invited to Tony's manor for a very early Halloween party. Pre-party as what Tony would call them. He wanted to do it early because Pepper wanted a month-long honeymoon before the holidays.

You were not fond of parties but it was a great opportunity to lay out your small telescope and rusty camera in their wide backyard. The manor was near the countryside, away from the light pollution of the city.

You arrived at 1am, set up your devices for half an hour and you were preoccupied. Around 3am in the morning, you finally had a full glimpse of the Milky Way galaxy's core.

When Wanda found out you came, she immediately went looking for you. She was about to give up until she found you in the backyard, the last place she thought you were at.

"What are you doing out here?" Wanda called out to you, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her body as she approached you. "It's literally negative degrees."

And Wanda might have fallen in love when she saw you smile so wide from ear to ear as you saw her.

You then said, "Look above you."

Wanda craned her neck to see what you were talking about. And she didn't even realize how vast the night sky looked right now above them with thousands of twinkling specks of light.

"Wow! That's a lot of stars," Wanda said, her voice full of amazement, as she stood next to you.

When you gently grabbed her hand, her heart stopped beating and she did try her best to focus on your voice instead because she was sure she'd faint on the spot if she didn't.

You pointed her hand at the direction of the sky.

"Do you see that?" You traced the outline with her hand in yours. "That is the core of the Milky Way galaxy."

And when Wanda finally gathered her bearings, she saw what you were trying to say.

"Oh my! I thought I'd never see it in real life. Only in pictures," she blurted out, the skin around her eyes creasing as she smiled.

"I know, right?"

Then you looked at her and you thought about how beautiful she looked up close. And it felt like a moment, but you were sure the earth slowed down around you.

Shaking your head away from the thought, you decided to look back at the sky. You were not her type. Why do you keep forgetting that?

When you noticed her body tremble slightly, you worried.

"Are you cold?"

"I-"

But without waiting for a reply, you wrapped your extra jacket around her.

"Better?"

Wanda nodded as she breathe in your perfume, loving it and wishing that she could have you more than just your scent. She wanted everything about you.

You and Wanda must have talked about the stars, nebulae, galaxies and the new space telescope from NASA for too long, you didn't even notice that almost an hour has passed.

When Wanda was about to confess her feelings to you, someone called out from the house and disrupted the moment.

"What the hell are you doing out there?!" Tony shouted. "It's freezing cold!"

And Wanda didn't get a chance to.

The next time Wanda saw you, you were crying in the balcony of Pietro's house. He was hosting a small party to celebrate his promotion at work.

Knowing that you weren't alone, you immediately wiped the tears from your eyes. Turning, you saw Wanda and greeted, "Hi there!"

"Hey," Wanda cooed softly as she stood beside you, rubbing your back. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't help but feel protective around you. If someone made you cry, they would have to deal with her after.

"Nothing, just...," you answered in a small voice. "Something went into my eye, you know."

And Wanda softly chuckled as she continued to rub your back, soothing you calm. And you were because she was there with you.

"You're a terrible liar too, do you know that?"

"Oh I wouldn't know. I've only tried them on your brother."

"Well, you know he's an exception right? He literally believes everything. He is that gullible."

You laughed.

After a moment, you grew silent, just staring out at the horizon before you. You knew she was waiting for you to speak up, but not rushing you.

Then you suddenly muttered. "I wasn't crying because I was sad, you know."

"Why are you then?"

"I met up with my ex-girlfriend earlier... S-she said that she messed it up and she wa-wanted to get back with me."

Wanda wished so bad she couldn't hear you right now if she'd only hurt herself.

"Did you?" But Wanda still wanted to know.

You only shook your head. "No, that would be crazy... That's why I'm crying because I thought I'd never make it through the heartbreak. I was totally broken months ago. And now I can look at her and feel nothing. Absolutely nothing, Wanda... It's just amazing how time can heal you."

Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, Wanda smiled.

"And those were just happy tears?"

You smiled at her. "Yeah, those were happy tears."

Wanda then hugged you, her arms slipping around your body, as she buried her face into your neck. You hugged her back, placing your head on top of hers.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

You whispered yes as you let her hug you like that and treasured the moment. As long as she was there, even just as a friend, it would be okay. You would be okay.

Trying to distract you, Wanda started when she pulled away. "Tell me about your favorite galaxy."

Then you began to tell her about Andromeda and how it was so near, it was always visible to the naked eye.

As Wanda listened to you, she realized you still needed a little time before getting overwhelmed by confessing her feelings. So Wanda gave you more time.

Three nights passed and Wanda still felt the same.

Wanda wasn't working that night at the bar when you and your friends decided to drop by. The night wasn't busy because it was a weekday and some stocks just needed some replenishing.

Going away for a small event the next day, Wanda could only sign the purchase orders provided by her staff on that night. That night you specifically dropped by.

Wanda thought that the feelings were mutual and that she was finally getting through to you but when you introduced your new officemate to her, eventually realizing you were setting her up with your officemate because said officemate was asking for her number, her heart broke into pieces. And you didn't even mean to. It wasn't your fault that you thought she wasn't interested in you.

You were in the comfort room that time washing off the ketchup that smudged your shirt when Wanda came bursting through the door.

"What the fucking hell is wrong with you?!" Wanda exclaimed.

You had never seen her look so terrifying before.

"Wanda-"

"What was that about, huh? You just set me up with someone!"

"I-I just thought I'd introduce you two because you're both single and-"

Wanda only sighed, stopping you. "God, how can you be so oblivious?"

"Wan-"

Her mouth crashed against yours, as she pinned you against the cold tiled wall. And as quickly as it happened, she immediately pulled away and cursed, leaving you dumbfounded.

"Shit I-I am sorry, I just thought you like me back-" Wanda stopped herself as she stepped away from you and exited the room.

You ran after her, surprising your friends, until you were outside the bar. The streets were now deserted as it was almost midnight. Wanda was already a step away to her car, having trouble in finding her keys.

"Wanda!" You called out to her.

Wanda looked at you as her body wracked up in sobs. You immediately wrapped your arms around her in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry... I know I ruined it, I ruined our friendship-"

"Stop, Wanda," you butted in, pulling away to rub each of her shoulders as you tried to calm her down. "You didn't, okay? Because I like you too. So much, Wanda. Even way before knowing I wasn't your type."

Softly chuckling, Wanda wiped her eyes as she softly said. "I regretted every single day why I said that... I really did. Because you are my type, Y/n. You are amazing and sweet and so beautiful and you make me laugh and giddy... I-"

She swallowed back a sob as you hugged her again, burying your face into her hair.

"You make me happy, too," you confessed. "I've never been happier before I met you, Wanda."

After a moment, she pulled away as you both looked into each other's eyes, yours sometimes drifting towards her lips. "And I don't think I can manage another day without knowing what your mouth feels like against mine."

Wanda's eyes smiled at you as she softly laughed.

"Why don't you find out?"

And you almost just did as you began to cup her face and leaned forward.

"I don't know... maybe if she'd agree to go out with me on a date tomorrow, I would," you quipped, making her chuckle.

Wanda sniffled as she licked her lips, leaning towards you as well. Her arms were now wrapped around your neck as yours around her waist. "Maybe I can fit her into my schedule."

Both of your noses were now merely touching, feeling each other's breath on your faces, her fingers caressing the baby hair at the back of your neck.

Nobody knew who closed the gap between the two of you, but you knew you didn't want to stop kissing her.

Follow me on my social media accounts. Thank you. ❤

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[circlesuponcircles]

Hey Sage, since ur the new (better) tutorial npc, can you do the bracket thing too?

<A chair is a piece of furniture with a raised surface supported by legs, commonly used to seat a single person. Chairs are supported most often by four legs and have a back; however, a chair can have three legs or can have a different shape. Chairs are made of a wide variety of materials, ranging from wood to metal to synthetic material (e.g. plastic), and they may be padded or upholstered in various colors and fabrics, either just on the seat (as with some dining room chairs) or on the entire chair. Chairs are used in a number of rooms in homes (e.g. in living rooms, dining rooms, and dens), in schools and offices (with desks), and in various other workplaces, such as the House of Change.

A chair without a back or arm rests is a stool, or when raised up, a bar stool. A chair with arms is an armchair; one with upholstery, reclining action, and a fold-out footrest is a recliner. A permanently fixed chair in a train or theater is a seat or, in an airplane, airline seat; when riding, it is a saddle or bicycle saddle; and for an automobile, a car seat or infant car seat. With wheels it is a wheelchair; or when hung from above

[dreamescapeswriting]

First Rule Of Fightclub ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

GENRE: established relationships, non idol!Au, Chan being a fighter/street fighter, Yn visiting the club for the first time, violence is mentioned, mentions of blood and being injured, 

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

You knew what Chan did for a living, you weren't stupid when it came to that side of his life but it was something that you tended to stay away from.  You didn't want to get involved when it came to his fights, you'd never wanted to see this side of his life until recently. It wasn't as though you never supported this side of his life it was just not something for you. You were the "good girl" in school, the one that never stepped a toe out of line and you'd fallen for Chan faster than a bag of bricks hitting the floor and everyone knew that. Though most had assumed Chan would eventually lead you to the "dark side" it was obvious it was you making a good impact on Chris. 

The two of you had been together for almost 10 years now and your relationship was still just as strong as it was back then. Ten years after not seeing a single fight of Chan's you figured it was time for a change, time to come and see him and support your future husband in everything that he did.

"You came?!" Chan called out as soon as he spotted you walking toward the side of the ring. It was another two hours until the fight would start and you'd decided to drop by early so you could wish him luck before. If that was something that people did for their boyfriends, you had no idea how any of it worked but you'd overheard people talking about the fight.

It was supposed to be the biggest one of the "season" and they were all placing bets on who was going to win. A lot of people were betting on the other guy winning but you hadn't managed to find out why though. There were rumours about someone finally being able to beat Chan to the ground and wipe the "smug look" off his face.

"I heard someone talking about the fight and I wanted to wish you luck." Your eye shifted around to take in the sights of everything around you. The ring he was standing in was surrounded by a thick cage made of rope and there were huge men standing around a stool watching the two of you interact with one another. It was safe to say that even though Chan was the one inside of a cage you felt as though you were the animal everyone was watching,

"Yeah?" He smirked a little, suddenly feeling cocky that his girlfriend had come to watch him. When you first started dating he wanted you to come, he'd even begged a few times but he gave up after a while as he never wanted to pressure you into something you weren't comfortable with. If you didn't want to watch him fight then he wasn't going to be the one to force you to come here, so seeing you here filled him with so much confidence he could burst at the seams.

"I will do everything I can to impress you," He winked at you before pulling you closer to him despite the rope and kissing you deeply. Your whole body began to heat up as you heard several wolf whistles sound from around you, your entire face felt as though it was on fire when you pulled away from him.

"Chan, we need to go backstage. Gill is on his way," His fighting manager told him making Chan nod and wave his hand in his direction to let him know he'd heard what he said.

"Your opponent?" You'd heard someone mention it at your workplace but you still hadn't actually seen this fighter who everyone was convinced was going to beat Chan. Someone who was undefeated up until this point.

You might not have gone to his fights but you knew your boyfriend was the best of the best. Every week he would come home with medals, belts or even trophies from his fights where he'd beaten everyone and came out victorious. And you would spend hours listening to him talk about them and wondering what it was really like to be there.

"Yep, we're not allowed to see each other until the fight, I save you a spot every match," He points over to the chair that was right next to the ring. Sitting on the black chair was a sign with your name on it and beside your name was a photo of you and Chan together, one from very early on in your relationship and you giggled a little.

"You're cute, have I ever told you that?" You questioned him, he was always so cute with you. To everyone else, he was the scary bad boy type that everyone was afraid of but with you, he was someone else entirely and all in a good way too.

"Several times, but I like hearing it," He winked at you again before kissing you deeply and rushing out of the ring. As soon as the door shut you smiled to yourself and made your way over to the seat, looking at the photo and smiling to yourself. You could still remember the day the photo was taken, the two of you had just gotten home from your fifth date and your roommate snuck a photo of you both.

"You must be YN," A female voice said from behind you making you jump a little, you slowly turned around to face her and smiled. She was stunning, seriously it was like someone had plucked her out of the pages of a catalogue. She must have been about 5 foot, with long jet-black hair with a couple of streaks of pink running through it,

"I'm Giselle, my boyfriend is Chan's manager." The two of you shook hands and sat down together as you tried to take in your surroundings.

"Do you come to every fight? Is it always this intimidating?" You laughed a little, a shiver going up and down your spine, as you tried your best to relax. You were here to support your boyfriend and that was exactly what you were going to do.

"You slowly get used to it," She laughed as she looked at you. As she was about to say something else though the doors Chan had disappeared through opened again,

"That's Gill, Chan's opponent for the night," Giselle answered as she glanced at the man before looking back at you but you were left with a look of horror on your face. This was the man that was going to fight Chan? No wonder everyone was suddenly betting on Chan losing this fight.

The man that was walking into the ring had to be at least 6 foot 8 and built like a brick shithouse, Seriously the man looked as though he could be using steroids to get through his life. His muscles were bigger than Chan's whole body - maybe that was a little dramatic but how could they possibly think that putting Chan and Gill against one another was fair? It was fairly clear to you that Chan was going to be killed if he tried to fight against this man,

"Chan's going to fight him?!" Your voice cracked a little as thoughts of Chan ran through your head. You wondered if he'd ever fought someone this big before and if he was even going to win, or if he even knew what Gill was like.

"He's fought someone bigger and stronger than Gill," But still it didn't put your mind at ease as you stared at the giant Gill who appeared to be smirking in your direction.

Before the fight started Chan had a couple of minutes to stand with you while Gill stood on the other side of the ring watching you both closely. The whole place was packed full of people who were screaming out Gill's name as well as Chan's.

"You have to back out," You told Chan as he laughed a little, 

"Baby..." He trailed off, he knew you were going to worry but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Giselle had texted him letting him know that you were freaking out a little about Gill but he never would have thought you'd tell him to back out. If he won this fight that was it, he would be the reigning champion and he wouldn't have to fight for months. It would be a nice long break, just the two of you and with the money he was going to win he could take you anywhere in the world

"I'm serious. That man will snap you like a twig," You breathed out as Gill chuckled loudly Clearly he was able to hear everything that you were saying but it wasn't going to stop you from saying it. Clearly, someone had to drill some sense into your boyfriend's head. Was it the number of times he'd been hit in the head and it had knocked the sense out of him,

"Everyone has a weakness, I just have to find his," He played it cool. The truth was, Chan knew exactly how to take Gill down and he'd been practicing religiously for months until it was finally time. He knew Gill like the back of his own hand and he knew he was going to be able to beat him, he just needed everyone else to see it.

"Chan...Please," You begged, your hands holding onto his as he gently pressed his lips to yours as he heard the music starting, It meant it was time for him to step into the ring.

"Baby, I'm not going to back out of this. It's the first rule of fight club," He told you with a smug look so you slapped against his chest. The film "Fight Club" was how he'd shown you what he did for a living and it was safe to say that you were less than impressed he was choosing now to bring up the film.

"I thought the first rule was not to talk about it." You mumbled at him before he kissed you deeply, your eyes finding his as he winked at you one last time.

"Kick his ass," You yelled out as he got into the ring, both men coming face to face - or rather face to chest with one another.

"Are we ready ladies and gentlemen for the biggest fight of the century?!" Someone boombed into a microphone as your hand found Giselle's and you clutched it tightly, almost too afraid to look away from Chan. 

"Will you sit still?!" You mumbled as you sat on Chan's lap, a cotton pad in one hand as you held his chin in the other trying to make him sit still.

"It stings!" He cried out as you attempted to wipe the cut above his eyebrow. You stared down at him with an unimpressed look on your face, the man had just fought someone larger than life and yet he was complaining about a little stinging sesation?

"It's going to. You fucking cut your head open," You hissed at him, gently wiping the cut as he continued to hiss and whimper below you. It turned out that Chan defeated Gill within the first ten minutes of the fight and you had been just as stunned as the rest of the people around you. Everyone had fallen silent when Gill hit the floor in a knockout,

"I didn't cut it open, Gill did." He grumbled at you, making you smirk a little as he pouted out his bottom lip. As the "bad boy" fighter he was, he still pouted at you whenever you had to clean him up and not to mention acted like a child whenever he didn't get his own way.

"We have to clean it up before the flight tomorrow morning." You reminded him. As soon as he'd come from the fight he told you about his plans for you both, You were going to fly away together to some tropical island and he didn't even give you a chance to say no -not that you would.

"Can you hurry and clean it then? I want to cuddle." He told you as you let out a small giggle, kissing him gently before going back to cleaning up the rest of the cuts and bruises that were forming on his face. 

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[radiojamming]

Hartnell fact time again? Hartnell fact time again!

We have a pretty spot-on timeline of the last few months of John Hartnell's life thanks to Hartnell's Time Machine—which is to say, his nails.

These three graphs show the amount of copper, zinc, and lead in John's system from the time the Expedition was in Greenland to his death on January 4th, 1846. It's how we know he had a critical zinc deficiency, and it shows how the concentration of led in his body was higher when he was in England, and lower as the Expedition progressed.

Incredibly, because of this study, we can nearly tell the exact date John started to get sick—November 17th, 1845. There are brief spikes in copper and zinc (and a wee bit of lead) in early December—possibly due to applications of medicine and food as someone tried to help him get well. The final, massive spike at the end is his body breaking itself down, trying to find any and all nourishment to prolong its life as long as it could. We know from Inglefield & Sutherland's examination that they were able to identify a "wasting illness" when they felt his body, and Beattie's team in 1986 found no content in his stomach or bowels, so he hadn't eaten anything for some time before his death.

Unless we had a literal time machine, we don't know what his last days were like. This study, though, manages to give us a better idea of what might have happened.

We know his zinc deficiency was pronounced, so he probably would have had symptoms like night blindness, loss of appetite, exhaustion, irritability, hair loss, slow wound healing, and GI issues like loose stool (sorry buddy). We also know from his x-rays that he had prior injuries to his neck, shoulders, and ankles. Some were older injuries, some were newer. It's entirely possible that his symptoms of zinc deficiency and TB lowered his lack of awareness, leading to workplace injuries.

I know I kind of tease about John "Glass Bones and Paper Skin" Hartnell, but I'm fully aware that the last months, weeks, and days of his life were truly miserable. He was most definitely in pain, batting a thousand against a body that was fighting itself and trying to win.

Maybe people around him—crewmates he'd known from his time on the Volage, his own family—noticed a change in his personality. Maybe they saw the exhaustion on his face, him wincing in pain when he moved the wrong way, pushing food around his plate with disinterest, maybe he snapped at them or said something uncharacteristic that set off alarm bells. Someone, somewhere, knew something was wrong. At some point around late November and early December, he started getting treatment. By then, though, it was far too late.

It's a creative exercise more than anything. Like I said, we can't know what the end of his life look like. We have to take scans of his nails, x-rays, and the appearance of a thrice-exhumed mummy to guess. But we also can see that someone loved him enough to give him the appearance in death of being comfortable. Knowing what we do know about how much discomfort he had to be in, this might have been completely intentional. He was given a pillow, blankets, extra clothes, a hat. Even at the end of the world, he was loved.