#and that is about enough tagging me thinks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr.com is the 103rd most visited website in the world.

#and that is about enough tagging me thinks

saetoru · 1 day

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。YEARS LATER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy au!)

contents. you and your rich husband, sitting and eating sushi years later on your wedding day. the end of one chapter, but the start of a new one. enjoy your happy rich boy gojo ending. with love, tee bee <3

satoru’s eyes are pretty when the sun sets, almost green instead of that usual icy blue—you can’t help but stare. it’s shamelessly, even. you watch as he brings the sushi to his lips, pausing just before he can take the bite as he notices your eyes on him.

“if you’re so busy staring at me, you might not notice it when your food is gone,” he hums, grinning cheekily at you.

you snort, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “oh yeah? then i’ll just make you buy me more.”

“first day and you’re already admitting to marrying me for my wallet?”

you laugh—it’s a free, bright sound that he has memorized from plenty of experience. and it’s his turn to stare as the sun settles in the crinkles by your eyes, years and years of laughter and smiles evident in the lines of your skin. beautiful, he think, you’ve always been so, so painfully beautiful.

your wedding dress is expensive. a pretty, flattering little thing. you buy it yourself, despite his protests. some years ago, you’d have stared wistfully at the price tag and considered the purchase in another life. you’ve come a long way since then—satoru is proud. so proud, he feels an ache building in his chest from the way things have changed as time crept past the two of you.

not a bad ache, perhaps. a dull throb of nostalgia that settles under his heart, in that spot he has saved just for you.

“i don’t need your wallet, you idiot,” you grin, reaching over with your chopsticks to steal from his roll. he lets you, just like he always used to when you were younger.

satoru thinks now, if he could, he’d love to pat his younger self on the back. the version of himself that used to watch you walk out of class without sparing him a glance, the version of himself that ached so badly for a chance with you, he’d collect stars from the sky to trade for an ounce of your love. he’d tell his younger self that he made it—that he’s sitting here, years later with his grandmother’s ring on your hand, eating sushi go after your wedding.

for old times sake, you’d told him when you asked to stop by, we always celebrated with sushi go when we were younger, remember?

as if he’d forget, he wanted to laugh. but he drives over anyway, parking the car in the same old spot as he used to. this time, there’s newly wed! written on the back of the window—and the words miraculously enough crossed out underneath. (he thinks that’s courtesy of shoko, but she doesn’t fess up, and suguru insists it doesn’t matter. soon enough, he’ll get to the bottom of it.)

“are you sure?” he hums, “you’ll have a lot of fun with it, i promise.”

“i think i’d rather have fun with you,” you hum, giving him a small wink as you take a sip from your soda, making his lips curl into a wide grin.

“oh, isn’t that sweet,” he drawls, “i’m a lucky guy.”

“maybe if you’re on your best behavior, you’ll get extra lucky later tonight.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, folding his hands as he sits up straighter and nods seriously, “i’m a good boy.”

“you’re anything but that, toru,” you snort. and then you soften, staring at him as you reach over and grab his hand. he lets you, lacing his fingers with yours as your thumb brushes over his knuckles.

years and years worth of love resides in between your skin. the first time your hands touched him, you didn’t want him the way he needed you to. then one day, they touched him hesitantly, carefully, slowly exploring him with cautious gentleness. eventually they touched him like he was the world pressed in your palms, heavy with the weight of being your everything.

he likes being yours. more than he likes you being his—he’s always had more than enough. but there’s something about giving himself that feels better than taking, better than wanting, better than having.

satoru has always loved you. he thinks the first day you glared at him, he was doomed from the start. he thinks right now, as you stare at him with fondness, he’s even more doomed now.

he doesn’t mind it, not even a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, making you raise a brow for him to continue, “i’m your husband now.”

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “we just got married…like two hours ago. i didn’t forget that quickly.”

“good,” he wipes his forehead in faux relief, “i was getting worried for a second.”

“you’re too much,” you roll your eyes, squeezing his hand delicately.

“now that we’re officially married,” he starts, grinning cheekily as he bats his lashes, “we should list all the things we love about each other. in alphabetic order. you go first, of course.”

“i don’t have to alphabetize it.”

“why? you numbered it or something? is it organized by importance? i’ll accept that too, i suppose.”

“well, there’s only one thing,” you tease.

he huffs, grumbling a petulant, “so mean. all these years and you can only think of one thing? can’t you be a little nice to me in our wedding day?”

“i’ve worked smarter, not harder,” you shrug, “i’ve condensed all my reasons down to one thing.”

“and what would that be?” he pouts.

“everything.”

“that’s cheesy,” he snorts, but there’s a flush on his cheeks that makes you grin, snickering as you lean over and poke at his cheek.

“you’ll just have to deal with it. you’re my husband, after all.”

“did you ever think about it? when we were kids?” he asks softly, staring off at a young couple in the distance with a tiny grin. the boy pulls out the chair for the girl, pushing her in and tripping slightly on his way to his own seat. satoru chuckles softly at the sight.

“think about what?”

“us,” he mumbles, “getting married some day. before we got serious, at least.”

��i don’t know,” you admit, “i didn’t even think i’d date you, to be fair.”

“you hated me,” he pretends to sniffle, “you wanted me dead. you wanted me to blow up into smithereens and leave my poor mother a grieving mess, didn’t you?”

“maybe not then, but i might now,” you sigh tiredly.

“well, i knew i was going to marry you since the first time you insulted me,” he nods proudly, earning a loud chuckle from you.

“you were a little freak back in the day,” you laugh, “i believe it. only you’d be romanced by degradation.”

“baby,” he huffs, glaring at you (his eyes are soft, playful, even. so sweetly affectionate, your teeth could rot), “you should appreciate a man seeing the best at you. even when you put him through the ringer.”

he almost regrets saying it when your hand pulls away from his, but then one by one, your palms reach over to cradle his cheeks, brushing a thumb along his soft, familiar skin as you stare at him like he’s the only thing that matters.

he is, you make him believe. he’s the only thing that matters. the center of your universe. he fought tooth and nail to get there, of course, but he has no intentions of leaving.

ever.

“i will always appreciate you,” you say softly, eyes watering as you swallow thickly, chuckling when a small tear slips from your eyes. “thank you for loving me, satoru. even when it was hard. even when you had to fight to do it. no one has loved me like that.”

“aw don’t start with the waterworks now,” he mutters, looking away and blinking suspiciously enough that you suspect his own eyes are just as teary, “we can’t have you crying for me already—that’s for later.”

“never any decorum with you,” you huff out a breathless laugh.

his thumb reaches over to swipe at your tear, pinching your cheek affectionately as he grins. it’s toothy, boyish, hopelessly and completely in love. even back then, and even right now. he’s always so in love. it’s you—always, from the day you first rejected him to the day you said yes when he got in one knee, it’s been you.

“thanks for loving me too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his own voice choking a bit as he swallows, “it can’t be easy. i’m a handful.”

“at least you’re self aware,” you snicker.

satoru beams—and he’s yours. your rich, spoiled, beautiful boy. all yours to love for the rest of your rich, spoiled, beautiful days.

i cried writing this. what a man he is truly

#teepods.writings #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #rich boy! au

1K notes · View notes

lucysarah-c · 2 days

Text

Levi was seated at his desk in his office, finishing up his paperwork for the day. He planned to light a candle to extend his work session, but noticed the bright light streaming in from the window behind his desk despite the late hour. With summer just around the corner, he couldn't help but think about the passage of time. Levi checked the clock on his desk, realizing that you should have returned by now. Anticipating your arrival, he prepared another pot of tea, knowing you might return tired from your girls' trip.

Just as he was adding one or two teaspoons of tea strands, the door to his office swung open.

"I'm back!" you announced enthusiastically.

"Welcome back," Levi replied, making eye contact as he poured the water. You walked up to him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Would you like some tea-"

"You won't believe what I bought!" you interrupted, excitement evident in your voice as you grabbed a few bags you had brought with you.

"What did you get?" Levi's voice remained calm as he returned to his desk.

"Do you want to see it on me?" you asked, holding up a piece of fabric with the tag still attached. How could he refuse? He nodded slowly and smiled as you hurried to the bathroom to change.

Leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, holding his tea cup delicately, Levi waited. The moment you stepped back into the office, spinning in your new sundress, Levi nearly choked on his tea.

"Isn't it perfect?" you asked excitedly. Levi hummed in agreement, trying to calm himself down with a sip of tea. "It's exactly what I wanted."

The dress was a perfect piece of fabric, with a delicate flower pattern, a flowy skirt, a tight heart-shaped corset, and princess-like sleeves.

"What do you think?" you asked, beaming.

Levi set down his tea cup and murmured, "That I need to remember that my salary isn't enough for us to have a kid right now."

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr Wanna join my tag list? Here!

403 notes · View notes

svuguru · 3 days

Note

stepdad toji who caught his stepdaughter playing with herself after he came from work

Tags: stepcest! Antis and minors DNI I’m not responsible for the content you do or do not consume. Eee I’ll probably post a part 2 to this it’s just rlly late rn 😭

“Ughh, Daddy—“ you gasp, knuckle deep in your cunt as tears form in your eyes and you throw your head back. All day, you couldn’t get your stepdad off of your mind, thinking over and over about him ever since this morning.

You don’t know what happened or what he did, but he just… he’s been invading your mind. While your mother and Toji we’re away at work, you laid yourself down on your bed and began rubbing your clit, which eventually led to you sinking in your own digits, and you just went on from there…

Legs twitching, hips bucking, cries falling from your lips. You must have been to caught up in the feeling because your ears miss the sound of the front door to your home opening, they miss the sounds of footsteps downstairs and walking up and down the hall.

A cry escapes your lips, sinking your teeth into your glossy, lower lips. And while the noises fall upon deaf ears, yours are loud and clear on Toji’s, your stepfather.

“Daddy…!” You whimper unexpectedly loudly, and your fingers just aren’t doing the job, they aren’t enough. Toji’s hand wraps around your doorknob and opens the door, and his suspicions are confirmed—his sweet stepdaughter is getting herself off… what an unexpected, yet adorable, not-so-surprise.

“Something wrong, baby?” Toji asks, that mockingly sweet smile playing on his lips as he watches you stop in your movements, your wrist pausing and your jaw dropping.

Immediately, you remove your fingers from your sopping pussy, sitting straight up and covering your thighs with your skirt.

“Um…” you mumble in embarrassment of the situation. Toji laughs and walks towards you after closing your bedroom door.

“You shy?” He grins, “don’t be, princess, ‘s not embarrassing.” Toji sits on the edge of your bed, his hand creeping towards yours. “You just missed daddy, huh?”

Looking down, you pout and nod. “Uh-huh…”

“Aww, my poor baby…” Toji pouts in mock sympathy. “Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me, “daddy, I miss you! Need your cock in me.”” He says in an over exaggerated tone that’s meant to mock yours.

“Stop being mean!” You whine, reaching for his forearm.

“‘M just teasing, sweet girl,” Toji says. He thinks for a moment as his hand absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand. “You want daddy?” Shyly, you nod in response. “Aw, okay, okay, come to daddy.”

It must be the sound of his voice or his comforting words that makes you immediately crawl to him, or he cast a spell upon you.

“Need you in me, daddy!” You huff. Toji, being the caring stepdad he is, reaches up to caress your cheek before his hand falls back down to his lap.

“I know, I know,” he hums, “lay back.” So you do, eager to please and eager for your stepdad to fuck you stupid.

Toji places his hands on your hips and drags your body towards him at the edge of your pink ridden bed.

“Spread open.” And again, you do as he says, lifting up your skirt and spreading your legs. “Sweet baby needs all kinds of prep… you’re way too tiny f’me.”

“Uh-uh, promise ‘m not! I can take it, swear it!” You plead desperately, just ready for your stepdad to stuff you full of his dick and take you raw.

“Mm… no, you’re not, princess,” Toji chuckles. And when you whine yet again, he sighs. “You sure?” You nod. “Baby…. If ‘s too much for you, just tell daddy, ‘Kay? Don’t wanna hurt my pretty baby…”

“Mkay, promise!” And that’s when you see Toji undo the belt of his jeans, followed by his buttons and zipper, along with his briefs. You’re dripping wet, waiting to feel Toji rub his tip against your heat and fill you up with his cock.

It’s only a few strokes before Toji shoves his fat dick inside of your tight cunt, taking you by surprise and eliciting a loud gasp from you.

“Shh, shh, you can take it…” Toji groans, “mama’s gonna be home in a while, so we gotta make this quick, okay? And don’t be too loud, don’t want your mom getting mad at me.” And of course you don’t want your wonderful stepdad getting trouble, so you hum and nod I understanding and agreement.

There’s only a few moments of Toji staying still before he starts gently rocking his hips, a grunt falling from his scarred lips.

“Shit, you’re so—fucking tight…” You’re already clenching around Toji’s cock, his veins sliding against your warm walls from inside. He’s slowly sinking in his length, inch by inch to get you used to his overwhelming size.

“Too big, too big!” You cry. “‘S too much, daddy…!” Toji finds it humorous how just moments ago you were swearing that you could take it, that he wouldn’t be too big, and now you’re whimpering about how it’s too much and too big.

“Hush, baby, I know… You swore you could take it though, no? So just lay back and let daddy do his thing…. Promise you’ll feel super good.” Toji raises his hand and holds up his pinky as a way to pinky promise you. “Just stay still, princess.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #Toji fushiguro x reader smut #Toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro Toji x reader #fushiguro Toji x reader smut #jujutsu Kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut

395 notes · View notes

asmolfolk · 2 days

Text

Married! Boothill with kids.

"Oh, to be the one who married Boothill… A dream that yours truly writer would love to live. So, did you even think about it?"

────────────────────────────────────────────

Idea: Married Boothill with kids. Fandom: Honkai Star Rail. Character: Boothill. Genre: Fluffy and a tiny tiny lil' bit of angst! There's a small mention of sex too. TW? Spoilers/leaks ahead! ─────────────────────────── As you guys voted: Boothill with kids it is! Just to make sure you all know, the first part is HIM as a Husband. AFTER THAT It's him as a dad. It was really fun doing this as this was something that I thought about with him with my Yume <3 Also: If you take inspiration or use this as a reference, please TAG ME!! I RLLY WANT TO SEE! I will do way more Boothill too! So stay tunned, the next one will be: "One last time." A short-fic~

────────────────────────────────────────────

When you were about to proclaim your title as "HIS PARTNER", you could see the way that his eyes shined as he looked at you. For once, it was certain: This man was IN LOVE with you. The way he seemed to be completely lost in your eyes as you talked to him, The way he would hold your hands… For the first time in forever, you saw him so vulnerable. And, then, when you two looked at each other and finally kissed. It wasn’t a kiss like the many others you two would share, it was… Sweet, it was gentle and held on a flame that you could never think that someone could feel.

As the day would pass by... You were sure you married the right man, he's eyes showed nothing but devotion, love and everything else you could EVER imagine to have someone looking you as. He literally seemed to be falling in love with you a hundred times PER second.

You saw how... Sad he looked as he would see the family of your friends, but then... It was just one look at you and you could almost read exactly what he was thinking: "I also DO have a family now."

But, enough with that! Let’s talk about how he IS as a Married man.

────────────────────────────────────────────

At first, you didn’t notice it but he would look at you for longer, his eyes were always checking on you - as If he was scared to see you disappear if his eyes were somewhere else. Every Time you talked, he would immediately look at you with those big heart eyes. [I swear! Instead of a gun point, it looks like this:] (Also, just wanted to point out that he canonically blushes - the shy expression - even at his nose.)

(I edited those images!! - The little hearts and the blushing)

I SWEAR! He looks so blushy and shy, but don't be tricked by that fool expression! He is going to say some really romantical stuff out of nowhere, always trying to make you blush just like him. Not only that, but Boothill also seems to LOVE messing with you... But can't quite handle you making this back, at least, not in the beginning.

"Doll, aren't ya' the prettiest being in the universe? I could swear ya' were one of those goddess of beauty that the red haired knight would tal' about." - He would smile as he hold your hand, bringing it closer to his lips - "I could jus' survive by looking at you." His words were always so sweet and full of love, he could NEVER say something bad about you - Also because of his beacon. He would always try to make you feel loved by his words, even more after being married to you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your husband, he would always be close to you. Normally, he loves to make you feel his face… It’s the only place he can feel it too. So, he loves EVERYTHING that could work with that. He would let his head resting on your lap, chest, belly, shoulder - ANYTHING. His head slowly turned into something that he communicates BEAUTIFULLY with you about. Sometimes, you compare him to an animal - More specifically a dog or a fox - because they would usually rub their head against their owners or to receive more attention. Even so, it was nice. Even if he was a bit heavy, those moments could be cherished as really important.

It was close to noon, still… Boothill was laying his head against your chest not even moving a finger while he recharged and kept his eyes closed. You were sleeping, he knew you were tired and he didn’t let you do anything else before you could receive a good sleep for some minutes. He swore to wake you up before it was too late for your compromise. When it hitted the exact hour you asked him to wake you up, he immediately started to try to wake you. He didn’t even think about letting you sleep, if you INSISTED on going: It was important and he TRULY didn’t want to ruin anything you were on. “Doll? Partner! Spouse.” - When you finally woke up or stopped asking for more minutes, he would hold you even closer - “It’s time for you to do your stuff.” When he did that, he knew it was only a favor but he always loved when you gave him a kiss or a praise for waking you in time. They were more than just happy to help you out. As he received his reward for waking you up, he would help around anything you needed as you did your own thing.

────────────────────────────────────────────

He would show you off... But not in THAT strange way, no. He would proudly show everyone EVERYTHING you did - with your consent. You are an artist? Well, pal, seems like Pom Pom and the WHOOOLE Astral express LOVES your art, even the unimpressed trailblazer. [They asked you to make... A drawing of them and a trashcan falling in love?-] You make outfits? Seems like Argenti and others fashion and beauty freaks are making lots and lots of commissions. You BAKE?! Well, sweetie. For the first time, you saw lots of Galaxy Rangers at your door, asking for your prices and sweets. You KNOW that this was ALL him. But, even though you could think that he was trying to help you out - He would confess that he just couldn't stop talking about you to them. He is the sweetest cyborg hubby.

“My husband…” - You didn’t even need to call for him again, he stopped cleaning his guns and immediately came to you - “Could you perhaps explain to me why a lot of people started calling me and following me on social media?” “Oh… About that, darlin’… I may or may not talk about your skills at the bar…” - You couldn’t even get mad. He was at a BAR and the only thing he did was talk about you and drink, it was… Strangely nice, you felt a little tingle' in your heart as you heard him talk about what he said. You couldn’t even handle a laugh while you told him that it was okay.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your husband, you should’ve known that he would do anything AND everything to just see you smile. He was already like this… But you DID NOT expect how far he would go. If he saw you sad, he would sit down and ask you about everything. He believes in trust and that THINGS can be solved talking [with words or guns] and he WOULD NEVER try to buy your happiness. Not only that, he knows how to make you feel better. He made sure to remember every forking time you were feeling bad and he helped you… He always made sure to remember: What worked, what didn’t work, what helped a bit and what you HATED.

”Darlin’, you can’t be in your room forever.” - He heard a low (Watch me) from you and he chuckled - “I know ya’ are upset, but, lemme tell ya’ something darlin’... I just bought the whole Phantom of the Opera Musical and the Movie to watch with you and sing too… But I guess our musical karaoke can wait” The moment you came out of the room, you were met with Boothill wearing the Phantom’s mask. “Now, come, my Angel of Music… Let’s start that thing.”

Just a bonus: I’m OBSESSIVE over Musicals. I love them so much!! And I think that Boothill would love them too, at first: He would say that he doesn’t like them that much: The only ones he saw were really poorly made. But when you showed them your FAVS? THEY WERE IN LOVE! He started to sing along with you, loving the way you would always pick the best couples to interpret as. The first musical he loved was The Addam’s Family: He was the Gomez of your Mortícia. You two would sing along so sweetly that you thought about submitting to be them. Also: Never show Dear Evan Hansen to him, he will NOT stop trying to cry for a MONTH or WORSE. (Or do show.)

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your husband… Oh, dear. His kisses were the BEST!! He CAN’T go one day without kissing you at least three times in a day. He loves feeling your lips, he loves taking your breath out and letting you feel all hot and bothered. Knowing that - even with that metal body - can make you blush and shy away or giggle or just look at him full of love was enough for him.

“Please… Again.” - He would ask and, as always, you would indulge. You kissed him, he would hold you so close that you thought he was trying to merge with you - “Ya’ are so… Amazing.” - He said, with a big smile while backing away for one second - “I could lose myself… In those big ol’ eyes of ya’” “Then, why don’t you?” “I want to still be able to live with ya’, to feel you… Not only to observe but to be present. If I were to lose myself on ya’ every time, where would I have the time to show ya’ my whole forking affection?”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your husband… He would never let you without aftercare. He would clean you up and let you relax as he does all the work, he is never tired, not after the modifications… So he doesn’t really need a rest. When he came across you, he finally noticed how cute you were. Letting you rest and caressing your head, he would pick you up to the bath… He would take care of you just like you always did with him.

”Are ya’ okay, darlin’? Want something?” - He asked as he massaged your back while you relaxed at the bath - “Food, water… Anything?” “Hmmm… Juss… Keep this up.” - You would answer, almost sleeping. His massage skills have improved a lot since the first time he did it, it was incredible - “I’m so… Tired, I just want to sleep.” “Hah… Aren’t ya a sleepy one? Well, I can do that for you.” - Again, he would take care of you… Even if it means learning new skills, learning how to hold you while drying you with a towel, learning how to help you put on your clothes or to just lead you to the bedroom. Learning how to look at your face and control himself to not kiss you: You were tired, he should NOT make any move to start something more right now. Learning how to hug you, learning how to let his head rest on your shoulder… Learning how it feels to hear your heart, learning how good it is to sleep hearing it.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your Husband, you can always expect good things from him… But there was one thing you never expected. When he told you about his family. [Spoilers/Leaks ahead!!] He was always so… Cheerful and silly while with you, you never DID expect to be meeted with such a cruel and terrifying backstory. The way he told you about his family… About that little girl that he took care of, about his daughter. How she died… How he lost EVERYONE in one day. One day was enough. He explained that… He truly felt like you could disappear if he didn’t try to make things right, if he didn’t protect you enough.

When he stopped for a second, looked at his hands… You didn’t expect the words that followed: “I… Never thought I would find a family again or someone to care about me. Not in this condition, I…’m so forking grateful to have meeted ya’. Not one freaking day I passed without loving you even more.”

“Darlin’, ya saw my bad sides… You saw how disgusting I look… And even so, ya still keep around… I don’t know why, I don’t even want to know why you stayed… In my head, it doesn’t matter why… I love you.”

“Sorry for that big talk, but ya know how I am sometimes;”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As your husband and future Father, he would try to see if he could get you pregnant… If not, he would suggest adopting and then, you hitted him with an idea… That he loved: “What if we adopted kids from destroyed planets by the Ipc? Kids that live in shelters.” He knew, YOU were the one for him FOR SURE!

“Dove, you are a genius!” He would say, holding you and twirling you around - “I knew it! I knew it!... I knew that you were always the right one.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

PAPA BOOTHILL!

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father, Boothill would probably adopt as many as he could. So I won’t tell you numbers exactly… But he would have a lot, he would be a total girl’s dad. Sweets, you could EVEN SEE: Boothill having their make-up done by the girls, playing with dolls with them, letting them play with his hair and the list goes on and on. You knew he would be a good dad and he exceeds your expectations. He would be so gentle and calm with the kids that many would think that he is another person: But you knew more than them. You would see him always playing, always making them laugh… And, of course: You would always be involved. It was NEVER always: “Just Dad and the Girls”, you were close. In any activity that you could participate in, the kids and Boothill were more than happy to have you around. The kids, some in 4~5, others newborns… Others almost or are teenagers, would be so happy playing and just studying with their papa.

”PAPA! MOMMA! LOOK!” - One of the oldest showed you their report card, they were an +A student - “I’m so so happy!! Are y’all proud of me?!” It was in a second, Boothill was holding the teenager - That he named Aponi - while screaming of happiness. “THAT’S MA GIRL! YOU SHOWED THAT FORKING PAPER WHO IS THE BOSS!” - He would cheer up with you. “We are so proud, Apo! You studied so much… You deserve a break… How about your favorite place for tonight? I know you wanted to go there.” “R-Really?! We can go!?” “Why, of course! You know that we just want your happiness more than anything… And, if that place makes you happy: It makes us happy too. Thank you for your hard work, Aponi… You did soo great!” “Yeah, gal, you deserve every compliment! But just so y’know… If you want something else, just ask me and I’ll buy it for ya.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father: He pampers his kids a lot… You could ask him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He has the money, the resources EVERYTHING to make this worth it… So he wants to, he wants - more than anything - to make this right. He couldn’t pamper his daughter properly and he CAN’T handle the thought that he may not be able to pamper any of his kids. He NEEDS to pamper, he feels like an obligation. Sometimes, you need to step up and try to put limitations on what he’s doing. He still needs to understand somestuff.

”Dear, you know that Kiona is only 5 months old, right? What’s she going to do with 8 pokemon’s plushies and those pokemon cards?” “She likes watching it… So I bought it so when she grows up, she will still have those.”

...

“Dear… I told you not to buy more of those for Nashoba. He needs to take better care of his teeths and the doctor told us to control the candies.” “I know, I know… But it was only one…” ... “Dear… Are you giving your credit card to a 12 year old?” “WHAT- Nooo… She just wanted to buy things for herself like a big girl, but I’m going to be right at her side!”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father: He wouldn’t scream at his kids… NEVER. He would never even raise a hand, he would always talk and make sure that they KNOW that this IS a safe place. If you do something wrong, he is going to take care of it… YOU all are going to take care of it together. Even when his kid came across with a sad face while asking for forgiveness when they didn’t pass with all A+ and they started crying because they were scared that they would be sent alway… Boothill was hella mad but, right in front of his child, he would calm them, saying that they did their best and he would boost them up. Telling them that their grades were awesome and that they were so intelligent. Boothill would concentrate on what he KNOWS his kids like and praise them for it… As for the situation mentioned while you take care of the other children… He would have “a talk” with the kids' old parents.

”Booth-... Oh, I see.” You saw him, without any blood, but by his expression: You knew he killed them - “Are you okay?” “I’m better now… I discovered the whole scheme about those muddle-fudgers… They got what they deserved.” “I’m proud of you.” - You said, holding his hand and letting his head fall into your chest - “Thank you for protecting our children…”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father, you knew that Boothill would do anything for your kids. It didn’t matter if they were adoptive or biological, he would treat them the EXACT same. Of course, he would spend a lil’ bit more time with those who want to follow his path… But, he would never let the others feel jealous about that. Not only this but he would also show the kids some skills he has. He would sing them songs, give them musical instruments if they are interested in… They would form a lil’ band together and you would be their singer. The kids were in love with that idea, even the ones who weren’t interested in music would participate: Dancing, making drawings, outfits and etc etc etc.

”Ohhh! Those are so cute!” - Said March 7 looking at your kids drawings - “Your kids are so talented!” The Astral Express became one of your kids favorite spots, even so that some of them want to become one. The sweet look on Welt's face when one of them told him that they wanted to become just like him. The look on Himeko’s face when one of the kids revealed that they didn’t like coffee until they tried hers. The look on March's face when the lil’ girl called for her, saying that she loved March and that she would always appreciate the photos they took together. The look on Dan Heng’s face when the quiet kid told him that they would love to be like him and take care of the databank. The look on the Trailblazer’s face when one the kids helped them to search for trash cans and even complimented the trash cans with them. The look on PomPom’s face when one the youngest said their name. Oh, the Astral Express LOVES your kids. They let them enter ANY time and would love to babysit them.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father, you knew that Boothill made them love you even more, you knew that by the way the kids asked about you guys' love life once they grew up. The more romantical ones would dream loudly about how they would wish to have a romance like that - making Papa Boothill notice how fast your kids were growing. And, when you asked about who they wanted to be with… The answers came fastly. It was a big difference between other relationships, they were open with you two. They - YES - would tell if they were uncomfortable talking about something, but, even so… The ones who weren’t would tell you guys everything.

”I met this really cute boy at Xianzhou! He was soo cute!” - One of your kids said - “I thought to myself: They are so skilled and such a cute lil’ fellow.” “Sis, you are younger than him.” “Lemme praise him for a second!!”

────────────────────────────────────────────

As a father, he was more than happy to have a family. He would be happy with just you… But with all of them, they remind him so much of his first daughter… Of his siblings. He, to himself, would wish that they could see him right now… And be sure:

”It took a while for me… But, now… I have a family again. My two families will always be together in my heart.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

So, we reached the end! Hope you guys enjoyed it and that this made your day a bit brighter. As someone who sees Boothill as a comfort character, having people interested on my writting for him is such a nice touch. I can only thank you guys for your support and for reading until here. Thank you. If anyone wishes to be in the taglist for upcomming Boothill's oneshots, headcanons and imagines - Please tell me! And for those who wanted Angst, maybe I'll do the angst one someday <3

────────────────────────────────────────────

Taglist: @spaeko, @4onlyyouruse.

#x reader #reader insert #headcanon #gender neutral reader #gn reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #boothill x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #fluff

291 notes · View notes

saturnville · 3 days

Text

skin tight, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross...and it comes with consequences. warning: angst song: skin tight by ravyn leane, steve lacy an: this is part 2 to "bite." listen as you read if you choose :). wc: 864 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 (I'll remove those who don't want to be tagged, please just let me know!)

The urge to relieve herself woke her up the next morning. It was still early; the sun had hardly risen over the horizon, the birds were full of energy, and the screeching tires of rushed vehicles on the highway.

Her body was sore and her mind was exhausted when her eyes opened. There was a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She felt content, satisfied even, from the intimate moments she shared with Lewis the previous evening. She could still feel his lips against hers, his hands on her body and his warmth. She loved it. Yet, there was underlying apprehension about what it meant for their relationship moving forward.

She couldn’t help but think about the first time they met at the Formula One race all those years ago. A chance encounter that started as teasing banter blossomed into something beautiful that she cherished just as much as life itself. Their friendship had been a constant source of support, understanding, and respect, but as she lay next to him, in a position she never thought she’d be in, she couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty,

Anvika groaned softly as she attempted to free herself from his grasp. Her head turned to look at him. She’d fallen asleep beside him many times before. This was different. He held her close this time, his strong arm around her waist and his hand on her breast, squeezing every so often. He looked so peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and his golden brown skin was raw with remnants of her lipstick smeared across. He was so beautiful.

As she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lewis who was still asleep, she couldn’t help but replay the events of the night before. It was exhilarating, freeing, even, to release her inhibitions and give in to the desires that had stirred within her. But now, in the quiet of the morning, reality sunk in.

She had (sort of) slept with the man she called her closest friend. She knew some consequences came with that. Anvika knew they would need to have a conversation about what had happened, but she was unsure of how it would go. Setting boundaries (if they were still present), clarifying their feelings, and ensuring the solidarity of their friendship needed to be addressed. But, as anxiety crashed over her like a tidal wave, she decided to let him sleep and let herself bask in the memory of the previous night.

As Anvika finished in the bathroom, She couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in the back of her mind. She hoped their bond was strong enough to withstand what came next, but, as anxiety crashed over her like a tidal wave, she decided to let him sleep and let herself bask in the memory of the previous night.

When she returned to the bed, she saw Lewis on his back, arm thrown over his face to block the smiling sun that danced outside the window. His strong chest was on full display and she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering. She shook her head and made her way to the bed.

Lewis lowered his arm and turned toward her. His gaze was intense as he beckoned her near. Anvika slid into the bed next to him, tucking herself under his arm. “Good morning.” His voice was low and full of sleep.

“Morning,” she replied. “Sleep well?”

Lewis hummedther of them said anything after that. The hustle and bustle of the city was enough. As Anvika lay on his chest being caressed by his warm hands, her mind began to wander again. What would come of their relationship?

She took in a sharp breath, one that Lewis recognized. So, he spoke before she could, “Later. Just…let me have this moment, okay?” His throat constricted with each word he said. Her stomach churned. He sounded so desperate as if he knew where her mind was going. He needed something to hold onto just in case it was pulled away from him in an instant. The least she could do was give him that…right?

Anvika nodded against his chest, “Okay.”

“Lew, it was the heat of the moment. It can’t happen again.”

That didn’t go over well with him. He was used to flings and one-night stands but she made him feel rejected in more ways than one. Nothing more than someone that she used to let her inhibitions go. His mind was racing. Questions, thoughts, and feelings clouded his mind and he struggled to articulate what he wanted to say.

Her hesitancy was warranted, but Anvika was so opposed to even considering what life would be like as partners that it felt like a slap in the face.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Lewis said after some time, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t try to downplay what happened between us.”

Anvika shook her head and tightened her robe. “I’m not downplaying anything. I’m just saying, we’ve been friends for too long to let something like this change our friendship. I care for you too much.”

The racer scoffed. His head dropped to his hands and he inhaled deeply. He tried to make sense of her logic, but nothing added up. Anvika was a firm believer that good friendships were solid foundations for relationships, yet she wasn’t willing to take the chance with him, the man who knew her like the back of his hand. She told him she loved him, and it was not how she usually did. It was so full of adoration and love. Of course, she thought he was asleep when she said it, and truth be told, he was almost there. But, her sentiment caused his senses to alert and suddenly he felt alive. If all that was true, what was holding her back? Was the possibility of being with him that bad?

“What are you scared of, Anvika?” he asked after some time. She visibly winced at his calling of her full name. That wasn’t common between them. He was her Lew, and she was his Ani. The shift had already begun and it was sickening to her stomach.

She looked taken aback. Her lips parted but nothing came out. She had an answer, she just had no clue how to articulate it. How would she tell him that she was afraid of getting hurt again, that she was angry with herself for teetering the lines of her boundaries, that she was unsure if she was worthy of being the woman on his arm? And most of all, she was scared that if it didn’t work between them she’d lose him forever. Her friend. He meant the most to her.

“I just,” she paused. “It’s risky. And everything would be different.” She didn’t say much after that. Lewis didn’t press her, either. With one nod, he stood to his feet. Her eyes followed him. He gathered his belongings and shoved his hands in his pocket. He made his way toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

The conversation was tense. They were talking in circles and he couldn’t stand it. It was filled with unspoken fears and uncertainties. Lewis’s frustration was palpable as he struggled to understand her hesitancy, and Anvika struggled to grapple with her insecurities and her fear of losing him. A cat-and-mouse game that had grown exhausting.

Lewis didn’t meet her eyes. They reached an impasse as their words fell short and there seemed to be nothing else to say. The divide between them seemed to get wider with each passing minute. With a heavy heart, he said, “I’ll see you around, Ani.”

Anvika watched him go and a sense of loss washed over her. The door closed softly behind him. And just like that, she was alone.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #Spotify #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader

188 notes · View notes

upat4amwiththemoon · 2 days

Text

Family of two

Summary: …may become a family of three.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x daughter!reader, WandaNat

Warnings: none

Word count: 1230

a/n: might become a series/its own au, might not, it depends so I haven’t decided yet. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Wanda hums to herself as she cooks Sokovian food. She is wearing a flowy dress, a neat one but not too fancy. There’s a smile on her face. Her two favourite people are meeting each other today.

“Y/N!” Wanda calls out, mixing the sauce in the pan. “She’ll be here in an hour, hun.”

Y/N, who is pacing around her room, frowns at the muffled words coming through the closed door of her bedroom. The dress she is wearing per Wanda’s request flows in the air as she turns around. It’s a sundress, baby pink with small forget-me-nots printed on it.

She isn’t excited for this dinner. In her thirteen-year-old mind, their family is already complete enough for the two of them. Of course she wants her mother to be happy, but they’ve been this way since she was born, and change is difficult.

Not answering, she huffs and sits down on her bed. The smell of the food is making her mood slightly better, it’s comforting to smell the Sokovian food that she grew up eating, as it’s usually reserved for special occasions nowadays.

For the remaining hour, Y/N stays in her room playing video games while she waits for the inevitable.

A knock comes from the front door of the house at six o’clock on the dot. Wanda sets down the food on the dining table, washing her hands quickly before going to open the door.

Outside the door stands Natasha Romanoff with the widest smile on her face. “Hi, babe.” She kisses her before being led inside. “I brought some gifts for Y/N, or bribes,” she shrugs, “whichever word fits better.”

Wanda giggles, “she’ll like you, don’t worry.” She takes out three plates from a cabinet, setting two of them on one side and the third one to the opposite side. “Y/N! Natasha is here.”

Letting out a breath, Y/N stands up and makes her way out of her room. She has a straight face as she stops in front of her mom and Natasha. “Hi.” Her voice is quiet and her gaze keeps moving.

“Hey.” Natasha keeps looking at Y/N, almost unnaturally much. “Here,” she hands her a bag, “gifts for you.”

“Oh.” Y/N takes it and looks inside. There’s a soft looking teddy bear, some chocolates, and a book she has wanted for a while. She’s bribing me, is her first thought, though she doesn’t say it out loud in front of Wanda.

Her mother is looking at her with her brows raised.

“Thanks.” She murmurs, setting the bag down on the couch before sitting down on her seat around the dinner table.

Wanda gives Natasha an apologetic look before the two women do the same. The atmosphere is treading towards uncomfortable as they all put food on their plates.

Clearing her throat, Natasha glances at Y/N. “So, your mom told me that you like theatre.” Her statement makes Y/N glance at Wanda before she nods. “Are you..in a theatre group? Or do you just prefer watching them?”

“I’m not in a group.”

“Y/N has a hard time meeting new people.” Wanda pipes in once she realizes Y/N is going to be giving short answers today.

“Mom!”

“It’s okay,” Natasha says quickly, not wanting the girl to feel embarrassed, “I do too. It’s stressful to meet new people.”

Y/N huffs, her gaze locked on her full plate as she moves the food around with her fork. “How long have you two been together?” She decides to change the subject. She doesn’t want the conversation to be about her.

“Nine months, honey.”

She nods, looking at her mom. “So, is it serious then?”

“Y/N.” Wanda gives her a warning look. “Yes, we are in a serious relationship. And I really love her.”

Her gaze move from Wanda to Natasha, her eyes squinted the slightest. “I really love your mom too.” Natasha says quickly, feeling just a bit threatened.

Y/N hums, going back to playing with her food. She doesn’t know what to think of the situation. Slowly, the table goes back to tense silence. Wanda taps her fingers against the table, her eyes hopping from her daughter to her girlfriend and back.

Biting her lip, she quickly blurts out, “Natasha owns a motorcycle.”

Natasha furrows her brows as she looks at Wanda, who is giving her a look to start talking. “Uhm, yeah? I have a motorcycle.” She mumbles, unsure about where Wanda was going with this.

Squinting her eyes, Y/N lifts her head to look at Wanda. “You think that motorcycles are death machines.”

“Yes..but you think they’re cool.”

“You do?” Natasha smiles when Y/N nods. “That’s great. Maybe you can test ride it someday?”

Her eyes widen in subtle excitement, though Wanda squashes it down right away. “Absolutely not!” She sends a warning look to both Y/N and Natasha.

“When she’s older, I mean.” Natasha corrects herself quickly.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she has a small smile on her face as she finally starts to eat the food in front of her. For the rest of the dinner, Wanda and Natasha keep most of the conversation going.

“What did you think about Natasha?” Wanda picks out a book from Y/N’s bookshelf before sitting next to her on the bed.

Y/N shrugs, laying her head on Wanda’s lap. “She’s okay, I guess.” There’s a small pause while Wanda looks for the page they last left on. They both enjoy those routine, Wanda reading for Y/N before she goes to bed, even though she thinks of herself a bit too old to have bedtime stories read to her. “I didn’t like it when you said it’s difficult for me to meet new people. It made me uncomfortable.” She mumbles.

Wanda sighs, setting the book down momentarily. “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was just nervous and it slipped out.”

“You don’t like..talk about my personal stuff with her, do you?”

“No, of course not.” Her hand goes to Y/N’s hair, combing through it softly. “I would never tell anything personal about you without your permission, okay? It was an honest mistake.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

Wanda’s eyes are locked on Y/N’s profile, she can see the slight apprehension on her face. “Are you scared?” She whispers, her fingers moving to Y/N’s cheek, moving around with feather light touches.

“Scared of what?”

“Things changing.”

“Yeah.” Y/N swallows. She fiddles with her hands under the cover. “I’m scared you’ll love me less.”

“I could never love you less, baby.” Her hand moves Y/N’s head to a position where they can hold eye contact. “You love your friends right?And you tell them you love them.” Y/N nods.” “Does that make you love me less?”

“No.”

“Does saying I love you more make you mean those words less.”

“No.”

Wanda smiles softly, “exactly.” Her fingertips move from Y/N’s cheek to her forehead, and down her nose. “You’re still my number one priority, and always will be.”

Smiling back, Y/N nods softly, moving around so she is in the most comfortable position. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Wanda picks the book back up, and starts reading the next chapter.

200 notes · View notes

theitgirlnetwork · 3 days

Text

Earn It

Ch. 3 :

Heaven being a hot tennis (sorta) gf before she saw her (sorta) man lose:

Note: Okay, once again, thank you so much for the love you guys have shown this story. I'm really inspired by Challengers right now and think I have a lot of ideas for this story. Once again, this oc is not meant to be perfect, she is just as messy and just as young as the characters in the movie. She is a college student and will act like an (albeit messy) one. I'm very grateful for all of the replies, likes, reblogs and interaction in general. It really inspires me to see what you all think and see that people are enjoying it. Regarding the tag list, I am going to try this again, but for some reason, every time I do it seems to not work for people, so let me know if it works this time. Finally, MDNI, like for real, not playing, stay out of grown folks business, if I find out you'll be blocked. Love you all and hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Sexual content, strong language, slight themes of cheating(idk if it counts yet)

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384

“Holy shit.” Tashi murmurs under her breath as she climbs the cobblestone walkway to the address Heaven had given her. This was gonna be their first time hanging outside of the gym or school. Tashi knew they lived in different neighborhoods, but they share a school zone, she hadn’t realized Heaven’s family had money. The girl didn’t seem different from her. They both liked the same games, same music minus the classical that she kept playing that Tashi found herself falling asleep to recently.

She turns and waves to her dad, trying to encourage him to pull off before she rings the doorbell, sighing as he stubbornly remains still, watching her get up to the door from his car window.

The large, wooden door opens as some obnoxious bell rings into the house, the noise spilling outside. The sound of heels clacking gets closer and closer until the door opens revealing a woman with a stern look on her face. Her brown hair is slicked back into a bun and she’s wearing a crisp white button down shirt with pressed jeans and heels. Tashi can’t remember the last time she’d seen her own mother wear heels. She looked so…put together. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Tashi Duncan. I’m Heaven’s friend, we go to school together. She hasn’t been in school the last few days, so I have her make-up work. I called and asked her if it was okay if I dropped it off and she said yes-”

“Heaven is training right now. I can take that, and she’ll be back in school when we get back from our trip.” The woman offers a smile but otherwise quickly takes the binder from Tashi’s hands and goes to retreat into the house only to be stopped by a voice behind her.

“Mom, wait-” Out from behind the woman comes Heaven. Her skin is glistening from sweat and her hair is curling at the nape. She’s dressed in a black leotard with worn, tan ballet shoes on her feet. She smiles brightly as she sees Tashi, pulling her into a hug despite her unkempt state. “Tashi, hey, thank you.”

Tashi is almost hesitant to hug the girl back in front of her no nonsense appearing mother, but opts to return the hug regardless, letting Heaven intertwine their fingers as she pulls back. “No problem.”

Heaven’s brown eyes scan Tashi’s own outfit and her smile drops a little. “Were you about to go play tennis? Mom, Tashi’s the best tennis player ever. She’s gonna be like Serena Williams.”

“Is that so?” Heaven’s mom’s brow raises as she looks down at the girl standing at her door.

Tashi got it. It sounds like a lofty goal. Even at such a young age, Tashi was confident in her abilities. She knows what she can do. But Mrs. Whitlock had never seen her play. If she did, she’d know that Tashi Duncan is tennis. For now, Heaven stating it like it’s a fact is enough to satisfy her. “I just got back from practicing. And yes, ma’am. I’m the best.”

Mrs. Whitlock looks impressed at that, pursing her lips and nodding in approval before nudging her own daughter. “I’d bet she’s the best because she trains. Which is what you’re supposed to be doing.”

Heaven bites her lip, rocking on her feet, causing her shoes to make a clack sound on the floor. “Can Tashi watch?” she grabs her mom’s sleeve and pleads harder at the disapproving look on her face. “Please? She’ll help. She helps me run drills at the gym all of the time. I haven’t gotten to see any friends all week. I’ll keep practicing, mom.” Her fingers tighten around Tashi’s in a way that has her clenching back, glancing at her Dad’s car to see him climbing out, noting that he probably hadn’t expected this to take so long. “Please, mom.”

“I can help, Mrs. Whitlock.” Tashi adds. “I promise, I won’t distract her.”

After some begging, from Heaven and promises to be useful from Tashi, Mrs. Whitlock allowed them 90 minutes. As long as Heaven kept practicing while Tashi was there.

Apparently, Heaven’s dance company was putting on Sleeping Beauty and this was the first year that Heaven has been old enough to play Aurora. Tashi learned that last year Heaven had been snubbed for Cinderella and made a Season Fairy instead. In Heaven’s words, if she ‘earned Cinderella, she should’ve been Cinderella’. But this year, there was no excuse. She was a little taller, she was 13 and she wouldn’t let them take it from her.

“Again.” Tashi says, stepping away from Heaven, folding her arms.

If she’d thought Heaven’s family had money from outside the house, she knows they do now. Here she stood in Heaven’s ‘dance studio’. She concedes that it’s just a room with mirrors, ballet bars and wooden floors, it looked pretty damn official to her. It’s not like her parents had failed to provide. She’s a member of a tennis team, has two coaches, and frequently attends the courts in town. But to have it in her home? She’d give anything.

“Water. Then again.” Heaven huffs, walking over to one of the mirrors and grabbing her water bottle.

The Rose Adage. Arguably the hardest part of Sleeping Beauty the ballet. Heaven showed a video of a professional performance to Tashi and still pointed out mistakes. The dance is all about stamina and balance. As far as Tashi could tell, Heaven had mastered all of it except the last part.

The balance.

She’s hitting every beautiful move, every pose. But the last part. The very last part of the dance where Aurora has to rely completely on her partner to be steady enough to guide her as she’s en pointe in attitude pose. She’s essentially meant to be a figure in a music box. Heaven had done it at least 20 times since Tashi had arrived and started being her stand-in partner.

But her leg. Her damn leg kept quivering in the last few seconds. She doesn’t fall out. She doesn’t lose her position. But her goddamn leg quivers in the turn. Tashi sees it. She sees it.

Neither of them are satisfied.

“Talk to me about something else. I’m getting annoyed.” Heaven says, taking a deep swig of her drink. She hands the bottle to Tashi, leaving the mouthpiece up for the other girl to get a drink too as she walks off to grab her towel.

Swallowing a gulp of water, Tashi shrugs, sitting on the floor and criss-crossing her legs. “Jacob and Tammy broke up again.”

“Really?” Heaven tosses her towel to the corner and goes over the bar closest to Tashi, perching one leg up on it. Holding true to what she promised her mother and continuing to practice. “They just got back together last week. That means Jacob’s gonna ask you to go to the dance with him next week.”

“Shut up.” Tashi scoffs with a smile, watching her friend stretch.

“He will.” Heaven hums. “You gonna say yes?”

Tashi laughs, stretching her own back before laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Why would I do that? I don’t like Jacob, he’s boring.” She turns her head to look at Heaven again. “I figured we were going together.”

“Why would you think that?” Heaven grunts as she switches legs. “You haven’t asked me.”

Tashi rolls her eyes, pushing off of the floor and moving back to the middle of the room. “Break time’s over, let's go.”

“I didn’t take a damn break.” Heaven laughs, nonetheless moving over and getting into position. “You’re not gonna ask me?”

“Straighten your back.”

“It’s straight.” Heaven says, going up onto her single foots, eyes following Tashi as she spins her in place, not even noticing how much time is passing. “Fine. I’ll do it then, come to the dance with me.”

Tashi stops spinning the girl, stepping back once again, this time with a smug smile on her face. “Sure why not. It’ll be fun dancing with a princess.”

Heaven lowers her foot slowly and as the realization hits her, her own smirk forms on her face. She’d done it. And her leg didn’t shake.

“Let’s show your mom, maybe she’ll let me come hang out more when she sees that I’m basically teaching you ballet.” Tashi jokes, only to be pushed by Heaven.

“Shut up and spin me again.”

“Call me when you make it back, okay?” Heaven smiles, removing her arms from Tashi’s neck and stepping back. “Love you.”

“You call me when you get the lead.” the girl smiles back, pulling Heaven in for a brief peck before walking over to get back into Patrick’s car. “And I know.”

Art doesn't manage to look away in time for that one, but quickly turns his head away as Patrick pulls the girl in, teeth grinding as he hears their lips separate.

“I’ll visit after the first leg of my tour.” His friend mumbles behind him. Art can feel his lip curling as he tries to work a neutral expression onto his face. As he looks at the car he can see Tashi looking back at him with a pensive stare and immediately turns his back to say his own goodbye.

He tries to wait until Patrick is standing at the window of the passenger seat, speaking to Tashi to pull Heaven a little further away. “Hey, are we gonna talk about before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Heaven.” Art says, a pleading in his voice that drags her gaze back to him.

The girl shifts on her feet, glancing over his shoulder at the car and back at him. “Okay, we kissed. So what?”

“So what? Is that how you feel about it? So what?” Art asks, the hurt in his voice is clear as he looks down at the girl, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m just saying we had a moment.”

“Fuck.” Heaven breathes, shaking her head. “Yeah. Okay. Are you gonna tell them?”

He straightens at that. He wants to say yes. He wants to be selfish, and ruin whatever the fuck is going on between the three of them. He doesn’t even know what he’d do once he did, he just knows he wants whatever this is, with them, to stop.

But how can he? Looking at her face, pleading up at him. Watching her all morning, curling into Tashi and Patrick like it would undo what happened the night before. Like it would change the looks they’ve been sharing over their shoulders all morning. “You asked me not to.” he says softly.

Heaven nods quietly at that. “Thank you.” And with that she turns, arms wrapped around herself as she goes to climb the steps to get to her building door. Art watches her back. When he gets in the car he’ll make something up. He’ll say he just wanted to make sure she got inside safe. He definitely wasn’t waiting, hoping, praying she’d look back. Give him one more look. Something.

She doesn’t.

But a few days later while he’s on the court practicing with one of the guys from the team, thinking for the twentieth time that Patrick may have been a little right wasting time considering he was absolutely destroying the kid with about half of his effort, he gets a text from an unknown number.

12:41 p.m. : I got the lead.

He can’t help the smile that starts forming when he sees it on his screen.

“Donaldson, are you up for another set or what?”

Heaven huffs in irritation as her leg bounces on the bleachers. Shifting in her seat again her cheek dimples with a frown as she watches Patrick’s racket go flying. “Fucking ridiculous.” she sighs, crossing her legs.

She’d been in school for a couple of weeks now and Patrick had a match not too far from her. She’d decided to be a good..whatever she is to him and come out and show some support. Tashi is preparing for her own match coming up, and to be honest, his performance on this leg hadn’t been impressive enough to encourage her to want to come see.

Heaven was trying to be supportive. Despite his broke boy act, he had sent her flowers to her dorm the week of her auditions. So had Art, something that the girls in the dorm had been scandalized by when they realized the cards were not addressed by the same person. Tashi had called her to remind her of her schedule that week, meditated with her over the phone. She wanted to give the same support to them.

When the match ends she’s already reaching for her phone and sure enough, its vibrating in her purse. “I know.”

“Did you see that shit?”

“I know. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Seriously.” Heaven stands from her seat, scooting passed the small crowds of peeople and making her way down the bleachers.

“Fucking around. He gets lazy-”

“In the third, yeah. He was better than this guy.” She squints to see him storming his way into the building to go the locker room and starts following him. “He’s pissed.”

“He should be embarrassed.” There’s the sound of something snapping closed on the other end and Heaven knows Tashi slams her laptop. “He was off screen for me, how are you seeing him?”

“I drove out here, it’s pretty close.” She says, balancing her phone on her shoulder with her cheek as she pushes the door to the building open and starts looking around for the men’s locker rooms. “Figured he could use the support.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a moment and Heaven pauses in her steps, waiting for Tashi to say something. “Hm.”

“What?” Heaven sighs, leaning against the hallway, waving away an employee politely that seemed alarmed that she was on her way into the men’s locker room. “Babe, what?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry you didn’t get to see a win. He wasted our time. You could be rehearsing.”

“S’fine, he just needs to get his shit together before-”

“I’ve gotta go.” Tashi cuts in. “I’m gonna hit the ball with Art. Hang out a little, we’ve been busy. Tell Patrick to call me later.”

Tashi hangs up before Heaven can say anything else. Breathing out in irritation, she pushes off of the wall and enters the locker room, putting a hand over her eyes and laughing at the men either scrambling to cover up or pausing to check her out.

The guy Patrick just played against wraps a towel around himself, making his way over to her with a smile. “You lost, sweetheart?”

Keeping her hand over her eyes she giggles, making her voice sickly sweet. “No, I’m a really big tennis fan, and I wanted to see if I could get that really hot guy Patrick Zweig’s number.”

“What?” He asks.

One of Patrick's tourmates peaks his head out from behind a locker and rolls his eyes. “Zweig, your girlfriend’s here.”

Heaven can’t help but think to herself that as Patrick rounds the corner he doesn’t know exactly who he’s talking about. It makes her wonder, is that what she is? She, Tashi and Patrick have been hooking up since after his match with Art and it’s been fun. She likes him. He’s funny, and snarky, talking to him has been like…being with a male Tashi.

But does she consider herself his girlfriend? Does he? She knows he dumped the girl he’d been seeing when he’d met them, but does he still hook up with girls while he’s on tour. And even then, is she a stop on his tour?

Suddenly, she’s feeling a little like what she was just pretending to be. A groupie.

“Oh fuck yeah, hey.” He grins when he sees her. He’s changed out of his clothes from before into a ‘fuck you’ t-shirtand sweats. He immediately throws his arm over her shoulders, knocking her hand from in front of her eyes and replacing it with his own. “What do you think this is? A peep show? Huh? I missed you.”

Heaven laughs as she lets him guide her out of the humid room out into the hallway again, once they’re there, pulling his hand away and hugging him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles, pressing his lips to hers. Heaven pushes up onto her toes to meet him, giving him a few more pecks before pulling back. “You came up here by yourself?”

Translation: where’s Tashi. “Yeah…but, um, she wants you to call her later.”

“She was watching?” He asks, placing his arm back around Heaven and walking them back outside toward concessions. “Okay, so you both saw, that was bullshit, right?”

Yeah, we saw some bullshit. Heaven squints, trying to read the menu at the stand despite the sun beating down, trying not to look Patrick in the face. “Did you get tired or something?”

“No, but the calls were fucking stupid, they were robbing me.”

“Hm.” Heaven raises one shoulder and drops it, turning back to the man at the stand. “Small vanilla ice cream please.

Patrick laughs humorously, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Large.” Turning back to Heaven he shakes his head in disbelief. “You guys are just alike, you know? What does ‘hm’ mean?”

“I just think you could’ve beat him, he was fuckin’ scared of you the first half of the match.”

“I should’ve won.”

“I agree.” Heaven huffs, crossing her arms.

Patrick, raises his eyebrows and throws his arms out a little, “Okay, so…”

“I just think you didn’t because you didn’t care to. It got hard so you made the decision to give up.”

The older man in the stand clears his throat, holding out the cup of ice cream out with one spoon, eyeing the arguing pair. “Did you all need another one?”

“No.” Patrick says, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave. “She can have the whole damn thing.”

Heaven’s eyes widen as she watches him walking away toward the building. She grabs the ice cream from the man walking over to a bench just outside of the courts.

He’s walking slowly. He doesn’t wanna really leave. He’s just fucking like her.

“I’m not fucking gonna chase you, Patrick.” Heaven chuckles, scooping some of the ice cream into her mouth. She watches from her seat as he stops. “And you’re proving my point. But I drove all the way here to see you. Are you gonna leave me on this bench?” When he doesn’t immediately turn, Heaven nods to herself, taking another bite. “M’not getting up, Patrick.”

She watches as his shoulders rise and fall with his deep breath and he turns to face her again, marching back over and sitting roughly on the bench, jostling her a little but she keeps her face neutral. “I should have won.”

“I still agree.” Heaven says, scooping some of the treat onto the spoon and holding it to his mouth, knowing he was cooling off when he accepts it. “So why didn’t you?”

The brown haired man just sighs, dropping her head back against the bench with a thunk, staring up at the sky. “I dunno.”

“He was pissed at me.”

Art nods his head along as he steps out of the shower, wiping the condensation gathered on his phone on the towel before wrapping it around his waist and bringing the phone back to his ear. He knocks his hand on his suitemate’s door to let him know he’s out of the bathroom before he makes his way to his own room, closing the door. “He didn’t leave you out there, right?”

“No, he just did that thing he does, you know, storms off. But he calmed down and we had some fun. Could’ve done without the fight though.”

Art wets his lip as he places the phone on speaker on his desk, letting Heaven’s voice fill his room. He never asked her what made her get his number from Tashi’s phone. He figured he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They’d been texting every day since he’d gotten it, talking on the phone every other day. They’ve talked about everything.

Where they’re both from, their families, interests outside of tennis and dance. He learned her favorite colors are baby blue and bright orange. That she used to want to cheerlead too but her mother made her choose ballet because she preferred it and said she couldn’t do both at the same time. That her dad left when she was two but she has a great relationship with her stepfather.

She learned that while Art loved tennis, he’d tried to quit his boarding school three different times when he first got there, but each time he’d won a match and the sport pulled him back in. That he, despite complaining, loves seeing his grandma because she was the one who really raised him because his parents were busy. That he always wanted a younger sibling but never got one, so when he was still at the school, he and Patrick would help teach the younger students tennis when they weren’t dicking around.

What she doesn’t know is that he could do without talking to her about dating his best friend.

“I’d bet.”

Heaven laughs ruefully on the other side of the phone, and the sound has him melting immediately. Sits at his desk, letting himself air dry as he listens to her giggles ring out. “I’m being shitty. How’s school, Arthur?”

And that sends a shiver down his spine. He clears his throat, sitting up as he stares at the phone as if she was in its place. “It’s good, you know, I’ve been staying busy. Between classes and tennis. The guys here are kinda shitty, beating them doesn’t really mean shit.”

“Well, not everyone can be Art Donaldson. You must be hanging out with Tashi too much, you’re sounding cocky over there.”

“Nah, it’s just that bad,” he says. Determined to steer the conversation away from Tashi, Art thinks hard. “What ballet are you doing? I gotta make sure I know what I’m watching when I come watch you.”

“You’re supposed to watch everyone so you can understand the story.” she says. He can hear the sound of creaking letting him know that she’s climbing into her bed. Art follows suit, pulling on his boxers and pushing up into his own twin sized bed.

“Heaven, if you’re there, I’m gonna be watching you.” he breathes, smiling to no one but himself.

There’s a soft, ‘Okay’ on the other side of the line, and then nothing. Just the soft sound of her breathing. When they have moments like these Art feels the sting of knowing that he lost to Patrick and in a way Tashi, that day in a different way. I should’ve won. I don’t know why I didn’t win. All I’ve done since then is win. “So, um, we’re doing Romeo and Juliet. Off the record I think the choice is corny, but as a principal dancer, Juliet, I love it and can’t wait to do it.”

“Lucky Romeo.” he jokes, earning him another breathy laugh. He can’t help it. He tries not to say anything and clenches his jaw tightly, kicking himself for opening his mouth again. “I’m sorry, did you tell them that you got the lead?”

“Art-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…you drove out there for his match. I couldn’t even go. Did he ask you how your auditions went? Did she?”

“She told me I should rehearse, that’s how we talk to each other.” she says.

“And him? Did he ask?”

“I’m not talking about this with you, that’s not why I called, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t vent to you about him. Or her. I know how you feel about her.” Heaven sighs.

“Do you know how I feel about you?” He asks. Silence. “Heaven, come on-”

“What would you do differently?”

“Wh-” At first he doesn’t know what she’s asking. And once he realizes it, he knows she’s made it vague on purpose. Giving him an out. Giving herself an out. Asking too upfront would make it too real. But he wants it to be real. And he’s not gonna miss this opportunity. “I’d have been there the day you auditioned. You have a process and I know that, so I’d have called you before. Wish you luck. Tell you that you were beautiful. That I knew you’d get whatever part you wanted. And then I would have been there when you got out. I would’ve given you flowers. I’d tell you I’m proud of you. And I’d take you to get dinner.”

“Okay. Where?”

“We’d get your cheat food. And I couldn’t have it because I’m starting my season and I know you wouldn’t let me, but we’d get seafood and ice cream, and take it back to your room because you were probably so tired.” Art pauses then, waiting to see if she wants him to stop. He would stop, if she wanted him to stop, he would stop. This could be innocent. This could be advice from a friend who thinks she deserves better. But, that’s not what he wants. That’s all he thinks he has to offer her. “Heaven?”

“I’m…still here.”

“And…” Art thinks back ironically to all of the times Patrick has told him to take what he wants. To be forward and put himself first. “We’d take a shower together. I’d kiss you and massage you while I got you clean. Because, you deserve to relax, and you worked hard. And you were probably so sore, baby.” He hears Heaven’s breath hitch and shifts on his bed, continuing tentatively. “I’d touch you so good, Hev. I’d massage your breasts and kiss your neck. I’d mark your perfect skin. I…I’d want people to see it. To know who made you feel like that. To know who took care of you. I would put my fingers between your legs and make you feel so good. I’d hold you up so you don’t have to do anything. And I’d watch your face while you come for me.”

Art can feel his own labored breathing. He tries to tune the sound of himself out, only wanting to hear the whimpers that have started to come from his phone. He swallows back the last ounce of guilt he has as his hand slides down into his shorts, grabbing himself and biting back a moan as he thinks about his hands on Heaven, hearing her in his ear, feeling her under him. On top of him. Any way she wanted.

“Fuck.” she gasps.

Art bites his lip briefly, willing away the jolt in his lower abdomen that comes from her sound, muscles flexing as he seizes upward slightly. He slows his hand on himself to a stop, pulling his hand out. Not until I hear it. Not until I get her there. “I’d carry you to your bed and lay you down. And I’d start at your feet. I’d kiss my way up your beautiful legs. People dream about your legs, Heaven, I dream about them. When you dance, when you walk, the way they look…fuck-” he groans, digging the hand that hadn’t grabbed the phone into his hair. “I’d push them apart and put them on my shoulders, and I’d taste you. I know you taste amazing, baby. I’d do anything to taste your cum.”

“Art-” she whines, and he lets his eyes slip closed. Behind his eyelids he can see her. In the bed, touching herself to him. Biting her pillow and crying out his name. Arching her back because it feels so good.

“Tell me it feels good, Heaven, please.”

“I…it feels good, Art.”

He’s close. He can tell, with every sound she gives him, he gets closer, barely holding it together. He needs more. Just a little more. “Again.” he demands softly.

“You feel so good, Art.” she cries before dissolving into gasps and whimpers of his name.

He almost feels like he blacks out. Art doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his entire life. He literally rolls over onto his side to try to catch his breath and quiet his moans. He doesn’t think he could live it down if his suitemates came knocking at his door and he had to explain that he was trying to get his friends’ girlfriend off and accidentally worked himself up to the thought of taking her on a date and eating her out.

Then there’s quiet again. The only noise is their shared rapid breathing crackling through the phone. They stay like that for a few minutes and Art thinks about how badly he wishes that it wouldn’t be absolutely crazy to tell her he wanted to drive the hours to UCLA, do exactly what he said on the phone and then hold her while they fall asleep. But, he knows better. And she speaks.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Art breathes, sitting up grabbing tissues from his desk and starting to clean himself up. “I know.”

He’s not gonna be the one to hang up. He wants more. He wants her voice. He wants her breaths. He wants to falling asleep on the phone. If she’s ready for the call to end, she’s gonna have to end it.

But she’s still here.

“Art, I did tell them and…I don’t really know why but…I told you first.”

Click.

148 notes · View notes

tojirights · 3 days

Text

tags: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, drug use, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, casual hookup

toji had been your dealer consistently for quite a while now, and you were well aware of his reputation. you always did your best to not go visit him alone, knowing damn well you'd let him persuade you into falling into bed with him.

but you were insanely bored and had the weekend off so you were in need of some more bud. unfortunately, everyone and their mother seemed to be busy so you suck it up and plan to meet with toji alone. when you pull up to his door, which you also knew was a bad idea, he opens the door with a smirk. “hey sweet thing.” he speaks, already making you feel weak in the knees. “by yourself tonight?” toji raises an eyebrow, seeing just you and your purse. with a sigh, you nod. "yeah everyone bailed on me this weekend. just me, some takeout and shitty movies." you say with a small laugh.

the way toji's eyes scan your body makes a pit form in your stomach. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "mh, can't let that happen. come in, why dontcha?" he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. you hesistate, pulling your lip between your teeth. "i uhh... i shouldn't. not really looking to end up on the news tonight." you tease, watching as toji's eyes falter before he laughs. "i like you, kid. c'mon, i got some bud rolled and ready. on me tonight."

free weed? now you may be dumb but you're not an idiot.

against your better judgement, you accept his invite in. his place was... cleaner than expected... but the smell of the freshly ground weed hit your nose immediately and you let yourself relax. what's the worst that could happen, huh? toji wouldn't kill you or anything, right?

right?

sitting down on his rather comfortable couch, you look at the rolling tray with three blunts ready to be smoked. "as my guest, you have first dibs." toji says, placing himself next to you on the cushion. there's enough space where you aren't feeling suffocated by his presence, but you're fully aware of his body heat.

with a shaky hand, you make your choice and make no hesitation to spark up. your nerves start to settle after a few minutes, smoke flowing around you after your first hit. toji watches diligently, a smirk growing on his face as he watches your muscles stop tensing. "good shit huh?" he asks, taking his first hit. you sit back with your eyes closed, taking in the effects.

you supress a cough as the second hit burns your throat, and that shit hurt but you won't let toji think you can't take a hit so you do your best to suck up the pain. "fuck." you cough, unable to hold it and toji just chuckles. you didn't even see him light up the other joint, but he's already somehow burned through more than you. as the pain resides, you're overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling that you've come to rely on.

toji's still respecting your space, but it somehow feels like the room has shrunk and all you can think about is how close his knee is to yours. your body heat starts to spike, a telltale sign of arousal starting to burn in your gut and you beg it not to show. you're no stranger to bud putting you in the mood, but now is not the time.

"holdin' up alright doll?" toji hums, breaking you from your trance. "h-hm? oh yeah." you fumble your words as you turn to face him. your brain chemisty must be fucked, because the moment your eyes meet his, your self restraint all but snaps. "fuck... toji, i-i..." you sound like an idiot, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to hide it with an awkward laugh, but it gets lost in your throat when toji's hand rests on your cheek and captures your lips in his.

you would like to say you pulled away and slapped him right across the face, but you instead immediately crawl into his lap. strong hands wrap around your waist to grip the fat of your ass, earning a groan from toji. "y'been dreamin' of this, haven't you baby girl?" toji uses his grip to basically force you to grind on his quickly hardening cock, making you whimper against his lips.

'never fuck your dealer'

your number one rule is quickly disappearing as your hands desperately tug at the hem of toji's shirt, the sudden need to see him unclothed, taking over your senses. he does the same to you, removing your top and expertly unhooking your bra from behind your back. "you clean?" toji pants between kisses, lifting his hips so he can free his cock. you nod, doing the same just a little clumsier. "and on the pill." your response almost makes toji laugh, but he can't help but to find those simple little words so sexy.

there wasn't much more hesitation after you both cleared eachother, your leggings barely making it off your ankles before you feel the head of toji's cock slipping into your needy pussy. you brace for the push in, knowing damn well that toji's cock is bigger than any you've taken in the past. you whine with every hard inch of cock that spreads you open, hearing the squelching sound your pussy only makes after months of not getting fucked properly.

"fuckin' hell kid..." toji groans as his cock forces its way in, all the way until your ass hits his thighs. you're shaking as you try to accommodate not only the length, but the girth of toji's cock. reaching behind you, you grab the last joint off the table and light up, taking as big of an inhale as you can. before you can exhale, toji's grabbing your jaw and pulling your face to his so that you have no choice but to blow the smoke right into his mouth.

you pause now, sitting in toji's lap with his cock pressing snugly against your cervix. it's almost too much, your head spinning as the weed takes over your senses once more. toji takes the still lit joint and takes his own hit before doing the same and blowing it down your throat this time.

and when toji senses your hesitation to keep moving on his cock, he doesn't waste another moment in reaching around to grab a handful of ass, slowly bouncing you up and down on his shaft. "w-wait toji-" you gasp, hands on his chest to brace yourself but toji only gives you a second to breathe before he's lifting you higher and fucking up into you with a harsh pace.

"see? y'didn't need me to wait, sweetheart." toji coos, his grip tightening to keep you lifted so his cock meets no resistance. "your pussy was made for taking cock." he grunts, taking the still burning joint from your hands to blow more smoke in your face. your thighs shake as you keep yourself balanced, each deep stroke of his cock has you seeing stars as intoxication takes over. every nerve in your body screams with pleasure as toji fucks into you relentlessly.

"o-oh fuck toji." you whine, eyes screwed shut as the coil in your gut threatens to snap at any moment. toji's quick to flip your position, flinging you onto your back as he now looms on top of you. "wanna feel y'cum on my cock." he breathes in your ear, hitching one of your legs up around his waist. "s-so close." you mewl, back arching off the leather couch as toji's cock hits you just right. your cunt clenches around his length, waves of pleasure just about to crash over you and-

your eyes widen as toji's hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head dizzier than it already was. "ooh yes that's a pretty baby." toji moans, hips stuttering as his own orgasm quickly approaches. you gasp for air as toji's hand tightens just a bit, and that's enough to push you over the edge. your legs spasm as you cunt squeezes toji's cock. wave after wave crashes into you, and toji doesn't relent his brutal pace.

if anything, he quickens his thrusts. "good fuckin' girl." he sighs, letting your pussy milk the cum from his balls. as toji cums, you feel it fill you from within, so much that it starts to leak down his length and onto the couch as he pulls out. you try your best to hold it in, not make a mess on his furniture, but his seed slides right down your inner thigh and mixes with your own juices to make quite a mess.

"o-oh god i'm so sorry-" you're immediately embarrassed and try to pull your panties back on to stop it from leaking but toji pulls you onto his lap and reaches for the end of the blunt. you whine as you feel the sticky seed leaking onto toji's pants. "sorry?" he cocks a brow, hands finding their way back to your ass again. "the only thing you should be sorry for is that now i need to keep givin' you free weed." he says with a chuckle. "i keep good pussy well taken care of." he whispers in your ear, earning a shudder that runs down your spine.

fuck...

never sleep with your deal. unless maybe he's hot.

152 notes · View notes

tinartss · 2 days

Text

some of tin's fav haikavetham fics (fic rec list!)🍓🍓

hello all i've always wanted to make a fic rec list and i feel like i've collected enough hkvh fics to make one now LOL most definitely i am forgetting to include a lot but here are a few of my faves!

notes:

check tags before reading👍

most if not all are sfw bc that is my vibe

sorted from least recent -> most recent

was gonna add little comments to each but i'm now realizing that would take up a huge amt of space so. just know that all of these changed the trajectory of my life. thank u fic authors for all u do🫶

then who? by heartslogos (T, 27k)

“Let me,” Kaveh would say with his eyes, his head, his hands. Let him what? Let him in, let him speak, let him stay, let him touch and see and listen — All of the above. Has it not always been so, the two of them like this, Kaveh and Al-Haitham? Kaveh: not quite asking, not quite taking. Al-Haitham: not quite answering, not quite offering. - Al-Haitham has been confined to bed-rest for a month. Kaveh assists. Al-Haitham recovers, they both do.

Asked and Answered by heartslogos (T, 55k)

It begins in the House of Daena, or at least, Kaveh thinks that that’s where it should begin. If one were to trace the flow of events backwards, it would lead to this moment. If Kaveh were Al-Haitham, he would insist on going further back. Further. Further. Further. All the way back, to the literal beginning of all of time and creation, possibly. But Kaveh’s brain only has enough room for so many creations at any given moment, and the works of others — while inspiring — historically don’t get students passing grades. Or even grades at all. When thinking about one’s relationship with their soulmate, it seems natural to think to a first meeting. A first introduction. Well. This can be said for any relationship. It all begins with that first brush — a name, given; a silhouette, glanced; a voice, heard.

the truest forms of love by heartslogos (T, 29k)

“Nahida said that the moment you touch the seeds is the moment you must stop speaking,” the Traveler says to him, standing between Al-Haitham and the door of the simple, small hut that is to become his and Kaveh’s for the foreseeable future. “Is there anything else you want to say?” The beak of the swan is foreign, cool and strange. Al-Haitham struggles not to flinch away from it as it slides along the side of his jaw, his cheek — imploring and fretful. One last and ineffective plea. Al-Haitham feels the warm weight of solid muscle around his neck, his shoulders — the fidget of wings, the beat of a heart. Al-Haitham’s fingers sink into soft feathers and the bones and muscles of a bird shift against his hands as he holds Kaveh close. What is there to say? Why bother to say something to someone who cannot say anything back? “Stand aside,” Al-Haitham says, slowly lowering Kaveh to the ground. “The sooner I begin, the sooner it ends.” - A story loosely based on the fairy tale of "The Six Swans".

house of cards by luminvies (T, 21k)

There is a scrap of parchment he'd created and abandoned all the way back when the two had been attending the Akademiya together. Sometime between then and the first month he has to move in with Al-Haitham, the list gets crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, carefully unfolded again, and revised. The working title for his tireless troubles: Ten Reasons You Cannot, Under Any Circumstances, Fall In Love With Al-Haitham.

…And how Kaveh falls anyway.

through the grapevine by katarasvevo (G, 3.8k)

Theories are passed around in the form of whispers: Professor Alhaitham probably said something that angered Professor Kaveh. Professor Kaveh, unable to let the insult slide, decided to take revenge by interrupting his precious class time. A prediction goes around that in less than ten seconds, Professor Alhaitham will proceed to offend Professor Kaveh even more with a tactless comment, which will lead to Professor Kaveh and Professor Alhaitham murdering each other. The whole class will walk out today without needing to write the test, having been traumatized by the tragic demise of the two professors. It is not a very pleasant line of thought, but it is sadly the only logical outcome.

In which everyone is convinced Professor Alhaitham and Professor Kaveh are sworn enemies, unaware that their relationship isn’t at all what it seems.

the kübler-ross model on romance by luminvies (T, 10.8k)

Kaveh smiles up at the stranger. "Sorry, he's right! I am taken. By him. But he doesn't know it yet." What. "Wait, what did you mean by that?" Al-Haitham asks faintly. "Oh, that?" Kaveh scoffs. "You're a little dense. Obviously, I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn't want to be kept by anybody but you." "But we are—" Al-Haitham trips over his words, trailing behind Kaveh as he walks purposefully through the city. "We aren't. Together. Neither of us has confirmed anything of the sort." Kaveh gives him a derisory look. "And what, we don't act like it? Some things don't have to be put into words to be understood. Ah, I forgot. Haravatat. You probably wouldn't accept anything else any other way." "It is not logical to make assumptions without empirical evidence." "You scholarly types," Kaveh mutters. "Always so particular."

So. Al-Haitham is in love with Kaveh. This has got to be somebody's fault.

Cue the five stages of grief.

The Fall by heartslogos (M, 131k)

In the third generation of Lord Sangemah Bays when all is but a dream, Lord Kusanali, from their divine seat in the Sanctuary of Surasthana stirs and reaches their hands to the sky. They arrange their fingers to capture a square of sky, humming and singing to themselves as they put the patch of star and moon and cloud through the divine calculus before they translate it into the tongues of men to be made knowable, and perhaps even understandable — and with great fortune, actionable. “Summon the court,” Lord Kusanali says, “The Third Face of God has spoken. Hear the Word through me and make your peace. For the God Kings only ever speak thrice on any given subject.” The court of Sumeru crowds the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “That which waits in the Palace of Alcazarzaray can only be absolved through a union of souls and an exchange of hearts, a lifelong journey that ends only in death.” Lord Kusanali translates. And then, beatific, “What you need is a wedding.”

set alight by celestialfics (T, 2.3k)

Since he was young, Alhaitham has followed a self-imposed, unspoken rule not to touch other people unless strictly necessary. Over the years, there have been two exceptions. One was his grandmother, whose side he would cling to as she read him books on the living room couch. She would pet his hair, and he’d lean into the touch, not unlike a kitten blissfully being groomed by its mother. The other exception was an Akademiya upperclassman named Kaveh.

transparent night by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 9.4k)

“Sir, kindly do not obstruct us,” says the matra sharply. “We are in the midst of carrying out an arrest.” “An arrest?” repeats Kaveh, incredulously. “You’re arresting him? You’re arresting him? Why, what in Teyvat has he done?” The Archon Rescue Operation is going as smoothly as it possibly can — that is, until Kaveh returns prematurely from his desert trip, and runs into Alhaitham at the absolute worst possible moment. Of course he would.

this is what happens in the absence of small-talk by pencanze (T, 17k)

Haitham and Kaveh, whose travels are leading them in opposite directions, meet as strangers in a caravanserai—a travelers’ guest house. Because even opposite directions have a point of intersection or overlap, don’t they? Some might even call that point a headfirst collision. And another thing about opposite directions: they still run in parallel, even long after they’ve crossed.

trishna by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 8.2k)

Down the seventh-floor passage in Vahumana, past the statue of the sage Zolfikar, and behind the third door from the left; inside a small, abandoned seminar room in the Sumeru Akademiya is a mirror cursed to show the viewer their heart’s deepest desire. Kaveh’s father smiles at him, slowly, so Kaveh can see it happen; the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and his eyes twinkle. He’s moving, alive. Kaveh hasn’t seen his father smile – not the expression itself, preserved in an old Kamera shot he kept in his sketchbook, but the very action of smiling – in almost ten years. An Alhaitham/Kaveh X Mirror of Erised AU

if they ask my gain from this world’s harvest by patchy (T, 16k)

In the silence that follows, Alhaitham seems to interpret the end of the conversation. He takes a step back into his bedroom and starts to shut the door. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Kaveh forces out, his voice cracking embarrassingly. The door pauses in its trajectory. Kaveh takes a deep breath. “But this is the last time,” he continues in a lower voice. “I’ll be out of your space by the end of the month.” Alhaitham pushes open the door.

The House, The Home, You and Me by sonotfine (G, 11.9k)

Alhaitham's books-hoarding situation continued to grow out of control. Kaveh magnanimously decided to offer to build a new house for him, with enough space for his ego and the books too. This was fine by Alhaitham. And, of course, he wanted it to be a house for two. -- On moving out of the old, moving on to the new, and moving forward together.

what it means to point true by luminvies (T, 9.8k)

It is biologically impossible for a man to replicate technological functions. As much as Kaveh (and colleagues) like calling Al-Haitham an index of niche and generally insignificant information on legs, he will never quite live up to the title. Here's a novel one: people must have taken to thinking of him as a human compass because they always seem to come to him when they're looking for Kaveh.

is that what I look like? by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 3,8k)

Alhaitham grows a beard. Why? Who knows.

Three or Four (Or Possibly Five) Easy Steps to Living Harmoniously With Your Roommate by Bgtea (T, 28.7k)

The truth of the matter is, Kaveh has no idea how to read Alhaitham. He prides himself on being an expert at understanding people, his empathetic heart lending him the capacity to relate deeply with those around him (oftentimes to his detriment). But with Alhaitham, there is nothing for him to read; no clues from his cool expression for him to grasp. The man appears stoic all the time even during their petty bickering. Honestly, when was the last time Kaveh has seen the man do anything except smirk or frown? Does Alhaitham feel happiness? Has he ever seen the man laugh? Kaveh's mind is drawing a blank on the latter and it...bothers him deeply. -- Kaveh devises a plan to get Alhaitham to smile by being aggressively nice to the man (and also maybe if he makes Alhaitham happy, he can score a discount on his rent or something). Alhaitham thinks Kaveh ate some mind-altering mushrooms and is, understandably, confused and mildly afraid.

in weal and in woe by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 26.7k)

“Oh, right – Alhaitham.” Kaveh claps a hand to his forehead. “Cyno, if you see him at the Akademiya tomorrow, don’t mention this to him, would you? I haven’t told him yet.”

“Told him?” Cyno asks slowly, a wary glint in his eye. “What exactly haven’t you told him?” “That I’m getting married,” Kaveh grimaces. “I wanted to tell him myself – I suppose I do want him at the wedding after all, you know – but I didn’t get a chance yet. You know what it’s like, trying to have a conversation with him.” It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Kaveh is a single man. That's about it, really. or: the one in which Kaveh gets married, but not to whom you think.

the hypothetical shore by heartslogos (T, 10k)

When Al-Haitham was still a student in the Akademiya he wore his hair long. As long as Kaveh’s is now, perhaps a little longer than that, even. But unlike Kaveh's, Al-Haitham’s hair was just as quiet as he was, just as cool — like a stream of silver water, fresh from the mountain pass. To this day Kaveh remembers the exact moment he thought he might be falling in love with Al-Haitham and that, perhaps, it might not be such a terrible thing.

de insomniis by liyuen (M, 32k)

Kaveh and Alhaitham live together. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever hurts. But sometimes, when Kaveh watches Nahida idly finish her homework, he gets the feeling that he’s forgetting something important.

Kaveh must have fallen asleep at his desk again, the morning light hitting his eyes like a slap. He blinked at the soft green blanket over his shoulders. When he stumbled into the hall, Alhaitham was sitting in the living quarters with his back to him, soundproof earpieces alit. He had a stupid moment where he wanted to call out to Alhaitham. What would he even say? ‘I’m having some trouble.’ ‘Is the blanket yours?’ ‘You were right, I’m in over my head.’ ‘Can you hear me out?’ ‘Help me. Please, help me.’ Stupid. He yawned and went to stumble his way to the kitchen. From his periphery, he thought he saw Alhaitham turn towards him with a look like he wanted to say something. But that, too, surely was just a very nice dream.

The Importance of Interruption by theSealby (T, 8.6k)

Years. It has been years, yet it could’ve been yesterday they were sitting side by side, thigh to thigh, eye to eye, filled with a contentment that their future selves have lost. Maybe it would be enough to have that again. Maybe correctness has no place here—has never been the ultimate goal between them—and Alhaitham finds himself asking a very different question than intended. “How would you like to come home?” ✥ Alhaitham loathes interruptions. (All except one).

To Dream in Shades of Green by Intensely_Reading (T, 55k)

“There are three suitors who you can romance in this game. You must complete all your requirements with one of them." “Who are the three potential suitors?” Kaveh asks warily. “Your three suitors are Tighnari, the blunt Palace Chamberlain; Cyno, the standoffish Captain of the Royal Guard; and Al-Haitham, the acerbic Duke of Vultur Volans.” There's a new invention from the Yae Publishing House that turns a user's dreams into light novel stories. Kaveh has the (un)fortunate pleasure of being one of its first users. Too bad it dumped him in a romance game.

The Theorem of Narrow Interests by lumielle (M, 36k)

Kaveh clicks his tongue. “Well, I hope you are also aware that with all these requirements, you don’t get a set (A+B), or even (A+B+C). Yours is a set comprised of the entire Sumerian alphabet!” Kaveh has had enough of Alhaitham always loitering around the house. In an attempt to get Alhaitham to go out more often, he jokingly tells him to start dating someone. Much to Kaveh’s shock, Alhaitham agrees—and promptly assigns him as his personal matchmaker. And even though Alhaitham’s requirements for his ideal partner are annoyingly specific, Kaveh refuses to back down from a good challenge. He’s confident in his abilities—that is, until his own feelings start getting in the way…

Precipice by viiparyas (M, 37k)

Lately, his heart staggers at a precipice, just one breath from toppling over. Into what, he doesn’t know. After everything, after everything… He can’t help but melt easily into the intimacy between them, whether it’s by his design or not.

Kaveh has won fame and renown through Sumeru, witnessed the dissolution of a corrupt government, traveled from the trenches of homelessness to the pinnacles of a fairytale paradise. And yet something deep between his ribs screams, more, more, more.

or, Kaveh discovering what he truly wants and finally reaching for it. (Spoiler alert: it's Alhaitham)

nazar by pencanze (T, 13k)

It’s like they’re in a globed world of their own, trapped within a glazed bead. Shatterproof, soundproof, impregnable and unbreakable to anyone else—anyone besides themselves. (On superstitions, friendships, and other things that shatter.)

case study of the scribe by Jazer (T, 25.5k)

"The consequences of obtaining knowledge is the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. "

In which Alhaitham realizes that a peaceful existence does not have to mean a lonely one.

People keep coming to Al-Haitham when they want to know where Kaveh is. Al-Haitham would be lying if he said he didn't know why.

silviculture by sunsmasher (T, 13k)

Kaveh’s face is bright, young, flushed, freckled, happy. He’s wearing an Akademiya uniform and is as tall as the last time Alhaitham saw him (fifteen minutes ago) which means he’s an inch or two shorter than the last time Alhaitham saw him, because the uniform boots are heeled. He’s staring at Alhaitham with the aforementioned flush spreading like dye over the silk of his cheeks. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t freak out. I believe I’ve been displaced in time.”

spitefully yours by luminvies (T, 6k)

Dear Al-Haitham, I propose that we meet this Friday at sundown on the southeast edge of the city bordering Avidya Forest. This is a marital engagement. Please come prepared with your sword at the ready. With spite, Kaveh Al-Haitham sets down the letter, letting out a long sigh. After all, isn’t the answer to dealing with domestic disputes not marriage? Isn’t that entirely contradictory to the issue?

Kaveh sends Al-Haitham martial summons to sort out their issues. Unfortunately, he makes a small error in the letter.

The Art of Misunderstanding by Anonymous (M, 7k)

"Kaveh didn't consider himself to be vain. Yet he was becoming increasingly, upsettingly aware that most associates would disagree. Vanity, by definition, refers to an inflated sense of self-importance and pride in oneself. A vain person may believe themselves to be the best in the room. They may find it absurd that all eyes do not fall on them the instant they make themselves known. A vain person may put themselves on a pedestal, believing themselves objectively skilled in their field. And though Kaveh had trust and confidence in himself as an artist, he was caught entirely off-guard to hear that others thought of him as vain." ------ AKA, Kaveh misunderstands when he overhears an upsetting conversation between old classmates. His assumption is that they are attacking his character and commenting on his personality. In reality, they're talking about his looks. Everyone picks up on it, save for Kaveh himself.

Illness, Drowning, and Other Minor Inconveniences by EulerIHKH (G, 11k)

Faced with a uniquely difficult client, Kaveh is reluctantly forced to look for help in the one architect he considers more capable than himself: his mother. But soon enough, the turmoil of Kaveh's personal life begins to seep into their professional correspondence, forcing him to reevaluate his career, relationships, and identity.

love haitham and kaveh....love these fics....so many talented writers...thank you authors <33 def missing a bunch bc my organization on ao3 is horrendous but i can update this or make another list at some point....also i would highly appreciate any recs tyy🙏

( + bonus not rec but self promo of a hkvh fic i tried my hand at writing last summer but never shared oops. here she is if you're intrigued

a comedy of errors (T, 6.7k) )

#haikaveh fic recs #kavetham fic recs #fic rec list #haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #this was so fun #if anything's incorrect like the summary or ratings please lmk!

105 notes · View notes

toji-girl · 23 hours

Note

if im fictionally fucking my mom's man i want it as icky as possible im talking fucking in their bed 📝 fucking in the car when toji was supposed to pick me up 📝 mom on the other room and im on my knees doing the glock 3000 📝 or it can be something like i sneaked out and he finds out and i have to fuck him so he doesn't rat me out 🤒

18+ only content - mdni

when I read this I had to put my phone down and take a lap because the beginning and the end has me in a chokehold! it's so icky I love it so much 🫠 I kinda went off the rails and this is 3.3k but there will be a part two!!

tags: fem reader + dark content + step-dad trope + explicit smut + both him and you have fucked up morals and do fucked up things but it's okay because this is fiction + some angst + I changed it up after a new idea came to me lmaoo + daddy being used + food play + this wasn't supposed to be long...

Lines tend to blur when the human mind is muddled with a strong emotion, such as anger. Pretty much all of us have said something out of anger or spite that we wish we could take back, but can't.

When you have to hear your mother and stepdad go at it fighting about things that could easily be talked about, but you know your mom wasn't like that. Her go-to tactic was the silent treatment which left the house in a war zone that had you walking on eggshells.

It was something you were used to, and as soon as you turned eighteen you moved out and away to college only to come back and visit her during breaks and when summer started then she met Toji.

She claimed it was love at first sight but it didn't take long for her new husband to realize what type of woman she really was after the wedding which is where you met him for the first time ever and then you kept coming back home after you and Toji developed a relationship.

You two could bond over being stuck with your mother.

He listened to you bitch and complain a lot about the guys in your class and the ones who try to chase after you to get a taste but there was always one thing you left out, never telling Toji.

None of those men were him.

Having a crush on your stepdad wasn't a new thing, there were more porn links on any website and the pages went into the triple number about fucking your stepbrother or stepmom, whatever tickled your fancy, they more than likely had it.

But the videos always lacked men that looked like Toji or they didn't know how to fuck, and it was like they missed the clit on purpose.

It was a dark secret you were going to take with you to the grave.

That is until you were caught.

You came into town a day ago and forgot a few essentials back at your dorm so you had to run into town quickly before meeting up with a few old friends to grab them and that's when Toji found it.

Your laptop was still playing a video when he was shuffling down the hallway ready to get in the shower, the sound was on but it wasn't loud enough for Toji to realize what it was until he opened the lid to see a woman who looked like you getting her back blown out while chanting daddy fuck me harder and oohs and ahhs about his dick.

With his eyebrow cocked Toji couldn't stop himself from watching as the man pulled out, his condom-covered dick was shiny with the woman's cum, and all he could think about was fucking you raw.

Feeling his cock twitch under his towel he sat down at your chair looking around your bedroom, the same one you grew up in and your mother never changed anything when you moved out so it was frozen in time it felt like with pictures of you and your life hanging up.

Toji wasn't sure how long he had before you came home and while he wanted to jerk off in your chair he knew it was best to take your laptop to his and your mom's room to lay on the bed with the laptop next to him as he lay naked with his legs spread open.

His heavy cock wept as he wrapped thick fingers around the shaft knowing this was beyond fucked, masturbating to his stepdaughter's porn that he found wasn't the best moment in his life but damn it, you were a minx and tempted him more than anything.

It simmered under the surface and now it was a raging boil that wouldn't even stop if you took away the heat source. With his head tilted against the headboard and the video louder he didn't hear you coming in calling out for him. "Toji!? I have something for you!"

No answer.

Usually, he would call back out from the living room. Silence greeted you as you breezed through the lower half of the house, going from room to room holding the scratch-off ticket you bought for Toji.

Humming softly you walked upstairs stopping midway when you heard the moans.

Immediately your blood ran cold with thoughts of him stepping out on you. Your feet faltered as you gripped the rail bolted to the wall thinking about the woman Toji brought home.

With determination in your step, you hurried up the stairs and down the hallway to push the door open to see Toji naked and jerking off, his fist going up and down his fat and leaky cock, it was the thickest and longest you've ever seen in person.

Toji stopped when he heard you suck in a breath and you met each other's gaze feeling your heart threaten to get stuck in your ass, it felt like a dream as your eyes bounced from his to where his fist was.

It was now or never.

"Are you goin' to stand there or help me?" He husked moving his fist again, his heavy sack bouncing with each stroke making your mouth water as you watched stuck in the doorway until the video changed pulling you from your state of mind.

Your feet propelled you forward as you shed your clothes until you were on the mattress kneeling between Toji's strong and powerful thighs, he was so close you could smell his natural body scent which was all potent male.

Toji watched you with darkened eyes forgetting that another video was playing, he didn't have to imagine this now, not with you right here with a soft smile and even softer hands that felt like heaven when you replaced his fist with yours.

The line was crossed the moment he was caught, the both of you knew that so when you finally closed the distance to wrap your lips around the tip while keeping eye contact Toji knew he was in for it.

He watched as you swallowed him all the way down to the hilt burying your nose into the soft dark pubic hair that he kept trimmed, and it's been so long since he got his dick wet and here you were sucking his cock like it was your job.

Whatever you couldn't reach you jerked off making it messy with thick spit that bubbled and strung from your mouth to the head of his cock when you pulled away to give your jaw a break. "You can do better than that, I've heard you gossip for hours doll." Toji husked with a deep chuckle as he guided your mouth back to his cock.

You gagged wetly causing tears to glisten and make your eyes glassy as you met Toji's gaze again knowing that was beyond wrong, this was your mother's husband, your stepdad whose dick you were sucking in their bed like it was a melting popsicle.

Green eyes took in the way you swirled your tongue around the tip before dragging all the way down to his heavy sack sucking on each one gently while using your spit as a makeshift lube to make it easier to jerk him off as you kissed your way up making a mess of your face.

"You look so pretty like this," Toji grunted when you slapped the length of his dick against your tongue once it lolled out, your lips curled into a smile when you felt his warm essence splatter that he smeared in with his thumb before dragging it toward your lips.

He watched as you sucked his cum-soaked thumb before moving to straddle him, your hands perched on his shoulders not cleaning up the rest of his orgasm on your face as you grabbed his wrists guiding his hands to grab your tits and rolling your nipples.

"I see where you got most of your looks from." Toji teased hearing you huff and smack at his hands as you glared at him and rolled your eyes.

It was just to rile you up really because truth be told you are the

His words stung as you turned your attention to your laptop that kept playing porno and now you couldn't help but feel cheap and used. "We won't talk about this ever again, this never happened." You told him and crawled off the bed with your laptop and clothes in your arms.

Toji sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair knowing he fucked up big time with that joke and since the apple doesn't fall far from the tree he took the rest of the night to think about your fave covered in cum and you crying on his cock as you struggle to take him.

Over the next several days all you could do was taste Toji.

It was your own personal hell because not only couldn't you get rid of it but he was always around and it seemed like he was picking fights with your mom on purpose to.

Since it was summer break, you had three more months of living with them before going back to college, and you didn't want to hear the yelling, so you called up an old friend for dinner.

They didn't notice you leaving at first until Toji went upstairs passing by your bedroom, and by then, it was an hour after the fight ended.

Another hour passed by of him laying in bed thinking about the other night, and you still weren't home, making Toji sick to his stomach until his phone rang with your ringtone.

He answered it, hearing a noisy background fade away. "Hey, I was wondering if you could come and get me please?" You asked softly shifting your weight between both feet waiting for his answer.

"Send me your location."

With that he hung up to get dressed while looking at his phone knowing exactly where you were, it was the restaurant that he proposed at.

Another twenty minutes later you saw Toji's car turning the corner smoothly and gliding up to the curb, the passenger door swung open revealing Toji who seemed irritated. You scurried to the car just in time for sheets of rain to start coming down heavily.

The air in the cabin of his car was thick with unsaid words and tension that even a knife couldn't cut through, you would need a chainsaw to get the job done. "Thank you for picking me up."

You turned to look at him thankful for the dark sky and Toji's tinted windows, the eye contact was intense and it made you ache. It could be felt like a heartbeat between your legs but his comment still rubbed you the wrong way.

"I have no choice." He muttered pulling away from the curb and driving slowly down the streets until he reached the driveway where he shut the car off filling the air with static.

Neither of you moved from your spot.

Toji looked at you turning his body to get a good view of your dress. "Why are you being a jerk?" You blurted with a curled lip as you gripped the door handle glaring at him when you pushed the door open to get out when he grasped your wrist gently.

Before you could say anything, you were yanked forward and felt Toji's lips against yours. At first, you stilled then melted like butter on a hot man, you became putty in his arms as he pulled you closer.

He helped you staddle him making sure you were comfortable before his hands slid up your dress. "Look at ya. So pretty 'f me." His words made you burn from the inside out as you rubbed your pantie-cladded cunt against his bulge wanting to feel him inside you.

"Toji. I want you so bad." You whimpered leaning your back against the steering wheel to lift the front of your dress to show him your no bra and underwear choice, his eyes widened and his cock twitched.

"Is this for me or that loser you went with?" He husked pinching your nipples and hearing you whine while rolling your hips unable to help yourself, he trailed his fingers down your belly and down between your legs where he spread you open gently.

"Who do you think, silly?" You hummed leaning in to kiss him again and nibble on his bottom lip while reaching both hands down to pull the band of his shorts down to reveal his dick that felt warm and heavy in your hand while being smooth and soft.

He was beyond thick and his length was impressive but you weren't surprised. Toji swirled his tongue with yours as he slowly slid his middle finger inside you, curling to find that sweet spot of yours.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you jerked him off letting him finger you as you kissed him growing drunk and needy for him.

Toji already had you on the edge in a matter of seconds it felt like.

His teeth sunk into the tender area of your pulse when you tossed your head back riding his fingers, wanting to ride something else.

"Dick." You muttered pulling away in a frenzy.

"What for?" Toji huffed as he rolled his eyes.

You looked up at him as you spit in the palm of your hand to use as a makeshift lube before jerking him off again. "I want your dick."

He chuckled and smacked your ass as you sat up the best you could due to being in a cramped car, your muscles cramped and ached but you didn't care, not when you felt his hot tip against your fluttering hole.

Slowly you sat down until he was halfway inside you feeling your pussy pulse around him and trying to milk it already. His fingers curled into your dress stretching the fabric when he bottomed out.

The both of you gasped as tears stung your eyes feeling him in your throat what felt like. "Holy fuck." You whimpered and put your hands on the roof of the car as you began a slow pace at first.

Toji pulled the top of your dress down to bare your breasts to him which he attacked with kisses and soft nibbles as you rode him like you were going to win first place for doing it too, this wasn't going to be the first or last time this happened, the both of you knew it too.

His cock kissed your cervix mixing in a bit of pain with the pleasure that swirled in your foggy brain as you bounced up and down. "I'm going to ruin any man that tries to lay his claim on you, you're all mine, aren't you sweet girl?" Toji asked reaching up to squeeze your cheeks in one hand squishing your lips together.

You couldn't speak, only moan which was amusing to him. "So drunk on cock you can't even talk, don't worry princess. I'll ask again. You're mine, right?" He shook your head for you softly and thrust up mocking your voice. "Yes, daddy, I'm all yours." He husked.

Your hips ground down on him feeling your orgasm wash over you making you squeal and clamp down around Toji which in turn pushed him to cum sooner than what he's used to filling you to the brim.

You nor Toji spoke about what happened in the car but you had silent conversations when your mom was home and when she wasn't you were sure to tease him and tonight you broke the poor man.

After dinner, you curled up on the couch with a bowl of fruit and whipped cream while your mother did the dishes when Toji sauntered in just in time to see you dipping a strawberry in the cream lapping the white essence up reminding him of the blowjob in his bed.

Toji was silent as he sat on the other end of the couch but he still eyed you and now you were sucking the whipped cream off your fingers. "Did I miss a spot?" You asked in a sultry voice as you leaned in to look at him.

This was a very dangerous game you both were playing, he could feel the heat from the flame he was playing with but Toji knows you would balm any burn he got and he would do the same for you too.

His eyes shifted to the hallway still hearing the water running before he was staring at you while he dipped his finger in the cream to smear some of your mouth. "You did, you're a messy eater."

He leaned in grabbing the back of your neck in a gentle hold that only made you melt under his touch when he licked your lips before kissing you which made your pussy ache and drool for him again. Quickly you put the bowl down and kneeled on the floor.

Toji leaned back and watched you curious as to what you were going to do as you removed his cock that grew in your hands. You scooped up some cream and slathered it on the tip of his dick before licking it off never breaking eye contact as he ate a few pieces of fruit.

Both of you had to be quiet and quick too.

He rested his hand on top of your head as you cleaned the sticky mess up before adding more whipped cream on the side of his dick that you licked up before sucking on the tip like it was a comfort thing and in a way it was, you enjoyed seeing Toji like this.

You pulled away to grab a grape and feed him before going back down deepthroating him gagging softly as he attempted to keep his moans quiet when your mom called him to the kitchen. "Oops, you've been called to duty." You teased and giggled as you stood up.

Toji reached out and smacked your ass as he stood up to kiss you, the sweet cream and his musk mixed together making you taste addictive.

It was a cat-and-mouse game now.

You were more than fine being the mouse and letting Toji chase you.

Like now, it was Saturday evening and he and your mom had a date planned which made you become bitchy and mean to both of them which was promptly ignored by your mom but Toji wasn't having that.

After they left you knew your mom wanted you to stay home to watch the place but you wanted to see your friends from your old days and what's the worst thing that can happen when you sneak out?

It ends with the party having the cops called on it for being too loud and no ride because your friends couldn't find you and they had no choice but to leave you behind, which made you dial Toji.

He was clearly upset when he answered and you could hear your mother in the background nagging about something. "I'll be there."

You sent him your location once you made it safely away from that house and the cops that crawled by the bench you sat on until you saw Toji's car causing butterflies to erupt in your belly. "Did you tell my mom you're picking me up?" You asked him once inside.

"No, your mother went to a hotel tonight."

"Oh."

After that, the car ride was silent until you finally broke it. "What are we doing?" You murmured afraid of his answer feeling your heart pound in your chest.

Toji didn't say anything until he pulled into the driveway to look at you not saying anything which made your stomach twist with a mixture of emotions. You both have already crossed the line and there was no going back from all of that, it was all out in the open.

Another minute passed and you couldn't take it anymore, with your purse in your hand you shoved the door open and hurried out of the car and into the house with tears streaming down your face, it felt like he was breaking up with you when he wasn't yours to start with.

#💌incoming #tw: dark content #tw: incest #toji x reader smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #Toji x yn #Toji x you smut #jjk toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you smut

140 notes · View notes

meownotgood · 2 days

Text

to admit everything / gale dekarios

════════════════════

Several months after your adventure's conclusion, Gale invites you to visit his tower in Waterdeep — and finally, he finds the courage to admit his feelings for you.

════════════════════

pairing: gale dekarios x reader

word count: 36.0k

tags: 18+, smut with feelings (and a fair bit of plot), reader is tav, reader is fem bodied (but no gendered terms are used), love confessions, fic takes place after the epilogue, "you fell first but he fell harder", mild sensory deprivation, inappropriate uses of magic, gale talks a Lot, slight angst (but there's a happy ending, don't worry), dirty talk, fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, oral (reader receiving), tender sex, slight mentions of blasphemy, i am not immune to his wizardly charms....

read on ao3

════════════════════

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

════════════════════

When Gale wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, for the first time in ages, you can finally relax.

From your stiff shoulders, down to the ends of your toes, your weary muscles untense. It's as though he's cast a spell on you; which you know he could do, but he doesn't have to. A soft palm cradles the back of your head, and he pulls you in closer. You bury your head in his chest, the smooth velvet of his shirt rubbing your cheek.

Slowly, deeply, you inhale. You're enveloped in the familiar scent of him: the rich smell of pine, filling your senses with something tender. Something you've missed. The breeze that wafts in from his balcony veils you in a breath of the sea. Gale always found a way to smell the same as a book's crisp pages. He'd carry the faint aroma of the scrolls he often littered his tent with, or of his library, regardless of how long you spent surrounded by nothing but wilderness.

The intimacy of it is enough to make you dizzy. If you had things your way, you'd hug him tight like this, and you wouldn't ever think of letting him go.

"It feels as though it's been forever since we were last acquainted," Gale says in your ear quietly. Genuinely, with the slightest exhale tacked on at the end — and still, after hearing his voice for hours, watching as he lectured his pupils on some form of magic you've barely heard of, you believe you wouldn't mind listening for a few hours more.

"Our get-together wasn't that long ago, you know," You counter, voice slightly muffled, spoken into his chest.

"Yes, but surely you understand." His grip on you seems to tighten as you both rock gently, back and forth, "It's rather difficult to go from spending nearly every moment you're awake with someone, to only having the pleasure of meeting them on a few select occasions. Allow me to savor this moment, please. There may not be another one like it."

There may not be another one.

Gods, you know he's right. Both of you are busy, now. You live in two separate cities, lead two separate lives. There's others from the party you haven't seen; not yet, anyways. The only reason you saw Gale now is because back then, you had the foresight to plan to.

That inevitable prospect is one you aren't sure you want to think about. You don't want to imagine parting from Gale again.

Your friends would've called you sappy. They might've gone and teased you for taking forever to meet with the damn wizard in the first place. You obviously wanted to. The hug you gave him back then was hardly a friendly one. More like a I'm glad you're here, now don't you dare leave again sort of hug. Not to mention the way Gale himself eyed you for the rest of the party — as if no-one would notice.

Truthfully, your life has been busier than you hoped it would be, ever since your adventure's big conclusion. You did want to see Gale again. Of course you did. But simply wanting isn't good enough. The party was the first time you saw him since then, and this has been the first time after that.

You were hoping to relax for a while. To spend time away from the stress. You definitely earned it. Unfortunately, you've wound up doing anything but.

Make no mistake, you're unbelievably grateful to no longer be dealing with a world-ending threat, or a parasite in your brain. Helping to rebuild the city is nothing compared to the shit you've already dealt with. You're happy that you no longer have to worry over whether you'll even make it out of this alive. Whether any of you will still be alive, in the end. But you've hardly been able to settle. Not in the way you wanted to, at least.

For as many people that revere you, that now think of you as a hero, those words seem to do nothing for you. For as big and grand of a city as Baldur's Gate still is, and for as long as you've called it your home, it's only begun to feel like the loneliest place in the world.

And your friends — Obviously you'd wind up going your separate ways. It'd be stupid to think otherwise. You have different lives to return to, new struggles to face. You know that. It doesn't change how much you've grown to miss them.

There won't come a time where you'll stop missing those moments, you figure. The times when things were quiet, when you worked together, grew together. That's okay. Some allegiances aren't meant to last forever. In the end, it was an idea you made peace with. Until one of your companions stubbornly refused to leave your heart.

You peer up at him, as Gale looks down at you, before he lets go of you slowly, almost hesitantly. He pulls backward, meeting your eyes. This embrace reminds you of the one from back then. You don't fail to notice how his expression softens around the edges, how he takes your hands, gently squeezing them. Ultimately, he allows them to slip away, letting go.

You carried your thoughts of him with you, long after you'd since parted ways. The sound of his voice, the softness it seemed to take on whenever you're the one he was speaking to. The accidental touches, the brushes of fingers. An arm placed in front of you, to usher you behind him whenever he thought you might get hurt.

Without the ability to pry into his thoughts, you have no clue whether he fondly remembers things the same way you do. You were unmistakably close, once. In an earlier time, you brought your hands to his shoulders, you kept your eyes locked on his. Your words were shaky. Your heart was pounding, shaking against the cage of your chest. You can't lose him, you remember admitting, and Gale smiled, told you that you wouldn't. Even though you knew damn well there was more he wasn't telling you.

Hindsight would convince you the only thing he concealed was how truly scared he was. If you did feel more for each other, if what you thought you understood wasn't a lie — No matter what ways you tried, neither of you could hide it, but you certainly couldn't talk about it either.

It's difficult to search for the time to discuss unadmitted feelings when your lives are constantly on the line. Impossible, actually. Honestly, you weren't sure how you'd tell him, regardless of if you could. Nevermind the playful encouragement of your companions, or the listless jabs at your solitude from your undead resurrector, this sort of thing has never been your forte. Hey, I care for you more than good friends are supposed to, is that alright?

I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you, and I hoped you might notice, might do what I'm not able to. You could look into my head with a single word, and yet nothing but distance has grown in between us.

I'd travel it, if I was able. I want you to understand, I never hoped to part from you. I never want you to shut up whenever you're telling me about magic, or history, or any of the things you know everything about, even once you quiet down because you think I do.

How am I supposed to tell you that?

You can't, and you didn't. You both had the fate of the world in your hands, and the last thing either of you needed to be worrying about were your up-in-the-air feelings.

You would ignore the elated blankness in your head whenever Gale eased the tension with a smile flashed your way. You pushed down the giddiness in your chest whenever he gave a gentle yet pragmatic comment, one you tried not to read into. Over and over, you would pretend not to be flustered by his small touches, by the glances that lasted a little longer than they should. Despite the ache of your heart in your chest, you convinced yourself that you and him were friends. Nothing more.

Yes, friends who would sneak into one another's tents when everyone else was asleep to quietly talk, laughing together until the sun began to graze the horizon. Friends who kept each other going, who saw one another when they were weakest: torn apart by the Gods, with nothing left to do but pick up the pieces. Friends who are the only ones to know what the other is truly thinking, no spells or uncanny mind connections needed.

You're simply mere acquaintances. Two people on the same bloody path, who just so happened to be lucky enough to meet, and managed to grow closer than acquaintances ever should be. You were pushed together by circumstance. You chose to understand each other with purpose.

Has Gale ever yearned for more, in the way you've yearned for him?

Gale is observant. He knows you, he'd know if there was something up with you. Likely, he already does. More so, he's ambitious; he wouldn't forget about you, everything vying to push you away be damned. You've come too far to suddenly cast each other aside. But some things are better left unspoken.

Eventually, you expected you'd never find out the truth. You were too little, too late. The closest you ever got to a true confession was in the moments you found yourselves alone, and those are few and far between, these days. Now that you've run out of excuses, even now that everything is over, he's here and you are alive — You can't say a damn thing.

You think it's why you haven't seen him. You've been busy, yes, leading a new life and grappling with your newfound freedoms, but given the chance, you'd put every last thing aside to make time for him. When those feelings of yours are left to build and build, they threaten to drown. And drown you did.

It's strange, how meeting with him again can feel like finally being coaxed to breathe, and like suffocating freely, all at the same time.

You decide to breathe in once more, and break the silence at last.

"You're ridiculous sometimes," You scoff, shaking your head. Your tone is more fragile than you intended, as you catch yourself in your own hypocrisy. You still manage to throw him a warm glance. "I thought we were both past talking that way. We have all the time the world is generous enough to offer us. Do you really think I wouldn't plan on seeing you again?"

Gale's lips tip upward to form his usual smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled. To a combination of your bewilderment and delight, you're already melting.

"They say old habits die hard, I suppose," He replies, first shrugging his shoulders, and then standing up straighter. He clasps his hands together, positioning them uniformly behind his back. "And who knows? I wasn't sure how much enjoyment you drew from being an honorary professor for the day. Seemed as if you were a tad overwhelmed, actually."

"Of course I was. Well, I was anxious, more like." You're staring off to the side while you think, crossing your arms over your chest. "I mean, you said your students think of me as a hero. I was trying not to say anything stupid."

"In that case, I'd say you have no need to worry," Gale answers, "You sounded perfectly eloquent."

Meeting his eyes again, you huff, "I'm glad you think so. I enjoyed today. But seriously, I came here for you, Gale. Not because I was ecstatic about teaching."

You swear that if you were to squint, you'd see the smallest twinge of pure adoration on the normally-so-confident wizard's face.

Gale raises a fist to his mouth and clears his throat. "I understand your qualms, but truly, you did well. No-one finds teaching to be easy- I mean, it's an unbelievably stubborn process, if anything. I've always been the recipient of lectures. Never the other way around, until my newfound position. It took me quite a while to get a good grasp of things, believe you me."

"Really?" You raise a brow, "I, for one, thought your teaching was impeccable. I was looking forward to asking for some pointers from Professor Dekarios himself, actually."

"Oh, come on. Your flattery is far from needed," He replies, his tone breathy and playful. You exhale a faint chuckle, and when you grin back, his own smile seems to soften at the edges. A look reserved exclusively for you.

Gale continues, "You've seen my pupils for yourself now. You know how difficult they can be. In the face of such… stunning magic," His eyes narrow, he makes an open-palmed gesture of wonderment to illustrate his point, "Magic they themselves could learn to wield, it's rare to see them at least attempt to stay awake. I take some of the blame, of course. At certain moments, I thought you were teaching them better than I ever have."

"Nonsense," You roll your eyes light-heartedly, placing a hand on your hip, "They do well on their tests, right? I doubt your teachings are lost on them. Besides, it's like you said. Being a teacher isn't easy."

"True. However, I certainly think we make an impressive team."

With one last smile, and a nod of his head, Gale turns, striding over to his small wooden desk.

The space is surrounded by bookshelves, the desk's every surface littered in open books and scrolls of its own. He thumbs through the stack of papers he set there earlier, essays his students turned in — A paper about the history of magic was his instruction, if you remember right. Gale was less than satisfied with their results, but in his own words, he couldn't fault them.

They are the same as I was, when I was their age. A spitting image, really. Dodging written assignments, snoozing through most lectures. They're talented, there's no denying it. Preventing them from picking up my bad habits is where matters turn difficult.

He lifts the stack, tapping the papers against the desk to make them straight. Then, he sets them neatly aside. He clearly has a specific place for them, though you don't think you'd ever be able to make sense of the mess, yourself.

"Either way," He starts, organizing more loose papers and scattered books while he talks. His back may be turned towards you, but you can picture his face clearly: the lightest smirk, the pinch of his brows, "I'm sure my students were pleased to hear from someone other than me for a change. Dare I say when you were speaking, they actually paid attention."

Delicately, like the simplest of words are valuable porcelain, you mutter, "Is that so? I should come see you more often, then."

Gale freezes for a second. His next few sentences come out much sweeter than he intended them to, but by the time he's opened his mouth, he isn't able to stop himself.

"I'd enjoy that. I truly would," He says, and setting the books he's holding aside, he turns to face you. He swallows the lump in his throat, and when he's speaking next, he's talking with his hands as he tries — and fails, mostly — to hide his nervous cadence.

"You don't need to come simply to help me teach," He explains, "I appreciate it, of course, but it's far from necessary. My home is always open to you. If you need to unwind someplace quiet, or if you're hoping to browse the grandest collection of tomes this side of Waterdeep, you're welcome to stay. For as long as you'd like."

The offer means more to you than he might realize.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"No, thank you," Gale retorts, "I cannot overstate how much I appreciated seeing you again. Today was a delight."

Your glance travels away, and you try to ignore the warmth prickling over your face. From his open balcony, the sun casts shimmering rays as it falls. Light glitters over the ocean's rocky waves. The sea breeze is growing sharper; it whispers in your ears, and tickles the hair on the back of your neck. When you take a deep inhale, the air seems to catch in your lungs, holding on, unwilling to let go.

Finally, faintly, you reply, "You'll have to show me more of Waterdeep, next time. It's a beautiful city."

"Splendid, isn't it? I could show you around tomorrow, or even tonight, if you aren't too exhausted from today. The sights are particularly breathtaking then, when they're allowed to flourish under the cover of stars and moonlight."

Gale takes a step closer to you, and you're left to look up at him again. At the way the light caresses his skin, at his handsome features framed by a gentle smile.

"There's so many wonders I want you to see." He confesses.

More than that. He's longed for more than he's admitted to, more than everything he thought mattered, before he met you. There's so much he wants to show you, so much he needs to tell you, he's begun to lose track of it all.

Ever since you parted ways, he's felt something missing. Those adventures, your company and that of your unlikely band of companions: they're all things he's grown to miss dearly. In hopes he'd move on, he overwhelmed himself with the endeavors of his new life. He focused on teaching, on studying, on magic. No matter what, he was filled with an ache he couldn't extinguish.

You'd tease him if he mentioned it. He can imagine your voice, mumbling playfully with a flash of teeth and a sparkle in your gaze, Something missing? A tadpole in your brain, maybe?

Very funny, he'd answer. And he'd leave it at that, because you've given him an out, a chance not to make a fool of himself. He doesn't need everyone to hear how sentimental he's become — and especially not you. If only you knew the half of it.

You took a piece of him with you when you left, pried from the space between his ribs, fated to burn in your embers. He hasn't stopped missing you with such ferocity. With a certain kind of hunger. It's damn near worse than when the orb once gnawed at him.

To have you now almost feels like a dream. He keeps thinking he might wake up, that this will melt away to leave him and him alone. This shouldn't be real, you both shouldn't have made it. Gale recalls with sickening familiarity when the end of his life felt so close. He can remember even clearer the moment he found a new purpose in you.

You've been important to him from the start; he doesn't do a very good job of hiding it, does he? Those stolen glances were easily caught. His nervousness whenever you're with him concedes enough to make him obvious.

He could have told you. Could have admitted how you make the fragile strings of his heart strum with every fond call of his name. You could have known the way he felt between soft breaths, and close bodies. During the moment when he showed you how to wield the Weave at your fingertips. It would have been terribly simple. A single thought, and you'd not only know, but you'd feel his own emotions rushing into you — A rippling river of infatuation. Isn't it unfortunate then, that you tend to make his mind so blank?

The heart can be so cruel. No longer can he give you what he was aspiring to grace you with. He can't give you power. He can't offer you the abundances of a God, or the beauty of a plane away from this one. Only the ordinary.

Falling for you was never the problem. You weren't someone he believed he deserved.

His own hesitance forms a maddening sphere to be trapped in, and he knows it's his own fault; his own fear is to blame, his edge of destruction. You gave him hope. You've given him more than he ever could have desired, and that includes ascension. Is it so wrong for him to want more?

Many times, he's certainly thought so. He doesn't need anything else. He has already touched the heavens and beyond with the time he's spent by your side. Your dumb adventures, your talks, the uncertain closeness. It was nearly all he needed to be sated.

Nearly.

"Gale…"

Your soft utterance of his name snaps him out of his thoughts. Gale examines you, and you're glancing away, an expression he can't make out on your face. The setting sun bathes you in intoxicating orange light. You seem to have your own halo, your own radiance that defies reason. You defy a lot of the things he thought he knew.

He can only answer with a small, breathy, "Yes?"

A little while longer, and he might be ready. One night spent looking at the sky, or another time to confide in the comfort of your voice and your presence. He'll make it perfect. He'll find the courage, or the stars will witness his failure once again.

Crossing paths with you changed everything about himself he once thought he understood, and he finds the revelation as funny as it is delightful. To have you to miss was a privilege, in and of itself. Fate was never a concept he believed in, but evidently, the threads of his fortune had more in store for him. You became more than a wish, you were tangible. You were kind, intelligent, you were defiance incarnate. You rewrote the part of his story he thought untouchable. He watched Gods kneel at your feet, and he felt your softness latch onto him like a second home.

And he finally has time, doesn't he?

The time to tell you, the time to spend with you. Because he is alive, and the restlessness and nervousness he still feels inside shouldn't matter. How foolish he once was, for thinking things would turn out any other way.

In every other life, you still would've saved him. In a life where he was better, less scared, and not so temporary, perhaps you would have known he loved you already.

"I couldn't. I… I want to stay," You're starting; regret tugs at the edges of your voice, and Gale begins to feel his heart sink with each and every word. "Maybe I could some other time, but I can't now, I shouldn't. There's business that needs to be dealt with back home, in Baldur's Gate- I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

Gale huffs an impeccably dry laugh. He grins just slightly, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and he softly responds, "Busy, aren't you? The grand savior of Baldur's Gate is needed on the field, I see. I understand. I won't hold you any longer."

"You aren't holding me up, Gale. It's nothing important, I guess I just…" Trailing off, you inhale deeply, trying not to stumble over your own words. Your glance darts from the floor of his study to the sculptures to the trinkets — Anything to keep your eyes away from his. "I didn't want to intrude. It would feel strange if I stayed. Like I'd be taking advantage of your hospitality, I suppose."

Gale frowns. "I promise you this, on absolutely everything left in our universe for me to promise on, you could never intrude. I meant my words, I told you that you could stay for as long as you desire, and-"

"I know." You answer, like a frustrated plea, like a sacrificial revelation. Your hands ball up at your sides. Your voice is loud, before it goes quiet. "I know. It's my fault, alright? This doesn't have anything to do with you. I just can't stay."

The air grows so tense it's almost suffocating. Though, for only a second or two.

"So, becoming my honorary guest professor was that bad, was it?" Gale hums.

Then, you're laughing weakly, you're brushing an awkward hand over the back of your neck and looking up at him, your expression now pleasantly amused. His doting gaze meets yours, framed by a few out of place strands of hair.

"No," You mumble teasingly, stretching out the end of the word with a roll of your eyes; he always knows how to make you weak. "And I've already promised to come teach with you again. As long as you aren't worried about me showing you up, that is."

"Oh, by all means, do show me up plenty," He eagerly replies, "I won't try to stop you."

You huff a quick chuckle, and there it is again — Your gaze, sparkling. Gale feels the way you draw him in without trying, until his attention is fully focused on you. Until you have him right where you want him. To think of how doomed he'd be if you ever got your hands on some charming magic.

"I've really missed you, y'know," You're admitting. Your tone is different somehow, unmistakably. "The party honestly has felt like forever ago. Back then, I thought we didn't have near enough time. Catching up was pleasant, but it felt… imperfect. And now, we spent an entire day together. You're right here in front of me, and yet, still. I miss you."

Gale's jaw clenches, and with nothing left to stop you, you continue.

Your throat grows tight. You expel a long, heavy sigh. "Do you want me to tell you the truth?"

"I wouldn't shy away from it." He returns.

"If I stay for any longer, I wouldn't have it in me to leave." Your gaze dances over his own, and he understands the uncertainty, mixed with faint emotions he doesn't. "Not ever."

For what is probably the first time since you've met him, Gale goes completely, utterly silent. You watch him think, his expression pinching — perhaps irritated at his own loss for words — before he softens. His chest rises slowly with the deep breath he takes. Light glitters off his silver earring. Shadows form in his features, his lips part in an almost-sentence. In the end, he swallows it down, and grits his teeth together to the point of pain.

You're standing close. So close, he can see the slight, frustrated crinkle in your brows that only seems to furrow more the longer he stays quiet. So close, he could lean in if he wanted to, and relay the depths of his longing from his hesitant lips onto yours.

It isn't like him to be speechless this long.

Your head tilts towards him, tender curiosity on your face. Your arm outstretches, and a hand gently begins to reach in his direction. "Gale?"

He's about to do something foolish. Something very, very unwise. He'd attempt to stop himself, if the words weren't already forming on his tongue. He'd give up as he did before, if only the dying light wasn't so lovely on you.

At least he knows it won't be the most nonsensical thing he's done.

Gale's gaze fills with warmth, with a devotion so resolute, you could believe you really are some form of a God. He catches your hand, and grasps it in a clumsy way; more clinging than holding, as fingers brush knuckles, folded over one another. As if you might disappear when he lets go.

This time, there's no more room for wondering. No more hesitation, no barriers, just himself and you: his fallen star, his lovely demise. It doesn't matter what he does or doesn't do, your existence will never leave his veins, running deeper than the fear and the magic ever has. The same way the Weave crackles at his fingertips, adoring you comes naturally. You are yourself, and you, in all your love, in flesh and bone — You are worth anything, or perhaps everything.

A little while longer. To the Hells with that.

"I'm in love with you."

It's easier to say those words than he expected. They just sort of happen; really, they seem natural. He's been agonizing for ages, but to hear his own voice say them aloud cements his feelings as true. He is in love with you. An honest, mortal love.

He doesn't have the time to worry over the consequences, because you've heard him loud and clear. His heart won't stop pounding, and pounding, and pounding.

Almost instantly, your eyes are going wide. Your own grip on his hand turns loose. Surprise washes warmly over your face, settling as a pleasant tingle in the expanse of your shoulders. For a moment, you don't speak. You take in quick, nervous breaths, feeling your lungs choked by emotion and sea salt.

"You really- Why're you-" You sputter, stumbling back slightly and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Your arms go slack as you expel a faint sigh, "Gale-"

"You do not have to say anything. And you're under no obligation to stay." Gale interrupts, his tone abruptly serious. His expression reflects the same sort of solemness, his brows in a knot. He tries to hide the shake to his words, tries to chase away his worries, "You can leave, if you wish. You can leave, and we can never speak of this again. I wouldn't blame you. I couldn't blame you. I'd know better, not to chase after you and… to simply leave things as they are. Like I should have done now. If I wasn't the ass that I am."

A brief pause. Your eyes scan him, and Gale resists the urge to let his nervousness get the better of him.

"But I had to speak," He says. "This may be my only chance. I can't lie to you in the same way I've lied to myself."

Your next words are spoken with conviction. You squeeze his hand, and the dizzy room around him finally begins to steady — "Then tell me, Gale. I want you to tell me everything."

It's like the sun is shining right onto him. Heat and pure energy rushes from your hands into his, your voice a conduit for emotion. You practically give him a head rush.

Gale swallows, steadies. Then, he speaks.

"And what an abundance of things I could tell you."

Grasping your hands and squeezing them back, he's smiling again, but this time, it's different. The whole moment seems different. He's wearing an excited, heartfelt sort of smile, a look you think you've never seen before. Well, perhaps you saw it once.

You're reminded of the way he looked at you many, many nights ago. When your fates weren't assured. When you gazed upon the stars together, admiring the aurora he created — dazzling light, to pierce the sky of shadow. That memory seems so near, yet so far away. His solemness melted to gentleness back then, too. Your souls felt closer than they ever had.

Was this what he wanted to tell you that night?

"Let's see," Gale is continuing, and you're grinning, watching his head tilt as he puts on an air of confidence; his own form of sincerity.

"I wonder what I should tell you first? Should I detail each intricate moment, every subtle action that made me fall so deeply for you? For your determination, your ingenuity. Your beauty. Gods, you shouldn't get me started. If you truly wanted me to describe every single thing I adore about you, well, I believe we'd be nothing but dust by the time I was finished."

You can't help but chuckle. Gale's gaze travels over you, and you let yourself take him in. His fingertips absently run over your knuckles. His shoulders are tense with a hesitance he can't manage to hide.

"I'll make a terribly long-winded story brief, before I bore you with my sentiments." This time, he sounds a fair bit quieter. The depths of his honeyed gaze, ever-softening, become impossible to look away from.

"You are very special to me." He gently explains, "More than words can describe, and certainly more than anything else. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. While the world was crumbling around us, begging to be saved, I thought myself content, if only I could spend whatever remained of my time at your side."

Carefully, Gale reaches forwards. Between his fingers, with the slightest, most exhilarating touch, he holds your chin, he tilts your head in his direction. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest to an unsteady rhythm.

"Love does not even begin to describe it. You are wonderful. You are the special sort of magic one might spend their entire life searching for. The most divine of desires. I've no need to search anymore."

A brush of his thumb over your mouth, and his calloused fingers are splaying back to caress your cheek, to feel the shape of your jaw, "I have the heavens right in my hands. All the spectacles and splendors of Faerûn are jealous of you."

You relax, and when his grasp drops from your chin, you let your hand slip away from his — only to wrap your arms around him, elbows resting on his shoulders. He admires you intently, gauging your reaction, his heart skipping at your touch and the subtle flash of shyness behind your eyes. A sort of analysis you've seen him use when he was examining an artifact, or mulling over a game of lanceboard. The tender focus his face takes on makes you huff in amusement.

With a teasing raise of your brow, you manage to ask, "How many times have you practiced saying that to me?"

"A hundred times. A thousand times." Gale keeps his arms at his sides, despite the way you embrace him tighter. In the corner of your vision, you catch him starting to reach out. His hands hover inches away from your waist, he flexes them in thought.

"No, I often went back and forth on the precise method I would use to confess, given I actually had the gall to do it, but," He explains, a slight playful air to his tone, "Those words were from the heart. Just a few specs of fondness from my vast nebula of love for you. If you can believe that."

"They're very… you. In a good way." Your smile is bright. He thinks it might continue to warm him, long after the point of the sun's imminent descent. "It's a shame, though. I wasn't expecting you to beat me to it. I've been practicing how I would tell you I'm in love with you since we met."

If there's one thing you've come to know about the wizard, it's that he's collected.

Calm, mostly. But unperturbed always. He's optimistic to a fault, and he's never been the type to seem nervous or timid, even if he might be feeling that way. He's an honest man, but also controlled — You have to exercise a certain amount of control to wield magic. Or to keep your own body from exploding to bits, you figure. With the orb posing much less of a threat, he's clearly more relaxed, but his emotions still don't show so easily.

You've seen him scared. But nervous? Shy? Those sorts of feelings were never in his repertoire. He's never once stumbled over his words, never been red-faced, never faltered from his confidence and his verbosity. Until now.

"You- You have?" Gale sounds so in disbelief, you swear his voice nearly cracks. He clears his throat awfully loudly, he glances between you and something in the distance. Which proves to be difficult, considering how close you are. Has the skin underneath his collar always felt so hot? "I had no idea. I mean, clearly, but- But still."

"I wasn't sure if you knew. You're more charming than you give yourself credit for," You clarify softly, "I thought for sure you'd make a move at that little tiefling party. Started planning what I might say and everything. Apparently, you failed to realize I was flirting with you."

"I wasn't even trying to woo you then," Gale mumbles, thinking to himself. "Well, that's- Hah, quite the discovery, now isn't it? Care to- uhm, enlighten me on what it was you planned to say, exactly?"

"Mmm, possibly. You seem flustered. Should I show you, instead?"

"Show me?"

"Yes," You stand up straighter, making his heart race faster as you move impossibly closer to him, "I'll show you what I really wanted to do back then."

"Whatever you wish would be fine with me- Er, wrong choice of words." The breeze drifting through his study is cold enough to form goosebumps, and yet he can't seem to quit burning up. He runs a quick hand through his hair, feeling the heat from his forehead underneath his palm, "Whatever you wish is perfect, I should say. If you want to- or, well, perhaps I could…"

Gale doesn't get the chance to say anything more.

He expects you to lean in. Sharply, he takes in a hurried, nervous breath. Uncertain palms hover over the curve of your waist, before settling with the slightest touch. His eyes grow heavy, his head begins to tilt opposite yours. What he doesn't expect is for you to stop, your lips almost pressed to his, but not quite, leaving the distance not yet closed.

You suspend there, for a moment. Your low breathing tickles his skin. Gale's hand finds your cheek, holding, and nothing more.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

There's only a half-second longer of hesitance. He closes the gap, and you fist the front of his shirt to pull him in along with you. Your eyes flutter shut. Fallen stars and glowing warmth shimmer through every inch of you. At last, your lips connect in a quaint, subtle kiss. Smooth, simple, and utterly him.

Shoulders slumping, your pulse thrums like the unsteady flicker of a candle flame. Your head begins to spin, your heart throbs with fiery longing. This is what you were waiting for. When you burned from the inside-out, wanting nothing more than to forget reason and your lives and his cruel Goddess, you only longed to just kiss him, regardless of the consequences. Everything else melts away: the setting sun, his warmly-lit tower, and your own feet from under you.

He's hardly done anything, and you're already overwhelmed. To your dismay, the kiss is over almost as soon as it begins. The both of you draw a breath's length apart. Gentle hands give your waist the smallest squeeze. You exhale, and Gale takes in a deeper breath along with you. Kissing him made the rest of the world fall away, or perhaps fall into place, and all you can think of is how desperately you need another.

Maybe he can read your mind, or maybe he's thinking the exact same thing. Delicately, Gale murmurs against your lips, "Forgive me for being greedy, but… I'm not sure that'll be enough for me. Could I kiss you again?"

As if he even has to ask.

With urgency, you're surging forwards, you're kissing him again and he can't manage to think — The only thing running through every inch of him is you. You, kissing him the way he's wanted you to for months upon months. Pressing your lips against his over and over, stealing his breath until he's feeling dizzy, but he doesn't care. You, lovely in a way he's never deserved, with a soul entwined by his own. You told him you love him; he can hardly stand to believe it.

Lips locked, you twist together, until Gale is guiding you by your waist. Until he's pressing your back against the edge of the nearest surface — his desk — to keep you both stable, while your hands are grabbing at his shoulders for leverage. You let a hand glide up, you tangle your fingers in soft brown hair. You grip and tug, dragging him close, and he sighs, mouth parting, allowing the kiss to turn deep. Enough to mark the point of no return.

This is everything he's ever wanted, you are the only thing he's ever needed. He could die happy, if this was his end. What a sweet, lovely end it would be. He can't describe how otherworldly it is, to know the desire he's had to kiss you won't die along with him. To know you have plenty of kisses left.

He could love you like this until the true end of the world. He's tempted actually, to slow down time, and savor you for as long as you will allow. You were well worth dying for, but you are priceless to live for. You and your touch, your love. Love — Gods, none of this will feel real, no matter how many times he reminds himself.

When his tongue slides against yours, a slow, apprehensive show of tenderness, you feel a shiver careen down your spine. He hears your breath get caught in your lungs, feels you tug him closer and arch into his touch once a palm drifts to the small of your back.

This kiss hopes to pour his devotion into you, so that you might understand. You'll know love, know the things he's always wanted to tell you, as familiar as you know yourself. He'll make sure this moment won't be forgotten.

You reach behind you, gripping the edge of the desk when his body presses into yours. Your mind is a mess, reeling so fast you might go woozy; another smooth kiss makes you pull him in further, ushering from him a meager gasp in surprise. You're lost, losing control. The both of you are trapped in a dance of vying for more, pressing closer, kissing harder. His knee slots between your legs — unintended encouragement, you're sure — and you jolt, your thoughts now occupied with things they really, really shouldn't be.

The smallest space between you fills with hot breath, as you pull apart just enough to get a word out. "Gale-"

"I've missed you," He murmurs, breathless and hurried, as though he doesn't wish to waste a single second, "I have missed you more than anything."

He leans close once more, his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and cradle you like you're precious. You kiss again, and any reservations you still have remaining fly away on the breeze, to be swallowed by the depths of the sea.

You don't want to stop. No, you know where this is leading, and still, you can't stop. You wouldn't dream of it. How long have you wanted to kiss him, wanted to have him to yourself? Wanted for him to lose his composure, and finally show you exactly how he felt? How long have you been waiting for more?

Since you met him, surely. Since you dragged him from that portal. Since he first shook your hand, and you felt your foolish heart spark to life. Piece by tender piece, you connected in secret. Fought through darkness to emerge onto the dawn, hoped the newfound day might bring you both together. Truly, you've waited too long to let a moment like this go to waste.

You pull apart for barely a second, you catch your breath while Gale mutters something against your mouth that sounds like your own name — And at once, you're closing the distance again. Your lips continue to learn the shape of each other, bodies shaky, rocking close. When a particularly desperate kiss causes his hips to drive into yours, you're the one left sighing. Your nerves prickle with excitement, your limbs feel weak. And a hardness, his hardness, shoves against you unmistakably, grinding into where you're terribly weak.

Oh, you won't be stopping now. Not any time soon.

Gale stiffens immediately, at the same moment you do. He peels himself apart from you so quickly you're left slumping, gasping into open air. You would have stumbled, if it wasn't for his hand on your waist gripping excessively tight, helping to hold you up. Faltering, he slowly lets go. Before he does, you think you can feel a slight tremble in his fingers.

"Ah, I'm- I'm sorry, genuinely," He stutters, practically panting as he tries to establish composure, a frail waver in his voice. You grip the desk tighter, staggering to your feet. The last traces of sunlight shimmer over his face, his earring, his eyes. Strands of his hair have fallen out of place, and he reaches up to briefly push them backward.

"You make it far too easy to get carried away." He says, sounding rough and short-winded, "That being said, it would be wise not to take things too far, that was- Well, you are-"

"That was perfect," You gasp out, cutting him off, or perhaps taking the words right out of his mouth. You bring a hand to his shoulder, an unspoken plea for him not to move away, "You don't have to stop, Gale. Please, don't."

Gale takes a long, slow breath. Hesitantly, he brings both hands back to rest on your waist — barely touching, his gaze scanning yours for any sign of discomfort. "Are you sure? Positively sure? Maybe it'd help if you, er, clarified, in a way."

"I'm clarifying that I want you to keep going. You don't have to hesitate, I want this," You retort, speaking softly, squeezing his shoulder in turn. Your eyes flicker over him, up and then down. "I showed you how I felt. It's only fair for you to return the favor, no?"

"Oh, of course. Fairness is one of the most crucial qualities to hone, in terms of forming a long-lasting bond. So says literature, anyways. But I think I'd prefer to mesh the showing with the telling, if that sounds at all pleasurable to you."

You're smirking. "As long as your sweet voice isn't the only pleasure in store for me."

He exhales a small huff, the faintest form of a laugh. A smile crosses his features, and he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, admiring you like you're the prettiest sight this world has to offer. You very well might be.

His gaze comes to rest on yours: warm, complex, loving. For once, he doesn't speak. He demonstrates.

A small kiss is pressed to your cheek, innocent yet tender. Then, a kiss to the other side. His kisses travel; one he graces to the corner of your mouth, the next he places on the angle of your jaw. Your head tilts up in obedience, and he trails wet kisses down your neck, making you sigh weakly in response.

One more kiss is graced to your neck, then your nape, then just above your collarbone. They're weighted, in a way; heavy with an infatuation you can feel beneath his touch, and deep in your bones. His facial hair tickles your skin. His warm breath on your pulse is stifling, and it only begins to thump faster, fully at the mercy of his scattered kisses.

Meshing the showing, with the telling — It isn't long before he's babbling again.

"You hold so much of my heart," He mumbles; the words on your neck are a steady vibration. His palm caresses your side, his lips brush over your cheek, and then move to speak against the shell of your ear. The new depth to his voice is delightful. "Falling for you was… effortless. As effortless as one breathes. I have no regrets. Absolutely none."

The final kiss he places on your ear has shudders running through you. He's painstakingly slow once he starts to pull back, and he shifts just far enough to meet your eyes, your foreheads almost touching. That warm gaze on yours has your heart leaping all over again.

Strung through his tone is a thread of infatuation, a sweetness on his tongue you find oh-so endearing.

"You begged to be admired, but that hardly scratches the surface." He squeezes your side for emphasis. "You made me feel as though I meant something. Like I was alive. I'd forgotten how it felt, just as I'd forgotten what it could mean to fight for one's future." He pauses, thinking, reminiscing, "More so, I could say you brought me back to life."

Your mouth parts, forming the edge of a word. But Gale chooses to interrupt, tugging you in with a palm settled gingerly on your jaw, muddling your mind with a kiss. And you melt. You allow your head to tilt opposite his own, and your arm to snake between your bodies. Your hand presses flat to the center of his chest. He kisses you deeper, his heart thumps. Lingering magic strong enough to sense thrums beneath his robes, his skin.

"There's a line of poetry I once read," He's mumbling against your lips as he leaves them. His touch slides up slowly, supporting you, holding your back. "As of late, you've made it stick in my mind. Amidst the wealth of stories I've finished, the tales of truth and fiction, when I think of you, this singular line utterly refuses to part from me. And if one moment spent lost in contemplation equates to the faintest drop of rainwater, I've thought of you enough to flood the entirety of Faerûn."

Your eyes seem heavy. You're smiling, but your head is swirled in a dreamy fog. It's plain unfair to have to decide between hearing more, or asking him to kiss you again.

You decide on the former. "And what might that line be?"

Gale brushes your cheek with his thumb, "I do love nothing in the world so well as you."

He's completely genuine, he sounds so syrupy-sweet you can barely hold back your grin. You breathe a quiet, playful tsk, and you lean back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

In the course of your adventures together, you weren't sure how Gale felt about you.

It's rather stupid, thinking back on it now. Obviously, you had your suspicions. He was certainly warmer with you, compared to the rest of your allies. Despite knowing you could clearly take care of yourself, he regularly fussed over your safety, to the point of insisting you stick close to him whenever a fight broke out. He'd make a rash excuse, Powerful spells mean nil if you are not in the proper range for me to cover you! — or something like that. You always figured it was an exaggeration. Regardless, you weren't about to turn him down.

You were attached at the hip for safety's sake, that's all. Your remaining companions never seemed to buy it, nor could they hold their comments about the wizard's clearly defined soft spot. The thoughtful way he spoke to you had to mean more; or so they tried to convince you, anyway. You weren't easily influenced.

But it didn't matter. Without the courage and the time to ask, you couldn't be sure. You presumed he might like you, not love you.

This side to Gale is making you reevaluate. You've never seen him so enamored, never thought he'd be this smitten — with you, no less. In his eyes, you're a living beacon of radiance, a miracle meant to be adored. A bright, pale moon to light his way through the darkness, shimmering on jet-black waters. And adore you he will.

You were wrong, so very wrong. While you were busy falling for him, he was already plummeting harder.

"That's from a romance, isn't it?" You muse, tilting your head and eyeing him teasingly, "You're reciting romance lines to me?"

"Not just any romance, mind you. One of the greats. It's charming, very influential. Actually, the story is rather lighthearted- I'd be glad to introduce it to you, I have a feeling you'd enjoy it. But yes, in fact. I am."

"Somehow, you didn't seem like the romance type. I'm surprised. Pleasantly, though."

"A fine assumption. For quite some time, stories of a softer nature became subjects I rarely dabbled in." His index finger comes to rest under your chin, and your head is tilted in his direction. "But falling in love causes one to take interest."

Warmth swells in your veins, untamed. You picture Gale, retreating into his tomes and books when you had a moment of reprieve on the road, struggling to hide his infatuation with you. He'd often read to you, when he was able. His calm voice would narrate biographies and old history novels, until you were trying not to fall asleep. Romances were never a part of it. Perhaps they weren't a part of his personal collection, either. Yet the more you contemplate, the more they seem to suit him.

Did he read such stories to be reminded of you, to grapple with your absence? You can picture him getting lost in them, memorizing the scenes and the verses, in hopes your own tale might play out more like those novels, and different from what destiny threatened upon you. He yearned for things to be lighter, less somber. In the end, there was no world where you stopped longing for each other.

"Besides," Gale is continuing in his usual upbeat tone, giving you little time to think as he cups your cheek in his palm, "There's nothing wrong with choosing to be well-versed in everything. Fantasy, poetry, romance. Erotica, perhaps. I'm sure I could recall some more… exciting quotes, if you preferred it?"

"Please, there's no need," You tease, with the smallest roll of your eyes; although, your heart can't help but patter at the imagery. Gale, reading erotica, of all ridiculous things. "You're sweet. Even now, you're telling me about books. Could you be any more perfect?"

"Possibly," He confesses. "Where you're concerned, mere perfection is far from good enough." Swallowing the dryness in his throat, his eyes mist over with a saccharine seriousness, "My intentions were always to cherish you, to give you my utmost devotion, and then some. You deserve the world. I only wish I could give it to you."

"But you are enough for me. More than enough. I was lucky. So lucky, to have been fortunate enough to meet you. I'm not sure where I would be if I hadn't." Your fingertips drum against his shoulders, and gradually, he relaxes at your touch, from your tone. He exhales steadily, nice and slowly.

"Do you mean it?"

"Gale, I've never meant anything more. I want you so much. Just the way you are."

To have crossed paths with one another, to have met you — No, he is the one who must be fortunate beyond compare.

For a while, he stalls, deciding what to say. Each alternative comes up blank. Your fingers wrap around the neckline of his shirt, then. You feel the embroidered fabric with your thumb, the intricate pattern of swirls. You tug slightly, but Gale — still speechless, oddly enough — doesn't get the hint.

"Your shirt." When he opens his mouth to reply, you're swiftly interrupting. "Take it off."

He seems to freeze for a second, thinking. Then, the slightest form of a grin dawns on his face, a look of nervous contentment. He's reaching down to grasp the bottom of his velvet shirt, tugging it over his head. A messy happy trail litters from his stomach to disappear beneath his pants; it catches your attention, but not for long. Gale is pressing his palms to the surface of the desk, on either side of you, caging you in. You drift forward, and the kiss you share is a momentary distraction.

Effortlessly languid, he kisses you as though you have infinite time, and this is the only way he wishes to spend it. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, you hold him tight between the soft presses of lips connecting. You exhale in unison once you've both pulled away.

Foggy breath mixes with your own. It warms your skin as he sighs slightly, leaning forward until his forehead is rested against yours. You watch him visibly swallow. He nervously brings a hand to your waist; just holding, with no intention quite yet. The faintest touch makes you melt, until you feel woven into him, soft beyond repair.

"Do you have the slightest idea how long I've dreamt of this?" He starts, his voice quiet, shaky, "How much I've thought of you, how badly I've needed you? How long I've sought to… Gods…"

Your palm grazes his chest, and he trails off into a shuddery sigh — eyes closing, shoulders slumping. Delicate fingertips feel the shape of the Netherese brand engraved in his skin. You trace and retrace the circular indentation. You press your palm flat to his chest, feeling the silent hum of dormant magic, measuring each fluttery beat of his heart. His chest aches, his veins sear with all the heat they can muster.

That's right. He'd almost begun to forget the effect you have on him.

You've never been afraid. After learning the truth, you didn't look at him differently. You refused to cast him aside, in the face of his own insistence. A miasma of blinding purple light shone from underneath your palm, pain ripped through him as he relived his self-made tragedy in one single breath — and somehow, you understood. You only pressed your palm closer, expression unwavering, and swore a gracious promise to help.

You've helped him more than you know. He shouldn't feel this way. So sated. It hardly makes sense, from any perspective. There's many things he failed to do. He has much to learn: about himself, about this damned orb, and still, about you.

But right now, his heart is a battering ram against the constructed walls of his chest, and your fingertips are traveling up — They're grazing the wretched mark as it twists up his nape, his cheek. Your knuckles brush the tangle of dark lines underneath his eye, you cup his face in your hand. And the orb is quiet. It should be screaming with the rest of him. Instead, it chooses silence.

Magic works in such strange, indecipherable ways. If someone were to tell him long ago that this is how it could work — as though in your presence, it too, is comforted — he doesn't think any part of him would ever believe them.

His mistake will forever be a part of him. But so will you.

Gale finds your hand, and settles his on top of your own. He places a kiss onto the bridge of your nose, his palm slides from your hip until his thumb is edging underneath your top, just barely brushing your bare skin underneath. He hesitates, but a kiss of your own placed onto his jaw has him gasping, poised to pull your shirt over your head in the same way his was discarded.

"May I?" Gale hums, and you swiftly nod in approval.

"Yes," You reply, "Please."

The anticipation that settles in your gut is damn near agonizing. You were expecting him to move carefully, but not this slow.

Gale continues at an apprehensive pace. He stops to collide his lips with yours, when the edge of your top reaches the center of your stomach. With another smooth kiss, mouths parted, breath ragged, he tugs it higher still. You only break apart to bring your arms over your head, and give him a chance to pull it off the rest of the way.

A kiss onto your ear, and your chest is tight. His lips trail down your nape, and you're reaching up to grab a hold of his hair, your teeth gritting as you choke back a desperate noise.

Between sighs, your voice is weak, but you still manage, "How long you've sought to what?"

Gale mumbles a hm into your nape, he squeezes your waist and brushes his thumb over your skin. You know he's coaxing you to continue, but with his mouth on your neck, peppering kisses that wash over you like waves, it's rather hard to follow through.

Nonetheless, you grip a fistful of brown hair to give yourself leverage. You force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. "You were saying something before. How long have you sought to do what, exactly?"

One last kiss, and Gale is drawing back to meet your eyes. He holds your chin between two of his fingers. There's a glint in the back of his gaze, causing heat to rush over you, your limbs suddenly growing weak.

"To take you," He admits, "To not just tell you what wondrous things you've made me feel, but to show you."

You're sure the wild look in his eyes is mirrored in your own. "Then what are you waiting for? Show me."

Gale smiles. He gestures with a crooked finger, and instructs with a tone that borders on smug, "Make yourself comfortable. If you could do the honor of hopping up on the desk for me, I'd be glad to get started."

When you press your palms flat to the solid wood, pushing to lift yourself, his hands maneuver under your thighs, and he helps to plop you on top of his messy wooden desk. He makes room for you, pushing stacks of books to the edge, giving you the space you need to scooch back. His brows are furrowed slightly as he's gathering half-opened scrolls to toss on the floor — from nervousness? Concentration? You aren't entirely sure, but you think he lingers somewhere in between.

Turning back to you, he innocently allows his palms to feel the shape of your bare sides. He smooths them over the curve of your waist, he caresses the faint indentations of the scars your journey and your previous path left. Then, not so innocently, his fingers are toying with the front of your pants. His thumb is rubbing over the button, while his gaze never leaves yours, his collected expression never once wavering.

Sitting atop Gale's desk is far from luxurious. You're already shifting, doing your best to relax and meet his eyes, but you tense when he gives you a full once-over. You stifle your nerves. By now, you don't care where he has you, as long as he doesn't make you wait for much longer.

Your impatience must reflect in your reaction. Gale brings his gaze back to yours, and it somehow seems much softer.

"I thought you couldn't get any more gorgeous," He whispers, his fingertips drawing shapes you can't recognize into your skin, "But before my eyes, you've so effortlessly proved me wrong. What a fool I am."

"A very loveable fool, at least," You counter, placing your hands on his shoulders as he glides his gentle palm up your side. The breeze still fluttering through his study tickles your skin, intensifying each faint, terribly warm touch.

"You're too sweet. I doubt you'd be as composed if you knew the true depth to my foolishness. There is a great deal to address. Too much to fit into one short night, I'm sure." Gale's eyes narrow, adoration at the forefront of his expression, "It's arduous to simply try and think around you, you know. Well, unless one finds themselves thinking about you. You're such an unrelenting plague on my every thought- A good plague, I should add, not the, erm. Sickly sort."

"Right. A good plague," You repeat. "Go on."

"You are… impossible not to think of," Gale corrects, "My mind was made to study the intricacies of yours. I often found myself lost, absorbed in the fierceness of my adoration for you. Even at times where I perhaps shouldn't."

Your eyebrow raises. "Is that so?"

After staring at you blankly for more than a few moments, he awkwardly clears his throat and continues, "I suppose you're waiting for me to explain? If you asked our unlikely band of companions, I'm sure someone would tell you. They certainly remember how immensely I embarrassed myself with my obviousness, at our reunion and when we were still merely surviving together. But you never knew. I assumed you never knew. You failed to notice when I couldn't stop… staring at you, for lack of a better term."

"I didn't notice that much." Briefly, your lips press into a line. "I had my suspicions, sure, but I wasn't entirely confident you felt… more, for me. More than the friendship we had already. Or maybe I found the reality of it hard to believe."

"More barely describes it. My heart would begin to pound each and every time I saw you. Damn thing would tear into my chest like it wanted to come free, especially in the moments where we finished another battle victorious, barely making it out with lives and limbs intact. I'd watch you dust your hands. Wipe the mess of dirt, and some unlucky soul's blood from your face. Your jaw set, your eyes darkened. And I could only think of how much I wanted you."

Apparently, he's not yet out of surprises. For a man who says so much, he picks the strangest times to keep his mouth shut, because you guarantee if you knew that then, you wouldn't have wasted this much time. No, you would've let him have you then and there, amongst the danger and against your judgment. Perhaps that's exactly what he was picturing.

You swallow, eyeing him softly, curiously. "Were you just thinking? Or did you do something about those thoughts of me?"

"Do something?" Gale huffs, letting go of you to return to his familiar habit of speaking with his hands, "As you know, those ideas, no matter how thrilling, could never be permitted to happen- They were forced to be kept in here, exclusively to myself. Lest they prove an unnecessary distraction. Many times, I dreamt of what it might be like to admit the truth. What I would say to you, if my feelings were returned. But I could allow these perspectives to haunt only me, and myself alone."

He averts his eyes in fleeting nervousness. Tentatively, he mumbles, "When you, when those thoughts threatened to swallow me into their waiting jaws, and I couldn't stop thinking- Dwelling on your voice, your touch. Your beauty. I would… Hold on. Oh."

You watch realization dawn on his face like the sun rising over the horizon. His eyes go wide and his face goes warm, he pushes away any uncertainty by breathing a small, light chuckle. He holds your side once more, and the anxiousness of his tense hand, fingers flexing, contradicts his supposed self-assurance.

"Naughty." Gale teases, "Correct me if I've somehow veered onto the path of the mistaken, but I do believe I've discerned what it is you're getting at."

Seems you can't hide your smirk anymore. Leaning back, your gaze locks with his, and the look on your face proves him right without the need for you to speak. Like the tressym who caught the canary, if he could describe it.

Still, your head tilts, and you murmur, "Judging by your reaction, I doubt you need to be corrected."

"Quite the risqué mind you have, don't you? And I thought I was the immodest one." His palm glides from your side, down to your waist, to your hip, "Though, I cannot lie, I am thrilled to indulge you. It's quite an… inappropriate matter to admit. But considering where we were already planning on taking this- Yes. I have done what you are thinking of. Shall I elaborate?"

"I'd love it if you would."

As you grasp his hand boldly, your fingers brush his. You guide him to the front of your pants again, until he's clutching the button, fiddling with it, feeling the shape while he tries to find his next words.

"I was always head over heels for you," Gale explains, popping the button before pulling on the zipper, "It would be pointless to claim otherwise. You were far more than a passing fancy, and I knew I could never forget, nor forgo you. You were my sanctum, my love. I worshiped you. And so I defied my Goddess."

You lift up when Gale begins to slide your pants from your thighs, until they're left in a pile on the hardwood floor. The surface of his desk feels cool against your bare legs.

"Of course, you already know that much. My point- Which don't fret, we are getting to," He says, a palm nonchalantly finding your thigh. He caresses your skin, and your heart is in your throat, because his fingers are drifting ever-so slightly closer, "Is that I was restless. There's an explanation as to why I would often avoid you, why I'd slip away once dusk became night. I pushed every potent feeling down, as to not affect our mission, nor our companionship. But you- You are enthralling."

Careful fingertips skate the inside of your thigh. And as you swallow down fragile gasps, he's only continuing, "Once I was alone, I could no longer stifle the longing I felt. Rest hardly reprieved me. I'd only dream of what we did not have the time to say, nor do. I imagined showing you everything I could give to you, the places I could take you, the marvels I wished for you to see. A snap of my fingers, and we could connect in ways you could not even envisage. We would forget our misfortunes. Our deities. Gods, it was worse when I had to watch someone else chat you up. That night, I'd be practically insatiable."

Your head is whirling.

His manner of speaking leaves more up to interpretation than you would have liked, but you know him well enough by now to be more than skilled at reading between the lines. And those words of his can only paint the most addictive picture.

Gale, trying his best to impress you, to make you smile and keep you safe, only to grow a slight bit jealous when you basked in the attention of someone other than him. Gale, slipping away and "going to bed early" the first chance he got. Holing up in his tent, while you had no idea why. Trying to sleep, only to be awakened over and over again by his enticing dreams of you. Your visage overwhelming his mind, the practiced, straight-laced wizard would finally give into his vices.

With a palm over his mouth, and a hand down his pants, his noises would be muffled as he works his deft hand over his stiff length. He'd close his eyes, silently scolding himself; he's ridiculous, moronic, pathetic. He should be able to stifle his foolish desires, and yet he couldn't stop, his jaw clenched as he visualizes what he wants, needs to do to you — For once, he'd let his hunger for you consume him.

Perhaps he isn't as principled as you once thought him to be.

"I- I felt the same way," You stammer, your throat tightening, making it harder to speak. His fingertips move upward to carefully graze your stomach; his gaze stays on yours, yet you're struggling to maintain eye contact. "It was hard not to daydream about you, whenever we had a moment to rest. My focus was… all over the place. I wanted you to myself. Wanted you to do whatever you wished to me."

"It seems we are one in the same. You could ask anything of me, and I would consider it done." Gale's thumb hooks around your underwear, but freezes there, not yet moving. His volume drops to barely above a whisper; smooth, and intoxicating, "But I did not always think of you in such sentimental terms. With you as… tempting as you are, and with a wealth of unspoken affections between us, my musings would often wander elsewhere."

A shudder racks your spine. "Elsewhere?"

Leaning closer, Gale allows his free hand to steady on your waist.

You've always thought him and yourself to be equal in prowess. You have fought beside him enough to respect his skill, but also to understand his weaknesses. Yet, in this moment, with his voice echoing against the shell of your ear as a low, sultry hum — If this were a fight, you would've already, most certainly lost.

"Yes, to the comforts we hadn't yet explored. To the way your voice might sound when it strains. I pictured your hands, purely natural when they are joined with mine. Or perhaps your arms, your legs, tightly wrapped around my shoulders, and my back."

You feel his palm, caressing your side in slow, simple circles. Your eyelids flutter, your body tremors in the wake of a pleasurable tide. Through his tone, you can practically hear the smile on his lips, "I'm sure you get the idea. I confess, I was not as grounded around you as I may have appeared to be. For saving-the-world's sake, my focus could not wane. Yet, my foolish heart only wanted to hear how you might plead to be given every last inch of me- And I would entrust it all to you. My mind, my body. My soul, if you had any use for it."

His words have you so distracted, you almost fail to notice he currently has your underwear half-way down your thighs.

Your gaze meets his. Something you can't read reflected in the back of his eyes, he gazes at you silently, but questioningly. As if he's waiting for your word to continue. Sighing, you force yourself to relax. You ignore the budding warmth that gnaws at your core. You shift, before you lift once more, and with a sly grin, he takes the hint to pull the garment off the rest of the way.

"I might," You reply, shivering when his palm returns to your thigh, allowing your legs to part slightly when his touch begins to drift, "Maybe I'm a devil in disguise."

"The sweetest devil in all of the Hells," Gale purrs. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, and his fingers gravitate away; dizzy, your breath hitches. You can't figure out if he's teasing you on purpose, but whatever the bastard is trying, he's certainly succeeding. You tense from your shoulders to your legs, only for his lips on your nape to make you crumble again.

"Gale-"

He kisses the column of your neck, and your grip tightens on the desk's edge, nails practically digging into the wooden surface. Gale's fingertips achingly draw circles on the inside of your thigh, his touch coaxing them further apart. Your lungs are overwhelmed. By the lack of air, by the scent of dusk, and his books, and him.

"Please," You plead; the sound is a sweet melody to his ears, "Touch me."

You're more than enthralling — You are simply irresistible.

Gale sighs, and as the held breath leaves him, he swears he feels the center of his chest thrum with such staggering tenderness.

"You very well may be my demise."

Bracing a hand on your waist, he hesitates. His brows pinch slightly. His palm feels clammy, almost, and you can feel the heat like untamed fire, radiating from his skin, shining through every pore. Cast upon him is a sheet of silken, fading light. You breathe, in and then out. How can he be so damn handsome?

"It's been a while since I have done anything of this sort. I do not wish to overstep." Gale brings his fingers to rest underneath your chin — index and middle, tilting your head ever-so gently towards him. "You'll tell me if it gets to be too much? If I ever do something that you have, erm. A less than savory reaction towards?"

"Of course," You reply simply, but the simplest of words are all he needs to be put at ease. "Do as you like. I trust you."

And so, he does. His eyes soften, they remind you of dripping, warm honey. Yet, the palm that begins to glide over your chest, softly caressing, is somehow even warmer.

You're nearly nose to nose, as Gale touches every curve and dip from your chest to your collarbones, admiring the lovely details. It's tender — analytical, in a way — as though he's studying exactly what forms your shape, so he may never forget. The sound of his breathing, along with your own echoes faintly in your ears. You feel revered, like the statue of some sacred God; and from study or by memory, he will learn to sculpt you.

"Beautiful," Gale murmurs quietly, "You are made of splendor and stardust."

Your heart intends to deny those words. You once thought differently, you believed ruin and rot were all to compose you. But if he presumes otherwise, if Gale is the one to insist you're so much greater, there isn't a single part of you left to challenge him. You are beautiful.

At once, your veins buzz, exhilaration rippling through your system at his voice, his touch. His fingertips trail the length of your shoulder. They teasingly trace downward, only to move back up again, despite the twitch of your thighs and the purse of your lips.

"That night," He breathes, his hand studying the column of your throat, the curve of your jaw, "Where I created the sky for you, I came right to the precipice of confessing. You were beautiful then. As you always are. I felt this… fondness, dwell within me while I looked at you. I wondered if your lips were as plush as they looked. Gods, I wanted to kiss you. Our enemies should have tore a page from your book. You know better than anyone how to reduce a former chosen to such weakness."

Those addictive fingertips reach back, tracing up your spine, causing your whole body to tingle. From the smallest of touches, from his touch, you're rife with anticipation. You've wanted and waited so much and so long to feel this. Gale's other hand tightens on your side, reassuring while holding you still, and you wouldn't be surprised if he could tell. If he knew what he was doing to you.

He's missed you, loved you, with every fiber of his doomed being. Now, fondness is more than within him; it's engulfing him whole.

He swallows thickly. "It would have been delightful to pull you close. To cast aside my misgivings, and instead have you right then and there. Underneath the shimmering lights, while whispering blades of grass tickled our skin. The sight of you laid out underneath me would have been more exquisite than any flourish I am capable of creating, I'm sure. Or, the sight of you above, perhaps? I didn't mind either which way."

"Gale."

You mumble his name, in some cross between a hiss, a pout, and a plea. He catches your eyes with a smile.

More than you might think, he has you figured out. The look you give him whenever he speaks: warm and soft-eyed, breath hitched, expression blissfully entranced. You've mentioned your not-so subtle weakness for his voice before. You love hearing him talk like this, don't you?

"You're sweet, but sometimes-" You choke on a gasp, shuddering once his hand is roaming down, down. This time, brushing your stomach, your hip, your thigh. "Sometimes, I really just want you to kiss me."

Perhaps you could listen to him forever, but he's no fool. Any request of yours he'd be happy to oblige. Especially this one.

"Come here, then," He says, already closing the distance, "You merely have to ask."

A hand holding your jaw, Gale pulls you in, his head tilting until you collide in a soft mess of lips and tongue. He blindly finds your thigh, gently pushing them apart; he squeezes your plush flesh, before he kisses you harder.

Together, when you both pull apart to breathe, he meets your gaze: a question, and permission. You don't look away. Your gasps grow sharper as his touch moves closer, your nerves strung tight, your bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

The ends of his fingers brush your slick, waiting entrance, and you whine.

"Oh, you're… Wow," Gale sighs out. You swear with the way he sounds, he's practically in disbelief. He drags the digits up, getting them drenched and filthy in your mess of arousal, his fingertips applying slight pressure when they reach your swollen clit. You tense, swallowing down a whimper. His fingers glisten in the dying light, you watch him very obviously glance down once he drags them away. Pulling them apart, he admires the string of glossy slickness that clings in between them.

"And I've barely just begun." He looks back to you, breathing the slightest huff, "I knew you- Well, I thought you felt strongly about me. As strongly as I feel about you. If I knew I was capable of doing this to you, of compelling you to be this… desperate, I would have divulged how I felt a great deal sooner."

Like he's one to talk. Your affections go both ways — He made that clear when he was a stiff mess in his pants, just from you kissing him.

Your chest heaves with your gasps, but only heaves harder once his touch leaves. His knuckles tense, his hand hovering inches away from you, and he looks over your face with brief apprehension. Right now, you can't have any of it.

"What do you need?" Gale asks, tone smooth, low.

"Your… Your fingers-"

"And you need them where, to be exact? They are capable of bringing a great number of things into fruition. To have them inside of you, filling you- Is that what you're after?"

"Yes," Your voice wobbles to the edge of cracking, and you follow along, forcing yourself to get more specific, "Need them inside. Please, don't make me wait."

He's never heard you beg before. Never thought you could get so needy, so flushed. For him, you're begging for him.

During the path of your previous journey, your polite requests of him here and there were more than enough to get him ecstatic. This, though? He thinks he might crave to hear you plead your lovely desires for the rest of his existence.

The same hand you've watched cast spells drifts back to you, between your legs. Gale's fingers, dexterous as they handle a fragile flicker of light in between them, masterful as they form the shape for another incantation. Delicately holding a thin quill pen, turning the pages of a worn book, crooking up to summon a hidden tome, or a detailed projection — His fingers begin to ease inside you, and all you can do is bite your tongue, and grip the edge of his desk like your life depends on it.

They feel thicker than they look. You weren't expecting to be so full, even when they aren't entirely in, nor were you thinking he'd go this slowly. With how soaked you are, with how much you've needed him, you know his fingers — ring, and middle — would press inside you so simply, if that's what he was aiming for. They'd slide all the way in, fill you down to his knuckles, until your needy cunt is fluttering around him; you're filthy, and yet, despite the thoughts you have bouncing around in your brain, you hardly feel an ounce of shame.

Instead though, different from what you were imagining, he takes his time. He savors this, savors you, delighting in your pretty expression, and the delicious moan you let go of as his fingers fill you just half-way. Half-way, not sinking fully in. The damn wizard is teasing you. He's dragging both digits out before they've truly given you what you wanted, leaving you disappointed once they slip away.

As a small mercy, his fingertips move to circle your clit with the faintest touch. Right then, the entirety of you burns red-hot, impossibly sensitive. It's so much, and not enough at the same time. If he doesn't continue, you think you might cry.

"I was intending to take things patiently, but I am more than willing to compromise," Gale suddenly murmurs, out of breath, his gasps betraying the levelness he tries to keep to his words. Clearly, this is affecting him just as much as it may be affecting you. His free hand tenses on your waist, and he drawls, "Tell me if it becomes too much. Or if you're in need of more."

Like clockwork, you don't even wait for him to take another breath in. "More, Gale."

He chuckles. Actually chuckles, in spite of any nervousness — and when the sound alone makes you shiver, a soft gasp in pleasure leaving your lips, you know you're absolutely done for.

"Eager little thing." There's enough adoration in his words to devour and get drunk off of, "No matter, I'd already planned to give you everything."

Your hand on the desk's edge clenches, and as though he knows without the need to see, Gale moves to place his palm over yours. His touch brushes your knuckles, his hand is effortlessly warm. His fingertips press to your waiting entrance; you breathe a sigh of approval, before he's working to slide them back inside you.

They ease into your warm cunt deeper, nice and easy. As far as they'll go, until you're sufficiently full, with his palm lightly pressing against your pelvis, his knuckles barely grazing you. Gale's expression turns soft, washed over in utter lust. He mumbles the slightest swear under his breath that you almost don't catch, paired with a tender, low, That's it.

And fuck, you're already struggling to handle this, but to hear him praise you?

When he'd do so before, you were affected quite the same. He'd give you an earnest Excellent job! whenever you cracked another lock, or a Well done, when you downed a rather difficult foe. It was impossible not to dwell on his words, as ridiculous as you often felt. He would affectionately pat your shoulder, or place a hand on the small of your back when he was especially proud of you. You'd feel a chill run up your spine, just from that. A particularly shameful chill.

Now though, like this? When his voice is a whole octave lower, and noticeably sultrier; when he's got two of his fingers nestled deep inside you, and his pretty gaze on yours, hair out of place as it gets stuck to his sweaty forehead — Gods help you, if he decides to say anything more. Knowing him, he will.

He's still smiling while he stares at you, a look that speaks in pure adoration. And no matter how overwhelming, no matter the shivers that surge through your veins at the thought, or the intense pounding of your heart, you want him to speak. He's fucking right, his voice is your weakness. You want to hear all he's longed to tell you, no details spared.

He's lucky you haven't melted into a puddle by now. Your limbs are weak, you feel like you might have. His poor scrolls. There's no doubt you're making a mess, but puddle-you would have left his desk and its important contents in shambles.

Gale languidly pumps his fingers into you, in and then out, and your teeth grit at the sloppy noise they create. The pace he sets is slow, true to his earlier word. Ecstasy buds in your core at every draw back, and firm press in. Yet, the devotion, the listlessness to it — You're put on a pedestal right between needing less, and wanting more. It's perfectly agonizing.

It isn't enough, you need just a sliver more of what he's not providing. But his slow, meticulous movement has you reeling. His thick fingers fuck you methodically, working you up to right where he wants you, and not an inch more. It feels like you might shatter in his arms, his hands, and he would be the one to put you back together.

"Please," You're murmuring, your back arching, your eyes deep and hazy, utterly enchanting, "I need you- need you not to stop, fucking please."

You make his focus shift in a mere instant. Holding onto you tighter, his fingers curl on the next press in, nudging oh-so perfectly against where you're oh-so sensitive. You're a mess, but he loves it; he relishes in admiring this lovely, desperate side to you. You practically cry out, your body tensing beneath his touch, your eyes screwing shut. And Gale, ever attentive, perpetually ambitious, crooks his dexterous fingers inside you again in a draw for more, until you're a gasping, trembling mess.

"You sound wonderful. Just perfect. Believe me, I want to stop as much as you may want to. Which, with regards to your greedy form of begging, would surely be not at all," Gale whispers, in a delicate hum. His words fill your head like clouds. "I have waited too long for this. I have wanted you far too greatly to stop now, and I do not plan to."

You have his fingers soaked, his palm and his wrist filthy, practically dripping with your messy arousal. Between stifled whines and struggles for air, you utter his name. He falters for a moment. Ignoring his slacks growing tight and uncomfortable around him, he takes in an overly controlled breath.

"Don't try to silence yourself," He says, "I want to hear everything."

Your thighs quiver. They threaten to close around his arm, while precise fingers bully your sweet spot; you couldn't hold your moans for him back, not even if you were trying to.

You toss your head back with a whine, loud and unabashed, and Gale offers your hand a gentle squeeze. His breathing is sharp, loud enough to hear, to feel as a fan of warmth against your chest and neck. The heat between you builds to something unbearable. Each thrust of his fingers is relentless: they draw gasps from you that echo in the walls of his study, your lungs aching raw. You are wet and warm and impossibly soft around both digits, you'll feel much softer and wetter around him. And you're simply stunning, from the top of your head, to the ends of your toes. Gorgeous, in a way he'll try his damndest to deserve.

To hold you until the stars give out, to never have to let you go would be a dream made real.

Engrossed in giving you what you need, he admires the softness present on your features when you prop yourself back up. Your chest heaves, your bottom lip trembling. He's been so focused on you, he hardly notices you've already shifted.

You reach forward, your arm is shaky, faint gasps still slipping past your lips as his fingers massage that addictive spot deep within you. Your palm presses to his chest. Only then does he realize how quick his heart's been beating, and how strongly you've been affecting him.

If you were a drug, or a form of charming magic perhaps, you'd be the most potent there is. Your hand glides down, gaze stuck on his — gazes locked on each other — and he lets you. He lets you move your palm down to a near dangerous degree; he shifts forward and closer, in fact, to simplify your reach.

Impulsive, you allow your palm to travel between his legs before you've given it a second thought. You feel the firm outline of his cock, shamelessly tenting his pants, and Gale's brows pinch. He shudders, sighing softly, but he doesn't hold back from leaning into your touch. A small movement has his clothed length grinding against your palm; pure, exquisite friction. Fortunately, swarmed by your own desperations, you are wasting no time giving him more.

For the first time since he began, or maybe for the first time ever, Gale's resolve crumbles. Your hand slips into his pants, wrapping around his hard, silky length, and he groans, the sound sweet enough to incite a heady pulse between your legs. He braces his free hand on the desk to keep steady, and his pace turns frantic as his head dips, strands of hair in his face, his fingers clumsily pistoning into you.

He's warm in your palm, slick with dripping precum that dirties the smooth fabric of his briefs; so distinctly heavy, you start to feel dizzy, overwhelmed by a rush of blood to your head.

"Shit," Gale swears under his breath when you grip him, then pump him, his eyelids heavy like he's woozy. Your reaction is immediate and visceral, pleasure blazing in your core, your chest heaving with quickened whines.

His jaw clenches instinctually, your palm hurriedly swiping over his sensitive, weeping tip. It sends flurries of pleasure over him, and makes every touch much slicker, much wetter. The damp squelch made by the twists of your hand is nearly as filthy as the echo of his fingers plunging into you.

He chokes on a moan, and he hurriedly murmurs, "Your touch is… It is unlike anything I have ever felt before, it's- oh- indescribable…"

You're panting, your hand slowing down, the fragility and newfound pitch to his voice pooling heat in your gut, "Should I stop?"

"No, for the love of every God still left watching over us," Gale reaches up, shakily tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips brush your skin with potent electricity, before he sets his palm back down on the desk, close enough to have your thumbs touch. "Absolutely do not stop."

There's conviction in his voice; it makes your heart pound, and subsequently tremble.

The way you stroke him is messy and quick, frantic to make up for the lack of space the confines of his slacks provide. Your brain is scrambled from his voice, his fingers: easing inside you, and then crooking, punching whines from you each time they perfectly nudge your sweet spot. You feel known, loved, as he studies what you need — to give it to you here, and countless times over.

Between your sins and his, the room is drowned in the echoes of gasps, whines. In wet noises that sound disgustingly lewd when they reach your ears, sending sparks twisting up your back. Gale falls forward, his forehead rests softly against yours. He finds the curve of your waist, gripping you tight; a touch that brands, that makes you pliable. His warm hand on your bare skin is a wave of molten comfort, washing deep into your bones.

"Back then," You mumble breathlessly, beginning a tangent of your own, "I wanted so badly to tell you how I felt. I w-wanted, needed you, I would have given up anything to be close to you. I thought of… of trying to stay quiet in your little tent, trying to make sure no-one else would hear us. You'd whisper in my ear that we have to be quiet, and cover my mouth with your palm while you rocked into me…"

Gale stutters. He throbs, underneath your touch, and lets go of a long, shaking breath. He rolls his hips into your grip just barely, chasing another ray of pleasure.

"Even a rudimentary spell could've… hah, solved that problem easily," He grits out, the bridge of his nose in a focused knot, "But I'm glad we weren't so hasty. This moment we have now, it is kept solely to ourselves. If we-" A groan, a sigh, "Had to account for unnecessary company, I would never have known how lovely you sound when you're pleading my name."

"Fuck- Gale…"

You moan in unison, syncing your breathing and the skip of your heartbeats. In the midst of your own pulse in your ears — your head swirling, drunk on him — you are freeing his cock from his slacks, making him inhale a hiss as the room's cold air hits his length. Your palm strokes all of him, from base to head: tenderly, slowly, agonizingly. He trembles, and his thumb brushes your clit while his fingers stay sheathed inside. Desire takes over what remains of you, as though his touch itself is made from magic.

"I wanted to- I-" It's difficult to talk now; his thumb rubs slow circles onto your sensitive clit, and tension grips you tight, taut as deep in your core as his fingers reach. "I wanted to kiss you, feel you, taste you. Sometimes, I wished we could just forget everything and- Oh, Gods, I needed you, Gale. I knew I was foolish and greedy, but I couldn't lose you. I didn't want anything to ever happen to you, I love you. Just you, just as you are."

Just as you are.

More than anything he's once known, stronger than everything he's ever felt, those words send him spiraling into a hopeless, tender oblivion.

You won't have to fear losing him. Not ever again.

Despite the slight parting of his lips, he can't say anything more; he can only exhale in warm, heady pleasure, and sway forward to collapse into you. Your palm, working over his cock with soft, steady strokes, has him hurtling close to the edge with no reprieve in sight. His forehead leans into the curve of your nape, breath hot on your skin, and he can barely manage to think, let alone control the unsteady pace of his fingers; fucking into you desperately and clumsily, sending pleasure spiraling through your system.

But your voice — Chiming in his ears, echoing with the earnestness of bells, you bring every devoted component of his attention right back to you.

"Please," You beg, your tone quiet, on the verge of shattering like glass. Gale moves his palm to hold the small of your back as a slight comforting gesture, a silent reminder that he has you, and you feel the petals of your heart unfurl, and unwind.

"I'm right there," You're gasping, "I'm- ah, please…"

He can't contain himself, sweat beading at his chest and forehead as he sloppily thrusts into your now-loose grip. Every slow, choppy buck of his hips leaves him more overwhelmed. You have your head tipped back, as you jerk him off hurriedly, choking on your own moans. Euphoric flames lap at your gut, your limbs — Gale peppers your nape in haphazard kisses, and all it takes is one more touch, three more words.

"I love you," His murmur rolls in vibrations against your kiss-sensitive nape; you melt, your back slumps. There's an intensity to his tone, a thickness to his accent and a slur between the syllables. You nearly drown him out with your own chants of his name.

"My sweetheart," He falters, "My love- You feel perfect, and I- I'm so close- I've got you, let go, let go with me-"

You flutter around his fingers, and he stammers with words left unsaid, murmuring faint recitations of your name as you both reach the crescendo. Frantic jerks of your palm and feverish swipes of his thumb on your clit, his touch palpable with so much love you can practically feel it — and you're slamming over the edge together.

Gale's breathing comes from weary, bruised lungs. You feel him twitch, then pulse, and messes of moans and gasps resound onto your neck as he spills into your hand. The mess drips over your palm, coating your fingers. Your heart pounds against your chest like a drum, and the pleasant disaster of your release washes over your body — making you tense and cry out, your legs quivering as you cum for him — before setting you down, shakily and slowly.

You can hardly think by the end of it. The aftershocks that grip you are unlike anything you've ever felt before. Finding your high while thinking of him pales in comparison to cumming for him, on his fingers.

Neither you, nor him can speak. When Gale finally pulls apart from you, dragging his fingers from your warmth and stumbling to his feet, what makes up your tangled thoughts is still very much fuzzy. You're both panting hard; him, more than you are, perhaps. Your thighs are tense and sore, you have to force them to relax to ease some of the strain.

Through heavy eyelids, you watch him run a palm over his face. He massages his temple, and lets go of a deep, weighted breath. The way he looks at you then, gaze settled on yours, could be enough to entrance you, all on its own.

"Beautiful." He hums simply. His voice is still rough at the edges, quiet and strained. You aren't sure if it's a description, or a term of endearment; maybe both, you figure, so you can enjoy a taste of each.

He reaches up to hold your jaw, his touch ever soft. You're lost for a moment. You catch your breath along with him, and feel what remains of the world around you fade away.

"I believe I was meant to love you," He says, so earnest, his faith itself makes you shake. "You are an irrevocable destiny. My destiny."

You offer him a smile that roots into him from the inside-out. And when he drifts forwards to kiss you at last, pulled in your direction like a fish on a line — Your lips press to his, and in his chest, arises a glow.

This shared kiss is long, deep, and effortless. It is a waltz you both know how to follow, and yet, you lose your footing just the same. He pulls you close with an arm around your back, and you curl into his familiar touch. In turn, you clutch him tighter, kiss him harder, with your palm on his shoulder and a hand tangled in messy locks of brown hair.

You both breathe a sigh once you've slowly pulled apart. Gale holds your chin, and speaks softly, the words akin to a secret prayer.

"I am yours. Now, and for the eternities of lifetimes that might await us after this one." His expression deepens, and his thumb brushes your lips, carefully but simply, "I truly do love you."

I love you. Those words still feel as soft as they are strange. They're all you've ever wanted though, natural on the tongue, despite how unrelentingly they shake you.

Perhaps you really were meant for this, just as he believes. In this life, and in the lifetimes to follow, you will find and embrace one another.

Standing up straight, he stretches, fixing his slacks before rolling his shoulders back. Your gaze flickers over his shape, and then down. Tenderness makes way to bristles of embarrassment, and it's hard to continue biting your tongue. Between the both of you, you've made quite the mess. Reminders of what transpired hit you like a bucket of bricks. Your heartbeat particularly spikes at the droplets of milky white that dirty the desk's smooth surface, and the flesh of your thighs.

Gale seems to notice your staring.

"Apologies," He clears his throat so loud the sound practically bounces around the room. His tone carries a weight of lightheartedness, and you can't explain how nice it is to hear. It lightens the load on your own shoulders, in some way. "I did not suspect I was… so pent-up. Are you alright?"

"I'm alright," You resound, inhaling slowly, and feeling the buzz in your chest begin to settle as a result. "I feel great, honestly. How about you? Tired yet?"

"Oh, I am anything but. Feels like I pissed off some impudent mage, and as punishment they set my nerves aflame," Gale shakes out his sweaty palms, then idly flexes his fingers, "Not any sort of punishment I've ever heard of, but I would certainly commend their creativity. It will take more than that to tire me out, I assure you. Unless you, yourself are tired, of course. In which case, I would be glad to assist in your relaxation."

"Thank you, but there's no need. I'm not tired yet either." You shuffle closer so you can wrap your arms around him, and your hand promptly tangles in his hair, while the other brushes the back of his neck, fingertips tracing down to the space between his shoulder blades. You swear you feel him shiver. "C'mere. I haven't had near enough of you."

"Is that so?" Gale smiles. He closes the fraction of distance between you, and steadies a hand on your jaw. "I'm pleased to say the feeling is mutual."

This time, the kiss he plants to your lips reminds you of falling. Falling, with no worry of hitting the ground. Just infinitely drifting through a cloudless sky, while you helplessly listen to the race of your pulse in your eardrums. And as quickly as he sends you careening towards the earth, he's grounding you, with a kiss to your throat that sets your senses alight.

His lips hover there for longer than they need to, breathing warmth onto your neck, until you reward his efforts with the sweetest of sighs. Then, his mouth trails kisses from your collarbone to your shoulder. His hand holds your side when you sway, helping to keep you steady.

It's as though your soul is helplessly detached from your own body. The growing shadows in his quaint study envelop your vision, and cradle you in their looming embrace. You imagine the pale moon, the shimmering stars, soon to bathe you in their faint light. But for now, it's just the two of you, pleasantly alone, in the center of his universe. Truthfully, your soul is bound to him. Gale's hands, and beating heart.

Warmly, he mutters against your shoulder, a squeeze of your side blended with slightly muffled words, "Are you comfortable?"

"Mhmm," You nod, and you tilt your head opposite as he moves to press kisses to the other side of your nape, "We can move- If that's what you want."

"What I want is to have you wherever it is you prefer." Placing a final small kiss to the side of your neck, he then pulls back, meeting your pretty gaze with an expression that sparkles. "My bedroom is always an option. Traditional, yes, but surely comfortable. Continuing here would be most pleasant as well. Most exciting. The choice is left up to you, although," He breathes a slight laugh, "I suppose I may picture this the next few times I am sitting here working. Might pose a slight problem to my future productivity."

You huff, half-rolling your eyes. You playfully squeeze his shoulders, teasing palms caressing his warm skin, "In that case, I want you nowhere else but here."

Gale smirks, his expression enveloped in unmistakable tenderness, but this time, he holds his tongue. He grasps your wrists, and when your palms follow his lead to slip from his shoulders, he is taking your hands into his. He's shifting, kneeling, sinking down in front of you until your heart is left a shaken and stuck mess inside your throat.

"Look at me."

Oh. You didn't notice you were starting to glance away, avoiding his eyes while you attempt to ignore the warmth burning over your face. You tear one of your hands away from his to grip the edge of the desk, steadying yourself. Hesitantly, your gaze flickers back to his own — just in time to watch Gale press a kiss to your knuckles.

He looks at you as though you are devastation, devotion, in the softest, mortal form. Twilight shimmers in the details of his silhouette: the features of his face, the silver in his hair, and his shiny, metal earring. You once thought the symbol hanging from his ear to be some solemn, self-imposed reminder. Instead, you've grown to realize it is spite, pure and fierce. Because after everything, he is still tenderly, maddeningly alive.

"You will not lose me, not ever, not for a moment," He says gently, squeezing your hand, resoluteness in the back of his gaze. "I promise you. I want for nothing, when you are at my side. Nothing but the privilege of seeing you smile, which I will try my very hardest to earn. No matter what we may face, perils or strife, anything that is left to try and stand in our way, we will brave it- We will defy it. And we will do so together. Just as we once did."

Gale allows his thumb to brush over your knuckles before he lets your hand go. You eye him silently, awestricken, your chest tight and your mouth useless. Perhaps it is your silence that prompts him to gaze at you smugly, place his palms on your thighs, and shift closer until his head is inches away from dipping between your legs.

"Now, let me have you." Voice low, he breathes the words loud enough for only you to hear, "Let me cherish you, as I have always longed to, and as you have always deserved."

So foolish. He does have you, he has held every part of you from the moment you and him collided.

You take a breath, deep and slow. "Then have me."

Reaching forward, you knot a hand in his hair as encouragement. Gale holds your waist, smirking slightly, and he waits, lingering, or perhaps teasing you. When your fingers tighten on his hair and you let go of a quickened, impatient huff, the desperate look on your face causing his heart to skip, only then does he finally move. He leans close, pressing a kiss to your stomach that brims with tingling electricity.

"Gale-" And you sigh, you melt, "I love you, I love you so much-"

His brows knot, softness in his expression, and he begins to adore your skin with his lips. He plants messy kisses from your navel, down. When he moves from your hips to your legs, tenderness turns to hunger. His kisses are warmer, blessed onto your inner thighs as he leaves faint bites, along with soft brushes of the tongue; not enough to mark, just enough to feel. Enough to make you tremble at the subtle nip of teeth, and shake from the heat of his steady breaths on your skin.

Both palms find your thighs to gently coax them apart. Nervousness prickles up your spine, heightened by the warmth in your gut, and by the heaviness in Gale's eyes as he looks up at you. But when he leans close, at the first swipe of his tongue over your waiting cunt — Everything melts away to nothing but sharp, pure pleasure.

Your fingers grip his hair so tight you think you might yank some strands out. You're panting, and he isn't stopping; each little lap of his tongue makes you shake, already a whining mess, echoing the sweetest noises for him. You only make him want to hear more.

He wants you crying happy tears for him, wants you to forget your hardships as you fall to pieces on his mouth; but for now, he'll have patience. Slight, teasing flicks of his tongue are enough to start with. Judging by the intensity of your grip on his hair, and the way your chest heaves from the force of loud, labored breathing, he isn't sure you can handle much more, despite how terribly you make him want to give it to you. You deserve all you could ever need.

You deserve to be happy, safe, loved. He won't let you be marked by more scars. You're precious to him, more precious than anything he has once held, and simultaneously, you are damn near impossible to resist.

From between both your thighs, he can't tear his gaze away from you above him: your pretty face, consumed by ecstasy and impatience. You, on the other hand, can barely take the way he looks at you with such tenderness, and yet, confidence. Like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

Gale swipes the flat length of his tongue over your entrance, then flicks the tip against your clit, and the moan you let fall from your lips captivates the entirety of his muddled mind. He huffs something of a laugh, and pulls back to give you a small chance to breathe.

"Remarkably sweet, and ravishingly sensitive." The sultry hum to his tone settles a decadent sensation between your ribs: pleasure, and an encompassing anticipation. His lips are already wet and glistening. "You were just meant to be devoured."

Your heart shudders, and your breath hitches. Gale grips you by your sides, his gentle touch smoothing over your skin. His hair in his face is a mess you've made. You shakily push the strands back, and as your fingers brush close to his scalp, the only signs he's affected are the shuddery inhale he takes, and the devotion that shines in the back of his pupils.

"Spread your legs apart a little further, for me," He mumbles. When you oblige, he hums the smallest form of praise, the faintest, Very good. Then, his mouth is giving you no room for respite.

You whimper, watching his honeyed gaze on yours go soft, before his eyes flutter shut. His hands on your sides grip you tighter, and with swipes of his tongue, he thoroughly tastes your entrance. He was right; you are sensitive. Especially when he buries his face in your cunt, every sickeningly slow lap of his tongue feeling charged, ripe with exhilarating arousal.

When you tense, panting harder with a swallow, he squeezes your side, and he stops. He huffs in short breaths centimeters away from you. Your shoulders slowly go slack. You press both hands to the edge of the desk and hold on tight, trying to remain steady. He only dives in again once your sighs have settled, and this time, he's licking, then sucking. The sound is sloppy, terribly lewd, as he presses his lips to you and sucks softly on your clit. Infatuation surges through your veins so fast, you begin to feel yourself go numb.

He licks a steady stripe, groaning quietly. His facial hair scratches the inside of your thighs with such bitter sweetness. He's moving one palm down to your thigh, caressing before lifting. Your leg settles comfortably onto his shoulder, and he's pressing closer, he's ever-so carefully easing his tongue inside you. It's warm, meticulous; the attention there, the sensation of being so barely filled, stretched around the end of his tongue — It makes your head spin with ferocity.

Those sensations melt to expectancy, to a dwindling heat as he draws back; for only a moment, thankfully. He swallows, his words muffled when he mutters against your eager cunt, "You taste divine."

On his tongue, he's sure you're the sweetest thing he's ever known. Saccharine like the stars, akin to the smooth velvet wine he remembers sampling in Calimshan. But perhaps, it's even sweeter to have you like this, to know he's the only one who can do this to you. Your limbs are trembling for him. It's his tongue you're a mess on, his voice and his touch to make you this way.

He should never have doubted himself. If he could rewind the clock just once, it wouldn't be to change past wrongs, nor would it be to rid his chest from the orb, or abandon it entirely. He would have gone without meeting you then, still just a reckless wizard in the cold palm of his Goddesses hand.

Rather, he would go back and tell you how he felt, he'd tell you everything — He'd have you accompany him to Waterdeep well before his proposition at your reunion, and he wouldn't have held back the words on his tongue. He doesn't want to leave you, he loves you; he'd watch your expression change, your hands squeezing his when he grabs them tight. And he knows he would kiss you right then, in the same way he already has.

I've fallen for you he was waiting to whisper, when this universe seemed to contain just the two of you. He wanted to kiss you so softly when you smiled at him during your late-night talks, closing the inches of distance between you to feel your smile on his lips instead. He'd kiss you so desperately when you found yourselves on the edge of death, both hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs smearing blood onto your skin, because even then, all he could fathom was how deeply he adored you.

As long as he kept you safe, he didn't need more. He no longer wished for godhood. He could greet the end with no regret — but to have lived, to be able to persist in this life at your side means the world itself to him.

It will take a long while to make up for lost time. Though maybe, he can start here. His mouth can do more than recite poems and confessions. Much more.

In demonstration, Gale leans into you. He relishes in the way you shake under his hold, once the practiced end of his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. He has to hold you steady, gripping tight while he kisses your clit, your thighs, and then devours you with sloppy kisses to your cunt: open-mouthed, a mess of soft sucks and rich groans into you. His lips brush every sensitive inch, shaping you as you dissolve to pliancy, like soft clay in his careful hands.

"Feels good-" You try to mumble, biting the words; you've never felt anything this addicting. Your voice carries a noticeable shake, one you just can't swallow down, "Feels so fucking good…"

"Not good enough to render you speechless," Gale hums against you, lust weaving through his tone. You'd almost think he was talking to himself, if it wasn't for the way he briefly looks at you, eyelids heavy, pupils blown-out. "Suppose I ought to continue."

His mouth lavishes your cunt once more, firm sucks on your clit paired with swipes of his tongue that gently tease your needy entrance — You grip the desk tight, moving your hand to grab a fistful of his hair instead. You bite down so hard on your lip you think it might bleed.

You can't focus, you feel weightless, his words won't leave you as much as his mouth continues to devour you. His sultry voice, his soft expressions of love; how long has he waited for this? How fiercely has he wanted you, wanted to tell you the fondness he kept captive inside? How long has he imagined pleasuring you on his tongue, until all you can manage to plead is his name?

For longer than you were first picturing, surely. There's desperation to the new pace he's set, a wild yearning, as Gale allows his composure to slip and pleasures you with every single breath. His palm runs over the warm underside of your thigh when it twitches on his shoulder. He's relentless, even when you grip his hair so tightly it must hurt, whimpering for him and his mouth in unintelligible murmurs.

He gives you more without the need for you to ask. He's moaning into you in turn, his tongue pressing in to taste you. And your taste is electrifying. The whine you give him is one he wishes to memorize. He feels he may yearn for this — to taste you, to have you — until the universe converges to a collapse, with all Nine Hells finally frozen over.

Speechless, that's how he wants you, and if he continues like this, he might make good on such an objective. Ironic. For as much as he's spoken, you're the one asked to stay voiceless. You doubt he truly wants you quiet. Every moan you make at the lap of his tongue, or the brush of his lips, draws a staggered sigh from him in response.

At least, considering how much the bastard spends talking, of course he's good with his mouth.

He mumbles something inaudible against you, a mess where your name is the only thing you make out. His voice echoes in vibrations right onto your clit, and you're gasping, your thighs trembling. They practically close around his head, but he pushes them back apart to make room; his one hand on your thigh, the other on your waist.

The moment you've relaxed, legs spread wide for him, he's grabbing your sides so tight it makes you go stiff in surprise. He's pulling you in, he's giving you more of his mouth, and you're rocking. You're grinding onto his tongue without forethought, focused only on the bliss that rips through your body and intensifies in your core.

You barely catch the way his eyes flutter when you roll into him. He begins to guide your movements with his grip on your waist, pulling you closer while twirling his tongue, allowing you to use his mouth as you desire.

And you do. You fuck yourself on his mouth and tongue between his hurried kisses, his muffled groans muttered against you. Until your high is frantically splintering towards you, your fingers flexing in his hair, your throat sore and muscles even tenser.

"Gale," You can't get out anything but his name, lungs overtaken by gasps, the edge of your voice sore from cries of pleasure, "I-"

You don't tell him you're there. You couldn't manage the words, but with the way he hums in approval against you, squeezing your waist in silent persuasion, his tongue focusing on your clit with tender precision — You suspect he knows, and he wants, needs you to cum for him. With your heart beating fast in your chest and your ears, the rope snaps, and you're cumming on his mouth, while his name is a stuttered mantra on your lips.

Your thighs can't help but tense, brushing his face and smothering him; you pulse on his tongue, your grinds against him growing erratic, desperate. Everything in your body is swallowed by rocky waves, a sense of pleasure in your chest and your head and your core imploding with blistering heat. Your voice breaks. You only settle when you've fully succumbed, drowning in the aftershocks.

After your eyes have slowly opened, and your fuzzy vision has returned, you notice you're not the only one struggling to breathe. You feel it first: the brief tickle of his warm breath on your thighs, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You hear him exhale, long but shaky: a perfectly enticing sound.

Gale pulls apart from you while he huffs, he wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His face is flushed, lips parted, chest heaving. But fuck, he's smiling, grinning like you've never seen before, earnestly and so in love. Your heartbeat practically skips.

You shouldn't be surprised that the first thing he does upon rising to unsteady feet is brace a hand on the desk, grasp your chin between his fingers, and kiss you. Your shoulders slump, and as you're kissing him back, you're breathing a soft exhale into his mouth. He drags you in as close as he can get you, leaving you practically smushed against his chest. Still, your heart begins to sing. Familiar feelings burn to life once more as his mouth parts, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

When you separate, it's agonizingly slowly. It's just enough for him to gaze into your eyes, to see you melt, simply from the way he looks at you. Together, you remain deadlocked for a moment, catching your breath without a word. His warm eyes and soft lips are effortlessly enticing; it takes every ounce of your remaining strength to resist kissing him again, surely crumbling the composure you've worked so hard to restore. He drifts back, a complacent look on his face. His fingers stay delicately grasping your chin.

You're going to break the silence before he can, and you'll get straight to the point.

"I need-" You swallow, resisting the urge to glance away from him no matter how flustered you've become. He can have your composure, he can have every damn part of you — "I need more. I need you. Please."

Gale's spine tingles with an almost-shudder. He can't resist guiding you forward by your jaw, until his lips are able to kiss the top of your head. A kiss that drips with meaningful, aching adoration. Your heart stirs, and you let go of the breath you were holding.

"Dearest," He coos quietly, a tender edge to his voice, like a knife that twists and caresses your ribs, "You will be given all you need. Perhaps even more."

His fingertips skate your shoulders, before his palm presses to your chest. He kisses your cheek, and against your ear, he gives the faintest muttered instruction: Lay back. You were already doing so before the command, but his words lead you to follow the slight push of his palm, until you're settling with your back hitting the desk.

The hardwood is cool against your skin, and he shoves some books aside to give you space to rest your head. He's leaning down with you, pressing a final kiss to your nape once you're stable. As Gale pulls back, coming into view above you, heat surges through your veins. Your nerves thrum with something more than love. Something more like sanctity.

Sweat coats both your bodies in a glimmering sheen. Gale's hair is out of place, shadows flicker over his features but pay special attention to the grooved, dark scar on his chest. The sun has long since finished its descent, the last flecks of light vanishing to nothingness. You don't notice how dark it has truly become until Gale provides a solution with words under his breath, and a snap of his fingers.

Effortlessly, light dances in your vision, the candles that decorate his study coming to life. His lips twitch into a smirk. His hand finds your side, feeling your shape.

It's just the two of you, now and hopefully always, in his favorite corner of the world. On his damn desk, to make matters more tantalizing. The same desk he'd spend hours alone at, reading or planning lessons, trying not to let his mind wander to you instead. And you, speaking of. You, bathed in faint light, sprawled out beneath him like poetry on a page — Without a doubt, you are gorgeous. To the point of addiction.

"There you are," He murmurs at last, while his thumb draws circles on your side. The lighting is still dim and moody, but this feels as though it is the first time he's truly been able to see you. To see all of you. He drinks you in, admiring your shape, your marks, your scars. The details that define you, everything he loves.

He allows his gaze to drag down, and then up, back to your eyes. You're shuffling out of nervousness, but his warm touch on your skin encourages you to relax.

"Beautiful, aren't you? Each time I look at you, I feel my love burn ever brighter. You are the sun. A warm, incandescent sun. Most worthy of worship. Basking in the heat of my affections, I would gladly allow you to reduce me to cinders." Reaching out to you, Gale's fingers brush your cheek, before he stops. He suddenly lets go of a sigh so heavy it makes his shoulders turn slack. "My apologies. I'm chattering on again. Such a habit is proving challenging to break."

"Don't apologize," You counter, and you bring your hand to his own. Your fingertips brush his, you press his palm to your cheek and keep it there. The soft smile you flash him begs to be lost in. "If you haven't noticed, I quite like hearing your voice. You're sweet. And you always have the sweetest things to say."

Gale grins, "Do I? Hm, I'd hate to have to call you mistaken, especially after the kindness you've imparted to me. But I believe you're the sweet one. In a multitude of ways, for that matter. I would certainly know."

He only smiles wider when you pout, before playfully pushing at his shoulder. As you lean backward once more, getting comfortable, he is quick to close the distance in between you.

Your arms sprawl above your head, wrists crossed over; as much as they can manage, anyways, accounting for the limited space his desk provides. Your elbows knock against carefully placed stacks of books, legs hanging over the desk's edge. Cool air fills and settles in your lungs, and he moves closer, a knee between your thighs, a hand pressed to the desk to rest himself over you. Throat dry, you swallow thickly.

"But your thirst has not yet been quenched, now has it?" He murmurs, eyes narrowed, his voice noticeably lower than before. The palm he's kept to your cheek holds you delicately, and his thumb just barely brushes your plush bottom lip.

"With you as delightful as you are," Gale is continuing, "To claim you deserve everything I could offer would be… plainer than insisting the midday sky to be blue, so to speak. I am eager to satisfy you, to give you the adoration you have most definitely warranted. I'd like to make this as pleasant as it will inevitably be unforgettable." He tilts your head towards him slightly, and you feel choked by breathlessness. "I could never express the whole of my love for you. But allow me to try."

Your hands clam up, balling into sweaty fists as you try to maintain your gaze on his. Candle flames waver in the background of your vision, flickering to their own tune. His eyes travel from yours, to your lips, and back up again.

"I love you," You whisper, because it's all you can think of, devotion is the only force running rampant in your mind, "I truly, earnestly do. We have time. We have nothing to fear anymore. You can take me in every way you wish. I'm yours, I always have been."

Gale's brows pinch in thought, and his gaze brims with tenderness. "Then let us make up for the time we have lost."

His palm moves. From your cheek, his touch patiently drifts to tickle the side of your neck. Your shoulder next, and you shudder when you feel his knuckles brush your chest. His touch is home, familiar and grounding, dragging the ruin from within you amid each subtle stroke. In the same instant, your heart is heavy, and set ablaze.

"We can drown in each other. There is nothing I have wished for more, not a soul I have wanted greater than you." Gale divulges, "I've dreamt of this. Of making love to you, as we breathe one another's names. Of hearing you confess precisely what you've just told me, that you are mine."

He inhales slowly, shakily. His palm gently feels your stomach, your hip, the curve of your side, while his resolute gaze never departs from your own — "I love you. You deserve perfection. And although I cannot promise such a thing, I swear to give you all of me."

Gale watches your expression start to soften; reminiscent of the same sun he has always seen in you, when it first dawns from the steady, sea-bound horizon. You shift, your legs repositioning to either side of his waist, caging him in. You're smiling, and he keeps his eyes on your hazy form.

"I don't need perfection," You answer simply, earnestly. "I just need you."

You.

There's so much hidden in such a short and basic word. I need you. You've longed for more than just to stand at his side as an ally, an assistant, a friend. Now, he can see that. How foolish he was to ever believe otherwise. At last, with no more perils to stand in your way, you're together. You have time. Your hearts can finally indulge in the magnetism they have to each other, no longer ruled by uncertainty.

Without hesitation, you need him — as you have since the start, and for all that he is.

For his softness, his intelligence, for the change in his voice when he's rambling about something he enjoys, and for the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. You found yourself wishing he knew. You've grown entranced with every part of him, including flaws coalesced with ambition, regardless of your possible destruction. Falling for him was natural. Mistakes and magic and mortality in all.

Perhaps there is time to be made up for. But falling in love, entwining your fates together until they were at last pulled back as one, was purely inevitable.

Gale exhales. He runs his fingers through his hair, his shoulders taut, hoping to relieve some of the tension. It only helps marginally. Both hands then maneuver to grip your waist. His thumbs brush your hips, the faintest touch alighting your skin in goosebumps.

"You are… Gods, you fill me with such potent emotions, you know?" He murmurs; your arms are locking around his shoulders, keeping him close, and as he notices the heaviness to your eyes, his breath slowly grows more ragged, "I have always loved you, I've wanted this so terribly. And yet, now that it's happening, now that you are here, and not a lifetime apart like we both once were, I don't- I cannot think. My mind refuses to allow it."

His hands tense on your waist, his brows furrowing, fingertips pressing ever-so forcefully into your skin. When you smile in response, and drag him in to interrupt with a tender, long kiss to his lips — this time, while eyes flutter shut in unison, heads tilting, a soft groan uttered against your mouth — thinking is left to become irrelevant.

The focused expression he was wearing melts to a warm grin once you've pulled apart from him, exhaling heated breaths against his lips. His gaze on yours glints with affection, and his mind is a beautiful mess: thoughts not finding a beginning, nor an end. Smoothly and softly, Gale cups your cheek, and as you lean into his touch, the rest of his head weakens with blooms of love.

For you, he has always been weak. You could best him, you could threaten to destroy him. You could pull him apart at the seams with tender, blood-soaked hands, and as long as you kissed him while cleaving his heart out, he would unravel for you with a smile.

He murmurs quietly, "So I won't. I will cast any and all thoughts of mine to the wind. Doubt has long since had its fill of me, I refuse to provide it with more satisfaction. I've never loved anyone as intensely as I love you. Nothing could sate me as you do. With fate now ours to command… I hope I won't be made to let go of you."

"Don't, don't ever let go of me," You answer, your tone a gentle coo, your hands tensed on his shoulders, "And don't you dare pull away."

Gale laughs, huffing slightly. Then, he surges forward, along with pulling you in, until his lips are crashing like lulling waves against your own.

You kiss, again and again, pressed together with purpose, burning with intensity. Blindly, his grip finds your wrist when your hands slip from his shoulders. An arm falls beside you, and he adjusts the other. Fingertips drift over your palm, he presses your hand beside your head, and he laces his fingers with your own. His hand and yours fit together like lock and key; naturally, just as he'd described. Your heart must resist the desire to never let go.

As he slowly drags apart from your lips, he's moving to kiss your jaw, your neck. Warm, soft kisses, his tongue lightly tasting your skin, guiding you to curl into him. The slightest attention has a way of feeling so intoxicating, whenever he is the one to provide it.

Anticipation envelops you. Desire links between him and yourself, and settles deep in the pit of your stomach. It gnaws at you, wanting more, wanting what you've needed since you first found each other. His touch is so irresistible because you've been waiting to feel it. You've dreamt and imagined, hoped and fought so you both could survive, and now, he is finally yours.

"What do you need from me?" Gale hums into your nape, his palm caressing your side while he squeezes your hand. Sultry voice muffled, his messy hair tickles your skin, and his lips brush your collarbone. "I want to hear your voice speak the words."

So, you answer. You let his voice wrap around you, his kisses to your neck embrace you, and allow yourself to melt underneath the weight of your longing.

"I need you," You stammer into the open air, your grip on his hand growing tight. When he hums against your throat, faint kisses twisted with heady vibrations, you know what he wants, and you'll give him much more than that: "Fuck me, please…"

The brazenness to your own words makes your head pool with poignant visions, daydreams of Gale pinning you to his desk and taking you like you've both been craving; a hand in yours, his thumb in your mouth. Slowly, intensely, amidst hitches of breath and skin against skin. With a tenderness so acute and raw, that the press of him inside you would be divine enough to make the Gods take notice.

Some senseless part of you almost hopes they do.

A terribly soft kiss is placed on your cheek, and you're shivering, listening to his breath pick up and his sighs get heavier. Your ankles are locking around him, they're pulling him closer. Now, he's moving, he kisses your lips fervently as your hand grips his, and your free palm settles onto the center of his chest; as it has done many times before, as though it was meant to be there. His heart pounds, his hips shove into yours. The stiff weight of his length, confined in his slacks, grinds between your legs — and you give up on whatever shreds of sense you were still holding onto.

After a slow drag away from your lips, your chin now held between his fingers, Gale takes a deep breath. An intense, steadying breath. Through heavy eyes, the way he looks at you earns a shiver that traverses down the length of your spine.

His brow cocks, his lips form a tell-tale smirk; and you should know from the way he looks at you that you've lost. Still, it takes his words to truly hammer it home, while your heart hammers in your chest alongside them.

"You're quite exhilarating. Nevertheless, I suspect you are well aware of the powerful effects your coy words often have on me. With much proficiency, you know my weaknesses." Gale draws his fingertips over your jaw, his head tilted in subtle concentration. His voice is kept level, in the same gentle tone you've come to know, but there's no doubt he has you right where he wants you. You can tell, you could always tell. His gaze darkens with familiar ambition, and he draws a slow, shaky inhale.

Yes, you may know his weaknesses. But he knows yours.

"Need is but a dire, hungry word. Though, I must admit, I find it terribly sweet to hear you pleading for me." Gale teases, "Brings to mind our adventures together, your small implores of please when you wanted my help. Generally with some sort of riddle. Or a particularly well-locked door, perhaps. Of course, I could never say no to you."

"Mhmm," You hum in reply, speaking slowly to force your growing nerves to calm. You've watched Gale master spell after spell, triumph over puzzle after puzzle. You can only imagine this is what it's like to be on the receiving end. Briefly, you clear your throat, "Let me guess, it's even sweeter to hear it from me now?"

"Oh, yes. It certainly is. But a plea must be accompanied by an acknowledgement. I'd be cruel to keep you waiting any longer."

Your fingers tense from the absence once his hand releases yours, but the way his touch glides down, from the shape of your hips to the back of your thighs, quickly has your nails digging into your own palm. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth. He tugs you closer, close enough to have your bodies rock together again — Shuddering, he sucks in a sharp breath, freezing up completely. It takes everything he has to resist grinding against you once more, to disregard the way his cock throbs at the thought alone.

He's teased you quite enough. You are going to have what you want, and you're going to get it properly.

Your eyelids flutter, your voice weak, desperate, "Gale-"

Abruptly, you cut yourself off when he smooths his palms up your sides and leans in. Distances close, his lips brush the shell of your ear and his body presses closer to your own. Feeling him against you, the weight in his slacks nudging your entrance and brushing your clit, worn fabric growing messy and glossy with your arousal — It's merely a taste, when what you truly want is to feel him inside you.

Every inch of your skin seems to burn with flushed heat. You were hoping to get him going a little. On that front, you seem to have succeeded. But you couldn't have expected him to turn the tides right back on you.

His voice comes out right next to your ear, reverberating through you, pulling you under to drown in fervent waters.

"You need me, yes?" Gale murmurs, and as his lips brush your lobe, you swear you can hear his stupid smile through his tone alone, "If you are begging for me to take you, to fuck you, what sort of lover would I be if I denied you what you've been desiring?"

Your throat aches with a high-pitched whine; the building warmth within you blisters, and all your yearning culminates to this.

To your chest heaving between his kisses to your jaw and your face, your palm snaking between your bodies, arm reaching downward as far as it can manage. You're practically panting, as you allow your fingers to graze his waistband and fumble for a better grip. He indulges you, propping above you for a moment, and then discarding his pants in a rush, pushing them down just enough to let his cock come free.

The dusting of brown hair leading from his chest to his stomach trails all the way down, but you aren't given much of a chance to stare; his hands grab your hips, he guides you while surging forwards to place a desperate kiss to your mouth. The tip of his cock, flushed and pearled with precum, ever-so slightly brushes your waiting entrance.

And this — The sigh that racks through you, the expression on his face when he pulls back to look at you, to admire you, lips parted as he gasps. Your bodies tremor with the same longing, the same wavelength. Love drips over your heart and your ribs, melting like long crystallized amber, warm and rich and effortlessly palpable.

You couldn't ask for anything else. In his presence, in his comfortable tower in Waterdeep, with his hands on your skin and his heart beating to the rhythm of your own, you've found your home. This moment is more than lovely. It is perfect, and as your soul begs to be known, to be understood, he instills you with a promise of worship.

Worship. The adoration one might give to the Gods is still not divine enough for what you deserve, Gale believes.

Perhaps it's your sense of contentment that causes your heart to stir. When your mind starts to wander, envisioning what the future may hold as Gale is squeezing your hips and peppering sweet kisses down your neck — You'd move in with him, the moment he asked. His tower has plenty of space for the both of you. Not that you have many belongings. His tressym has practically begged you to stay, citing herself that Gale wants you to, that he'd likely ask you, if he had the courage. He's much happier whenever you're around dear, he is simply too proud to admit it.

Hells, you'd marry him if he were to propose, you've already dreamt of how he might do it. What he'd say, as he gets down on one knee and takes your hands into his. You wouldn't even think twice before you'd be resounding with a yes, followed by those three special words.

He wouldn't have to simply show you the spectacles of his home, you could live through them. You could enjoy thousands of days just like this one, relaxing, teaching together, and then arriving home, indulging in each other's company until the sun rises back into the sky. It would be a nice life. The calm, simple life you both have earned.

Your thoughts grow stuck on this morning, in particular. When the both of you had no idea what would transpire, still just friends, greeting each other politely as Gale ushered you into his home. Your lungs filled with the familiar smell of books, and the fresh new scent of the sea.

The pitter patter of your heart in your chest grew frantic when he hugged you, and once he pulled back, he flashed you a smile that could melt a long, harsh winter. You cleared your throat, you kept your musings to yourself when he began to go over your plans at Blackstaff Academy for the day.

It seems obvious now, but in the moment, you hardly thought anything of the soft way he looked at you. With such admiration, such devotion, a gaze on yours that promised, you can have me, I would allow it. And as Gale went over various spells, some you recognized and others you didn't, you could only pay attention to the tenderness in his voice, the focus on his face, and the dexterous movement of his hands.

You felt foolish for imagining what else his pretty hands might be capable of. If only you knew.

A deep breath in brings you back to the present. Gale leaves one last kiss to your nape, propping over you to reach up, pushing stray strands of hair from his face. You exhale, momentarily growing lost in his gaze. You've seen the love in his eyes countless times before, but his expression this time is different. It's brutally pleading, hopelessly tender. Nervous, almost.

His hips shift tentatively, his gaze on yours, the fat head of his cock nudging against you — Pleasure surges through him like lightning, making his jaw clench as he swallows a groan. You both breathe a set of stuttery sighs, and your fingers tremor, before your hands clench tight.

Reaching up, you settle with holding his shoulders once more. You feel the roaring heat under his skin, the dampness of sweat when you grip them for leverage. Muttering, you start, breaking into a whimper when a rock of his hips clumsily grinds his length against your cunt without pressing inside, "Gale, oh, fuck- I'd… I'd like you to try something. Can you?"

Moving his palm from where it was covering his mouth, helping to muffle any slight noises, you notice Gale's lips are forming a smile. Although, the sweat beading at his pinched brows gives his desperation away.

"Funny," He replies, his voice breathless and husky, "I was just about to fling a proposal on you. Nothing too terribly important, don't," He swallows, "Don't worry. I'm most interested in fulfilling your request. Go on, what is it?"

You can't resist gnawing on your bottom lip before you speak, your gaze shifting from his, to somewhere in the distance. Now, you're the nervous one, "The… illusion magic, the spells you showed to me earlier. This morning, if you remember, when we were going over your syllabus? I thought magic of that nature might have some… other uses, is that right?"

Magic is no stranger to you. But the illusion magic Gale has grown well versed in since he began his teachings, the complicated spells that hinge on nothing more than the limits of one's imagination — Outside of what he has already taught you, those are a mystery. You can't decide if your interest is because of their inherent perplexity, or if you're merely entranced because Gale has taken a liking to them.

When he was showing you a couple basic spells, you once again found yourself enamored with the wonder on his face, the awe in his voice as he explained the spell's inner workings. This one you could master quite easily, he murmured, sparkling gaze on yours as he held a projection in his hands with relative ease. A projection of a small bloom, your favorite flower. You hardly recall when you must have told him it was your favorite, nor were you expecting him to remember. As you reached out, you swore you could feel the bud's smooth phantom petals underneath your fingertips.

His voice, speaking quiet incantations, his fingers, easily forming the shapes necessary to bring the spells to life — It was mesmerizing, as captivating as you remembered it to be, way back when.

This wasn't back then, though. The moment itself felt newly intimate. Sparks filled the air and your lungs, flecks of lingering Weave, pleasant energy working through your body from the ends of your toes to the top of your head. His energy, Gale's magic. The spells he casts have a way of seeming like him, unique and defining, down to the very way they feel.

You were reminded of your journey together. Of the ashes in the air on the heels of a fiery incantation, of the zeal in your veins from a protective shield, or a hastening touch. Your heart twinged with a stronger ache, held down by how much you've missed him.

You want to be enveloped in that familiar sensation again. In his magic. In the comforting way it settles around you, the feeling it alights in your chest, and in the way it reminds you that he's here.

Your words cause Gale to pause. His expression carries the gentlest hint of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak, before stopping. Instead, he smiles, he cocks a brow, and the only thing to betray his newfound confidence is the heavy heave of his chest.

Unfortunately, you can't hear the way his heart is pounding. You can't sense the brilliant adoration, the foolish excitement that burns into him, affection lapping at his chest with persistent flames. But he can show you.

"How clever. Extraordinarily clever, really. And you're only," Gale makes a small pinching gesture, "A slight bit off from what I was hoping to suggest, as a matter of fact."

He reaches for your side then, gently caressing your skin under his palm; you relax at his touch, but stay focused on him as he speaks, "Gods, you know me all too well. Perhaps better than I know myself. Illusory magic lends itself excellently to various creative uses, I think a fair few spells could prove useful, given our current… position. As it happens, I have just the spell in mind."

"Do you?" You shuffle, your breath hitching slightly in your lungs, while his palm continues to run over your skin, clearly relishing in the way you shiver. "I didn't know if, you know- I wasn't sure if it was something you wanted. You're really okay with this?"

"Love," Gale hums, interrupting with a quiet instruction, "Close your eyes."

Panting softly, you allow your arms to rest above you on the desk, and you adjust a bit to get more comfortable. You match your gaze with his for a moment, your heart only beating faster at the honeyed reverence in his eyes. Then, slowly, you take a deep breath, and let the world disappear.

There's silence, darkness. You feel his hand squeeze your side in gentle reassurance. He shifts, pressing closer. When you hear his voice next, your nervousness is put at ease, calmness flooding through your body. Warm and especially addicting, his words are all you have to focus on.

"You are precious. As perfect as the alluring beauty of the moon. As lovely as the sparkling sanctity of the Heavens stars," He murmurs, at a volume barely above a whisper. His breath is steady on your skin, and his fingertips trail up your side, to leave barely-there touches over your chest. "If you do not like this, tell me. We'll waste no time stopping."

"I will," You answer, your own voice seeming to echo in your eardrums, "But it's okay. I trust you."

This time, his breathing in your ear runs slow. You dwell in a few seconds of hesitation, wrapped in budding anticipation, before you assume you feel him pulling away. He utters a soft word laced with power, his fingers snap, and your head goes hazy.

"Praestigium."

The invocation breathes a plea, calling upon a source, and the magic responds in turn: sharp, wild, divine.

You can feel the comforting veins of magic flowing through you, settling around you, cradling your mind in a warm embrace almost instantly. Your eyes flutter open — Or do they? For a moment, it's difficult to tell, as your dizzy vision refocuses, and the pleasant illusion becomes part of you.

It feels like your head is shrouded in clouds. You're soaring, floating on air, no longer able to feel the hardness of his firm wooden desk beneath you. The room melts; everything is there, but at the same time, it isn't. Shadows speckle your vision, blurry shrouds that slowly begin to melt to pure white. Gale comes into focus above you. His form is perfectly clear, his warm smile effortlessly charming.

Energy surrounds you: satin and strength, sweetness and intelligence. The smell of sandalwood wafts through the air, flooding your lungs, then slowly starting to fade. Just like that, you are grounded. You are balanced, your mind clearer than ever, and the moment veils you, it embraces you, it is you.

It's far from what you were expecting, but the surprise is more than welcome. You thought having illusion magic cast on yourself would be more floaty. More akin to a dream, or a living foggy memory.

Yet, this feels real, wonderfully real, as though he's carved out a space in reality for him and yourself to call your own. Here, with him, nothing else matters. Nothing but your longing, your love, and the infinite future that stretches ahead of you.

When he leans in to kiss your cheek, you feel his lips, his breath, and his fingertips on your jaw, with a vivid touch that shines — rolling through you like the spark of constellations, an aurora of shivering pleasure and brilliant closeness. Both hands grab your hips, and you feel them strongly, comfortingly, the intensity as he shifts them nearly too much to bear. He guides your legs to wrap around his waist again, locked at the ankles, holding him close.

He is the only thing you can perceive, your senses are heightened, and every sensation to grip you is positively electric. This magic does more than spawn an illusion or clear your mind; it's intensifying your grip on mortality.

You can hear his breathing as easily as it were your own. You can feel his heart, can measure each quick beat when he collides his lips with yours, his chest pressing against you. Thump, thump, thump, in your ears, in your own ribs, then the heavy thrum of his shadowy blight — so raw and intense, it nearly threatens to swallow you.

His presence entwines yours, his magic sears through you. He pulls you closer with his palm holding the back of your head, and he kisses you like this time could be the last. Your core burns red-hot. You're enveloped in dizzying feelings you can't quite place. As he pulls away, you lean back, and you let your head sink into the clouds. His palm stays to cup your face, slightly tilting your head towards him.

You both catch your breath, chests heaving. Gale admires you underneath him, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He places a kiss to your forehead that glimmers over you like an untamed ray of sunlight.

Slowly, as your head grows used to the spell, you calm, becoming more relaxed. Your mind is a clear, still lake, your thoughts as crisp as cool water. When you hear him speak once more, his head tilted to breathe the words against your ear, it's as though his voice is everywhere, ebbing and flowing through your brain as an encircling echo.

"Comfortable?" He murmurs, simply and softly.

"Yes, very," You answer with a nod of your head. Your own voice appears muffled, reminiscent of being underwater, "This is… lovely. It's amazing. You're amazing."

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear you aren't too overwhelmed," Gale continues. His smooth tone bounces around the walls of your skull, while his fingertips drift down, drawing shapes you can't recognize onto your nape. "Remember, what you are experiencing is merely an altered form of reality. Do not push yourself. This old desk isn't exactly a bed of roses, but I hope I've succeeded in making it a mite more comfortable for you."

Grinning to yourself, you allow your arms to relax beside you, and you promptly shudder, growing lost in the feeling of weightlessness beneath you. Gale straightens. He props himself above your form, his gaze indulging in you.

Although his study is mostly a blur, details meshed in flowery fog, telltale light from the candles still dances across his features. You reach up, trailing your fingers over his earring, the metal cold on your skin. Then, your fingertips brush his cheek, they caress the faded trail of dark lines burned into his skin. He smiles, and he brings a hand to settle over your own.

His touch is warm. It is a crisp morning breeze drifting through you; his eyes flutter shut when he kisses the heel of your palm, and every inch of you flushes with tangible radiance. He pulls your wrist away, only to bring you palm to palm, fingertips to fingertips for a few moments. His hand lies flat against yours, before your fingers tightly, naturally lace.

"In all sincerity, I must admit," He begins, shyly glancing away from you, muttering through a laugh that seems to jostle your entire system, "The spell I've cast on you is… clearly not meant to be harnessed in such a way. Or perhaps, more so, it is not often used while such, erm, satisfactions… are taking place. Even for a wizard of my caliber, it may prove difficult to control- If the spell ever snaps, so to speak, just know you have no reason to be alarmed."

Head still heavy from the incantation's lingering effects, you were so lost in his ramblings — resounding through your mind like they never have before — you almost failed to notice he's begun to lean in. He softly guides your hand to press down, against the surface of what you can only assume is his desk. At first, you can feel the resistance, but soon softness overlaps. Clouds envelop the sensation, and you're left suspended in air once more.

Your heart skips when he kisses you, slowly and smoothly. Innocently, at first, devotion carrying you on soft wings. And then, deeper, while his hand squeezes yours, and his tongue explores your mouth with a languid lack of urgency.

You melt, your chest encompassed in a floating feeling. He murmurs soft groans into your mouth; every part of him yearns to pull you closer, to have you, to hold you. Gods, he loves you, and he curses himself for ever trying to push those feelings down. He won't let you go now, no matter how the world tries to pry you from each other's grasp.

When he shifts, pressing closer, kissing you harder, the flushed and needy tip of his cock nudges your cunt — Instantly, a blistering sense of ecstasy flutters through your every pore, and you whine into him, your body going slack.

And that was simply from a touch. Just a small press of him against you, brushing close to where you're deliciously sensitive, and you're fucking breathless. Your core is wound with preemptive pleasure; just a tease, and your mind is swimming with how badly you need to feel him inside you. You aren't sure what you'll experience once you're given more, once you're actually taking him.

That damned spell. You should be a mess by now. Perhaps you are, and the calm cradle of the illusion is what's tethering you to the earth. Tether or not, you hardly care about keeping your composure. You don't care for your imminent disarray. In fact, more than anything, you need to have him ruin you.

It's hard to speak. Your lungs are aching, but as he draws backward from your lips, you manage to huff, "You aren't going to hold back, right?"

Gale smirks, exhaling in short pants. He pushes up, putting his familiar silhouette — messy hair, broad shoulders tensed, branded chest slightly heaving — back in the forefront of your vision.

"Oh, I'm afraid I am far past the threshold of being able to do so. For you, for everything you have long awaited, my desires will remain unhindered," He replies calmly, brows slightly furrowed. "Besides, I've been sharpening my concentration as of late. This could prove an opportune time to assess the extent of my exercises. I think we're both wondering how much pressure my focus can take."

His words ripple through you, comforting and lighthearted in their tone. They do the trick. You're sparked with delight, your mind set at ease. Briefly, you wonder if the incantation connects you together, because when you relax, he seems to as well: his breathing becoming calmer, his expression softening, and his grip on your hand relaxing.

If you truly wanted to, you'd find escaping from the spell he's placed on you to be rather simple. You've faced much more enthralling spells than this. Magic more complex, much more wicked. You know the feeling of having a spell muddle your mind, down to your very bones; you have your little journey to thank for that. And you know how to break them, as simply as putting one foot in front of the other.

This spell is different. It is warm and soothing, it carries none of the malice that would weigh down the charms you've felt before. It's effortlessly him, magic which caresses you as though his very arms were there to hold you. Magic that roots into you, a breath of life, a ray of moonlight. Thoughtful as always, Gale has made this particular spell weak, and you can determine so without trying. Likely to make snapping it simple, if you decided to.

You could break the illusion. But you choose to let go.

You breathe in, slowly and deeply, and you allow the spell to swallow every last aspect of your being. The clouds wane briefly, before you're surrounded, melting slowly into pleasure and froth. The moment feels raw, alive. You are here, you both are, finally able to love, to be loved. And love him you will. Without any regret.

Gale, appearing clear and pure above you, pushes his hair from his face, and looks at you like you are worth dying for. Living for. His expression is painfully soft. He steadies a hand on your side, he dotes on your dips and curves and marble-carved features; every part of you was meant to be adored, akin to the statues one might bow before. He sighs slowly, inhales even slower.

"The spell," He begins, palm caressing your side with gentle motions, "You could break it yourself, yes?"

You nod, tone soft, "Yes, absolutely."

"Very good." Gale's voice echoes. It splinters through your mind, it knits into your heartbeat, "Not that I had a shred of doubt. You're doing quite well."

A squeeze of your hand, a grip on your side pulling you ever-so carefully closer, and heightened surges of intensity are shooting through you much stronger than before. Your eyes shut, your back arches, your muscles ache, but pleasure takes over to drown you, his cock brushing your entrance. Lips parted, he exhales a trembling breath, one that seems to travel through you in turn.

"Focus, and breathe slowly. Deep breaths in, and then finally, out. I'm here with you. I won't be going anywhere."

Your heart is pounding, but at the sound of his voice, at the feeling of his smooth tone bouncing around you, your thoughts become still. Your pulse slows, your chest gently rises, and then falls. The only thing left rushing through your veins is a wild, unfiltered need.

"Stay with me, please," Gale breathes, words cracking at the edges. He presses closer, his eyes close and his forehead comes to rest against yours, your bodies held on the loving cusp of almost-connection. "Stay, and let me be tender for you, my dearest love."

"Gale-" You murmur, your voice sweet in his ears like dripping syrup, as you strum the familiar notes of his name. "I love you, I need you."

Of course, and you will have him.

Gale gives your hand one more squeeze, reassuring you, preparing you. He swallows down the growing thickness in his throat. His head is buried in the nape of your neck as he finally gives himself to you, carefully easing into you — Everything slow, heat rushing through you in the form of a wildfire, the clouds holding you in their ethereal embrace. Pleasure pulls your every nerve taught in a tight, delightful string, and for once, your soul within you feels alive.

His fingers go shaky, his grip tightens on your side in response. You're just barely fit around the head of him, and you feel him mutter a half-sigh, half-moan into your nape that shakes your body with the potent vibrations.

It's like you can feel the spell itself shudder.

"I love you," He's pressing into your warmth, his jaw clenched, hips gently rolling, filling you with more of him until you are stretching to his shape, "Could I give you more? Can you take all of me?"

"Yes," Your throat is unmistakably sore, but still, you speak without thinking. You need more, need to feel the friction become part of your body as he fills you. Your back arches to meet him, and pleasure hums in your veins with intoxicating strength. Every one of his gasps echoes against you, then through you. The thrum of his warm cock inside you is so deliciously, impossibly perfect.

"F-Fuck," You swear, biting down your quickened gasps, fighting through the incessant pound of your heart; lest your languor succeeds in devouring you, "Please, yes…"

The whine that overtakes the edge of your voice makes him shiver. Gale groans softly, his shoulders growing tense. His hips lazily buck into you — until his pelvis is shoved deft against your body, sweat-soaked skin pressed to softer skin, burying him inside you down to the hilt.

His breath on your nape is loud, hurried, and at the mercy of his weary limbs, he tries his hardest not to collapse. Silently, he must thank you for getting one high out of him earlier. With how good you feel, with how badly he's needed you, if you hadn't, he isn't sure if he'd last much longer.

Not like you are faring any better.

Your heart isn't just beating, but battering at your chest, tearing through your body and knocking into your ribs as though it needs to come free. You wouldn't be surprised if your gasps are resounding just as loudly as his. Thighs shaking, you struggle to keep your legs wrapped around his waist, your ankles almost slipping before he grabs your legs to readjust you. He shifts close, still sheathed inside you. The gentle movement sends small ripples of ecstasy through your core that, in the wake of his spell, instead feel like large, thundering waves. Crashing over you, swallowing you.

You feel full, so fucking full. The depth to where you can feel him — all of him, so deep inside you — practically has your head whirling. Gale blinks, his vision blurred, causing his lashes to tickle your skin in a faint butterfly kiss. You're wobbling and teetering like a spinning top. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to steady some of your own dizziness.

This time, he presses a real kiss to your nape. Then, he's working a palm underneath you, supporting your back, holding you close. His other hand finds its perfect place in your own again, your fingers lacing with his. Around him, you feel irresistible, so wet and warm and lovely. You are everything he has ever wanted, you are his love; the world, in the palms of his hands.

He wants to let his hips rock, wants to hear your voice strained with lust while you're pleading in pants of his name. He needs to feel the electrifying friction blazing through him, as he fucks wave after wave of pleasure into you — Though, despite those desires, despite the way they fall into him, gripping him at his very core, he stops. He calms, and he savors you.

You're given a chance to catch your breath, thankfully. To drift among the endless sky underneath you, and the river of magic surrounding you. In this reality, on this bed of stars and sea, his presence and yours are all to exist. Pulse still racing, you indulge in the stretch of him inside you. He feels utterly exhilarating, even without movement. For a few fleeting moments, you simply bask in each other, and nothing more.

"You feel so good… So stunningly perfect," Gale is gasping, every word breathless, "Ah- Just this alone could sate me, drowning in your warmth around me while our bodies connect- Your soul and mine are truly one. Nothing else compares."

Nothing in this universe compares to you.

You are his beginning, and you will be his end. You've captured him in warmth, in an embrace that breathes velvet promises, until every part of you is left racing through his mind.

Gale remembers the faint smiles you'd flash him whenever he caught your eyes, your nose scrunching so delightfully, your head turning away as his words made you chuckle. It's the same smile each time. The same expression, the same dance of adoration in your gaze when yours and his happen to meet.

A love reserved only for him. His own form of love is engraved with your name.

You float between every thought, making him think you might've become part of him. He fondly dotes on his memories of the sparkling stars in your eyes, the way you looked as you gazed up at them, admiring the constellations that have always watched over you. He can put a name to them all, because you were his reason to remember. At any time, in any place, those woven stars shone overhead, writing the twists and turns of destinies. And now, after tonight, they'll give you the privilege of viewing them together once more.

He could never forget you. It wasn't a possibility, not when he still revels in all of your details that make him oh-so weak. His missing piece returned to him, you are his love, his home.

Perhaps you were meant to be connected. Body and soul, with separate lifetimes worth of familiarity. You're two halves of the very same whole. To have known one another, is to be the sun and sunflower, the rain and the soil, the grand mountains, and the edge of the clouds. You'll find yourselves in everything, ultimately.

The orb could take him, and if he became nothing but dust, taking his city of Waterdeep with him in a storm of decimation — What remains of his devotion would find its way home to you.

But he wouldn't allow it. Not anymore. He is going to live, against everything, along with you, and beside you. No matter what it may cost him.

With a small shift, his hips grind into you faintly, he presses into you impossibly deeper. Your bottom lip quivers, before you take it between your teeth. As you feel him throb inside you, you're sighing together in delightful unison.

"You are…" His words are shaky, they wobble through your mind. For once, to your elation, he can hardly seem to speak, "Sweetheart, my dearest… I just- I love-"

His sentence stays unfinished; Gale stutters into a shuddery whine when you pull him in, your legs wrapped around him, dragging him just a bit closer, but enough to enthrall both of you in powerful sparks. The pleasure that overtakes him, that overtakes the both of you, is so vibrant and love struck, so unlike anything else — You're sure neither of you will be able to hold back, not anymore.

Good.

"More, please," You plead, your voice needy to the point of babbling, "Fuck me, I need you, I'm- ah, please, Gale…"

Shuddering, Gale takes an overly long breath. His grip tenses on your hand, and he softly rubs his thumb over your calloused knuckles. Cool air enters his lungs, calming his mind, steadying his heart. And when he finally begins to move, you've never felt anything more divine.

You were made for one another, you're sure of it. You must be, when every sensation to encompass you does so with such endlessness. With tenderness that has the very forming of his name on your tongue completely intrinsic.

His hips rock into you shallowly, careful and passionate thrusts hardly separating you. Pleasure melds within your veins so sinfully, until your heart can only believe in the inevitable bond between your two shapes.

As he keeps up a steady pace, driving his cock inside you, you're murmuring gasps between every whine of his name. His secluded study is filled with noise. With the melody of skin against skin, and the echoes of your breathing and his. The wet sound of your arousal squelches around his length each time you take him. He keeps his head buried in the nape of your neck, his quickened breath fanning over your skin. Easing into you, he then pulls out only half-way, just to thrust in again with a slow, languid press of his hips.

Gale has experienced wonders most mortals could only dream of. And yet, he's never felt anything quite like this.

It's been a while. A very, very long time, in fact, since he has connected with anyone in this sort of way. So long, he's forgotten what it could feel like — Bodies pressed together in a perfect, tangled mess. Hands entwined and lungs strained.

But he has never loved anyone quite the same as his love for you. This is different. Warm beams of intimacy fill him more and more with every buck of his hips into you, with every whimper from your lips for him. And those delicate feelings swelling in his chest — They are entirely, utterly new.

This moment feels sweet. Carnal. There's something so filthy, yet so, impossibly loving about feeling you in such a way. Back then, against his composure and his better judgment, he imagined this. He dreamt of taking you, and hopelessly wondered if you wanted the same. Now, the ecstasy of feeling you around him practically burns. You are addicting, everything he could want in the best possible way. Intoxicatingly his, just as he's always yearned for.

You have thousands more days and nights ahead of you, there will be countless times to come. Time for him to love you, to hold you, to show you what magic lies on his lips. That is what truly gets him. This moment will last. It won't be a dream, or a passing fantasy. Your gentle future is only just beginning.

Gale's movement comes to steady as he pushes up, breathing one last sigh against your nape before he props over you. Your entrancing eyes are half-lidded, your lips are parted as you pant. You're pretty enough to destroy him. He already knows he would let you.

His palm cups your cheek. You tilt into his touch, leaning back against his desk and the foggy pillows underneath you. Beneath his fingertips, the thrum of his magic clings to your skin like a flower's soft petal caught in a spider's web. He knows he must be the only figure in your vision, just as you are the center of his world. He can picture the way his voice and his touch are shining through you. His gasps are echoing in your ears, his palm drifts from your cheek to your neck to the curve of your shoulder, and surely brands light wherever it brushes.

When his hand comes to settle on your side, holding tight while he rocks into you, he can't seem to help himself from glancing down. Gale watches as his steady movement has his cock nestling inside you, disappearing to fill you to the tune of you moaning for him, the shaft glistening in the low light once he starts to pull back.

Gods. The thoughts that begin to race though his head are so terribly, deliciously filthy — Overwhelmed, his pace starts to falter, he's growing clumsy. His grip on your hand turns so tight it nearly hurts, his brows furrowed into a knot, as he pistons into you with newfound desperation.

Waning sensitivity still clings to him, leftover from his previous high. In a fluttery contradiction, the intensity surging through him only seems to make him want you more.

"I don't deserve how good you are to me," Gale hums, slightly shaking his head — Every sigh, each word bounces around your skull and glows within you from the inside out. His steady presses inside you don't relent, his skin slapping yours; they just force his words to shake, and his hand to clench much harder on your waist.

"This… possessiveness I have for you, it's- Ah, Gods… It is damn near agonizing," He's murmuring, speaking those last few words through an almost-chuckle, "My heart has never yearned for anything more. You made me feel alive, love. Tonight, and always. And you feel-" His jaw tightens, teeth gritting, "Utterly amazing… Tell me, if you can find the strength within you to speak. Tell me how this feels."

Right now, your mind is swimming. Stardust glitters in your veins, and your core is wound nice and tight, overwhelmed by ripples of pleasure. For a moment, words won't come to you. Instead, you reach up to press a palm to the back of his head, and you drag him close, quick enough to make him utter a faint noise of surprise against your soft lips. You kiss, slowly and deeply. You're both sighing heavily once you've pulled away to breathe.

"S-So good, it's perfect, you're perfect," There's a desperate edge to your voice. You can feel the rawness in your throat, can make out the high tones even through the fog in your head, "Gale, don't stop- Gale-"

Gale shudders. Your palm slips from his cheek to fall above you in a heap, and you're whining, back arching, head tossed back. You are simply beautiful.

"I love the way you say my name. The sound is quite lovely when it is- Shit-" He chokes, breaking into a gasp when his body rocks against yours, "When it is your lips to sculpt the word, your darling voice to utter the syllables…"

You tremble, your eyes fluttering shut, your heart thumping so fast you can hear it in your eardrums. In the wake of his hips rolling into yours, you can feel each press with inexplicable sensitivity. His cock pumps in and out of you so tenderly, and every throb of his length pulses through you.

Softly and carefully, he kisses your forehead. Then, he's leaning back. He pulls you closer in tandem with pressing inside you, filling you. You've never been this sensitive, never felt this loved. You are melting into him, your chest heaving from your heavy sighs, your lips quivering with whines of pleasure: pretty moans breathed all for him.

Once you feel his fingers grasp your chin, thumb briefly brushing your lips, your eyes begin to flutter. Shadows masquerade as clouds, your vision hazed by blurred edges and flickering lights. The ardent fangs of magic sink into you, trapping you in their whirlwind. Your heart pounds quickly, unrelentingly, thudding hard against the cage of your chest.

Gale's smile is clear as day, though. Trying your best to gaze at him above you, you feel that rapid heartbeat instead begin to sing. He tilts your head a bit, guiding you towards him. And gently, breathlessly, he murmurs, "Can you look at me, my love?"

The fuzziness in your field of view starts to fade, and your breath begins to catch. Buried deep inside you, he stops, keeping his hips still while panting hard. Sweat glistens on his skin, his hair is brushing his shoulders, and he reaches to push some strands from his face. He swallows thickly. He squeezes your hand one last time before he lets it go.

"This," A purple thread of magical light begins to dance between his fingertips, illuminating his face in an amethyst glow, "Is what I wished to show you."

Adoring and unwavering, his gaze stays on yours, even as he's illustrating shapes with his fingers; movements so quick and effortless, you're barely able to make them out. Swirls here, a triangle there — With one final shape, the magic hums to life. It shimmers through the air with radiance almost palpable, glowing ever brighter, reflecting lavender rays in his eyes. All it takes is an incantation to truly set it ablaze.

"Ad astra."

The previous spell loses concentration, and in its place, a new one takes form.

You hadn't noticed your eyes were closed until the spell had fully finished settling upon you. A new sensation prickles at the surface of your skin, familiar and star-filled. Finally, your gaze focuses above you, after Gale's soft instruction of: Open your eyes.

You still feel floaty, your senses less acute, your head washed over with warmth. This time though, the illusion is different. You are resting in calm grass and whispering meadows, and when colorful stars fill your vision until you're drowning in their light, the view above you seems completely real.

Gale is atop you still, but his study remains melted away. Small flickers of candlelight have transformed into brilliant illuminations, leaving him in a backdrop of twinkling starlight and a beautiful aurora. You're gently swept through the makeshift sky. Hues of purple and green and blue wash over you, like how waves might flow over the shore. Light surrounds you, but at the same time, it shines within you.

In a way, it reminds you of the sight he once made a long time ago, the aurora he created to shimmer through the Shadowlands. Back then, when tensions were high and words were left unspoken, you admired the stars in comfortable silence. So close — You could have reached for his hand next to yours, or closed the distance in mere moments to learn what his lips felt like on your own. But you didn't. The familiarity makes your pulse run wild.

A canopy of beauty. This is what he once planned to admire on his last night alive, and yet, now he has an abundance of nights to spend by your side. Sprawled out beneath him, you are far more beautiful than anything in the countless shimmering skies.

"Wonderful," You murmur, speaking under your breath. Your voice is just loud enough for him to hear. You're smiling, your gaze flickering between the messes of stars above you, lights that twinkle steadily with a gentle glow. "Reminds me of the stars from ages ago. This is gorgeous, Gale."

"Not as gorgeous as you, of course," He replies, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his features. His words are smooth, they no longer flicker endlessly through your mind. Rather, when he speaks, his familiar voice captures your heart in the same way it always has. "If only you knew how truly breathtaking you are."

His heart aches with desire, because as you look up at him — at him, not the illusion, your gaze is on his while the loveliest smile crosses your lips — in your eyes, he sees that same lovely sparkle.

You're lost in him, for a moment. Gale's expression grows soft as he continues to admire you. When you feel gentle fingertips travel the length of your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, you tremble. A sigh leaves your mouth, his fingers lacing with yours once more. He holds your hand tightly, safely. Gale can't resist, he tips forwards to kiss you; your lips connect, with crackling electricity and still-lingering traces of magic sparking from his mouth to yours.

Devotion is palpable in the way he kisses you. It quickly turns eager, becoming a tender mess of soft moans and tongue. And at last, everything to remain falls away.

Heat surges through both your bodies until you're consumed by wildfire. With one more kiss, Gale grips you hard, his hips begin to move. You whine against his mouth as he slowly rocks into you, you're mumbling his name in the form of a plea — The sound only serves to make him more desperate.

He mutters your name in turn: a low, affectionate utterance. His thrusts take on a deeper pace, as he fucks into you hard enough to make his desk shake — fervent enough to have your heart trembling, love drowning you in heavy depths.

Your arousal and his drip down your thighs, dirtying the hardwood. It's making a mess, echoing lewd, wet noises with each clumsy movement, the slap of skin against skin sounding particularly soaked each time he pistons into you. Every echo fills his ears, curling through his mind oh-so pleasantly. It would be the most addicting melody he's ever heard, if it weren't for how sweet you sound when you're moaning for him.

And you're loud, you're mumbling a mess of words he can't quite make out. Your sighs mix with whines, turning sharp each time he eases his cock into you. Gale breathes a shaky breath, fanning warmth over your face, before he's moving to place quick kisses to the corner of your mouth, and then, your jaw.

His lips brush the column of your neck, where your pulse is racing for him; when his hips rut into yours, you're cooing soft pleas, quietly murmuring, Don't stop. Your back arches, and he adorns you with his tongue and teeth, sucking gently at your supple skin.

He shouldn't. What would your confidants say, if you crossed paths with them? When you return to Baldur's Gate, what would the guild leaders who respect you, and the fancy patriars who need you think when they happened to see it? They would know he was there, know you are his. Foolishly, dizzyingly, he allows his lips and his mouth to leave a deep mark, an imprint of himself. He doesn't pull back until he's sure the bruise will take.

You shudder, feeling the ghost of his mouth even once he's pulled away, cold air brushing the saliva he left on your neck and making your nerves twinge. Slow rolls of his body into yours have you shaking, but you're squeezing his hand tightly, your other palm is balling into a fist and you're begging, "Please, faster… Fucking Hells… Give me more."

Gale sighs. His brows knot, he falls forwards and leans his forehead softly against yours. "For you, I would give the world."

He swallows, he steadies. Then, he places all the world's pleasures in the palms of your hands.

The weight behind his thrusts, newly desperate and hurried, have him gripping you for leverage: a palm tensed on your waist, fingertips digging into your hip. He grasps your thigh to push it up and apart. His desk is knocking against the wall, the wooden legs squeaking and scraping the floor.

Your body tenses with building intensity — Building and building and building, threatening to overwhelm you between every movement, until you aren't sure where your high begins, nor where it ends. All you know is you're close. And if he keeps fucking into you like this, filling you nice and deep, nudging against your sweetest spots only he can reach, it won't be long before you're falling apart for him.

With one last quick kiss to your forehead, your thighs spread apart wider, Gale is propping over you; and Gods, does he look like a mess. Pools of glowing magic paint him in the most vivid hues. His hair is out of place, honey brown strands askew, the faintest pretty streaks of silver reflecting in the starlight. His skin shines with dripping beads of sweat, his chest is heaving, jaw clenched — You can't help but feel he might crumble at the smallest touch.

So, you unclench your hand. You let your fingertips drift up, and you brush them over his cheek. As you're cupping his face, his shoulders tense, and he doesn't just crumble, he collapses.

Gale falls into you, leaning his head into your nape. His palm fits between the desk and the arch of your back to hold you even closer to himself. His breathing is rapid, his hand takes on a distinct tremble when another rock of his body against yours has you moaning ragged gasps of his name.

His name, you're pleading for him to take you — Grinding his teeth together until his jaw hurts, he bucks into you hard, enough to have you fluttering around him, squeezing him like a vice. He chokes back broken gasps of his own, and exhales hot fans of breath over your sensitive skin. You are going to be the death of him.

"I have always-" Gale starts; he struggles to speak, his voice sounds close to breaking, yet his words drip with an earnestness you find enthralling, "I have always loved you. My sweetheart… Every beat of my heart is yours…"

Yours.

Eyes fluttering between open and closed, the aurora around you spins incessantly. You respond in turn, mumbling through fragile gasps for breath, as he works you up to a growing, intensifying peak.

"I'm yours, Gale," Your fingers tangle in soft hair, gripping and tugging until he's groaning. Pleasure floods your every nerve, and you're a mess around his cock, tumbling through the sea of stars and alluring lights — "I'm yours, I'm yours-"

"Oh, love-"

All at once, the spell abruptly snaps, your focus and your senses melding into one in a dizzying, sparkling rush. You're brought back to reality. The heart of his quiet study comes into view again, his walls of books and shelves of artifacts, the colorful lights fading into nothingness. Your form is bathed in warm candlelight, the night sky treading in from his balcony. Cool air dances over you, while the pale moon is hung high in the darkness.

Ecstasy slams through you, blissfully unfiltered. Everything is messy, perfect, and hopelessly desperate; you grip his hair tight, and his hand harder. Gale pants, his breath sharp and his lungs aching as he fucks you into the desk, pushing you closer and closer to your edge — until even without the aid of magic, you're left seeing stars.

He is so terribly, utterly in love with you. Every one of those nights where he pushed you away, those moments where he almost left you, when he was possibly the most foolish he's ever been in his entire life —

A slow, tender press inside you, and you're muttering his name softly once more, adoring it, pleading it. He wants to hear your voice strumming his name over and over, teasing him after his half-hearted attempts to make you laugh, begging for him to give you what you need, because he is the only one who can. Answering with, Yes, Gale, I will, when he asks you to marry him. He can't change the mistakes he's already made, but he can earn your love, and your softness. He can promise to never let you go. Not ever again.

"I'm here, I have you," Gale mumbles in a shaky tone. He presses a soft kiss onto your nape, he squeezes your hand when your breath begins to hitch. His words are smooth and comforting, they send tingles up your spine, and they have you melting in a way you never have before.

The edge to your high is right within reach, he's only bringing you closer. Your head won't stop spinning. As he trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, his lips are a touch from the sun, beams of warmth that shudder through you to shine over the surface of your skin.

"Gale-" You whimper, "Fuck, I'm-"

He presses into you deeply, gripping your hand, filling you with a thickness you'll never quite get enough of, and you can't help but stutter into a whine. His pelvis shoves against yours, skin against skin, arousal messy and wet and dripping out of you — Your thighs are shaking, and you only need one more breath before you're finding that zenith of pleasure. Warm and perfect against your nape, his words have you taking the final tumble.

"Come undone for me."

Your high shatters through you, you're tensing around his sloppy thrusts, your legs are slipping from around him. Your body curls into his, your eyes shutting tight. Desire drowns you, it burns from within you; throat sore, you cry out in loud, desperate moans, and everything melts around you as you let go, cumming for him.

And Gale, normally so confident, so eloquent, a wizard prodigy, a Goddess' chosen — He buries himself deep inside you, choking down stutters and groans. With a mess of barely coherent pleas of your name, your sweet voice and the feeling of you squeezing him, fluttering in the pleasant aftershocks of your release, has him falling to pieces right there beside you.

"Please, please, please…" Gale begs, even though he hardly knows what he's begging for. His clumsy hips roll into you with reckless abandon, echoing the sloppiest noises. His voice is broken and fragile, tender in a way you've never heard before: "I love you, I love you…"

I love you. In this life, and every life to follow. Only to fall in love once more, all over again.

Gasping, shaking, his body tenses, and when he falls into you, you're left to hopelessly clutch onto his hand and his hair. Pleasure racks through him, his breath getting caught in his lungs. The candles in his study flicker, the branded orb-shaped marking imprinted onto his chest glows. His hips shudder, before they still. His length pulses inside you so hard you can feel it in your core, and heat pools within your body as he fills you, giving you what's left of him.

It takes a handful of moments for you both to come down. Gale is limp and heavy, pressing against you, his weight pinning you between him and the desk. His palm, resting on the small of your back, runs over your skin in slow, careful circles. Your heart thumps loud in your ears, hard in your chest, so forceful it nearly hurts. His gentle touch makes it slow, until gradually, your composure begins to return.

I've got you, he's murmuring, the words barely audible in your ringing eardrums, but comforting just the same. Breathe for me, just breathe.

In, and then out, you inhale, exhale. Gale props above you after a minute or two, and as you blink to chase away the remnants of fuzz in your vision, he comes into your view. He's smiling, because of course he is, strands of his hair sticking out every which way. The sight makes you grin, and you have to hold back your chuckle. Yet, the way he looks at you softens every last shred of your soul.

His skin is flushed, still sweaty and warm. His gaze is so terribly, persistently gentle, coveting you with endless devotion. It wouldn't be the first time tonight, but you feel revered, like you can almost taste swelling blossoms of love — sweet on the tongue, growing untamed to flourish through your chest.

Letting go of a sigh, he brushes his thumb over your cheek. You didn't think he could get any softer. But here he is, with a smile that entrances you, and an expression beaming with light itself. When he grasps your chin, pulling you in as he leans forwards, on his gentle lips, you feel the heat of the sun, and taste the calmness of a crisp summer breeze.

Your heart skips. A sharp spark of electricity — traces of magic, surely — crackles on your mouth when yours brushes his. It zaps you like static, before flowing into you as a steady, dizzying wave.

Your eyes stay shut. Gale pulls back for a moment. He breathes a small huff, a barely-there laugh. You swear you can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses you again — This time, much deeper, while his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw, and his mouth outlines the depths of his devotion onto yours.

When he pulls away, he's moving to guide a quick hand behind your head. He supports you, before resting you back against the desk ever-so gently. He hisses slightly as he pulls out of you, adjusting you both. He's sighing with contentment while he grasps your thighs, changing your position to let them hang over the desk's edge more comfortably.

At last, he props up over you. Still catching his breath, he tries to control the weighted heave of his chest as best he can manage.

"I love you," Gale admits, his voice noticeably hoarse, but with a clear hint of fondness to it, "Are you alright?"

"Please, I'm more than alright," You answer. You clear your throat, alleviating some of the dryness, and you roll your shoulders back. The hardwood surface of his desk beneath you suddenly feels a hundred times firmer than before. "You're okay too, aren't you?"

Gale scoffs playfully, smirking, "Apart from a bit of present exhaustion and a mild ache in the knees, I am definitely, most positively fine. No, better than fine. Fantastic."

Your eyes narrow, your head tilts curiously, gaze flickering down, and then back up. "And the orb?"

"The orb? Oh," He huffs, placing a palm over his chest in realization. "Ha, it's behaving alright. Until now, I don't think it has ever felt so… comfortable, if that serves well to describe it. Swear I could almost feel the damn thing purring."

You breathe a slight chuckle, and with a roll of your eyes, you press your palms to the desk and push yourself up. Gale hurries to wrap a hand around your wrist, placing the other on your back. He helps to pull you, until you're sitting up with your arms stretched to the ceiling. You stretch your back next, arching it forwards, feeling your muscles loosen and your bones pop.

Gale's brows are suddenly knotted. His lips press into a line, his expression turns conflicted. When your gaze locks with his, you're giving him a slight, pretty smile.

"What's wrong?"

You watch as he looks away for a second, snapping his fingers, muttering a string of words under his breath you don't quite catch. He seems pouty, almost guilty; the fireplace in the room's adjacent corner hums to life, breathing much-needed warmth into his study. Your limbs relax, your shoulders untensing.

"Nothing is wrong, sweetheart. Don't you worry," He reassures, offering you a warm look once his gaze returns to yours. His hand comes to steady on your side, and he squeezes you slightly, "I just… supposed I should offer you an apology. Perhaps it was rude of me not to provide you with more comfort. I promise you, next time, you will be as cushy and cozy as your heart could possibly desire. You'll find my bedroom to be rather pleasant, I'm sure. Have you ever slept on Glamerweave sheets? Hm, actually, I think I'll keep from spoiling the surprise."

Next time?

"Come on. It was my idea, you don't have to apologize," You reply through a slight laugh, shifting a bit on his desk, crossing one leg over the other. "Besides, I'm fine, I swear. I've dealt with much more than a little soreness, and I was perfectly comfortable, I'll have you know." Swallowing, you pause for a moment to think. "That was perfect. Truly."

"Was it? Well, that is… quite lovely to hear, quite lovely indeed. I'm… I'm glad." Gale takes in a slow breath, before letting go of a deep, heavy sigh. Your words make his heart pound. "Gods above. I knew I was doomed, but I think I've only fallen even more in love with you."

Arms wrapping around his shoulders, your head cocked teasingly, you murmur, "Do you know how hard it is to resist kissing you when you're this terribly sweet?"

"Really?" His brow crooks. "I wonder how many kisses I could earn if I proposed more than mere sweet words. Sweet touches, perhaps? I could lend you a hand or two, you know. I'm more than willing to offer shoulder rubs, back massages- It wouldn't be right to leave my dearest with tired limbs and such sore muscles, now would it?"

"On second thought, maybe my back is hurting. A massage sounds lovely."

Gale grins. He reaches up, brushing his thumb over your cheek, before he pulls you in for a quick, precious kiss.

"Then your wish is my command, love." His hand continues to hold your cheek tenderly, even once he's pulled back. Forehead close enough to almost rest against yours, he murmurs quietly, smoothly, "Once you are ready, I'll run you a warm, comfortable bath. With bubbles and lavender- Hm, I'm sure I have something around here you can wear, as far as clean clothes are concerned. You may have to make do with a few magically infused robes and garments… but nothing with any lasting effects, I assure you. And if you've worked up an appetite, then-"

Biting his tongue, abruptly, he stops. His eyes narrow, gaze glancing between you and the floor.

"I… My apologies," Gale mumbles, his tone weighed down by newfound disappointment, "How impolite. I shouldn't form assumptions, especially when your plans have already been reiterated. I won't keep you. As a matter of fact, I believe the side roads to Baldur's Gate are likely still open, if you'd prefer me to escort you there."

"Gale, are you kidding?"

You scoff, squeezing his shoulders and tilting your head; instantly, he feels himself begin to relax, his heart stirring, his nerves settling. You always look at him with such radiant warmth.

"Running errands back and forth for greedy townspeople can wait," You're continuing, gazing at him through fluttery lashes. "I took care of everything urgent well before I got here. You wouldn't believe the nerves I had leading up to this- I was remarkably tense, but at least it had me working hard to distract myself. Listen, if you're so keen on going back, you're coming with me. Otherwise, I'm staying, okay? For as long as you'll have me."

Gale swallows. His jaw clenches, his gaze goes soft. His pulse thrums in his throat and runs a mile per minute within his chest, heels pushing off the ground as he chases a burning sense of devotion —

"You- Are you sure?" He questions, opening his mouth to speak once more, only to have you quickly interrupt him.

"Of course I'm sure, I've never been more sure of anything. I can't begin to explain how much I've missed you, just- I don't want to be apart from you yet, that's all. Is… is that alright?"

"Oh, yes, most definitely- You can stay. I would love for you to stay," Gale breathes in response, brushing his palm over the small of your back, holding you gently. Warmth and longing sear through him, echoing the start of something new. "To savor a new wealth of treasured moments with you… To awake, and see you still resting beside me, content and weary-eyed… I'm not sure I deserve to find myself so lucky."

Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Gale breathes in deeply. "Nevertheless, the night is young. But as for tomorrow, alas, I doubt the academy would approve, in the event of my neglection of scheduled lessons. Best to be up bright and early, you see. We should rest. You, especially." He counts with his fingers, pointing to each one, "You need the aforenamed bath, massage, and to get some much needed sleep. Doubly so, if you are to- uhm, ehem-"

Gale clears his throat, and as you meet his eyes, you raise a curious brow. Seemingly nervous, he softly mutters, "You wouldn't mind attending the lesson tomorrow to assist me for a second time, would you?"

All at once, you're grinning. You're laughing slightly to yourself, and you're staring at him cheerfully, with a look he finds impossible not to adore.

"I'd love to. I had fun today, and I'm sure you have much more to teach. The depths to illusion magic are rather grand. Or so a charming wizard has told me."

"Yes, and you have merely scratched the proverbial surface. Though, in all likelihood, illusion magic should come rather naturally to you. After all, you have no shortage of firsthand experience," He explains jovially. "But still, do not discredit yourself. You are a wonderful teacher, skilled and proficient in your own right. I'm sure my students would reflect the same sentiment. You are most captivating to them. You're the hero that kept the famous city of Baldur's Gate from falling into ruin. The one who saved my life. My closest, most beloved friend. Perhaps more than that, now."

"Definitely more," You answer, smirking a bit to hide the warmth to your cheeks.

"In that case," Gale hums, "I will be sure to introduce you as my partner, from here on out."

Candles flicker, shimmering like makeshift stars in his quiet study. From the view outside his balcony, the moon glimmers, beaming faint light, as though it was made just to watch over you both. Intimacy ripples between you. Echoing in your ears, you can hear the calm rhythm of waves, the familiar lull of the sea. It's a sound you've grown comfortable with. A moment you wished to dwell in until the inevitable end of time. Perhaps now, that future will be yours.

You decide to break the brief layer of silence: "Gale?"

Gale brushes his fingertips from your jaw to your nape, homesickness gnawing at his chest the longer he admires you. His tower was never important to him, Waterdeep couldn't compare. You were always his home.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm glad you're here with me."

Silent for a few moments, he's briefly unsure of what to say. Finally, he breathes a long, thankful sigh, and smiles wide, a sparkle in his gaze. Adoration roots into him, promising to forever grow.

"I love you. I love you so very much," He admits, cooing, his fingertips caressing your skin; his thumb trails over the faint mark he left on you while he speaks. The imprint of himself. "I will not leave you, that I can most undoubtedly promise. There are a great deal of things I want us to experience. Thousands of moments to live for. You would grace me with the privilege of dying a happy man, if I were to combust right now, in some unfortunate, bittersweet blaze of glory. But I give you my word, I am not planning on letting it happen."

His gaze goes resolute. Gale presses a palm to his chest, feeling magic thrum steadily, and his heart pound wildly. Still beating, despite everything. Every defiant thump has your name written into it. "This affliction will not take me. We have won against greater evils, and I won't let anything pry us apart. Not when I finally have you."

Night may have descended, cold air bitter on your skin, but in your chest, you feel the warmth of summer: growing heat, and an exquisite softness. You can't help but let go of a quiet sigh in satisfaction.

"Now," He's murmuring, standing up straight and taking your hand. He helps you to slide off of his desk, until you're wobbling to unsteady feet, holding onto his arm for balance. "I do believe I've yammered on quite enough. I won't exhaust you with more lengthy pillow talk. You should be given the relaxation you are owed, correct? A bath will only take a few moments to run."

"Mhm," You reply, gazing up at him, seeming amused. He finds it damn near impossible not to get lost in your eyes. "As long as you're planning on joining me."

"Joining? Oh, sweetheart. I would be delighted." Gale squeezes your hand, still held in his. He brings it up to his lips, he runs his thumb over your knuckles. He presses an all-too gentle kiss to them, before his fingers lace between the crooks of your own.

"Come. What remains of tonight is ours."

You'll smell of lavender and his soap when you crawl into his bed. You'll feel the warmth of his body pressed to yours, his arms around you, your head buried in his chest, and your dreams will be as tender as they are familiar. Your future drawn out, past lifetimes upon lifetimes.

And once the night bleeds into morning, you will fall for him all over again.

—

Waterdeep becomes your new home.

It isn't long before Gale's tower is strewn with your belongings as well as his. Your old weapons and special artifacts find themselves scattered among tomes, scrolls, and poetry collections. You do manage to return to Baldur's Gate for a while, just to collect your things from the Elfsong and say a couple of goodbyes. You've landed a job as a professor's assistant in Waterdeep, you explain, and you can't be late for your first official day.

You grow accustomed to the sea salt in your hair, and the way the smell of the ocean soaks into your skin. Gale provides you with your own set of rooms in a secluded corner of his tower. You can watch the waves from your bedroom window, and look out over the city from the view in his library. The days are slow, a calming change of pace from the previous adventures you shared together. Your other companions come to visit you both occasionally, making for a tender reunion. Months go by, but every day is new. A new chance to fall in love. Your new form of a delicate beginning.

Deep in his bones, Gale still remembers how to cover your weak points. The signs you show when you're closer to crumbling than you're letting on, the feeling of your spells bleeding into his when they combine on the battlefield. He believes those times, those hardships, those perils, will be ones he could never forget — and yet, why would he want to?

They're reminders of all he has to be grateful for. Mementos of when he first fell for you. You're both safe, you no longer have to fret over dark histories, or worry about protecting one another. For once, you can indulge in a life more tender, and much more forgiving.

Gale learns what you prefer to have for breakfast, what seasonings you favor for supper, and how you like your coffee when he prepares it for you at sunrise. Between days spent at the academy and endless lesson planning, practicing spells and grading assignments, he makes what free moments you have seem special. There's dates, picnics. Quiet, simple moments that mean the entire world.

Your head tends to rest in his lap when he's reading; sometimes aloud, his smooth voice lulling you into enveloping comfort. When you fall asleep, limbs tangled, resting on his chest, you relish in every potent thrum of his heartbeat.

He leaves you love notes on shared grocery lists. Poems he's written for you are left on your bedside table, folded neatly, sealed with wax. You wind up keeping each one.

Eventually, he's able to take you to all his favorite places in Waterdeep, the extravagant, and the plain. You've no need to introduce yourself, when everyone already seems to know you.

The wizard is star-struck every time he drones on about you, the regulars at The Yawning Portal explain. Especially once he's had far too much to drink.

I shouldn't tell you he's planning to propose, he's quite excited about the whole thing, the elderly owner of his favorite bookstore tells you. Be sure to act surprised.

On the days where you don't accompany him, when he returns from a long afternoon spent at the academy, he's rushing upstairs to greet you. He pulls you into a long, tender hug, one you wish would last forever. His touch breathes new life into your scars, his voice becomes your favorite daily melody. In the wake of every night you spend entwined, you find yourself melting into him, further becoming one another's fatal weakness. When he holds you for a little too long, squeezing you tight and hiding faint tears in the crook of your neck, you feel loved, like you never have before.

Soft and perfect, you are home.

Mornings meld into tendays which bleed into months. You treasure it all, with unending adoration. The Gods didn't bless you with this, you carved your own path. You forged your own temple to be made holy in. Before you know it, your heart and soul are undoubtedly his, and on a day no different than the others, Gale is taking you somewhere you've never been before.

Hands clasped, fingers entwined, he's bringing you to a height above the city, a cliff between the grand mountain and the edge of the sea. Wind runs through your hair. You rest your arms on the stone railing, and sink into the beauty of the sparkling ocean, sunlight glittering on white, foamy waves. He shows you the view of the city below, your city, and his, as the sun dips into the horizon — Although, it seems the only thing he can keep his eyes on is you.

You're turning just in time to catch him staring. Gale laughs awkwardly in the beat of awkward silence. He mumbles a quick response when you ask if he's alright, offering you an utterance of, Nothing, you're just beautiful. He smiles wider as you offer him a genuine grin and a playful roll of your eyes. Soon, it becomes quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat, prancing loudly through your eardrums. The soft sound of the ocean echoes within you.

Gale takes a slow, steady breath, catching your attention with a call of your name. This time, when you turn towards him, it's to watch him slowly lower down onto one knee.

The silver ring he pulls from his jacket pocket was his mother's. It sparkles off of the sun's fading rays, a poem engraved on the inside in elegant script, the surface adorned in sapphire and sunstone. Your heart skips a few beats in your chest.

You can hardly focus on his words, his vows and his confessions. But you do notice the tenderness to his expression as he glances up at you, misty-eyed, the breeze drifting through his ash-dappled hair; in this moment, everything feels right. And as he asks you to marry him, you're kneeling down as well and you're throwing your arms around his shoulders. You lean your head into his nape, you hold him as tight as you can manage, and you utter just the words he was hoping to hear.

He is perfectly, endlessly yours.

You say yes.

#gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut

128 notes · View notes

myflagmeansace · 1 day

Text

Hi all! It's taking a lot longer to caption Samba's BTS improv video, but here's the video without captions and a separate transcript with dialogue tags for now! 😘

Scene 1

Ed is determined to banter about Jeff's Inn by the Sea after gravy basket Hornigold ruined it.

Ed (proudly announcing what he does at the inn): My specialty is seafood. Um and I cook the sea...food.

Stede (completely and earnestly smitten): You cook it perfectly, by the way.

Ed (sweetly accepting his compliment): Thank you! 😊

Stede (so appreciative of his love's fictional cooking skills): I love that.

Ed (remembering how well Stede pours drinks *possibly inspired by the Ed draped across a bar fanart Taika called out in the IMDB The Outfronts interview*): Um and you are the cocktail man.

Stede (so excited about his role): I am the cocktail man!

Ed: Yeah!

Stede (really playing into his role): I make a drink or two.

Ed (a little dazed at imagining Stede as a cocktail man pouring him several drinks): Yep oh yeah! Um and more than two sometimes.

Stede (feeling a little cheeky): Sometimes we get on it, don't we? Yeah!

Ed (picking up on what Stede is putting down but also fuck off Hornigold, Ed is totally a people person at this fictional inn!): Yeah, yeah! You know, we get on it. You work the back of house, I work the front of house.

Stede: Yes!

Ed: Yep.

Stede (recognizing the importance of taking turns, in more than one way 😉): Sometimes I work the front of house.

Ed (agreeing to being a versatile partner): Yeah and then I-you give me a turn working the back.

Stede: Yes.

Ed: Yeah.

Stede (shameless at this point): You like that, don't you?

Ed (a little flustered but keeping his cool): Aw, I mean, I-you know, it's just nice for a change now and then, you know?

Stede (liking the thought of keeping Ed satisfied): Something different. Yeah!

Ed (admitting to himself why he likes working the back): Yeah! It's just nice to be in control.

*Stede proudly gazing at Ed*

Scene 2

Taika: *breaks, closing his eyes and smiling*

Rhys: *wheezing/laughing*

Scene 3

Stede (leaning into his role of cocktail man, expert of drinks): Well imagine us as...a mixed drink.

Ed (absolutely smitten, ready to listen and pressing his finger against his lips to calm the urge to press his lips all over the dork in front of him): I am imagining it!

Stede (really struggling to capture the expertise of a cocktail man because he's more of a gardening guy so he can't think of a drink good enough to compare Ed to so he goes with whatever sounds cool and tough): You're the hard...sort of...

Ed (smile falls and starts feeling sad because Stede is calling him hard when he's really just a soft kitty princess but he'll go along with it because he gets it 😿 he copies his hand gestures to appear agreeable): I'm the hard one.

Stede (sweating bullets):...rustic...

Ed (definitely not liking the word rustic and tucking in his paws, I mean hands): Yeah.

Stede (knowing he’s completely boned it as a cocktail man): Ummm...

Ed (trying to save the moment and compares himself to a rare whiskey): The bitter one like a whiskey.

Stede (agreeing out of desperate relief): Bitter whiskey at the bottom. Yes!

Ed (remembering he doesn't actually like whiskey but he does like rum): Yeeah. Like yes, yeah. I'm like the whiskey or the rum.

Stede (changing the focus to distract Ed from his clumsy cocktail man moment): And I'm the fluffy kind of ✨️epervescent✨️…

(new word alert lol I think he meant effervescent)

Ed (entertained by the word choice): Ohhhh!

Stede (playing it up with jazz hands):...tang!

Ed (doesn't dare correct his excited boyfriend): Epervescent!

Stede: Yes!

Ed (gestures at his bubbly boyfriend): Yeah! You're the bubbly one!

Stede (wiggling in excitement): That just jumps in on top!

Ed: The Tang!

Stede: Yeah!

Ed (trying out a pickup line): Yeah you're the tang to my tong.

Stede (has no idea what a tong is but he loves rhyming): Ahhh! You're the zangy, I'm the tangy!

Ed (absolutely enamored and giggling with joy at Stede's flirting): Aw The Zangy and the Tangy! We should call the joint that! The Seaside and…

Stede (high pitched mating call): Tangy and Zangy!

Ed (falls apart laughing, holding on to Stede): ...Tangy Zang-!

Scene 4

Ed (giving Stede a boyfriend test): We're very different you see. We're cut from different cloths us two. Um but somehow when you stitch that cloth together...

Stede (appreciating Ed's deep thoughts): Mmm.

Ed: What does it make?

Stede (passing the test with flying colors): Well, a beautiful seam! ❤️

Ed: 💘😳🥰🫠

Scene 5

Ed (taking the opportunity to analyze and get near the Stiddies): We're leather and silk.

Stede (oblivious, trying to romantically serenade Ed): Leather and silk!

Ed: It's uh...*begins nervously singing too* and all things milk!

Stede (heartfelt but slightly confused crooning): ...together!

Ed (trying his best to rhyme): ...and from different ilks.

Ed (starts over, pulling it together as he goes): Leather and silk, from different ilks...

Stede (too stubborn to be apart from Ed even in song):...together we....

*Stede waits, anticipating a masterpiece finish*

Ed (hyperfocusing on dairy and possibly Stiddies at this point): ...from the udder...of life...we make milk!

*Stede remains utterly still as his brain catches up with Ed's*

*Ed finishes, baffled by his own song but he stands by those words because life really is like a cow's udder, and leather and silk are of different ilks, and in a strange and cosmic way, they do indeed make milk 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽*

#i took some creative liberties #but i think it works #ofmd #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #edward teach #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #ofmd bts #transcript with dialogue tags

144 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 hours

Note

AITA for stating my fandom experience about reccing my own fanfics?

Okay so this can sound very dumb from the question alone but hear me out, since my experience in fandom regarding sharing my fics has a lot of English hegemony to it. Full disclaimer: my native language is not English.

I don't write fics in English, because I find stupid to do so when I want the grow of my native language to grow. However, most of the interactions I have are via English, because yeah, cultural universal hegemony baby, in this economy is the language that permits you communicate with everyone in the world.

So I'm in a Discord server (fair large one,) chatting with some friends and acquaintances, and someone suddenly sends a screenshoot of someone asking for fic recs. This someone tagged me and said: "this sounds like one of your fics! You should share it!" I politely said "no, I don't think it will click with that person." After and hour or so, this someone asked me why I thought that, and then is when I stated my experience in fandom: English speaking people simply won't read any fic that's not in English most of the time, so I don't have any interest in reccing my fic with someone I know won't read it when they discover is in some strange looking language. That and, well, the fact that English is the main language in almost any big fic site, if they want a fic they will probably get it in English if they dig enough, so there's not even any obligation to read in orher languages.

This someone said I was being pretty judgmental. I think I kind of "snapped" at them, in the sense that I said: "I mean, you haven't read them even when you said my ideas are great. And I don't think is about not having time, since you share here screenshoots of fics you are reading. That proves my point."

Here I have to add: the only people in that Discord server that have read my fics are people I know speak my own language or another altogether that is not English. (And if anyone asks me how do I know: everyone in that server shares their Ao3 or what-have-you accounts and does a presentation, so a quick glance is more than enough.)

After saying that to this someone, they called me an asshole. So, AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

78 notes · View notes

fanfictilltheend · 2 days

Text

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 2: ♪Remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

Hi I apologize that a lot of these reference pics are just of white girls. I tried to find "aesthetic" images that go with the story but so many of them are just of white people and I want to call myself out for this because in the fic's only descriptors are that she has hair and is AFAB -- nothing about race. I also realize that all of the girls in this are skinny too and Y/N's body type is never specified. Sorry fam!! These images are just to get the creative juices flowing and don't truly depict anything from the fic!!

A/n: It’s here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I’ve ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (smut this time tho!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier. SMUT and feelings <3 Also check out this playlist of music that’s in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, pov change, Infidelity, threats, age gap, dressing Joel up (swear I wrote this before he wore that outfit to the SAG awards — the mr.Darcy-core one), racist comment (from Y/N’s douchey boyfriend), douchey boyfriend, confidence issues, feelings, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), kissing, penis in vagina sex — unprotected (wear a condom), lightest hint of ass play, scar worship?? kinda??, daddy issues, daddy kink, using music lyrics to move the plot, multiple orgasms (m and f), religion and god discussions, stepcest (kinda bc technically he is divorced from her mother), tagging psuedo-incest just to be safe!!, use of y/n

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Joel Miller. How could you not have? The first day you’d met him had been like some kind of fucked up yet extremely satisfying whirlwind of a daydream. He’d come in, broad and tall and strong, and saved you from your evil (though you do love him somewhere deep, deep down) older brother’s onslaught. Protected you like a knight in shining armor from his punching, beating fists. Treated and touched you so tenderly, so many miles different from how your own father did that you’d been hit with whatever the pleasant opposite of whiplash is. And the way he finally punished Aiden after years of his reign of terror, the violence of it, the justice of it. You didn’t have words for it then, but the way you looked into Joel’s eyes when he was doling out that righteous punishment became some kind of strange secret understanding between the two of you. Maybe it was the first sign of love? You aren’t sure.

As a kid, he’d given you what you like to think of as quiet butterflies. They were always there when he spoke to you, looked at you, touched you, beat the shit out of your father and brother for you, but they were faint enough that you could ignore them. It was a comforting, fluttering kind of love, a gradual understanding of your loyalty to one another. But then puberty hit and the insects became incessantly loud when you thought of, wrote to, or talked to him. They ate at your heart day after day while Joel was in prison – the longing, the missing. Aiden told you that you were obsessed with him. Your mother told you to forget him, that he would forget you. But somehow, he didn’t. You wonder if those bugs live in him too. You wonder if they are quiet or loud and if they gnaw .

You think that they are probably loud. You think this for a few reasons. The first is that you know for a fact, you can feel it in the lining of your soul, and from the evidence of his constant correspondence and care for you, that he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. The second reason is the fact that you think but aren’t one hundred percent sure is that the last time you’d hugged him he’d gotten a little hard (you don’t want to think too much into that because he is only a man who had been deprived of touch for a long time – but still you wonder…). And the third is the way he looks at you like you are the universe like you are the last drop of nectar and he is the last butterfly left on Earth in a famine.

That’s how he’s looking at you now in the passenger seat of his old, clunky pickup. You know that he wanted to drive, but you wanted to show him how well you could because he had never seen. Never had the chance to see how well you had fixed, maintained, and took care of his baby and of course he gave into you like he always does. He's smiling at you quietly, but his eyes contain multitudes. Right now mostly pride at your driving.

Joel is a bit different than how you remember sitting near him in the truck the last time you were together, him as a free man, you as a little girl. Somehow, even though you are obviously bigger now, he still seems massive and broad and stronger than ever. His biceps are huge – probably from all the time he had to work out in prison – and peeking out under his blue t-shirt that you brought for him, you think you see the outlines of some tattoos. You look a little closer. On his right arm is text in curvy black ink. You think it reads, “Sarah.” You smile softly at that. On his other arm is a strange orange shape that you have to squint at to understand. The edges of the object are jagged but they form a shape like a badge – and then you know what it is! It is the guitar pick you made for Joel as a child. The one that had pricked his finger and drawn blood and he stuck it in his wallet. You can’t articulate how honored you feel that Joel loved you enough to tattoo something you made for him on his body, permanently, forever.

“ Well , the light only turned green damn near eons ago,” he complains about your driving, but you know he is just teasing.

There is hardly anything wrong you can ever do in Joel’s eyes. He grins at you a bit lopsidedly and you smile back. You also can’t help but notice the greying of his brown hair. It’s a bit longer than it used to be too and the length gives it a little bit less of a shaggy look. You think it suits him, makes him look a bit older and more distinguished than when he first came into your life twelve years ago.

Objectively, you know it’s weird to think that your ex-stepdad who is a convicted felon is hot, but it’s just something you’ve always known and thought like that the sky is blue or that orange is your favorite color. You know it’s weird to think of someone who was? – is? – supposed to be a father figure to you that way, but it’s already second nature at this point. You’ve had a few boyfriends (luckily all of them had treated you right), but none of the feelings you’ve ever had for them have compared to the cosmic-sized love and affection you have for Joel and you’ve never known anything different. The years you spent longing, missing, loving, obsessing over, and aching for him in every way under the sun, can’t be healthy, you know this, but they have eclipsed practically every other relationship in your life. No one has ever made you feel as safe and protected and loved as Joel has. No one else has ever looked at you the way he does. No one else’s entire existence has revolved around you the way his has. The sheer devotion in his gaze is enough to make the butterflies inside you scream and beat their wings against your insides like hungry bats.

And you especially know you shouldn’t have these feelings about another human being violent enough to be capable of taking a life – inebriated or not. You’re grown now and know the man he killed was a scum-of-the-Earth child predator, and secretly you’ve always wondered if there was more to the story than Joel told the police in the official court transcripts you’d read as an adult, maybe even something to do with you since you had been there that day in the repair shop when they met , but you haven’t pressed because you’re sure the whole thing is quite traumatic for Joel and if he ever wants to tell you, you know he will. And more importantly, you don’t really care. Drunken, violent idiot or not, you were already deeply invested and never intended on wavering in that. You’re not sure there’s anything Joel could do to get you to stop loving him and that both terrifies and excites you.

“Okay, whatcha wanna eat?” you ask, reaching out to rub Joel’s shoulder gently. “Now that you’re free you can have whatever you want! On my mom’s credit card of course. Swear I won’t tell her.”

Joel grins.

“Deal,” he tells you. “I was thinking of a nice steak dinner.”

***

You pull into the fanciest restaurant you can find in the tri-state area and sit down to order a regal, all-American, full three-course steak dinner (though you’re both woefully underdressed – not that you care – though the host gives you a dirty look). All the while, you tell Joel about your major (psychology) and how you want to become a counselor for abused children.

“That’s sort of beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you with a genuine smile that used to be so hard to coax from him, but now seems to float over to you so easily and gently like a kiss from something as soft as the wings of a butterfly. “Wanting to help defenseless children. You’re kinda like a guardian angel for them, ya know? Damn proud of ya! Also, these mashed potatoes are goddamn delectable!” he exclaims after taking an experimental bite. “Have I mentioned that prison food is shit?”

You smile bashfully and want to tell him that he is your guardian angel (you wonder if he thinks the same of you) and inspiration in a backward sort of way for wanting to help kids in the first place since he was so good at protecting you for the most part (though you obviously don’t believe violence is the correct answer in your line of future work). But kids need protectors. Somehow you know that deep down you forgive him for all of the violence he caused because you would forgive him for anything. And him being proud of you? You don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than that! You burst with pride. Your real father never said that to you, but Joel doesn’t feel like your father now. He is something different entirely. Something that entirely belongs to you.

“And you’ll meet my boyfriend, Max, tomorrow,” you nod as Joel moves onto the steak and lets out a soft moan at how good it tastes. “He’s heard a lot about you.”

Joel’s face flattens.

“And who is this kid exactly?” he sneers a little, attacking the steak with his knife.

You smile internally at the obvious jealousy he’s trying to hide from his voice.

“Hey, Max is a decent guy!” you insist in his defense. “He’s pre-law. Real smart. He’s gonna be an important person someday, I know it. You’ll get on.”

That last part is a bit of a lie since you’re not sure the two will actually like each other.

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

“All I know is, just because someone is important, don’t mean they’re good to you or for you for that matter.”

You can’t help but think of your father, the most “important” man you know and how much of a degenerate he is compared to someone ostensibly average like Joel who didn’t even have a status symbol like a college degree and how perfect of a man you think he is, despite his obvious flaws. You blush a little, scrunching up your nose.

“Just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,” he continues, smiling at the way you do. “He ever fuck with you – he ever break your heart, you know just where to send him, alright?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you grin. “Don’t need you getting any more jail time though, alright?” “You may have made a valid point,” he concedes with a smirk.

***

When you two enter your shitty, one-bedroom apartment it’s already dark outside. Joel actually grins when he notices his and your guitars have both been mounted on the wall.

“We can play ‘em tomorrow,” you tell him excitedly. “If you want to, I mean…”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Joel smiles. “Wanna hear ya singing for me, honey. I missed that.”

You smile to yourself.

“You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch,” you decide, getting back to business.

“No way, babygirl. I ain’t taking your bed.”

“Joel, you’ve literally been on a prison mattress for eight fucking years! Can’t imagine that’s been very comfortable.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t mind the couch. That’ll feel like heaven to me. Don’t want you messin’ up your back, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, knowing by the look on his face he’s not budging. If one thing, Joel has always been stubborn, but you like that about him. “D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, baby, if ya don’t mind, I’d like a quick shower. Been dreaming about taking a real, private one for ages.”

“Yeah, of course!” you nod, motioning toward your bathroom door. “Towels are under the sink.”

Joel makes his way inside and soon steam is billowing out the bottom of the door.

You busy yourself with some homework, but just as you walk past the door to grab a glass of water, you think you hear Joel singing.

You listen more closely over the fall of the running water and make out him singing the chorus of an old ABBA song with a deeper, sadder tone to it,

♪ “ Slipping through my fingers all the time / I try to capture every minute / The feeling in it / Slipping through my fingers all the time / Do I really see what's in her mind? / Each time I think I'm close to knowing / She keeps on growing / Slipping through my fingers all the time…” ♫

You feel like such a sap, but you feel a tear forming in your eye at the way Joel must be thinking about his and your relationship and everything he missed in your life. You aren’t mad at him, but his absence hurt in a way you didn’t know you could feel. And you’ve never blamed him, really, but the lack of him for eight years of milestones really did kill a piece of you. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly at the bottom of your stomach with its wings pulled off. That’s how you felt all that time without Joel – like a butterfly without wings. A writhing worm of a human being, senseless and lost in a giant world full of forces you couldn’t control.

You listen to Joel’s beautiful, deep voice until you hear him turn off the tap and you scurry away and act innocent.

Joel emerges from the bathroom then with nothing but a white towel around his waist, steam from the shower floating lazily into the room behind him like precession. And oh, wow, is he ever a sight to behold. His hair is wet, dark brown flecked with grey, and starting to get curly from the moisture. You also can’t help but notice his broad chest, the expanse of it, the dark curls of hair, his bulking, muscular tattooed arms, his soft, hairy tummy, the V-shape of muscle that descends beneath the towel, his happy trail. You are overwhelmed by the soaking beauty of him. You’d seen Joel shirtless before, sure, but it had never felt like this .

“Gon’ grab some of those clothes you bought for me and then maybe we could watch something?” Joel asks as you try so fucking hard not to stare at him.

“Sure!” you squeak, staring down at your notebook at the kitchen counter.

You think you see a smirk from Joel, but you're not sure because your gaze is averted as he grabs some clothes to change into and disappears back into the bathroom.

When he reemerges, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts that accentuate his form, you two sit next to each other on your cushy sofa and surf the TV for something to watch. You feel Joel’s hairy knees against your jean-clad one and your heart flutters.

“Can’t believe I’m really here,” Joel says softly as you pass re-runs of Full House, a dog show. “Like I gotta fuckin’ pinch myself to know it’s not a dream.”

Suddenly you feel a large, weathered hand on your cheek.

“Missed you so much, babygirl,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes, massaging the line of your jaw ever so lightly, trying to hold your skittish gaze. “More than I even have words for.”

First, you avoid looking at him a bit bashfully, but then you stare up cautiously into those big brown eyes that feel like a familiar kind of home and you’re such a goner. You lean into his warmth, the warmth of his hand.

“Missed you too, Joel. So much,” you admit, never wanting this moment to end or him to let go of you. “More than anything.”

He leans forward a little and for a second you think…but then he’s leaning in and planting a heavy kiss on your forehead. A kiss that has weight to it – not those soft, weak ones that Max gives you haphazardly when he’s drunk or high – the only time he’s brave enough to be vulnerable with you. This kiss says something, means it so sincerely too.

“Love you, honey,” he tells you. Then his face falls. “Sorry I…wasn’t quite there to say that to you enough in person.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I forgive you,” you insist. “I love you so much, dummy. More than you even know!”

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment.

***

You settle on an old, black and white classic, Paper Moon, that’s playing on the TV Land channel.

Joel wraps a big arm around you and you snuggle close. You’re pretty sure there isn’t a better feeling in the world than being this close to him. Even after all these years he still smells like Joel; like home (and, if you’re being honest, a bit like your vanilla shampoo) .

You lean against him, your cheek pressing into one of his firm pecs. You begin to feel sleepy, drunk on the steady sound of his heartbeat, alive and beating against you and really here .

You nod off.

***

At first, you don’t believe it, but you feel someone with strong, firm arms lifting you into the air, cradling your back and the insides of your knees in a bridal-style carry. The movement wakes you, but you don’t open your eyes because the safety and security you feel is too good to give up. Joel carries you to your bedroom and lays you down gently in your bed. You’re still in day clothes and shoes so Joel takes off your worn sneakers with a feather-light touch and places them at the foot of the bed – you can tell from the soft thumps it makes. He maneuvers you so tenderly under the covers and tucks you in with love and care. You wonder the last time someone did that for you and pull up a blank. If anyone ever did that for you it was probably Joel. Maybe your mom did when you were really young. Certainly your father nor Aiden ever did – your father hadn’t liked to touch you except out of anger – kind of like you had some kind of weird, contagious disease. Aiden’s hands had almost always hurt too, but not Joel’s – never his.

He breaks you from your thoughts by pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are still closed so you aren’t sure, but you think he watches you for a second and lets out a long sigh.

Then you hear your bedroom door close softly so as not to disturb you. You smile, you can’t help it, and drift back off into a peaceful sleep.

***

You wake up to a mumbling, grunting sort of sound. You look over at your clock and read 3:42 a.m. You sit up. You can kind of hear some muffled noises coming from outside your room. At first, you feel a little concerned – like maybe Joel is in pain or something as he is the only one who could be making the noises. The walls in your apartment are paper-thin. Like you could hear him sneeze clear as day if he were to because sound travels through the shitty walls so easily. You should have told him that. But what the fuck is he doing up at 3 a.m.?

You creep (and you mean creep) silently to the door of your bedroom and open it the tiniest crack. The way your apartment is laid out, the back of the sofa is the first thing you see and the back of Joel’s head about six feet away. He doesn’t sound in pain the way he’s groaning and then you understand exactly what he’s doing. Of course the man is jerking off! After being in prison, stuck around people for so long of course he wanted a good, private wank. He isn’t looking at anything from what you can tell, no magazines or anything. Must be using his imagination. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s gotten good at that over the years.

You should turn around, slink back into bed, and cover your ears with a pillow so the man can have some privacy. But, fuck, the way he’s grunting. His voice is so fucking deep and sexy and then he lets out a soft, vulnerable moan and you feel heat envelope your whole body. You think you hear a soft fuck roll off his tongue and your heart almost beats right out of your chest. You can hear the lewd slapping of his fist on skin getting louder and more intense. Then you hear a soft take it, fuck. And Jesus, you are so fucking wet between your thighs. You ought to be ashamed. Instead, you reach down your hand feverishly beneath the band of your jeans and soaking underwear instinctively to stroke yourself ever so slightly. You sigh in relief, but you are fucking gushing, your fingers covered in your slick. You can’t see anything besides the back of Joel’s head, technically, so this couldn’t be that wrong, could it? He lets out a soft groan, you can tell he’s holding back so as not to be heard, but the desperation in the pathetic little noises this hulking man is making is turning on every switch inside you. Oh how you want to go over there and take him in your mouth, to taste him. God you are so fucked up! You’re still touching yourself gently, not really fully going at it yet, considering the possibilities that could follow if you went over there. But before you can decide to do anything, Joel positively whines, moans, and grunts fuck, unh, and you think but aren’t sure, babygirl, and finishes.

You stop dead still in what you’re doing. Did he really say “babygirl” or was that just your horny-ass imagination playing tricks on you? You’ve never heard Joel call anyone babygirl except you. Was he really thinking of you? On the one hand, if true, mega fucked up. On the other, wow, incredibly hot. You think about going over there and asking him to finish you off or something as crazy as in all those dumb romance novels you used to read in middle school, but just as quickly as the idea comes to you, you hear another noise: loud snoring. Joel is asleep.

Typical.

You snort to yourself. That was so quintessentially Joel. You don’t want to disturb him now. The moment has passed. And only then is when you remember you have a fucking boyfriend.

That doesn’t stop you from closing your door softly, crawling back into bed, and reaching your hand down beneath your panties to touch yourself. You stroke your clit, imagining it is Joel’s rough hand rubbing against you. Holy fuck. You haven’t been this wet since you used to touch yourself thinking about him in the past. It’s like he can reach every part of you, every layer in a way that no one else can. You know the whole thing is so fundamentally fucked up, but you can resist sinking into your favorite fantasy. The smell, the touch, the feel of him. You imagine the noises he was making so beautifully on the couch, feel heat coil through your entire body, and immediately cum hard without even sticking a finger inside yourself.

The pleasure you feel is so unparalleled and real you have to cover your hand with your mouth not to scream out your powerful orgasm.

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down.

God, you are so fucked.

***

The next morning you wake up to the wafting smell of someone cooking eggs. You emerge from your room a little sheepishly from last night’s events to find Joel behind the kitchen counter making eggs and toast.

“Mornin’, babygirl,” he grins, his eyes shining like he’s excited about something.

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

“Good morning, Joel,” you beam at him.

You were so afraid things would feel awkward after what you heard last night, but nothing ever feels awkward with Joel. In some ways, he’s still just your average dorky, friendly old ex-stepdad, convicted felon. In other ways, everything about him sets your heart on fire, but it would be stupid to ruin what you have with him because you think it’s remotely possible he might be interested back. You know this is dramatic, but if he flat-out rejected you, you think you might die. Truly. Like those butterflies inside you would beat their wings so hard they’d burst your heart.

“‘Membered you liked ‘em poached,” he nods, breaking you from your thoughts.

He scoops two poached eggs onto one of your plates and grabs a piece of toast from the toaster which he smears with butter like how you used to eat toast as a kid. You can’t believe he remembered.

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

He grabs a few eggs and toast for himself and sits beside you at the counter.

“Nice to be able to cook me ‘n you some real food,” he remarks. “If I eat one more cup o’ noodles in my lifetime I swear to God Almighty…” he trais off.

He’s looking at you like you put the goddamned sun in the sky. Your heart melts as you stare at his features, the faint curls in his hair. Oh, how you want to reach out and touch him. But that just isn’t how you operate. You won’t ruin what you already have.

The butterflies in your chest howl.

***

` You lay out the day’s schedule to Joel. You have plenty of time to hang about (you see him eyeing the guitars), and then you need to go shopping for some actual clothes for Joel since the things you brought for him don’t constitute a proper wardrobe. Then you will go out to dinner and meet Max.

Joel grunts a nod at that last part. He doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“Wanna show me what you’ve been playing?” he asks hopefully as he gets up to put both of your plates in the sink,

“‘Course!” you nod enthusiastically. “Max says I need to work on my fingerpicking so I can’t promise it’ll be all that good.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

You sit down on the couch right next to Joel, each of you holding your respective guitars in hand, across your laps.

Joel looks ecstatic to have his guitar back in his hands. He fiddles with the tuning and finger-picks a faint melody.

“Haven’t played one since the prison band. But then some dumb motherfucker clobbered another sorry son of a bitch to death with a saxophone so that ended our music privileges,” Joel explains.

“Jeez,” you reply.

Joel is sitting so close you can feel his body heat. You just want to hear him sing, but he insists on hearing you.

“Joel,” you try as innocently as possible. “D’you remember how to do an A-flat? I forget and I need it for my song.”

“Sure, baby. Lemme help ya. Now put one finger on this bit of the 4th fret here,” he begins, snaking a big arm around your shoulders so he can maneuver your fingers to the correct position.

His touch is electric. He feels so good and warm. You feel the intense urge to climb into his lap and embrace and stay there forever. His big caloused hand full of scars places your fingers correctly for the chord. The same hand that must have jerked himself to completion last night…You can’t help but wonder how much cum there was…The truth is, you know how to make an A-flat. You just wanted to feel him.

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

“There we go,” he says soothingly, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “That one can be tricky. Now where is my performance?”

Your nerves are squirming around inside you but you begin to play and sing to the best of your ability.

You look into Joel’s eyes.

♪“ You've got a heart on fire / It's bursting with desire / You've got a heart filled with passion / Will you let it burn for hate or compassion?” ♫ you sing.

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter.

♪ “What's the point with a love / That makes you hate and kill for? ♪

You sing as best and as seriously as you can. You look up and think you maybe see a tear in Joel’s eye.

When you finish, it’s clear Joel is finding it hard to select the right words to convey what he’s feeling.

“I–” he tries. “That was…well, let me just show you how I can answer that if anyone ever could to a performance as beautiful as that.”

You blush.

He begins to finger-pick a familiar tune, Instantly, you are transported back to eight years old in the back of Joel’s old pickup truck, listening to one of his many cassette tapes. It’s “I’ll Never Find Another You” by The Seekers. The original version of the song is pretty happy and upbeat, but the way Joel sings it slowly in his deep and weathered voice makes you feel sad and achy inside. The emotion behind his voice is palpable.

♪ “But if I should lose your love, dear / I don't know what I'd do / For I know I'll never find another you / Another you / Another you…” ♫ he trails off.

It’s your turn to tear up a little. It’s crazy to know he means every word he’s singing too. He sings like every word is his last breath. When he finishes you are crying a little.

“You oughta record an album,” you sniffle, leaning into his shoulder, throwing him a side hug.

“Wanted to be a singer,” he replies with a small grin, leaning his head against yours. “Back when I was young.”

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

“Don’t tell nobody really,” Joel replies, looking a bit sad you left his immediate proximity. “Just a stupid dream ‘n all that crap.”

“‘S not stupid,” you tell him. “You really have a beautiful voice, Joel. It’s like if I could take it, hold on to it, and keep it forever in my chest pocket next to my heart, I would.”

“That’s where I keep you, baby,” he tells you honestly.

He reaches up a big hand to yours and guides your own to place it right on his heart over his plaid shirt. You can feel it beating steadily below your palm to the rhythm of something as delicate and ferocious as the beating of butterfly wings.

“Right here.”

***

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a Hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end, you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively.

Finally, you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed-up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the men’s version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

When you finally ditch all the fun clothes and grab the essentials, Joel offers to go pick up the car while you pay. He tries to give you his eight-year-old credit card, but you insist on treating him on the condition he buys the “monkey suit.” After a bit of prodding, he gives in and you go to the sales attendant to pay at the counter.

“Your dad is really cute,” the sales attendant giggles to you as she rings up the pile of clothes.

Your cheeks go a bit red. You don’t really care enough to correct her.

“He’s my guy,” is all you say absentmindedly as you fish out your wallet from your purse.

The sales attendant hands you the receipt and on it, you see a scrawled phone number.

“For If he’s single,” she explains. “I’m Barb from sales.”

You look her over. She’s close to Joel’s age and conventionally pretty with long brown hair. The exact kind of woman Joel should be dating should he choose to get back in the game. Your stomach twists and the butterflies howl inside you.

You take the receipt, thank her, and join Joel back in the car (who is more than happy to be driving this time).

“What took so long?” he asks casually. “You two writing a novel in there?”

You think seriously about what you should do. You consider letting the bugs have their way and tearing the receipt with Barb’s number on it to shreds. But you want good things for Joel. The chance of you two ever being together the way you wish is so far-fetched that you know you shouldn’t even be thinking it. A literal pipe dream. He was your stepdad for christsakes. He literally fucked your mother! (Gross!). Barb is exactly the kind of woman Joel should be going after if he’s up to dating right now. You hand him the receipt begrudgingly.

“Sales Lady likes you,” you sat flatly. “Name is Barb.”

“Oh,” he says softly like he’s a bit flattered.

He looks back at her through the glass door of the store and she waves at him. He waves back politely. You feel your stomach twisting into knots.

“You think…you think you’re gonna call her?” you finally ask as casually as humanly possible, dreading the answer.

Joel looks over at you, his gaze sweeping over you. Then looks back at Barb through the window. He looks her up and down.

“Nah,” he says with a smirk, looking back at you. “She ain’t my type. Only need one girl in my life right now anyways,” he winks.

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

Regardless, you smile back and then sigh in relief and grin to yourself as you two drive away.

Much to your satisfaction, Joel crumples up the receipt and throws it out the window for good measure.

***

You get ready for dinner, to go to a nice Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that Max picked out. You wear a red dress that accentuates your figure and matching heels and to your shock, Joel reemerges from the bathroom in the white button-down shirt and black dress pants you picked out for him (you had been sure flannel would be part of his ensemble). God, he looks good. A part of you wants to ditch Max and just stay here with Joel forever. He looks you over, his dark eyes sweeping over your frame. You think there is a tinge of possessiveness in his voice when he says,

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

You arrive before Max and sit down at the fancy white table-cloth-covered table next to Joel, a booth facing you. Max finally makes an appearance a half hour late and sits down across from you, sweeping his hair out of his face, sliding into the booth. Joel is frowning and the butterflies beat their wings inside you nervously.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max announces, puffing out his chest a little and smoothing out his collared shirt as he looks down at his watch and then over at Joel. “Hey, baby,” he says to you. Then, “And, uh, nice to meet you. Joe, was it? Heard a lot about you.”

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

Max is a good-looking guy, everyone says so, but he looks more like a little boy than you’ve ever thought as he squirms uneasily in his seat under Joel’s unrelenting gaze and launches into a tirade about his frat’s inter-mural lacrosse team practice and how his team should have totally won the scrimmage and that’s why he’s late. And of course, he was the one to score the most goals.

“And the taxi cab driver was a nightmare. Only spoke Spanish. It’s like, if you come to this country speak fucking English, am I right?”

You notice Joel’s jaw tighten and his fingers clench.

“Max, that’s so rude!” you tell him, frowning. “We’re at a fucking Mexican restaurant!”

“Anyway,” Max continues, rolling his eyes at the interruption like he barely even heard you, smirking. “Where’d you go to school? What do you do for work, Joel? Besides making license plates, I mean. Kidding!” he insists as you stare daggers at him.

Joel leans forward ever so slightly but you slip your leg over his to hold him back and he calms down a fraction. It’s like when you touch him, everything tense in him melts away.

Joel sits up straighter in his chair and looks at you, stretching his arm across the back of your seat protectively like it’s a casual thing and not an unconscious sign of possessiveness.

“I’m a mechanic,” he grunts unceremoniously to Max. “I mean, I was anyways…Didn’t go to school.”

Max frowns ever so slightly.

“You didn’t go to college? You must’ve gone to trade school at least?”

“Nope. Picked up what I know over the years. Not everyone gets a free ride from their parents,” Joel smirks.

“Free ride?” Max snaps. “I’ll have you know I spend every summer interning at a law firm!”

“Yeah, your dad’s,” you can’t help but snicker.

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

“At least I’m not a psych major,” he shoots back. “I mean, no offense, babe!”

“What’s wrong with psychology?” Joel snarls, his eyes darkening. “You ought to be proud to have such a thoughtful and intelligent girl like Y/N studying such a topic.”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to go pink.

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers.

That makes you feel a bit better.

“I’m just saying, she could have inherited the second-best law firm in the tri-state area from her pops if she was pre-law like me,” he smirks.

Your smile fades, used to hearing this kind of shit from him. He knows you and your father don’t get along at all, but not the full extent of it. He also knows you don’t have an interest in pre-law. But you swallow down how you really feel.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you tell him, placing a hand down on his thigh.

It’s not that you enjoy the way Max has been talking to you, but you are so used to it from the men in your life that it feels like the common denominator must be you. And sometimes it feels like maybe they have some kind of point. And fighting back only makes things worse. You’ve learned that over the years the hard way.

“It’s not fine!” he snaps like he’s trying to get you to see sense, looking deeply insulted on your behalf. Your heart thunders in your chest. “This boy has never worked an honest day in his life and he’s telling you what you ought to be doing? Bet his hands are soft as a baby’s ass. He doesn’t know shit about you, babygirl.”

You may not know the hardship of labor that Joel has taken on in his life, but your hands are not smooth. They are full of scars. And Joel is right. Max’s are soft like silk. You look down at the most prominent, ugly scar on your middle finger. You don’t even know which man in your life gave it to you. But you do know it means something. Shows you survived something. Survived your stupid father too, not that Max seems to care.

But Max never loses.

“Whatever,” he smirks dismissively. “Sorry I’m not some, like, common blue-collar worker. But I guess I should be taking advice from someone who became a fucking convicted felon ‘cause they drank too much one night,” he shrugs with a terrible sneer.

You know it’s over then.

But Joel surprises you. Doesn’t immediately strangle Max like you thought he might. Simply stands up tall and silent over Max’s frame which has suddenly begun to shake ever so slightly in obvious fear, his blue eyes widening. Joel’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides.

“Wouldn’t mind them sendin’ me right back in, ” Joel growls low. “Drunk or not.”

You shiver and Max positively cowers.

“Got something to say? Don’t wanna take it outside?” Joel leers, smirking ever so slightly at the trembling boy before him. “I’d even let a little boy like you take the first swing.”

“Your stepdad’s a freak, Y/N,” Max stammers, not taking his eyes off of Joel.

“Joel, it’s fine, okay?” you growl, not wanting him to actually hurt your boyfriend. Let alone in public! “Shouldn’t talk about Joel like that though, Max! Jesus!”

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tries, eyeing back and forth between you and Joel. “I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t get what you see in him with a real Dad like yours! Your dad has so much to give you!”

Look out for you? So much to give you? What could he possibly give besides a stupid law firm and two black eyes?

Max looks a bit desperate. Him apologizing for anything is actually a new concept for you. Your heart twitches ever so slightly. He must actually like you a lot. But Joel would never do anything to hurt you if it was in his power. At least not intentionally, unlike your real father.

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Joel snarls moodily, turning around. “Don’t want to do things I might regret to Mr.Future-Corporate-Lawyer over here. Have fun with him .”

Joel looks deeply hurt. Like you are choosing Max over him or something. That’s never what this has been about, has it? Doesn’t Joel know you’d do anything for him? That the hurt on his face hurts you more than anything you’ve ever felt. Ever.

“Joel, wait!” you decide and disappear after him, leaving Max behind at the table.

“Babe, what the fuck!?” Max yells, but you don’t care. “Come back here!”

***

You ride back in silence, Joel’s hands turning white against his grip on the steering wheel.

When you break through to the front door of your apartment, Joel finally snaps, the anger on his face directed at something that feels like you for the first time in your life.

“You really love that little son of a bitch, don’t you?” he sneers, uncharacteristically harshly towards you.

“So what if I did?” you shoot back, a little shocked. “It’s none of your business, Joel. What the fuck?”

“It is so my business,” he snaps back. “That kid is no good for you, Y/N. He doesn’t understand you. You deserve someone much better than that who will actually go to the ends of the earth for you. He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

There is a desperation and vulnerability in Joel’s words and tone that you’re not sure you’ve heard before. He sounds like he had been waiting the whole car ride to say this, maybe even his whole life. You aren’t sure.

“Max does give a shit about me,” you try to convince yourself, getting angrier. “I mean at least he was there for me while you were gone.”

Joel flinches.

“How do you know what’s so good for me and what’s not when you dipped out of my life for eight years?” you continue harshly. “Because why? It wasn’t because you were drunk, was it? It was because you couldn’t control your anger. You never could.”

He stares at you.

“I controlled it for you,” Joel says so quietly you almost miss it. “ You are the only reason I did any of it.”

“What?” you stammer, not sure you want to hear more. “W-what do you mean, Joel? Any of what?”

A million thoughts begin to run through your mind, but you push them aside. Theories about the case and your ideas of Joel’s true nature all threaten to drown you but you push them away.

“Do you want to know why I really killed that sick son of a bitch?” Joel asks dangerously after a long moment of silence. You stare at him, your body frozen. He looks down at his hands, flexing them like he can still feel them punching or around that disgusting man’s throat. “Why I killed him all those years ago? It was no accident, I’ll give you that. Manslaughter, my ass. I killed that scum of the Earth because he threatened you . To do terrible things to you with those disgusting hands of his. So I broke each one, but it wasn’t enough. I killed him because I didn’t want you to get hurt and because I didn’t want you to live in fear of him. I was tired, Y/N. Tired of being afraid for you in a world that doesn’t let you do shit except fight back. I loved you so much, Y/N, it hurt me. It scared me, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again, not him, not your father, not Max, not anyone. You have to understand. I love –”

And then it’s all over. You’re not sure who moves first, but you think it might be you. The butterflies are rustling and thundering and screeching inside you and you kiss him. And Joel kisses back, devouring your mouth in his. You grab the back of his graying brown hair and pull him as close to you as you think is humanly possible. He cradles the back of your head so gently you almost lose your breath. And you are kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. There is nothing else in the universe except this kiss. You have never felt anything like this in your life. It is like every butterfly inside you has gone silent. It is like the world has stopped just for you and something new is forming inside you.

Joel killed that vile man for you. To keep you safe. Like he always said or showed that he would. He gave his life away for you. He did the unspeakable for you.

He bites down on your bottom lip and all your brain can manage to coherently think is: more, harder .

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

NO! your heart cries out, the delicious pleasure and pain draining away from you. The butterflies swarm dangerously inside your chest, worse with every inch he travels from your lips.

“Joel,” you whine. “What? You…you don’t want–”

“Don’t even say that, Y/N,” he growls dangerously. “Of course I want you. How could I not? I have spent my entire life wanting you in some capacity, baby, but I ain’t no good for you either, alright? I…” he says slowly like it takes every inch of his body to agree to say this. “I am not a good man, Y/N. I never have been. I’ve done wrong in every chapter of my life. You deserve someone much better. I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or mentally. Our history… The damage I’ve done…” he trails off.

“You don’t understand,” you swallow, tears forming in your eyes. “You have already loved and hurt me more than any human being on planet Earth. And yet somehow there is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you, don’t you get that? The Joel Miller I love is not a good man and I don’t care. I want all of you. All of the pretty and crooked pieces you try to hide away from me. You killed a man with your bare hands, arguably one of the worst things a human can do, and I don’t care. I still want you, Joel. Maybe even more because of it. No one has ever loved me the way you do and that is the love I want and it terrifies me.”

A single tear falls down Joel’s right cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, but Joel grabs your hand on the way reflexively, so you help him wipe his own tears away.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I would move the Earth for you,” Joel whispers back.

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve always known. I–”

But he is kissing you again before you can say another word, like a man starved. You hold onto his cheeks, your fingers caressing his stubbly beard.

“ Joel,” you whine when you break for air.

“I wanted this so badly,” he says softly, grinning a lopsided grin. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Me too,” you giggle.

You have to lean up a bit, but you press your forehead to his gently.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smirks. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, ya know that? You like

it when I go a little rough, honey?” he smirks down at you in satisfaction, reading your mind.

You have to stop yourself from getting lost in the warm pools of his brown eyes, your panties soaked.

He reaches an affectionate hand down to rub your side softly.

“This okay, babygirl?” he coos, massaging his hand down your torso.

“I’d let you do anything to me, don’t you know?” you snicker. “Pain or pleasure, it’s all the same to me. I like all of that. I just want you so bad.”

“Think a safe word is in order,” Joel grins, leaning down to kiss your neck. “How about ‘butterflies?’” you suggest.

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he grins, looking genuinely happy for the first time in hours.

He leans down and places a calloused hand around your throat, not squeezing (yet – you hope) and plants soft kisses and bites down your expanse of skin.

“All mine,” he mutters into your skin. “My beautiful babygirl.”

You feel his erection pressing against you through his black dress pants which makes you moan softly.

His hand trails over your crotch and he starts rubbing over the tight fabric of your red dress.

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

Oh shit. You don’t mean to say it like that! You know it is about ten levels of fucked up to call Joel that, but how is it your fault that in every fantasy that’s how you think of him? You figure you’re probably past the point of weird and every other standard of decency, but you’re still afraid.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

“No, no, baby,” Joel says quickly. “It’s alright, you can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“You think it’s weird,” you mumble again, further stupid tears forming in your eyes.

He snickers.

“Baby, I think we’re beyond weird at this point. Let me show you how turned on it makes me.”

Joel takes your hand and places it on his crotch. He takes your left hand, the one with the scar and you cringe a little, but he is rock-hard.

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy likes that more than you know, alright?”

You take your hand back, smiling, but you cover your scarred finger, shocked he will allow this fantasy for you.

“Whatcha hidin’ from me, baby?” he asks, noticing the positioning of your hands.

“I hate that scar on my finger. ‘S so ugly,” you admit.

Joel looks flabbergasted.

“That’s the last damn thing I think of when I look at you. Ugly? Who in the fuck told you that?”

“How it got there is ugly. It’s marred skin, looks gross,” you mumble.

Joel moves to take out his cock, and when you nod he unzips and unbuttons his dress pants, pulling out his length. You have fantasized about his cock for god knows how long so you are more than excited to see it. He reaches to place your left hand with the scarred fingers around the length of his dick, which is thick, but longer than you expected. The leaking head is almost purple and your mouth begins to water as you stroke him gently.

“It’s part of you,” Joel tells you, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love it. It shows you survived. Gonna jerk off to it, Daddy loves it so much. And when I’m done you’re gonna love it too. Swear I’ve got so many over the years I can barely even count ‘em. Even got a few on my middle finger. Maybe even one from a certain guitar pick you made me. Nothing like that could ever make me stop wanting you, ya know that, right?”

You smile and take your time stroking him, wanting to show him how much you love and care for him, scars and all.

He grunts softly, closing his eyes, but then shoos your hand away with a feverish kind of want.

“Yeah, touch yourself now, baby. Daddy wants to see how wet you are for him. With that scarred finger. C’mon, now. ‘S gonna make you feel so good.”

You do as you’re told and reach down underneath your dress and begin to touch yourself, especially with your middle finger. You stroke your clit and then your dripping wet slit. You moan softly as Joel’s eyes rake over you, taking in every sigh and groan you emit. The butterflies are forming something big inside you, which presses against the inside of your tummy and ribcage.

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers.

He takes out your hand and begins to suck the slick off of each of your fingers, groaning deeply, making intense eye contact the whole time.

“Fuck, angel,” he moans, having a tough time keeping himself together, you can tell. “Taste and smell better than like how I pictured. Like you were fuckin’ made for me, I swear.”

He reaches a hand of his own down to stroke himself and his moans become more desperate. Finally, he sucks on your middle finger covered in your slick and groans so deeply you feel like you might cum untouched. He stares into your eyes.

“ Mine, ” he growls possessively. “Oh, shit! Gonna–”

Then he takes your left hand and leads it to meet his throbbing cock. You stroke him, harder this time, fisting his thick length, moaning softly and that does it for him.

Joel cums all over your hand, oozing white globs of cum over your fingers, once, twice, three times.

“Fuuuuuck, babygirl,” he groans. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! Couldn’t help it. Yeah, suck it off, baby. That’s it,” he commands, and you do, licking up all of his cum, even the part that got on your middle finger.

When Joel comes down he still looks half-crazed with desire.

“Sorry about the, uh, early release. It’s been a while since anyone touched me,” he babbles in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink. “But I don’t wanna hear shit about your gorgeous hands ever again, you hear me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering.

He looks like that one word has set his entire universe back in order again. You honestly don’t care at how fast Joel came. You love how much it shows he wants you. And his heady taste is making you weak. You could taste him for days and days and never get tired, you’re sure.

“Can still get you off though, don’t worry. Shoulda let you cum first, but I couldn’t help it with the things you do to me. Goddamn. Can Daddy eat your pussy, baby?”

You grin, but then your face falls.

“Didn’t shave,” you admit, feeling dirty.

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I care about that? Only little boys give a shit about things like that. Not men.”

You shiver.

“Really?”

“Of course I don’t care. Didn’t ya hear what I just said? C’mon now. You can lie down on the couch.”

You follow instructions, pulling your dress over your head to reveal white lace panties and no bra.

You move to take the panties off, but Joel stops you, staring at the lines and curves of your body.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, taking you in.

You think you see his cock twitch ever so slightly. He palms his softening length instinctively.

“Beautiful,” he snarls, pushing you back on the sofa.

You happily fall backward.

He lies on top of you, his white button-down shirt pressing against your naked body tantalizingly.

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

“Daddy’s mouth,” he commands against you.

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it!

He kisses down your neck expertly and you begin to shiver and whine, your pussy aching with need and neglect.

He stops at your breasts, sucking and biting each one.

“Daddy’s tits,” he declares, snaking a finger over the lace panties that protect your clit. “Of course,” you respond, moaning softly, grinding needily against him.

He continues lower, licking down your breasts and over your tummy which he plants with kisses that tickle and then one hard bite on your hip that leaves behind teeth marks.

“Daddy’s body,” he impresses upon you.

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

“No more of that little shithead, Max,” he snarls, an inch above your clit.

“No more Max,” you repeat as he presses kisses down your pussy, still covered by soaked white lace panties.

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

He finally removes your panties and begins to eat and suck your clit and pussy so hard and enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around your bundles of nerves that you grow exponentially closer by the second.

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

It doesn’t take long. The second his calloused hand is pressing a finger and then two inside of you it’s over. You were so needy for him that you could have even cum from just his mouth alone, but his hands are what send you over the edge. And something different happens as orgasm crashes down upon you. The butterflies all join together and transform into something bigger and softer, caressing your insides, cooing. It feels like a breathing white dove is spreading its wings inside you, the tips of its feathers brushing against your rib cage. And you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

Pleasure engulfs you in currents, facilitated by the gentle flapping from deep

inside your body.

“ Joel,” you moan. “Oh my God. Daddy, pleaseee–”

“Please what, baby? Make my princess cum again? I would eat that pretty little clit and

pussy every day for the rest of my life if I could, fuck. God, so perfect and you’re so fuckin’ tight. Look how fucking hard you make me, angel.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his half-hardening cock. Not going to lie, you are partially shocked at his recovery, but another part of you seems to know that if there was anyone in the universe that could do that to him it had to be you.

“Never got hard again from anyone I’ve ever fucked before…” he trails off dreamily like he can read your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, babygirl.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you tell him lazily, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth as you pull him closer to you.

The heat from his body keeps you so warm and tender and for a moment you lie on the couch, Joel’s still-clothed body pressed to yours.

“Can you fuck me, Joel?” you ask, squirming against him needily.

“You can’t say that shit to me, baby,” Joel groans, his cock getting harder. “Not quite ready yet.”

“Lemme help you out,” you offer, pouting.

You reach down and stroke his half-hard length and then bend over and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

Joel swears, staring down at you with so much adoration it pours off his face. No man has ever looked at you like that before. You’re certain. Perhaps no man ever will again? Not like that.

“Shit, baby,” Joel babbles stupidly, his eyes threatening to swallow you up in that beautiful shade of umber. “Never gonna forget this moment,” he grunts as you begin to suck his cock properly, feeling it slowly get hard enough to throb between your lips with each thrust of your head and gluck of your throat.

You stare up at him, your eyes wide and wanting and Joel lets out a soft, vulnerable moan as you begin to really suck him and take him down the walls of your throat.

“ Unh , babygirl, fuck,” he whines and you have never quite heard Joel so desperate before. “Gotta pull out or I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck.”

It sounds just like it did the night you accidentally spied on him jerking off.

“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, huh, Daddy?” you ask, releasing Joel from your mouth like he wanted, though his hips buck forward ever so slightly with desire, the tip of his cock just barely scraping against your mouth. He grunts.

“Maybe so,” he replies, looking a little guilty. “Don’t know how not to these days.”

“Heard you on the couch last night,” you whine yourself. “Had to touch myself ‘cuz of it, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel reaches out a hand to cup your crotch and rub against your slick pussy.

“That’s so fuckin’ naughty, baby,” he groans. “Look how wet that made you. All for me.”

You steal a glance at his cock and find that the tip is weeping too. And he is so fucking big compared to the size of your hand. Fuck!

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” you whisper.

“All about you, baby,” Joel nods in agreement, his hips twitching ever so slightly. “‘Bout touching you just like this.”

He slinks two big fingers inside you and you moan deliciously, the feathery wings of the newly-formed dove fluttering against your insides.

“Gotta stretch you a bit more,” he grunts into your throat, pushing in a third finger. “Daddy’s so big and you’re so tight, angel. Don’t wanna hurt ya. Not too bad at least. Not yet…That’s it, pretty girl, fuck,” he grins when you slide back on his thumb in pleasure which had traveled to the rim of your asshole “Good girl, so good for Daddy. So naughty too. Don’t think Daddy won’t punish you.”

“Want you to hurt me, Daddy,” you moan. “When you fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I want all of you – pain and pleasure. One hundred percent Joel. Joel, please, I need–”

And Joel does stop for a moment.

“Never hurt you in a way you didn’t beg for,” he tells you seriously. “You know that right, baby?”

You stop your rutting against him and look into his eyes.

“Are you kidding? You would protect me with your dying breath. I know that, Joel. Never been afraid of you since I’ve really known you. Not once. I mean: fuck; you gave up your whole life for me. To keep me safe, for fuckssake. In every word you say and don’t say to me I can feel how much you love me.”

“I do love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, nuzzling your forehead. “If I had to, I’d do all of it all over again if it meant I’d get you. I’ve made mistakes, big ones, but protecting you, loving you was never one of them.”

Warm tears trail down your cheeks, but Joel licks and kisses them away.

“Wanna feel me inside you?” he asks. “Don’t wanna go too fast, but I need you, baby. Needed you for so long…Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for Daddy, huh? Gonna fit me just like a glove, I just know it — if you wanna…”

“Yes, please, fuck me, Daddy! Please, Joel Wanna feel you—ah!” you moan as Joel shoves his entire length into your pussy in one hard thrust eagerly. “Oh my God, please fuck me harder!” you moan, reeling from the deep blend of pain and pleasure of him sinking inside you, clenching down around the thickness of him. “Joel, please!”

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

You shiver. The way he says that makes your heart beat wildly in your ears.

“Because babygirl, I would treat you like porcelain if you want it so. I will never hurt you, my angel, my gift from god, my goddamn sweetest heart please know I will break my fucking hands before they would hurt you, before I would ever hurt you in a way that you didn’t want, no matter how much it hurt me. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Joel. But you want it too,” you smirk. “You aren’t innocent in this, are you?”

“Fuck, of course i’m not innocent. I want you, babygirl. In every way there is to want another. Want every inch of you, inside and out. Wanna mark you up so the world knows you’re mine, honey. Want everyone to smell me on you and know I marked you, moved in you, darlin’, please, see, I’m no fucking Hemingway, I didn’t go to college, I’m not like you with words, but I need you to understand that I mean this with my whole chest and heart. Really, I’m not a big talker, never was, babygirl, but I need you to understand I—”

“I do, you dumbass fucking fool!” you shout, giggling at his desperation. “I’d understand you even if you were speaking another language. You’ve made your intentions loud and clear. I don’t want a Hemingway, I want Joel Miller!”

You pull him in for a kiss and he thrusts in you again a second time and you end up moaning clumsily in his mouth, but you can feel him smiling , smiling like some dumb idiot against you and maybe you called him the correct insult because he is a dumbass fucking fool for you. And it turns out you must be one as well because you are smiling like an idiot for him too.

“ Joel,” you moan as he begins to move inside you, hitting deep places that Max or any of your previous exes never went. Pleasure is tracing itself along the line of your stomach. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” you babble and you’ve never meant that more than you do now.

You can feel Joel coming apart above you, plowing into you, sighing deeply. His grunts and moans and thrusts spur on the intense pleasure.

“More!” you moan. “Oh my god. Harder, please, I need–”

Joel plants rough bites on your neck and kisses too like he’s trying to consume every inch of you.

He places a large hand around your throat questioningly and you nod.

“Beg for it,” he commands in his deep, sexy voice — the voice that’s been in every wet dream you’ve ever had. You think you might just pass out from the sound alone.

“Choke me, Daddy,” you whine as pathetically as you possibly can, batting your eyes. “Oh, please, I could cum from just this, but I want more. More of you. All of you.”

“As you fuckin’ wish, baby,” he snickers in amusement. “Bet no little boy ever fucked you like this, huh?” he growls, continuing his rough pace, slamming against your walls, his eyes growing wild.

“They don’t compare to you, Joel. It’s always been you. In every orgasm. Fuck, never felt like this! Shit! Shit!”

Joel reaches out his large scarred hand and applies gentle delicious pressure to your throat. You know even something like this can be dangerous, but you crave that feral look of violence in his eyes and the power that comes with it. You want him to own you completely – every inch of you. You want him to mark you just like he said he wanted to because he is yours and you are his and has it ever really been any other way? You can’t remember properly from the pleasure rushing through you, the white dove inside you spreading and fluttering its wings, cooing softly. You think it’s only ever been what you feel now.

“Joel, Joel, fuck!” you scream, orgasm building in you.

“I know, babygirl. I know,” he coos himself into your mouth.

He pulls you closer, presses his nose to yours, his lips to yours, biting and kissing like a starving man possessed. He looks into your eyes and it’s there! That look of pure predator closing in on its prey, that look of ownership but also the most intense love you think you’ve ever witnessed. You would recognize that look anywhere. Your starved brain cries out for oxygen beneath his iron grip.

“Gonna cum again, angel,” Joel growls. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’re never gonna forget who you belong to. Whose pretty pussy this is.”

He is pounding so hard against your cervix and his dick is so big inside you and the pressure of his hand squeezing around you is so overwhelming and the scent of him could make you faint straight then and there, but you let go and feel yourself cumming in enormous waves as you squeeze down around Joel’s prick, the pleasure more intense than any single bodily experience you’ve had.

“ Daddy ,” you whine breathlessly, tears trickling out of your eyes. “Oh my god!”

“You’re mine, babygirl, always have been–FUCK!” he shouts into your throat, collapsing on top of you.

And then you feel him starting to empty himself inside you, painting your sensitive insides with trustful after trustful of hot cum. You’ve never felt so helplessly full and sticky in your life, the brilliant pleasure billowing through every inch of you. You want to feel like this every day, stuffed full of Joel’s cock, so close to him you can feel his heartbeat against yours, the one true place you belong.

“So beautiful, babygirl,” he whispers in an exhausted type of awe.

When your words come back you reply,

“Shut up, you’re the hot one,” through a snicker.

You look down at your body, covered in purple bite marks and bruises forming like galaxies across your body.

Joel snorts. Then he sits up on the couch and you lean your cheek against him. You lean up to kiss his cheek and he blushes ever so slightly.

“I said a lot of stuff, Y/N, but I want you to know that I meant all of it,”

“Yeah, you probably said more in the last hour than you’ve ever uttered in your entire life,” you tease, sitting up.

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

“I am and was too,” you nod. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me — that we did this. I know that our…origin story is weird and unconventional and some might argue straight up wrong, but I need you, Joel. I don’t care about that or think I could go back to pretending to be what we were.”

“You think I’d want you to act like that?” he asks incredulously. “You think I want this to just be a one-time thing?”

“Of course not,” you smirk. “But as close as we are I can’t actually read your mind. I mean…how are we going to be together realistically?”

“I’m not sure,” Joel admits, frowning a little. “For now it has to be a secret unless you want your mother or brother in jail for murdering me this time around. But someday, I dunno. It’s dumb…”

“What?”

“I just have these thoughts sometimes about you ‘n me. I…” Joel’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Had a lot of time to think in prison, you know? And I’d Imagine us living on a ranch somewhere quiet out in the country with a flock of sheep. I could work at the tractor and auto-body repair shop that’d be out there, you know, in this dream of mine, and you could be a counselor at a local school if that’s what ya wanted. I don’t know, l know it sounds silly, but nobody would know or bother us there. But I want you to finish school and have the best life possible, babygirl. I’d wait a thousand years for you, but if you didn’t want me anymore the way we are now, I’d respect that. And if you’d allow it, I’d still be there for you just in a platonic sense — or just there for you however you want because I can’t imagine my life with you in it. I’d do whatever it takes, brokenhearted or not. I just can’t be separated from you like that again. A day longer in prison and I could’ve keeled over and died. And it’s crazy how much I mean that.”

“I don’t ever want to be separated from you again, Joel,” you agree. “I know the original plan was for you to find work and get an apartment of your own and I would love for that to still happen, but with you being intimate with me in every way – even if it has to be a secret. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I need you in mine. I’ve never needed something more than I need that. Understand?”

Joel pulls you into a hug and leans his chin on the top of your head. He kisses it then your forehead. You lean up and plant a kiss on his throat and then his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t mean to get too ahead of ourselves now. We can take things a day at a time,” he mumbles into your skin.

You yawn contentedly, the tiredness clawing at your eyes, so unbelievably spent.

“I like hearing about your dreams and I’d go anywhere with you, Joel. But I am kinda dead from how good you just fucked me. Take me to bed?” You ask exhaustedly into his chest.

“Of course, babygirl,” he smirks down at you.

***

You don’t let go of Joel all night long, burrowed up against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear. And he doesn’t let go of you either. After the most intimate night of cuddles and snuggling you’ve ever experienced as well as the deepest and most restful sleep you’ve had in ages, you wake up to Joel gone from the bed. You frown, having wanted more than anything to wake up in his strong arms. Fear grips your insides as you wonder if he finally realized last night was a mistake and that you were never meant to be together in the first place (what you fear more than anything). A stupid vulnerable tear comes to your eye, but then you cock your head and hear music playing. Guitar music.

You think of your apartment as shitty, but truthfully you care deeply about your little private space and one of the things you do actually love the most about it is the tiny balcony that overlooks a measly courtyard and part of the city. That’s where you find Joel in the deck chair holding his guitar, strumming it lazily.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says, fingerpicking a melody that scratches at the back of your mind with familiarity.

“Morning, handsome,” you tell him softly, plopping your smaller hand down on his shoulder.

The city hasn’t woken up yet, the soft glow of morning shining beams of light onto you and Joel, filling you with warmth. You sit down in the deck chair next to him, bathing in the sunlight.

“Whatcha playing?” you ask curiously, crouching to sit up on your knees.

“You know the song ‘Hallelujah’ by Leonard Cohen?” Joel asks in that beautifully deep voice of his.

He isn’t even singing yet but you could listen to him forever.

“‘Course,” you nod. “It’s a classic. You used to play it for me once in a blue moon.”

“Know what the word ‘Hallelujah’ actually means?” he asks.

You think about it for a second.

“It’s about praising god and all that, right? Why d’you ask?”

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking.

“Babygirl,” he begins and you can tell he’s about to say something serious. “You know I’m not too good with words, but I need you to know this: I’ve never had much to thank god for in my life, except for Sarah, you know? But then He took her away…”

You place your hand on Joel’s and he looks at you sadly, but appreciatively. He flips it over and holds it in his giant paw of his own marked-up hand.

“And I was so fucking angry. Nothing left in me. The only good part of me gone. I was a broken man. And I hated Him. But then He, despite the shit I’ve done…He gave me you . And I know our road hasn’t been easy or fair, and the pain you’ve felt and I have felt but…I guess what I’m trying to say is you are the reason I believe that any type of…goodness— of holiness— can exist in this universe. And I’m not a religious man, I don’t believe in most of that dogmatic type of shit, and I don’t think you do either, but I do think someone or something is up there and I wanna thank them for you. Does that make sense? Do you wanna hear what I mean? I just feel so damn grateful.”

A tear you hadn’t noticed was there rolls down your cheek.

“Of course it does and of course I do,” you tell him.

You think perhaps this is the closest thing he can do to bearing his soul to you.

And then he leans over and kisses the tear away and begins to fingerpick the familiar melody.

♪ “I heard there was a secret chord…”♫

You listen to his deep weathered voice as the sun grows higher in the morning sky, casting both light and shadow over Joel’s wrinkled, handsome face. The light trails over you too. You feel the dove inside you cooing contentedly, dusting its wings gently against the edges of your insides.

♪There's a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah…”♫

When he finishes he places his large, scarred, calloused hand in yours and you hold it between your own scarred fingers.

“Thank you, Joel,” you tell him, meaning every word. “I think there’s hope for us, you know? I don’t believe in hippie-dippie type stuff, but something in this universe did bring us together. And I’ll be forever grateful for that too, ya know?”

Joel squeezes your smaller hand, his big fingers engulfing yours as the dove coos louder inside you.

“Babygirl, you know that I ain’t a good man, or a rich and educated one like maybe you thought you’d end up with, but I am less of a broken one because of you and I’m never letting you go. If we’re together, I think we have a chance.”

A/n:PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING DID THE SMUT LIVE UP TO YOUR DREAMS????

PART 1

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Tags:

@toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw. @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch

@paanchusblog @prettystrangething @untamedheart81 @kotourasan123 @valkyreally

@lunpycatavenue

129 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 2 days

Text

Written for @steddiesongfics.

Diamonds on the Soles of His Shoes

For a song released in 1986, I picked Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes by Paul Simon.

Partially hidden behind the trees, Eddie looks at the house, large and looming. Sure, he's been by it before, did a bit of trick-or-treating here in the rich neighborhood, but he's never actually been inside Steve Harrington's house. Never stepped foot over the threshold, beyond those red double doors.

Said doors are standing wide open tonight, inviting the whole world inside.

Steve Harrington's graduation bash. Everyone's invited. That's been the mantra all week.

Everyone.

Eddie's not so sure that everyone really includes him, and he didn't even graduate, anyway. Not even on his second try, and he's dreading the idea of spending a third senior year at Hawkins High. He'd be able to run Hellfire Club for one more year, but that's about it. The silver lining, small and weak, compared to the dark storm cloud that is the prospect of another year in that hell hole.

He sees a girl from band, Robin Buckley, also lurking and lingering at the edge of the driveway.

"You goin' in?" Eddie asks, sidling up to her, making her jump.

"Uh, maybe?" she says, but doesn't sound sure about it.

"You know Steve Harrington?" Eddie asks.

"Only the back of his stupid head," Robin answers, snarkily.

Eddie laughs, agreeing, "Yeah, same."

But she doesn't move, and he doesn't either, "Why are you here, Robin from Band?" he asks, like that's her legal name.

She doesn't seem to care, just saying, "Reasons," and it's just cryptic enough that he's curious.

"Do you have a crush on Steve Harrington? Gonna make a move before it's too late and he's off at Harvard or Purdue or wherever daddy's money bought him a spot?"

"More like Roane County Technical College," Robin mumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she says, then turns and looks at Eddie, "just. I saw him applying to Scoops Ahoy, you know, the ice cream shop in the new mall? I don't think he's going to college."

"Maybe it's just a summer job," Eddie says, but that doesn't sound convincing even to his own ears. Why would Steve Harrington need a summer job selling ice cream?

"I don't think so," Robin says, and she's holding back. He can tell.

"Spill it, Buckley."

She cuts a look back at the house, then back at him, "Like, okay. You cannot tell anyone I know this, because, like, I took an oath–"

"You took an oath?" he asks.

"Okay, I didn't take an oath. But there was a lecture. A big lecture, about not repeating anything about what I saw cross the guidance counselor's desk, you know? I was her aide, fifth period."

"Okay, well, what did you see?" Eddie asks, because now he's curious. Very, very curious.

"Steve Harrington didn't get in anywhere. Nowhere at all. And now he's trying to sling ice cream all summer. With me."

"No way," Eddie breathes out, loving that he has this dirt on the little rich boy. Harrington's crown has been repeatedly tarnished this year, and Eddie's enjoyed watching the fallout from afar.

"You didn't answer my first question: Do you have a crush on Steve Harrington?"

"No," Robin says, and Eddie follows her line of sight. Oh, ew.

She's looking at the instigator of at least ninety-seven percent of the fallout King Steve's suffered, as he's holding court at the front door, like this is his party instead of Steve's. Billy Hargrove, surrounded by girls. Some freshly graduated, like the perpetually tone-deaf Tammy Thompson.

Eddie rolls his eyes. If he had to choose between the lesser of two evils, he'd take Harrington.

"Hargrove?" Eddie asks, not even trying to hide his disgust at her bad taste, "I don't even really know you, Buckley, but you can definitely do better."

Robin laughs, but it sounds kind of sad, "I'm not interested in Billy Hargrove, either."

Eddie doesn't get it, then. If she's not here for Steve, and she's not looking at Billy, she's looking at…oh.

No way.

He should have realized, should have seen himself mirrored in her or some shit. But he says nothing. If he's right or wrong, he'll never know, because it's just not discussed.

"Glad to hear it, Robin From Band," Eddie says, and offers her his arm. "Wanna go in with me, then?"

And he's surprised when she slides her arm through his elbow.

Robin finds some girls she knows from her own class, and Eddie slinks off towards the pool. He can smoke a cigarette and see if there are any customers out there, so he can make a little bit of money, selling off his shittiest weed.

No such luck, it's strangely empty. Pool drained, even if it's getting warm enough for swimming, especially if it's heated.

Eddie walks over to the diving board, and tests it, making sure it's not too bouncy. He doesn't want to take a header into the empty concrete, that's for damn sure. It seems safe, so he shuffles out until he can sit on the edge.

Lights a cigarette, and swings his feet.

The party inside is loud, and jam-packed, and Eddie is sure coming here was a mistake. There's nothing for him here, not at Steve Harrington's house. He should have rounded up Jeff and Goodie and found something else to do tonight. He's sure Gareth would have hung out, if he could get his mom to extend his curfew.

"What are you doing out there?!" The question comes, so sharp and hard, that it startles Eddie so much he nearly topples into the waterless void.

He grips the edge of the diving board, but loses his lit cigarette into the pool. Into the pile of dry leaves from last fall. Shit.

"Um, trying to burn your house down?" Eddie teases, and when he looks back, Steve Harrington is standing there, annoyed.

"Get off of that," Steve says, arms crossed across his chest like he needs to protect himself. From Eddie? In what world?

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Eddie taunts, batting his eyes.

"Please get off that," Steve says, dry as dust. No humor to be found. Which is odd. Eddie went to school with Steve for a long time, he is funny, as loathe as Eddie is to admit it.

He crawls off it.

"Just let me get my cigaret-"

"Leave it."

"But-"

"Don't go down there, Munson, are you stupid?" Steve snaps, and Eddie takes a step back. He's not stupid, but he's pretty pissed off now.

Eddie narrows his eyes, "Yeah, I have to repeat my senior year for a third time, Harrington, we all know that already," Eddie snaps, but rapidly loses steam. Steve Harrington's face says he didn't know that, not until Eddie told him.

Fucking idiot, opening his own goddamn big mouth.

"Uh, well, um…" Steve trails off, "I'm sorry? I didn't get into any colleges if that makes you feel better. I was probably one D-minus in Mrs. Click's class from joining you."

"Ms. O'Donnell is the one torturing me," Eddie answers, off-kilter that he's even having this conversation with Steve Harrington.

And Steve smiles, "Yeah, I hear you. I think she only passed me because of my last name."

Eddie is taken aback, Steve Harrington is aware he gets special treatment? Aware of the diamonds on the soles of his shoes, as well as the noses so far up his ass they'll never see sunshine again?

Well, hell. It isn't good ammo to know Steve Harrington can't get into college if Steve's willing to tell him that himself. Kinda takes all the fun out of it.

"Heard you might be the new King of Scoops Ahoy," Eddie teases, and it is teasing, now. Not taunting.

And that must read, because Steve smiles.

"I'll look great in a sailor suit. I hope we get tips, because I'll kill it," Steve says, hands on his hips. But he doesn't look aggressive, he looks amused.

And Eddie did that. Hot damn.

"What's up with the pool?" Eddie asks, and wishes he hadn't, when the black cloud passes over Steve's face.

"You know, Barb," Steve says, so soft that Eddie almost doesn't hear him.

Eddie's only heard rumors and gossip. That she went missing. That she didn't, and was instead found killed by everything from monsters, to Steve himself. The former seems more plausible than the latter, and isn't that ridiculous?

"Did she die in your pool?" Eddie asks. Maybe she drowned.

Steve just kind of shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe. Where you were sitting was the last place she was seen alive, though."

"You're shitting me?" Eddie asks, but he's pretty sure Steve's not kidding.

Steve shakes his head.

"Sorry, I didn't know," Eddie says.

"I know you didn't," Steve says, "it just scared me, seeing you sitting out there. All alone. Sorry if I was a bit of a dick about it."

And hell has frozen over, Steve Harrington is apologizing to him.

"Um, you weren't. It's okay. Sorry I just made myself at home."

And Steve laughs, "Well, that's fine," he says, waving his arms around, "look at everyone else."

"And why aren't you with everyone else?" Eddie asks.

"Like who? My only friend these days is thirteen-years-old."

"Say what now?" Eddie asks, because that sounds creepy. Is Harrington, like, a pervert now? He'd heard rumors last winter about Harrington hanging around Hargrove's little sister, but he hadn't given them much credence. He knows the rumors that go around about himself, and the vast majority of them have no basis in reality either.

"Long story," Steve says, "long, long, story. I'm, like, his babysitter? Him and a bunch of other street urchins, I guess?"

"You're a babysitter?" Eddie asks, disbelieving.

"It's as shocking to me as it is to you. I'm not bad at it, though," Steve says, and he smiles.

"You're not like…messing with underage girls?"

"Jesus Christ, no, what kind of freak do you take me for?" Steve says, and he sounds so disgusted that Eddie's sure that's the truth.

"Sorry, I had to ask."

"Unless you mean, like, Nance?" Steve asks, brow furrowed, like he's really thinking this through.

"I do not," Eddie says with a laugh, "I thought you were broken up, anyway?"

"We are," Steve says, "definitely. We are. What about you?"

"Am I broken up with Nancy Wheeler? Yep, have been for as long as I can remember, anyway," Eddie snarks, and Steve Harrington laughs. An ugly, open-mouthed bray.

It's dorky, but real.

And Eddie's heart does a thing that he definitely didn't give it permission to do in his chest. Flipping and flopping, all willy-nilly.

He's not supposed to like Steve Harrington.

Harrington's a rich boy, who doesn't try to hide it. And Eddie's poor as a pocket, with nothing to lose.

But right now, standing out here in the near dark, he does like him. God help him.

"Word of advice, from one freak to another, stop saying it like that, or people will think you're a perv. Lead with the babysitting part."

Steve nods.

"If none of these people are your friends, why have a party? Why spend money on assholes that don't deserve it?"

Steve shrugs, "Habit, I guess. Won't be like this much longer, though. My dad's pretty mad about college. He's cutting me off."

Eddie blinks. That's…unfathomable, really.

Steve keeps talking.

"So, I got a job at the ice cream place in the mall. To learn my lesson. Earn my keep, whatever. You should come by, I'll hook you up," Steve offers, and Eddie feels insane. That can't possibly be a thing that they'll ever do.

Then, Steve tries to sweeten the pot, "Pretty sure I'll be wearing a funny hat."

"And working with Robin From Band," Eddie says, and Steve just shrugs, like he doesn't know who that is.

Poor Harrington, Buckley'll eat him alive, given half the chance.

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie will swing by to see that happen, live and in person.

Free ice cream and a show.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Oh, these kids. If they only knew how important they'd all be to each other just a short time later.

#steddiesongfics #1986 song #stranger things #pre steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics

73 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

kingula

SUN IN MY POCKET

qing-ling

青靈🎋

car-tracker

Untitled

sissylilly

Unbetitelt

d23grl

Tangled Up in Art